Parenting tips from a Nanny State When I have time during the weekend, I try to read the paper. It is always a mistake because I will inadvertently get pissed off with something someone said. This past weekend was no different. It annoyed me that organ trade has been in the press' attention so much over the past week and it has overshadowed something that is more deep-seated and long drawn- the baby issue. Of course, the baby issue is of more concern to me than the organ trade one, not so much because I don't care about organ trade but because the case, for me is clear on that count. But the baby issue hasn't fizzled out totally. There were still some letters to the press and that's what annoyed the heck out of me.All these people who keep thinking that throwing money at the problem of baby dearth really are not getting it right. There are also people who think that by providing more support for parents, we are encouraging deadbeats and freeloaders. Then there are those who think that we can open child care centres run by senior citizens because that will help solve the problem and will actually kill two birds with one stone because we will then get rid of another problem, the unemployed seniors. All this really pisses me off. And the more Packrat and I talked about it, the more we agreed in sotto amazement and irony that a nanny state like Singapore had no idea how to help us raise children.The way Singapore solves problems to do with its people- Throw money at it. Hand outs. Every time there is a problem, money is given to appease the mobs looking for pitchforks. Either that or chastise and admonish them for behaving like brats but not really giving them an opportunity to discover why. At the same time, scold them when they get too used to such handouts and lecture them on taking things for granted. If a parent employed that method of child rearing- The child would become quite spoilt. The child would find no reason to draw close to the parent. After all, the parent offers nothing else but financial support and harsh words. Worse, if the parent raises the child using fear to foster total obedience, at best there will be obligation to the parent but more likely than not, it will be a relationship filled with resentment and bitterness.All this plays to a very familiar tune. Our nation demands loyalty and love for it. But how has it fostered it? Parents who automatically expect it without putting any effort into child rearing are often sorely and angrily disappointed. Similarly, with no concern for our emotional well-being and needs, always concentrating on the tangible and measurable outcomes, how does society expect us to be filial to it? Where solutions often involve some sort of monetary fix, in the same way, by ploughing the child with gifts or an endless allowance, the child will take whatever is handed to him but will not know what to do in return because time was not spent trying to cultivate or nurture a relationship. When parents lament that their children are strangers to them, that they are being influenced in ways that are unfathomable, that they don't understand their children and the children only see them as a bank of spare change, whose fault is it?If the government thinks that fixing the baby problem can be done without addressing the deeper issues of work family balance, the role of the mother, the expectation in society of the mother as a nurturer as well as an equal provider for the family, there will be much raising of eyebrows and little attention paid. It is, after all, the same old man who has told me to get the light fixed. . It will breed resentment, it will cause a distancing of familial relationships. It will cause a spirit of uncooperativeness. Obviously. "if my parents don't get me, why should I confide in them?"So, it's a strange revelation that the uber parent in this context has no idea how to get across to his kids. It was also a strange revelation, to me personally, that I could so clearly extrapolate parallels between the shortcomings of individual families and Singapore being one big family under the government. The coercion, the mercenary approach, the end results. Singaporeans worry that their children will dump them in a retirement home and why is this so? And will Singaporeans dump the government once the government has handed out all the gifts that it can?Technorati Tags: Singapore, parenting, nanny state I'm out to get me This post has been updated because I'm still out to get me.This week's been a weird week for me. It's almost as if the forces are having it out and using me as their battlefield. In 4 days, I've managed to unintentionally hurt myself three times and once more through no effort on my . Not drastic enough to seek any treatment but painful enough to send me blinking away tears.Attempt 1Thursday night- After having dinner with my ex-colleague, I come home to a locked front door. Swearing at the fact that I looked at my house keys in the afternoon and decided that it wasn't necessary to bring them, I ring Packrat. I knew he was home. I could see the light on in our bedroom. But ten redials later, I resign myself to the fact that unless I throw my pack of scripts high up and accurately enough at the window, he's not going to let me in. Thankfully we live in a house and there are windows that I could possibly climb into with minimal problem. It helps that I spent my adolescent years climbing in and out my bedroom window. Unfortunately, when I round the corner of the house, I slam full force into a wooden bench that is just the right height to make full contact with my knee cap. Because I was trying to get into the house quick, I had rounded the corner quick so physics would have it that the amount of force I was propelling forward and the amount of force the bench was stopping was an immense one. Enough for me to double over, see white searing pain, have my head and knee throb at the same time and wonder if I had just smashed my knee cap into smithereens.Needless to say, by the time I made it up to the bedroom after having climbed in through the kitchen window with a throbbing knee that would bear no weight, I was in a foul mood. Apparently, when I flung the door wide open, I had the most evil of glints in my eyes and my nostrils were near flaring. Even though I hadn't intended to pick a fight, the pain was driving me to yell and find someone to thump. And poor Packrat wondered what hit him.My knee is still bruised. I don't think anything's shattered but I can't kneel or crawl on it. Something I didn't do much of pre-kids but do a whole lot of now.Attempt 2This just happened. I'm not sure whether it's more or less dramatic than Attempt 1 but the pain is just about the same. I was going to sit on the floor. Lowering my bum onto the floor, either I'd misjudged how much space I had or I'd forgotten that there was a chair behind me, I lower myself, once again at top speed, right down onto the corner of the chair. This time, it wasn't the knee but the tail bone, right smack on the corner. My bum eventually finds the floor and I sit there breathless from the effort of not yelping or showing any sort of expression on my face since Jordan was in front of me and I didn't want to scare her. Now I feel I need a doughnut to sit down. I think the area's bruised and some muscle has been traumatised as well. This time, I don't blame Packrat or yell at anyone but the tears did well up again.Attempt 3The least dramatic but the one with the most long drawn pain. A headache that I wake up with and go to bed with. I haven't taken anything for it because I have deadlines to meet and cannot afford to sleep more than I am. I look forward to some drug induced sleep. Sleep that is not broken by the thought of whether to get up and get work done even though the luminous glow of the clock tells me it's only 3 in the morning. I usually don't heed that crazy voice in me. But this morning I did and I'm paying for it now.Attempt 4In an attempt to rush and get to class on