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October 2007 Archives

Network Bus

I’m now using nokia’s wifi zone on a bus. Connection isn’t the fastest, but the fact that I have Internet access while on the move, while not using 3G or GPRS is quite liberating. The iPod’s error correction is amazing. I’m typing everything wrongly, but in blind faith the iPod gets pretty much everything right.

Three Decades

So I turn 30 in a few minutes and tonight was the usual family fanfare. Food, food and more food. I don’t have the metabolism of a 20-year old anymore, so this’ll probably take me a while to burn off in the gym.

This year is that I brought along extra help to blow the flame off the candles. Help would come, whether I wanted it or not.

Anne helping me blow my candles

What a difference 3 decades makes.

On Vapour

It’s the time of the year when everything you do feels like a slow trudge uphill. Significant inroads have been made on the upcoming redesign of the Ministry of Education’s website. It’s due for launch 1Q 2008, but has to undergo some IE-proofing. Thank you, Microsoft, for making web design a lot more tedious than it has to be.

Anne has been acting up lately, waking up in the middle of the night and taking a really long time getting back to sleep. She’d demand that we scratch her “itchiness” (she made that word up for wherever itched), or pat her back ad perpetua.

My prayers have become so mundane, and I’m learning what it means to pray for one’s daily bread. It always seems more “right” to pray for things like knowing God better, or growing in His likeness or submitting to His will - the higher, nobler things, but I find myself praying for bread and butter issues like “please help Anne sleep through this night, Faith really needs the sleep”. It seems so primitive and base of me, and I wonder if it’s a sign my faith has waned, or if God’s breaking me down to the bare essentials.

Muted, Weathered, Older

Anne’s been down and out the last three days with a sore throat and a really bad fever. Every night has been a battle for Faith and I, as the fever tries to soar to new heights every night. Last night we got really worried when the reading came in: 40.4 degrees celcius. Anne was still cogniscent, thank God. We quickly sponged her down despite her continuous protest.

She looks worn and a little dishellved, her face raw from the constant rubbing of sponge or towel. She speaks in a whisper, choosing more often than not to communicate through the shaking and nodding of her head. When she goes into her bouts of coughing, you can hear her utter cries of help in between coughs, calling for mummy.

If you had a heart, the sight of Anne in that condition would shatter it. Looking her Anne, I realise that I am looking no longer at a baby, but at a young girl who seems determined to outlast this bug - finding little pockets of comfort to sneak in a smile.

I can only imagine the thousands of parents who have children on hospital beds, in intensive care units, and send a quick prayer their way.

Imaginary Ovaries Pining

Finding 2 plastic tea cups and 1 plastic pot in my camera lens pouch makes me miss Anne.

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