My brain has not rebooted back into full verbal mode. It’s been somewhat soggy lately, the weather, as well as my verbal abilities. Lucy doesn’t need words, we speak through our senses, and that is such a comfortable medium for me. The weather, temperature and humidity affects the senses in a very concrete and powerful way. Most people don’t grasp the intensity of it, unless they suffer the consequences themselves. The wet and damp also triggers a purplish-green depression that seeps in through the feet, knees and top of the head, then leaves a sticky layer of sickly vomit clinging to the skin. All I can do is to keep on keeping on, knowing that the rain and its accompaniments of pain and gloom will not last forever.
I experimented with sweet yellow pepper omelette on Saturday morning. My tastebuds weren’t very sure what to make of it. Sweet omelette? Or salty? The mood jangling in my head was as damp and cloudy as the sky. Half price sushi rolls for dinner helped to perk me up somewhat. I like the vinegary rice and the smell of seaweed, as well as the wasabe and Japanese sushi soya sauce combination.
The sunshine made a brave appearance on Sunday, punctuating the miry damp for almost an entire day. Apart from our little outing to the beach, we also enjoyed the sunshine while pottering around in the balcony a bit. I am quite pleased with my veggie growing experiments. Recycled bok choy and choy sum from cuttings, and another trough from seeds. I can see that the leek (also from a cutting) is growing nicely too, and soon I shall have enough for a little side dish. The spring onions are doing better now that I have stopped watering from above, and I can see quite a harvest of green chillis coming along.
The rain returned with a vengeance yesterday, fast and furious, and almost theatrical in its flagellations. I felt a low humming nausea throughout the day, and decided it was time for some simple peasant Chinese food: rice, preserved spicy beancurd, preserved salted veggie and pickled Chinese lettuce. Somehow, it helped to came the gurgling storm in my digestive tract. Stemetil did the trick for the nausea.
This morning, we valiantly sallied forth, through the bone chilling bog, to keep an appointment this morning. I had volunteered to participate in a study conducted by a PhD researcher, about autism and emotional empathy vs ability to ‘read’ mental states. It was a sensorially grueling experience. Why is it nobody pays any attention to the sensory ambience of the laboratories where such studies are conducted? How do I explain to researchers that the sensorial environment can impact the responses of the subject and hence either alter the data or create inaccurate responses? Anyway, the PhD researcher is a lovely lady, and I am happy to do my part for a good cause. I came away with a splitting headache. Just as we had arrived on dry land and inside our building, the fire alarm sounded. So back downstairs we went, via the stairs this time. My girl is such a trooper. I knew she was tired and uncomfortable, but she never complained or showed any reluctance to keep me company regardless of the situation. By the time we got back home, we were both ready to flop into bed. But first, some sustenance for me and a nice chewy treat for the baby!
Two panadols, a huge glass of mango juice and sparkling water, and a robust bowl of home cooked Laksa later, I crashed into bed with the already snoring hound. She cuddled closer when I climbed in, and we fell into a deep sonorous sleep, her paw in my hand and her nose buried under my pillow. We awoke in time for an early dinner. We both had some of the sweet juicy strawberries that my lovely friend Sara bought us. Lucy loves strawberries, and she ate her dessert with gusto. The microwaved potato chips were good accompaniment and contrast to the strawberries – juicy, sweet vs. crunchy, salty. Perfect conclusion to an exhausting damp day.
As I get ready to join my baby girl in bed, I am musing once more about how blessed my life is now. No, it isn’t plain sailing, and I struggle with monkeys and elephants, and the odd crocodile every day. But I have a purpose, and a lovely companion. Lucy is my little Angel. Her former racing name, Like a Charm, is so apt. She makes even the worst days so much more bearable. My work is my driving passion, it propels me forward like an inexorable pleasurable force, through time and space. My Princess is my fellow time traveler, someone I share the secret unspoken resonances with, a kind of empathic sonority that needs no semantic explanation, a parallel sympathetic echo. She understands all she needs to about me, while I am still learning to keep pace with her subtle tonalities and rhythmic phrases. There is a purity of simplicity that no human companion can offer or proffer.