time, with mountains of work on my desk, I accidentally hit my bottle of water that promptly rolls off and lands on my foot with a clunk. This would not have been so bad except for the fact that my bottle is a one litre bottle and it's a Nalgene- made of hard plastic and some say bulletproof. Needless to say, I wasn't wearing Kevlar tipped boots so my foot's not pleased with me.I look forward to Tuesday. Tomorrow's the deadline so come hell or high water, all the work should be complete by tonight, despite the busted knee, the bruised butt, busted foot and the throbbing head. Well, that is if the head doesn't explode before I'm done. I am afterall, out to get me.I should really just lock myself in a padded room so I don't end up killing myself. But the way things are going, I'll probably find an ingenious way of hurting myself there too!Ownself sabo ownself. Bookworm club The loudest lament in schools these days by English teachers is that kids these days don't read. And they don't. They really don't. They think you should pat them on the back because they've read the latest Harry Potter. And now that Harry Potter's defeated Voldermort, they no longer need to read. I'm guilty as charged too. I don't read as much as I should. I spent my growing up years running around, climbing trees, catching spiders and cycling. It was the ultimate punishment to make me read a book. But then, one day, I did and I didn't stop reading. I read on the bus, I read during meal times, I read in bed and wrecked my eyes. I read. No doubt, I didn't read high brow stuff (I still remember, a) stressing out and then b) rolling my eyes when a classmate in college declared to everyone and anyone listening that her favourite writer was Chekhov), but I still read.I don't read as much as I used to and when I do manage to find time to, I'm always pleased and inspired to read more. But by that time, I'm back at work and finding time to sleep is a problem, let alone read. I'm sorry to say, Maslow was right about me. Basic survival needs come first.Now that I have kids, I'm quite intent on getting them to read. But I don't really know how to do it. There are a whole lot of methods out there, many of them involving flash cards and treating the kids like plants in a hot house and I'm not sure how much I agree with Glenn Doman or Shichida or who ever and whatever. So, imagine my horror when obviously, the establishment and the national broadsheet seem to be in great approval of these methods by running a story on a 3 year old that can read menus. The Singaporean mom in me freaked out and worried about not giving my kids the best head start I could afford. The anti-establishment mom in me wanted to give the article and everything written in the article the finger partly because it had stressed out the Singaporean mom in me but partly because it breeds such insanity in Singapore that everyone gets dragged into it and by Primary One, the parents are glared at by the teachers if the kid doesn't know how to spell hippopotamus and chrysanthemum. And I really don't want to be party to making my children that stressed.When the anti-establishment mom in me and the Singaporean mom in me settled down enough, the catty me then began to wonder, in light of the illiterate students we get in school, perhaps their being made to read put them off reading for the rest of their life or that getting them to read by 18 months wasn't indicative of how much they were going to read later on in life. Whatever it was, there was some incongruity. The rational me of course, reminded the rest of me that these were different samples of the population and to figure out whether all this Glenn Doman-Shichida-hothouse-flashcard stuff really works, we'd have to wait a couple of years from now.At the same time, I'm also thinking about all those teachers I had who frowned at the fact that we read Jeffrey Archer and Tom Clancy and how much of a fit they would throw now because the students that come my way now, don't even know Jeffrey Archer, Tom Clancy, Michael Crichton and company. They are the ones who would list, as the last book they read, a Lit book they read when they were made to do compulsory literature 2-4 years ago. And these are probably the same people who would throw a fit at the new Chicklit awards. I'm not all that big a fan of chick lit but hey, if it gets friends of mine who wouldn't otherwise open a book to read, why not?I'm just not sure how I'm going to be when my kids want to read the Babysitters' Club and the modern day equivalent of Sweet Dreams and Sweet Valley High (are they still around?). Right now, I'm stressing about how to introduce Chinese into their linguistic diet. And that's when the extremely monolingual mom in me goes "Oh Crap!" and proceed to moan that she can't even exclaim that in another language.Technorati Tags: Singapore, reading, children Mis-alingned planets Packrat's gone to the movies. He asked me to go but I mournfully turned him down because I had work to do. It's an hour after he's left and I've only just settled down to get my work done. It's taken me that long because,a) I couldn't find my mouse. I know I don't need my mouse to do work but since Packrat's not home, I need some company.b) I couldn't find my pencil case. That I needed otherwise I really couldn't get down to work.c) I really didn't want to start work so I sorted out my clothes into piles. Want but cannot fit into, Don't want but can fit into, Don't want and cannot fit into, Want and fit into.Now I'm done with all that so I should be able to get down to work but some how or other, my world just feels out of order and the planets are misaligned so I think it's going to take me that much longer.Technorati Tags: Singapore, work Delusions of grandeur Some days ago, out of the blue, Packrat mentioned something about the US drilling for oil in Alaska. I blinked and looked at him, asking him whether this was something that had just been announced. He said yes. So, why had I already heard about it? Was I clairvoyant or something? How did I know that, not only did the US want to drill for oil in Alaska, it made no sense because the oil under there wasn't enough to sustain the US for all that long and environmentalists and anyone who had 2 bits of a brain knew that it wasn't worth tearing up thousands of years of flora and fauna and wrecking the environment just for that little bit of oil.Slowly, the pieces fell into place. I had seen all this on the Live Debate in The West Wing. We took a long sabbatical from watching TWW. The seasons between Aaron Sorkin leaving the show and this last season of the series were a bit painful to watch. But we recently picked it up and ventured into the 7th season which basically revolves around the Presidential Election. Problem is there's a real election going on as well so some of the time, I forget which is which and because TWW is written by people that have dreams of an ideal presidency and government, the issues are real and heartfelt. This isn't the first time it happened. When 9/11 happened, we were watching TWW when the ticker tape started whizzing across the bottom of the screen and the next day I remembered wondering whether it had anything to do with the coup in Haiti which was what we were watching. I have also been asked by students doing work on human rights abuses and violence against women whether Qumar where they executed women for adultery was a real place.So, we try and watch it when time and space and kids permit. And surprisingly enough or not so surprising, we're actually more fired up by the campaign we're seeing on screen then the one we read about in the paper and watch on CNN. We're down to the last 5 days of the campaign and it's shot in a way that makes me feel stressed and tired just watching the candidates. Now that's good tv. But it's also beside the point. While watching Jimmy Smits play Matt Santos attempt to work 5 states in a day on 6 hours of sleep in the past 3 days, I wondered out loud who could