This morning my dad's hard work greeted me in surprise in full daylight due to the size.  It was part of his project to "revamp" our living room in reorganized shades of grey.  So he was painting over the shelves in his favorite grey and constructing metal racks. 

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 << Waiting In Line>>

The best part of the project was, he told me that I would be able to reach for books from the shelves with a reach of my hand with myself seated from the back!  I think we do enjoy some quiet time reading and dad always has so many books yet to be read.  Mum has been really grouchy over the whole matter cos' she prefer the natural wood finish of the shelves and she didn't want him to work so hard, since he had to work as well.  I been giving mental support to my dad since I already made a disclaimer that if it looked bad, I shall take over the placement or relocation of the shelves.  I admired my dad's persistence over the whole project, since he had mentioned about the ‘revamp' previously before.

I was pretty ‘perk' up lately like my body was filled with caffeine only.  I did wonder whether I looked freaky but since I couldn't see myself, I guess no one could answer my question.  But somehow today I was like a stranger on the other side looking at myself and I discovered how I was able to fill any gaps or sags in life with this thing called imagination.  It was like a kid playing by him/herself.  And I was reminded of the film - "Life Is Beautiful", how a father was trying to protect his son from the cruelty of war using his humor.  I had very mixed thoughts today.

A very urgent call was calling for my attention again.  I am replying but I am struck in a scene at the moment.  My mind kept playing a trick on me and kept supering "Will she be able to make it?" underneath my profile shot.  If this doesn't make much sense to you, it's ok!  Time for bed... the thunder is murmuring in the distance.  Sound like Mr Rain will be visiting while everybody is in bed.  Dream sweet!

HAPPY FATHER"S DAY!!!

My 1st potted plant after so many years from my previous one had withered and the last one is still battling for its dear life.  I thought I had better chance this time; not taking into account my previous attempt on cactus also had failed completely.  My sister commented that I didn't have ‘green' hands and had enormous pity for my poor plants.  It all started with over-watering, ‘feeding' them happily in the morning and at night as though they were my pets.  The sun was good by the window.  Then I started buying fertilizers for each of them; one good for leaf growth and another good for my flowers plants.  From that day on, their health started to suffer.  The leaves for my 1^st plant started to turn yellow, indicating there was too much water in the soil.  So I corrected my feeding habit.  For my second plant, the flowers started to wither and I thought it might be over dose of the fertilizers.  Hence I tried to remove some fertilizers off the soil that hadn't ‘decay'.  I thought it helped cos' new flower buds were spotted and they bloomed.  The 1^st plant still looked very sick despite removing the leaves that had turned yellow.  My dad suggested I left it outside and hopefully Mother Nature could take care of it.  To my dismay, I had sent it to its ultimate death.  I pinned my last hope on my last potted plant.  It didn't looked too healthy either, so I plucked out all the dead leaves and dried flowers.  I tried to change the soil and with its little roots, it couldn't stand up firmly in the soil so I supported it with a chopstick and left it out in the sun.  It seemed to cope well, but it was only my assumption.  Not long after, its stem started to turn brown and dried up.  Ants were also spotted roaming around.  I cut away the dried portions, hoping it would make it.  But sadly I'm only prolonging its suffering.  I couldn't bring myself to do it, to give it up.  Sad to admit, I wanted beautiful potted plants by my window, but my heart didn't follow.  And you know what, I still didn't know the proper names of my potted plants.

Some memories are locked up in songs.  When they played, they unlocked not only the souls but the tears as well...  If memories are jigsaw puzzles, then I must have chose to keep the beautiful portions I assume, not looking at the whole picture when they are put together.