I had a dream a few weeks ago.  I was playing with a young boy, perhaps 5 or so.  His father was nearby.  The kid and I were just laughing and giggling away.  When it was time for the boy to leave, the dad said to me, "I read your blog, it's interesting."  (or words to that effect).  He caught me off guard.  I kept asking him how he knew of my blog and how he knew it was me.  He just stood there and smiled as if that was the silliest question he heard.  I stood there while they quickly walked away. 

Now an acquaintance did mention to me once that he saw the pictures I took of the airshow on my blog.  That startled me.  I mean, how did he know?  But he said afterwards maybe they weren't my pictures after all.   So we continued with the rest of the conversation as if nothing happened.  But that incident sort of startled me. 

Now this is probably silly to many of you who don't blog anonymously.  So from now on, I'm going to be wearing a disguise when I write.  That way, no one can find out who I really am.  I'll have latex gloves on when I type my entries.  I know about digital fingerprints.  Oopps... I have my blinds open right now, I better lower them too just to be safe. 

But seriously... I think I'm just being silly on this sunny Sunday morning. 

Before I moved out of my parent's place to my own condo, I always tried to eat with them every Sunday.  After I moved out, I kept to the same routine.  I would always go back home for some home cooked meals and mom would always give me some food to take back home.  After awhile, I would do a bit of cooking at her kitchen - nothing fancy, just helping out here and there.  It seems so long now.  After she got sick I started to help out a bit more.  Sometimes I would ask her for certain recipes.  Sometimes she would try and teach me the complex ones but it was hard unless you were actually there to watch her cook.  She also never measured.  It always depended on the ingredients and the quantity.  Sometimes you had to add a bit more spice, salt, ginger or garlic... it all depends.  She tried as much as possible to teach me without jamming me into my brain.  Sometimes I would try to tell her it's ok - we can do it next time. 

After she passed away, I started to cook on Sundays more.  Sometimes my sister would make dinner and sometimes I would.  I was frustrated that basic things like oyster sauce, sesame seed oil, ginger, garlic are sometimes missing.  So I had to bring my own.  I would always make the soup ahead of time and then heat it up at my dad's place.  I would have all the raw ingredients like meats, all sliced up and marinated.  The veggies would all be washed and bagged.   All I had to do was cook rice and cook the food when I got there.  It was a bit of a mini production. 

When I stir fry on the wok, the clanging sound of the spatula scraping and hitting the sides of the wok will inevitably bring my dad into the kitchen.  It was kinda strange the first few times.  He always did the same thing when mom was cooking and they would joke a bit.  He'll be going "You aren't done yet?  I'm hungry!"  Of course she'll ask him "Then how come you weren't helping in the kitchen?".   There are no jokes though for me, just him looking over my shoulder and asking what I'm cooking.  I tell him and he'll watch a bit before wandering off.

My mom's kitchen is very quiet now.  The wok hasn't been used for quite sometime now.  I still check the cupboards and see all the spices, sauces and oils.  The sticky drawers are still sticky.  It's a small kitchen and I sometimes wonder how mom was able to cook so much out of that small kitchen.  She knew where everything was.  The extra box of corn starch - yes, bottom drawer on the left.  More ginger - behind you on the right.  Sesame seed oil - upper shelf on the right and more downstairs if needed.  While everything is still there - the heart and soul of the kitchen isn't there anymore.  I rarely cook there anymore. 

When I read your entries on cooking, I can see the joy and the respect you have with food.  Good food is meant to be shared with loved ones.  When I see my bf making a feast in his kitchen - I know there's a lot of love and care that he puts into his dishes.   It's the same when I watch my brother and his wife cooking for their guests.  I hope you all will have or continue to have a lively, loud and wonderful smelling kitchen that's full of love.  That's what the soul of a kitchen needs. 

I dread this blank weblog entry page
Just staring at it makes me age
Sometimes I have nothing interesting to write
it's a bit of this and a bit of that... it's just so trite

Maybe I should write about S&M
or bondage and other kinky things
But all of you will go Ahem!
And I'll get lectures "what were you thinking?"

Sigh... nothing comes to mind
it's just me, sitting here on my behind.
I think your lives are more interesting
mine can sometimes be so boring.