possibly do such a job. We came to the conclusion that Packrat couldn't. As is, functioning on anything less than 8 hours of sleep is difficult for him. He however, thought I could because I work well under pressure though he didn't know if I could last an entire presidency.Who knows? I have taken enough career/personality tests to know that as long as the job interests me and fires me up, I'm pretty much the energizer bunny. Give me something that kills the brain, it'll kill me too. So could I be president? Would I want to be president? I'd probably like the trappings of it but will probably want to slap the political leaders of nations that don't listen to what I say. Talk about Superpower status...All the delusions that I ponder the day before I go back to the grind.If only I could remain in all these delusions...Technorati Tags: The West Wing, oil, American Presidency All I want for my birthday... Packrat asked what I wanted for my birthday. I took a deep breath and rattled off the following...Time with himTime for a facialTime for a massageTime for a pedicure (I don't do manicures cos they get scrapped off too quickly)Time to do my browsTime to shopTime to go for high teaWhen I paused to take a breath, he asked again, "So what can I give you for your birthday?" and I repeated the same list again. Of course, there's the usual jewellery, Kate Spade path that he can head down, but much as I love pretty things, I also just want some grooming time and time is sorely lacking now.And I have these severe migraines now. He thinks it's work related and when he said that, I burst into tears further proving his point.Technorati Tags: birthday Blocked passages All through the time I was pregnant till now, I'd hardly been sick except for a bout of food poisoning that sent me into a panic with wild thoughts of possibly being pregnant again. Unfortunately, that luck's run out. Actually, it's got to do with the kids more than with me. When the kids get sick, because of the close contact, their caregivers succumb and drop like flies. This was literally what happened. Kids were sick before we left for Melbourne. So, I got sick but because they were so ill, I didn't have time to look after myself.I took the sick to Melbourne and lost my voice there. With the opportunity of sleep, it didn't get all that bad even though it didn't go away. I did find out that if, in the event of war, I was taken hostage and needed to be tortured, what the perfect torture device for me would be. Flying on a small plane to and from Sydney, with a congested upper respiratory track not only blocks up my ears, it makes it feel like my brain was expanding rapidly inside my skull and threatening to explode out from between my eyes. The pain was so excruciating, I was ready to cry out in pain and was almost ready to yank out my arm to hit myself so that I could distract myself from the pain. I would have sold national secrets (if I knew any, that is) and possibly a kidney to make the pain stop.By the time we got back to Singapore, I thought the worst was over and plunged myself into making up for lost time with the kids. I knew I wasn't all good and ignored the fact that the temperature change couldn't be all that good for me. And it wasn't. I woke up yesterday morning feeling like crap and when I went to clear my throat, everything came out bloody. That wasn't sounding like something normal. I thought TB or pneumonia or something vaguley horrific.Turns out my nasal passages were blocked from all the change in pressure and temperature and that caused an infection to occur. And there was no avoiding the antibiotics because it was a bacterial infection and it was bleeding which really isn't a good thing at any time. I got something like 5 drugs to clear off the infection and that amounted to a princely amount of $140. Argh! Pain! Just when I was listening to a political debate about how it's better for someone to take a drug that costs a dollar a day rather than a $40 000 surgery. Sigh, I guess that would really be considering the big picture but it's much easier to focus on the here and now where $140 is a lot of money to spend on medication. Obviously I'd much rather spend it else where, especially since I haven't quite made use of the big sale that's on everywhere now.But since it has been more than 18 days of sick, I should focus on getting myself well even if I'm not contagious.Technorati Tags: Singapore, sinus infection, sick children, travel Piss off Every time we come back from our trips to Melbourne, we are often floored by the differences between the two cities. Obviously, Melbourne wins because of the weather. Singapore however has cheap food. Melbourne has got big supermarkets that are fun to trawl at midnight. Singapore has cheaper public transport and cheaper movie tickets. The comparison and the list goes on.One thing however, that puts a point in Melbourne's court is the condition Singapore toilets often find themselves in. In Melbourne, even if we go to a bathroom in the middle of the freeway, it is relatively clean and dry. Here, we'd be hard pressed to find a bathroom that is clean, dry much less one that does not smell foul and does not have tissue paper on the floor.It's a running joke that the government of our little country has tried to use the draconian methods to get bathrooms looking more reputable. The problem with those methods is that the human element is not taken into consideration. While a government can legislate the need to flush after every use, it really is up to the user to put his hand on the flush and depress it. And then, there is the issue of the chicken-egg-vicious cycle component.From young, my mother always reminded me that I was not to touch the toilet seats because of the germs, footprints and possibly pee on it. I suspect, that is what a lot of women grow up learning, that toilet seats in public are not fit for the human bum. Therein lay the problem. It doesn't negate the fact that we need to pee. We need to pee but we can't sit on the seat. So what is the next best solution? The Hover. Hovering over the toilet seat is an art. The problem with it is for the uninitiated or the inexperienced, it is quite a challenge. This results with pee being splashed onto the toilet seat causing the need for others to hover once again over the toilet seat since, once again, the toilet seat is wet with pee and adding to the general gross condition of the public bathroom.Someone assured me that Melbourne bathrooms are equally bad. The only difference is that the weather delays its stinking up. And that in itself becomes another tick in the "Yes, we should move to Oz" column.Technorati Tags: Singapore, clean toilets Cosmic Injustice We're in Melbourne, finally. After all the false starts with the kids having been ill. It almost got to the point where Packrat had to drag me kicking and screaming onto the plane, well, metaphorically speaking. It was horrendous trying to leave especially when I got the sense that the kids actually got wind of the fact that we were leaving and were especially clingy. Now that we're here, it's a different story. We've managed to get some sleep, despite the fact that I've succumbed to the kids' virus. I still miss the kids horribly but the distance has given me a little bit of perspective and I now realise that it really is a break that I need and possibly what a doctor would have been prescribed if I had seen one. Packrat and I have been able to go walk around and hold hands, eat and not worry or feel guilty about spending time out and away from the children. And all this, with the safe knowledge that the children are in safe hands and though they are still sick, they're on the way to recovering. Because Melbourne is a second home to us, we don't do much except catch up with old friends and walk round the city. Over the years, the number of people we've had to catch up with have become dwindled because more of our friends have moved on and no longer live in Melbourne. Most of the ones