This blog is dedicated to the three most special people in my life:

my beautiful, big-hearted baby sister and her valiant, generous hubby, and my most loyal and supportive friend YS – thank you for helping me eat better, look beyond my feet, reach out, live my dreams and keep on keeping on, knowing always that I am loved!

lazy luncheon

I love salmon, especially smoked salmon. Salmon sashimi is a close second, followed by salmon steak lightly sautéed in coconut oil. Well, it’s Easter weekend, and although I do not celebrate religious occasions religiously (pardon this terrible humour), I thought it’d be good to have some fish anyway. I’d bought the 500g pack of smoked salmon a week ago at Harris Farm, because, yes, you guess right, it was on special! (What else? I won’t be able to afford what used to be a firm favourite otherwise.) Continue reading



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Good Friday public holiday here. Lucy and I went for an hour long walk this morning. I am taking the long weekend off from my own brain, to engage in more relaxing activity of the senses. We walked to the nearby Whittle Park. Then meandered through the university on our way home. The university grounds are almost empty, save for the very hardworking few. We took our time, and I didn’t hurry Lucy along, I let her sniff at everything that interested her. Well, except for anything that I deemed unsafe or unsavoury – like discarded food scraps, dead animals and anything that resembled doggy poop. (She is thankfully not very interested in the latter category.)

I also observed the various facilities in my university for wheelchair and mobility access, while mulling over the thought that despite the high standards in my university, it is a fact of life that if one is differently abled, the path is always more winding and circuitous than for the general population. All the way, I pay maximum attention to Lucy. When we are out on our walks, she is the object of my scrutiny, and I try to be as alert to her body language as I can be. When I want to take a photograph of something that interests me, I first check to see if Lucy is relaxed and I make sure she is in a safe position, with her leash firmly in my grasp at all times. I am also ready to ditch my camera at the first sign of unease, even if I had to drop it. She is more important. I am far from where I want to be at reading her, but I am determined to make the effort to keep improving. Continue reading


Avocado mush and chicken-carrot soup on the side

Avocado mush and chicken-carrot soup on the side

Dinner last night was mush. With chicken-carrot soup leftovers on the side. The pain was so severe, I almost didn’t even want to eat at all. However, the avocado was ripe and ready, and I cannot stand wastage. Especially not of a favourite food! So dinner it had to be then. Mushed up avocado with olive oil, anchovy and wasabe. The sap hurt, but the effort was worth it. A simple way to end the sensory overloaded day.

Lucy watched with interest, politely waiting for me in bed. Yes, I am getting used to falling asleep with her in my arms these days. Learning a new sensory affect. I am beginning to really like it too. Good girl, Lucy!



Food is a good go-to for mitigation of the overwrought sensory landscape. My lovely Lucy is the best, though, because hugging the hound is far healthier than stuffing one’s face and belly full of cheap food. Nevertheless, I am doing both.

The pain levels have shot back up, so I am tucking into soup and mushy chicken wonton, most wantonly so. Its not high cuisine, I overcooked them and so the chicken is chewy and the wonton skin is slubbery. But it’s food. And it did help. Continue reading

DIY pizza returns


Yes, it’s the pizza craze again. Pita bread this time, instead of wrap. Why? Simple. It was on special. Just $1.99 for the entire bag of 8! How could I resist? Mushrooms were on special too. So were the tinned tomatoes. Budget Bunny strikes again.

The egg was still runny so I put it back inside after scrambling it a bit. The second time around, I had one without egg.

Very pleasant indeed. Crunchy edges, soft centre. Tasty toppings. What more can one ask for in a DIY pizza?



Rustling. Eyelashes and whiskers brushing against pillow case. Soft breath, inhaling, exhaling.

Forrid to forrid. Soft silken velvet. Warm vanilla. A twitch of the ear. A little nose wriggle. Did she smell something in her sleep?

Light shuffles, a paw reaches out and curls over my shoulder. My arm gently rests on her magnificent chest. I feel the rise and fall. I can hear her powerful heart.

Her svelte head shudders, nuzzling closer against my face. Tiny whimpers caught inside the belly of a powerful, large, yet ever so gentle beast.

Yes, the other animal in my bed. Apart from me, of course. She is the gentler one.

Continue reading


Wet, soggy, cold, rainy day. A sensory downer. Nevertheless, it is foodie day with my friend Rick. This time, we had a little indoor picnic of takeaway lunch from the Mamak Village. The common lounge area in my apartment building has comfy couches and opens out into a small open landscaped space with greenery. The fresh air comes in through the large doorway and there is always good natural light in the day. Perfect, especially during inclement weather. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Continue reading

style and stereotypes

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Winter is setting in here. I am putting away my summer things and taking out the winter gear, while my baby girl is curled up in bed watching. Mummy is at it again, she must be thinking. While going through my too many clothes, I began to discover more and more items that have been stolen by Miss L and her lackey JulieP. It is very upsetting, because some of the pieces they stole were items that I treasured and I’d wanted to wear again. My brain is trying to move away from the emotional outrage, so I started musing on the contentious subject of dressing, style and the Aspie female. This is yet another misconception I repeatedly encounter: Aspie girls ‘have no sense for / interest in fashion.’ I’ve heard this from a range of people, from the ordinary person-in-the-street, to the ridiculous public media, and even respected experts in the field of autism. Continue reading

Autistic History: My Grandfather’s Story


People on the spectrum have been around since the beginning of humanity. We just didn’t have a name to our brilliance and our demons. We coped. We built resilience. We lived. We died. I applaud today’s growing knowledge, awareness and hope for acceptance of neurodiversities. But let us not forget to build in ourselves and our children the same determined resilience that our neurodiverse forefathers had.

Originally posted on A Quiet Week In The House:


People ask, “Where are the autistics of ages past?”

I can name one: World War I hero, Purple Heart recipient, and mental hospital veteran—my grandfather, W. B. Mueller.

Grandpa served on the infamous Western Front. He told few horror stories, except to say rain fell interminably, dysentery was widespread, and rats ate the dead and the living with equal zest. He also recalled that the murky trench water emitted a stench so profound it permeated his provisions. Grandpa swore every meal tasted like corpses.

As he crouched in the trenches, shells exploded above him with furious violence, shredding soldiers in the line of fire. One such shell barrage pinned down Grandpa’s squad outside Château-Thierry. Five marines perished beside him. A pinkie-sized shell fragment tore through Grandpa’s leg, lodging at an irretrievable depth.

Western Front

Grandpa would have recuperated quickly and returned to battle in modern times, but without antibiotics, he became gravely…

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