that are still here are the natives- I use this term loosely because I'm not talking about aborigines here. One of the natives I try to see is my old uni professor. Like most of the educators in my life, he made quite an impression on me, opening my eyes to what being an academic and a researcher was really about and impressing upon me how education didn't exist in the four walls of the university. I was saddened earlier this year to hear that he'd had a re-occurence of a brain tumour that had afflicted him about 15 years ago. I spent the last few months constantly reminding myself to find out how he was doing. The only problem was that, well, life got in the way and it was one of those things that I kept pushing back. When I got here, I had no more excuse and guiltily rang him. He didn't sound his usual self and when I announced that I was in Melbourne for a few days, he said regretfully that he couldn't meet me. Not because he was busy but because he was preparing for surgery. Surgery because he had lung cancer. My mind struggled to wrap its head round that fact. Didn't he just have a brain tumour removed? Isn't there an unwritten rule somewhere out there that states that a person should not have to be afflicted with more than one cancer a year. I tried desperately, to keep the conversation going while my mind tried to process the severity of what he was saying. You always hear that when people announce such ominouos news, there is a silence akin to crickets chirping and I really didn't want him to feel that awkwardness. I tried hard to keep the conversation light, telling him about the latest antics of the kids and discussing developmental milestones with him. He was afterall, my psychology professor. But we kept going back to the issue of his cancer. It was inevitable that it had cast a pall over our conversation just as I'm sure it had, over his life. He talked about how distressing it was and how unfair it was to be struck by two cancers in a year. It saddened me greatly to hear who I saw as a great man made so dimunitive by his illness. I remembered how he very proudly announced, somewhat Marx-like, that religion was a crutch and he didn't see it necessary. So when I felt moved to tell him that since we couldn't meet him, I would pray for him, I expected him to scoff at it. But his reaction was so subdued and so grateful that I would actually do that for him. Everything that is happening to him is actually my greatest fears for myself and my loved ones. And I cannot imagine the anguish and the fears that he and his family has to go through. I always threaten Packrat, especially when he is about to sink his teeth into a particularly deep fried and unhealthy meal that I'd be very pissed off with him if he died on me. He retorted one day that it was fine if I was because he wouldn't be around to see it. That did not make me feel any better. The nightmares that always leave me in tears are always the ones where something happens to him and I'm always grateful to be able to wake up and comfort myself with the reality that nothing has happened to Packrat or to the kids.But to realise that it really wasn't a nightmare and that reality is worse than the dream itself, what can there to be to console one?It's cosmic injustice in the greatest way.Technorati Tags: Melbourne, cancer, Slippery slope My phone's on its last legs. I'm heartbroken about it because there are too many things in my life that have changed and I find myself holding on to the things that have remained constant. One of them being my phone. I know I'm being a tad bit dramatic here but I'm feeling slightly dramatic right now.Actually, I feel irrationally stressed right now. I mean, at the end of the day, it's just another piece of tech equipment. But even then, it's an appendage that I'm not comfortable living without, although I have on occasion left home without it. It's importance then, must be less than an American Express card.Anyway, I need to give it up at some point. And I need to replace it. That's where the problem lies. I have had Nokia phones all my life. And there aren't any Nokias out there that have caught my attention. My last Nokia, I bought for very 'girly' and superficial reasons- a) it was pretty and b) it was a clam shell phone and I adored clam shell phones.So I bought it. I bought it when I was newly pregnant and needing to throw up every other minute. It was a good thing though because it meant that I was distracted enough by trying to figure out how to use it, I would forget for that short time what ailed me.But now, I have to trade it in. Not because I stopped loving it but because it stopped loving me. On occasion, I would flip it open and be met with a blank screen. Packrat warned me rather ominously that it was the beginning of the end and that it would just give up on me at the most inopportune time. He counselled me into getting a new phone even though there really was no Nokia that caught my eye.Because I was left without a choice, I had to cast a wider net and see what that would trawl up. Packrat suggested I try one of the Touch phones since I was quite fascinated with the iPhone a few months back. The problem primarily was that Nokia, of course, did not make Touch phones so that meant I would have to learn a new interface from scratch. And my mind blanks out when I try to learn a new interface. I remember wanting to fling my brother's Samsung against the wall because I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to back space on it.Like buying a car, the only way to decide is to take it out for a spin and see which one feels right in my hands. Very quickly, I narrowed the field to only the HTC Touch Cruise eliminating the LG successor-to-the-Prada-phone and the Asus something or other. My reasons for elimination were rather whimsical and ditzy.1. I did not like the Asus because it was big, thick and bulky. Even though it had a key pad that I could use to text rather than the touch screen.2. It was also butt ugly. There was absolutely no aesthetic value in it whatsoever. It would be fine if it was going to be bought by a guy for work purposes but not for a girl who didn't really need Windows Mobile Office to download and read documents.3. I did not like the LG because one of the key selling features of the phone was this tactile feedback thing where every time a key was activated to text, it would buzz in my hand. I wanted to throw away the phone just to stop the buzzing.4. The LG's stylus made me write gibberish. Yes, made me. And the stylus is connected to where my phone strap would dangle and since Packrat gave me the phone strap, I wasn't going to leave my pretty clam shell without her coming along.5. After looking at the HTC's interface where with a flick of the finger, one could toggle the menu, sift through photos in a file, enlarge, shrink or rotate photos by running a finger across the screen or clockwise or anti-clockwise, there was no way I could accept the LG's rather boring conventional interface. Packrat then, very smugly informs me that if I were to have bought the Prada phone that I thought would have been a good replacement, my lot in life would have been much worse.So there, why I didn't choose the other two. The problem was even at that point, I was still hesitant to give the go ahead. And the list of reasons was as long.1. I didn't want to part with my beloved clam shell.2. It had a new interface that I needed to learn and I'm very very stupid when it comes to learning new tech things. I'm likely to enlarge photos when I'm supposed to shrink it or rotate it upside down when I'm trying to rotate it right side up because I have absolutely zero intuitiveness when it comes to which direction to head.3. The emoticons do not come up as smiley faces. They appear as a colon and a close bracket or in this case, a colon and an open bracket to indicate that I am displeased by this fact.4. It is $150 more than I can afford.5. This is probably a good thing but because there isn't a key pad, I can't text while driving.6. The camera is sans flash.7. I was concerned that because it was so expensive, I had to like it and couldn't just give it up and I didn't know if I was going to like it or get used to it. In other words, I didn't know how much of a commitment I was willing to give to it.So, we put the phone back and went off to dinner buying me some time to decide. I got increasingly stressed because I wasn't sure. When such stress afflicts me, it usually heralds the end to impetuous shopping and I walk away from the item. In this case, I couldn't quite because it would be bad if I couldn't decide and my phone died a sudden death which it was apt to do. Packrat did suggest that since I was concerned that it was going to be costly and I would have to commit to learning a whole different interface, I should just get a cheap Nokia to tide me over till something that I fancied more and cost less appeared in the market.To which, I lamented that he had already shown me the crown jewels of mobile phones (well, sort of anyway) and I couldn't go back to looking at the regular plebian Nokias. Ondine, I discovered and announced loudly, was NOT backward compatible and I accused him of sending me down the slippery slope of techno-snobbery.So, now I await the public holiday to be over so that my new phone may be delivered and I send along with the delivery guy, my beloved clam shell to be stripped of its beauty into tiny little parts or refurbished and re-packaged for export; hopefully falling into the hands of someone who would enjoy it as much as I did.Sob.Technorati Tags: Singapore, mobile phones, technology Finding the mundane I haven't been blogging. For many reasons. One, it's difficult and slightly schizophrenic trying to keep two blogs and trying to keep the 2 separate in terms of personalities and content. Two. I hardly have enough time to upkeep one blog although the other one is pretty easy since I usually revolve it around photographs of the kids. Three. I'm exhausted and find it hard to utter a coherent thought let alone write it.Then I look at the blog links I have on the page and realise with some degree of horror that many people on my link list, have either stopped blogging or have blogs I no longer visit. It's easier to figure out the latter. Once again, it boils down to time. Or is it energy? I'm at my computer a lot, everytime I express, I'm online. That amounts to about 3 times a day (barring the time at work) for about 20-60 minutes a time. But much of the time, my brain's pretty addled by all the other things that I do, offline. So, rather than surf blogs and read like I used to, I just look at, as ditzy as it may sound, pretty shopping pages where my brain hardly ever gets taxed. If I feel that my batteries have a little bit more juice, I try to catch up some news and figure out what's going on in the world out there. Most of the time, it's not good news, but I gotta know it so that I can teach it. So, I'm hardly reading the blogs. Occasionally, I pop by and marvel at how much everyone else has done while I'm still plodding along.Then, there are those who've stopped blogging. Mostly because they have lost the inclination to, the blog fad has given way to blogging lite in the form of Facebook. You don't really have to do much on FB except update your status and it's much easier to interact with those out there by hurling books, chickens, an Oreo, a bowl of gumbo etc at them. Less brain cells, further reach. But even that, I've pretty much given up on. The attraction didn't hold. Other people, like me, well, just found that life got in the way and exhaustion hits like a wall.I miss blogging and try to find time to do so. But time's such a precious commodity. Rather than sit and write, there's so much else for me to do like hang out with Packrat, watch television which is a rare treat these days or even take a nap and attempt to cancel my large sleep deficit. It all seems rather mundane and inconsequential and literary pursuits, if you can call this one, shouldn't be sacrificed in the name of the mundane. But well, in my world, I need some of the mundane and gain some sort of equilibrium.Technorati Tags: Singapore, blogging Constipated weather You know the weather's constipated when you're rudely awoken from your sleep by loud claps of thunder but waking up a few hours later to horrid humid morning weather whether your face is oily, your skin is sticky and your hair's plastered to the nape of your neck by sweat.It's a tease, the ominous dark clouds moving, rumbling thunder and the weather reports of showers expected but nothing to follow. On occasion, there's a little bit of a drizzle but nothing but sticky thick air. All that noise and hullaboo but no follow through. Typical. One would think the weather was controlled by the civil service.So, my fondest wish, even if it'd probably mean the world's weather is more shot than it is now, is for it to snow. Snow damn it snow. Where are the Indian chiefs when you need them to do the rain or in my case, snow dance?Technorati Tags: Singapore, weather WTF This has got to be illegal in some way or other. It's the modern day equivalent ofRock a bye baby on the treetopwhen the wind blows,the cradle will rock.when the bough breaks,the cradle will falland down will come baby,cradle and all.But worse! It isn't even a trampoline at the bottom catching the poor bouncing baby. And how sure is the thrower that he won't miss?Goodness. Almost stopped my heart. Although it did not stop me from shrieking.Technorati Tags: India, Baby dropping Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering -Angsty post ahead-I know you are much older.I know you are entitled to your opinions.I know you think you know much better.I know you think your way is best.The problem is while you are much older,Your opinions are not mine.I do not share your outlook.I do not wish you to push your outlook onto me.I want to lead my life, my way.I don't want to lead it the way you did.I don't care if you think your way is best.I want to do it the way I think it's best.I don't want to hear what you think about everything in the world.I have opinions of my own.I don't need to sit there and listen.To you, because you think yourself superior.I don't need to sit there and listen.To you, in that condescending tone.That whoever shall disobey you,Is beneath you, is foolish and requires a talking to.I hate that you have gotten under my skin.I wish I could ignore youI wish I could tell you exactly where to put it.I hate that I am bound by respect.I hate that I am bound by duty.I hate that I am bound to honour.I hate that I love and that I love I hate.----Some people just bring out the adolescent in me. Erasing the footprint Packrat and I are planning our little escape in June. We have to go to Melbourne to get some stuff sorted out PR wise and thought we'd take the opportunity to have a bit of a holiday. Traditionally when we go back to Melbourne, it's usually just eating and taking in the city. This time, I'm itching to do a little more. I've been wanting to see Billy Elliot, the musical and was wondering if it was showing in Melbourne. It wasn't. But it was in Sydney. Close enough.I set about booking the flights to Sydney this morning. The problem with us being there for such a short period is that we are at the mercy of either extremely early or extremely costly internal flights. Being on holiday, I chose the extremely early flights. Like I said to Packrat, we could fly out of Sydney at 6 in the morning and make it back to Melbourne in time for breakfast at our favourite breakfast place.Anyway, at the end of the booking form, I was asked if I wanted to pay for Carbon Offset. Apparently, I could assuage my environmental guilt by paying AUD$3.50. This wasn't the same as giving alms to monks to guarantee a better life. This was more practical. The money would be used to fund carbon reduction or avoidance projects. I liked that idea. I'm in the midst of grading papers about how to reduce waste in the environment and this is a practical example that could be used. At least, I can say that I'm not being hypocritical when I nag my students about doing more than paying lip service to save the environment.This isn't much. But it's one step and I feel good having done it.Technorati Tags: Singapore, carbon footprints, Virginblue Girlfriend fashion I'm not really sure what it is, but I've been told that it's a hot look for a girl to wear her boyfriend's/ husband's shirts or t-shirts. It really is a fashion thing. Google "boyfriend" and "shirt" and you'll get an entire page of fashion links. The "Boyfriend Shirt" seems to be an essential bit of a girl's wardrobe. Unfortunately, I don't think it works the other way around.This was a sight we saw yesterday and I really could not stop laughing. To his credit, he looked perfectly comfortable and assured of his masculinity as he sauntered up to the counter. I wonder if he stayed the night at his girlfriend's and forgot to bring clothes. I wonder how big his girlfriend actually is. I don't think Packrat could fit into ANY of my old College or school t-shirts even though I still have them lying around .Now, to find out whether he shaves his armpits so that he can where the blue pinafore and to find out if he's Man enough to carry that one of.Technorati Tags: Singapore, fashion, schools Put the left hand in and the right hand in ... and shake it all about.A teacher can turn an enthusiastic young mind intoa brilliant thinker ready to take on the world.Which is why teaching is known asthe profession that teaches all other professions.Come consider your options in the education fieldwhile networking with like-minded individuals.There's much to learn at this exclusive event. The institution I have worked for, for the last 5 years, obviously is indeed the black hole that everyone thought it was.Obviously, the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing, especially if one department signs off on my pay checks and another department sends me an invitation to become a teacher. Either their snail mail takes 6 years to reach its intended audience or they are totally clueless.Another friend of mine who had resigned from the service was sent a letter inviting her to return to teaching because it was much more attractive now, what with the GROW package and all. Totally ignoring the fact that one) it wasn't all that much two) for most people who resign, it isn't usually the money or the lack thereof that causes them to quit.And obviously, my employer's got more in reserves than it's letting on. I mean, the invite's glossy, it has more than one colour and it's printed on thick paper. Now, why can't they channel this into the salary of teachers? It won't make teachers return but it would sure help keep those who are just waiting for other job opportunities to come round.And if people think it's just me who got such an invite it's not true. Packrat's got one too.Technorati Tags: Singapore, education service, government coffers Metaphors from hell When bored, stressed English teachers get together, all literary propriety go out the window. This is purely for the fun and sticklers for the English language should not read on. We were talking about metaphors and how it was difficult to get students to imagine what the metaphor was trying to get at. We thought, perhaps, if they were bad metaphors, they'd get it more easily.For instance.It is a burden as heavy as a bastard childThe rumour spread like syphilisIt was an irritation akin to a yeast infectionThe odour was overpowering like that of a wet dogIt would have been great if we had time to come up with more but we each had work to do and had to go our separate ways.Sigh. Technorati Tags: Language, Teachers Expensive allergies I am allergic to many antibiotics. They make me break out in rash. Thankfully, I don't take antibiotics all that often. Add to that, I'm breastfeeding, so that limits the choices I have. Today however, I was given a choice. Either take antibiotics or line up surgery for next week. Of course, when faced with such a choice, it's quite a no brainer. I chose the antibiotics. Armed with the prescription, I head off to the pharmacy.While queuing to pay, I realise that the course of 10 pills I have to take cost a HUNDRED BUCKS!Crap. I was ready to put it back. The only thing that stopped me, surgery would have cost more and I'd still have to take the hundred buck antibiotics.So, this coming so soon after my rant about increasing costs and prices means I'm going to be eating home a lot of the time.Great.Technorati Tags: Singapore, antibiotics More rising costs I was sent to the supermarket last night to buy rice for my children. My children eat a fistful of rice everyday so the last time I bought rice for them, I think they hadn't sprouted teeth yet. Anyway, they eat brown rice and when I approached the rice aisle at the supermarket, I was taken aback at how much it looked like a Russian supermarket during the Soviet era. Our supermarkets are the crown jewel of the wealth of choice in our capitalist societies. Except for rice. Because of the fears of rice going beyond $700 a tonne, people hoard them. As a result, the shelves are empty and even the brown calrose rice that I feed my kids is affected. One, the one that I usually buy was out of stock. Two, the one that I bought cost more than I remembered the previous one to be. Three, there were only two packets left. But like I say, because the kids eat so little, I didn't see the need to indulge my inner Kiasu-ness and buy all to keep.But I am annoyed. I am annoyed that everything is more expensive. Juice that used to cost $3.90 on offer is now $4.20 on offer. The kids' diapers cost more too. I know everyone's complaining about it and it's all around but the message gets driven home in the smallest of ways.Now, not only do I have to watch the number of times I drink iced tea and eat my favourite cranberry muffins from Coffee Bean (which have increased by 50 cents)- these are admittedly flighty things, I have to worry about how my dollar has to stretch far enough to clothe the bums of the kids and feed them (formula is DAMN expensive and people ask why I am reluctant to wean).So, when we left the supermarket and drove off and I realised we didn't claim the parking that we could, I was inexplicably pissed off. It was just a dollar but I'm beginning to realise that a dollar is still a dollar and even though it might buy less, it still contributes to buying some things...like 2.5 diapers.But some people will say that we can buy home brand items and still eat cake. And that's when the pitchforks or in our case parangs come a brandishing and a revolution shall be on the way.Technorati Tags: Singapore, babies, rising costs Rising costs The Prime Minister assured Singaporeans that the price of rice would not sky rocket. He said we got them from various sources so the rising costs wouldn't affect us this badly. I shrugged and flipped to the next page in the paper. It didn't bother me all that much. Especially now when I had decided that I was going to cut down the amount of carbs in my diet.What did bother me, and this runs contrary to my cutting of carbs and there had been no reassurance from the PM about this, was the rising cost of tea at MacDonalds!. I used to shell out between $2.65 and $2.85 to be allowed to sit there and grade papers. Now, to sit at the Macs at Taka costs me a royal $3.05 for a large tea.I believe the right term is WTF ???I need to find a cheaper fix.Technorati Tags: Singapore, rising costs, commodities Voice of the masses Dear Student who STOMPED this,I am sure you're feeling very pleased with yourself for creating such a stir. I am sure, also that you're feeling vindicated that justice will be served and your discipline master will be disciplined and dealt with and humiliated the way your friends were.Unfortunately, your letter has not impressed me or those around me who have read it. In fact, it has blown up in your face because we all think that what you did was rather despicable. You have purposely and vengefully put up a good standing man to a public lynching he did not deserve. Understandably you are indignant that he meted out discipline and punishment for what was in your opinion an innocent act. Perhaps it is true that his ideas and values are of a different time but what you have done and what you have exposed him to is plain despicable and if nothing else, shows your adolescent penchant for rash pettiness and vindictiveness.You feel that by doing this, you are alerting society to the injustices committed by an unreasonable disciplinarian. And you are supported by equally small and like-minded individuals who have risen to your call for a public lynching. Your bravado might be inflated by the bloodthirsty mob who are waving pitchforks and demanding a vigilante brand of justice.What you have failed to see is that you have made it publicly necessary to question the integrity of someone who has done nothing but tried to serve the teaching community and taken upon himself the thankless task of trying to instil discipline into a bunch of youths who frankly wouldn't be none the worse to wear by being brought to the city gates and being subject to the biblical way of dealing with disrespectful. disobedient kids. I am certain, when you wrote the letter all you thought of was the best way to get back at this man.Well, congratulations. You did it. Thanks to you, he will be questioned by the school, investigated by the Ministry of Education and he will have to walk through school and pretend to ignore and endure all the whispering that is going on about how he deserved everything that was coming his way. He will have to bear with those he is answerable to doubting his ability to do his job. Except that, he shouldn't have to. No one deserves to be called up by an investigative panel for such a non-situation. No one deserves such a mark on a so far immaculate and outstanding work record and performance. No one, who has shown nothing but loyalty to the institution and commitment to his job, who spends more time on his job than with his own family deserves to be treated with such disrespect and spite.You've done what you set out to do. You've ruined a perfectly good man who perhaps by your standard is a little behind in the times but is a good man nonetheless. You've put him in a position where he has to defend himself, as a teacher, a disciplinarian but also as a husband, a father and most of all, an innocent human being. Was this what you had hoped for? If it is, then you have just proven all the sceptics of your generation right. There really is no hope and we really have failed at our job.So, then, I have nothing else to say but good luck. I hope you sleep well tonight.Yours sincerely,An Adult.Technorati Tags: Singapore, Stomp, The Straits Times Work place compensation Because I've been grading papers non-stop for the last month and its intensity has increased in the last 10 days, I now have a Repetitive Stress Injury. I thought I'd sprained it carrying one of the kids but today, when I picked up the pen to grade my nth script, a sharp pain shot through my wrist.I wonder if a wrist brace would work.Ow.Technorati Tags: Singapore, work, carpel tunnel syndrome This morning's top story in the National Broadsheet- Detained: JI member who trained with Al-Qaeda. This led me to remark to Packrat rather snarkily, but then again, it is Monday morning so the snark factor is already rather high, that the point of the article was to go" So, we lost one but while out looking for that one... LOOK! We found another one! Yay us!"I think it was Benvolio who said " Take thou some new infection to thy eye/ And the rank poison of the old will die..." Romeo and Juliet Act 1 Scene 1.Someone's been reading their Shakespeare. Technorati Tags: Singapore, JI, Mas Selamat Give me this day my daily fix As I'm blogging, I'm also grading papers, trying to shop online as well as work the breast pump at the same time. It's quite a feat because the breast pump's balanced on my thigh and to make sure that it's at requisite level, I'm on tippy toes on one foot and I'm hunched over so the breast pump is less likely to burst forth and hit the floor and spill its precious cargo.Anyway, such is my life now. I've hardly anytime for myself so when I do have time, I rush to do all the things I need to do for myself and even then, things get forgotten or de-prioritised. For instance, I've been needing to get my watch serviced, my hair cut, run errands for the children, visit relatives and not getting much of it done.The reason for it is work. Mountains do not describe the amount of work I have. I'm always working. I'm either at work or out somewhere grading papers. In between all that, I go home to eat, see my husband, my children and sleep.Because I mark out, I end up spending money on drinks. I usually end up marking at McDonald's because it's much cheaper than a Starbucks although I love the smell of fresh coffee. Anyway, I'm there, I shell out $2.65 for a large iced lemon tea that hopefully it lasts throughout the time I'm there. Funnily enough, I'm always sitting next to some students who are studying; sometimes for the same paper that I teach.And according to the older generation around me, I've lost a ton of weight since I've gone back to work. No surprise there since I'm on my feet and there's lots of talking and pacing; that's what I do when I teach, I pace. But I've realised in the last 2 weeks or so, I no longer look so emaciated and I wonder why. I mean, it's not like I'm stuffing my face or anything. Then I realise it's the sugar and it's the gummi bear thing all over again. Because I drink a 16 oz cup everyday, even though there's no fat in it, there's heaps of sugar and even though I could well afford to put on a bit of weight, it's still a shock that I'm drinking so much of the stuff that it's actually tipping the scales for me.Another bad thing about it is that I'm seriously getting to the point where I'm addicted to the stuff. It's like I need my daily fix. It's like coffee for other people. I'm not exactly sure which is worse. But rather than sit here and ponder this, I'm going to get dressed, go off to get some work done and possibly go somewhere where there isn't an iced tea in sight.Technorati Tags: Singapore, Mcdonalds, Teaching Go directly to jail. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200 " I hate my life" so she says with great vehemence.I really do.It's Friday of the one week vacation which has turned out into absolutely NOT a vacation at all. Every single day has been spent grading assignments. My typical day has looked something like that.7 am- wake up with the kids, play with them for a bit and give them their breakfast.8am- I take a shower, get Packrat up and we prepare to leave.9am- 12pm- Holed up at some MacDonald's or other, grading papers.12-2 pm- Come home for lunch, see the kids if we're lucky.3-6 pm- out again grading papers.6-8pm- Come home, get the kids to bed and have dinner. Dozing a little while Evan nurses himself to sleep.9-11pm- Out again, possibly at Macs AGAIN, grading.11-1am- Come home, shower, do the necessary before hitting the sack, hoping that I get 4 hours of sleep before the babies descend upon me.So there, that's a typical day for me. And I realised with a tremendous amount of guilt that through the entire week, we haven't spent any type of special time with the kids. We're always rushing in or out, giving them kisses as we pass them by and promising some time later that we will come home and play with them. Which hasn't happened and I'm sad to say is not going to happen before term reopens on Monday.The amount of guilt mixed with anger that I feel is tremendous. I will kick anyone who tells me that I have done a good and noble thing, dedicating my vacation to my work and I shall be commended for it. I will also kick anyone who reproaches me for not spending quality time with my children because I am already full of self-loathing and self- reproach for failing to prioritise my family over my work. And this is where the anger comes in for it has been insinuated that I haven't been doing a good job with the balance and the juggling and this comment isn't talking about how much time I'm not spending with my kids.I feel like I've failed. My children have hardly seen their parents the whole week and I have been told that I should have planned the week better to factor time in for them. My response was that I tried, but failed miserably. And I don't know how to try harder. I don't know where to find the time to spend with them while completing all the things I need to complete. It's easy to say, ignore all else and just block out some time for the kids. But what about that fear that creeps into your throat and threatens to strangle you because there's so much else that requires your time and attention and even if you don't want to do it, you have to because that's what adults do?I wish I was easy going enough to let it slide, to chill and say fuck all to work because I've done what is humanly possible. But I can't. The 16 PF PErsonal Career Development Profile I did recently highlights that the strongest trait that stands out has to do with Apprehension, Worry and High Anxiety so I worry, I stress, I angst and I'm wound as tight as a taut rubber band and the ability to chill and to forget about things around me is not in my vocabulary.So, I just have to struggle on, get what I need to do done and try to be there as much as I can for my children and my husband who, bless him, has been extremely good at holding my hand and rubbing my back when it gets too much for me.It leads me to question if I've taken on too much and why is it that everyone else can cope but I can't seem to and since it is expected of me to be able to cope, why can't I and why am I incurring the wrath of others by this seemingly obvious deficiency on my part?Technorati Tags: Singapore, work life balance The Devil does indeed wear Prada I haven't done one of these photo shoots since the kids were born. I spent a good part of this afternoon, decked up in clothes I wouldn't normally wear and pretending to away from the camera when in actual fact I am actually looking into it.While waiting around in between changes, I realised how The Devil Wears Prada the fashion magazine is. At any photo shoot, there's a makeup-artist, a hairdresser, the fashion editor, her minion and the photographer. Of course, there is the model. There is an obvious hierarchy going on. The fashion editor, of course, rules the shoot. What she says goes. Too dark, too bright, shoes too high, too low. Whatever she says, whenever she snaps her fingers, her minion comes a scurrying. And this poor minion has the thankless job of having to do everything for the editor including read her mind as to how the editor wants me styled. Me, I'm standing there like the clothes horse that I'm supposed to be while the hair stylist combs every strand of hair into place and the makeup artist adds more blush or more tint onto my face or lips and this poor girl, and she is literally called "GIRL" is left rolling up sleeves, unrolling them, stuffing the bag slung on my shoulder with too much stuffing only to have to take it all out with the slightest 'tsk' that I would have missed had I not been looking in the direction of the fashion editor.The photographer is not spared either even if he's given a little bit more 'face' than the hapless Girl. She directs the shots, she tells him what she wants to see in the photograph. When he just takes her instructions rather than look at the shot she is using to issue the instructions, she delivers rather icily the question of whether he can read her mind from all the way across the room.So, even though I'd once loftily imagined that models had it good because when they were being photographed, all attention and eyes were cast upon them, I am having to admit, that isn't really true. Yes, they are all polite to me where I know I could have been yelled at for not having been able to cast off the perfect ballet posture fast enough and replacing it with a chillin slounch but I suspect that had to do more with the fact that in this circumstance, I knew someone in their organisation that trumped even the fashion editor in her ability to wear the Prada.All in, I had fun. The clothes were great but I don't do this enough to actually be able to demand the clothes though I liked the bags more. The shoes I wasn't too keen about especially when I realised the key to throwing me off my centre of balletic balance was to put me in shoes I couldn't even stand in. This meant I had to hunch, round my shoulders, centre my weight all on one hip, cling onto the wall... all making wonderful shots but one extremely unhappy clothes horse. And when I commented to the GIRL that they were the most uncomfortable shoes I'd ever been put into and the designer was obviously a masochistic hater of women, she stared unbelievingly at me and whispered "but...they're Jimmy Choos". In her book, I had violated all things sacrosanct by complaining and that I should have been grateful that I had been deigned worthy to have those clogs on my feet. I refused to budge and stood my stand, as much as I could and pointed out that regardless of whose pencil it was that drew them on paper, the real product had no centre and all my weight was distributed onto my outer heels and if I tried to firmly centre my weight in the middle of the shoe, I'd break my kneecaps. So the sooner I got out of those 6 inch dominatrix stilletos, the better. That's where I left her standing gaping, open mouth, unable to believe that I was so cavalier about the Jimmy Choos.We'll see how the pictures turn out and if they look presentable enough, I might post them. If they don't, well, shrug.Technorati Tags: Fashion, The Devil wears Prada Eye Candy Because I don't have time to formulate a thought, much less a blog post.Because I don't have time to watch any tv.Because I am running on 2 hours of sleep and watching my toe nails grow would be entertaining at this point.Because I'm at the point where I want to just bury my face in the pillow, take 2 muscle relaxants and drift into chemically induced heavy sleep.And because I don't have time to do any of this, I take joy in simple things.Like enjoying eye candy and drifting into Mcdream land.Technorati Tags: Patrick Dempsey, Grey's Anatomy Shoe-nami It was wonderful that the awful humid weather broke last night with the storm of storms. I could hear the rain in my sleep and it is a comforting sound. I did, however, wake up to the reality of it which was the store room leaked and by virtue of my having the most pairs of shoes stored in there, my shoes soaked up the most water. Now, I am sad. I haven't gotten over it enough to be angsty yet but I am right now, mourning my shoes. Shoes that I am fond of, have blogged about and would have photographed if I ever had the time. And I'm very sure when I get to the point of being upset, it will go along the lines of this post. Till then, I'm mentally bidding farewell to the ones that are too water logged to be saved. Technorati Tags: Singapore, rain, shoes Friday I'm in love I love that song by the Cure. Not only because it brings me back to a time when I actually liked the Cure but also because of the obvious. That Fridays are great.And Mondays suck.And you know today is Monday when I come to school without my phone and leave my water bottle in the car and have my breast pump but no bottle.Only one word describes Mondays and it rhymes with "duck".-- Update--I also ended up spilling my entire mug of water flooding my desk, wetting everything from my mouse to my work to bits of my dress as I scrambled to mop it up. The only good thing, it drowned out some ants that have apparently been in residence at my desk longer than I have. Plus they seem to have wizened up to the concept of ant poison.Technorati Tags: Mondays