A Gift from the Heart

I call this art piece “Bull Terrier in Orange”.

Aren’t you awed by how creative my naming techniques are?

More important to me than its name is knowing how the birthday girl will love and treasure this hand made gift, no matter how lop-sided I had sewn her dog to be. Sorry. Sewing straight has never been, and may never be, my forte. Besides, its boring. :)

How it began

A few people had came to me before and told me of their “magical” experience with childbirth. They claimed that the minute they saw their bundles of creamy joy being put on their chest, they forgot all the excruciating pain and bla bla bla… dah dah dah…

I will not hesitate to tell the truth about my birthing experience too. That it was a horrific one.

I had woken up bleeding in the ungodly hours of the night and alone because D-man was away serving the army. I showered and packed my bag before hailing a cab to the hospital. Upon admitting myself, I was told that I needed an emergency c-section right away due to a complication with my placenta. As the doctor goes on to explain the procedure, I had already zoomed out and was in my mind counting the number of hours I had wasted on researching the benefits of drug-free childbirth, the time and dollars spent on pre-natal yoga, consultations with a doula etc, all just to gear up for the much raved about natural labour.

It would be pure hypocrisy to say I was not disappointed with the method of delivery. It certainly doesn’t help that everyone around you are committed advocates of natural childbirth. But did it made me any less of a mother? Hell no, and my sentiments are shared by all my loved ones.

What I am really saying is…if you kicked the kerb & tripped into the same emotional manhole of blaming yourself for a less than perfect birth experience (whatever that is), it’s ok. Just get up, swear, brush the dirt off yourself and move on. The roses and rainbow are right ahead, and will be personally delivered to you by your very own cherub

Sweet Pea

I absolutely not want to be one of those annoying parents who has 10 Facebook albums of their baby despite the kid being only 2 weeks old. And don’t get me talking about those mums who start and end all their conversations with “my baby..”.

But I realize it’s pretty damn hard not to share pictures as adorable as these…

What are you hiding in your cheeks sweetheart?

I’ll totally understand though if you decide never to come to this site again.


Alive, and kicking hard

It’s been quite a while. The fact that I still remember how to turn on the computer and type this is a miracle by itself.  Do forgive me though, for you see, I’ve been involved in the mega project of colossal scale.

Meet the latest member of the Peonies family!!!

In between endless feedings and diaper changes, I will try to update my beloved blog but if I don’t, you know why (especially all the mommies out there. Btw here’s a long overdue salute!).

Leftover Turkey Pie

How did someone come up with having turkey for Christmas feasts? Why on earth would you cook something so large, you have to eat it for the next 2 years?

Since we all have to OD on turkey, might as well do it in different ways. I made the pie crust a night in advance and just had to cook the fillings before baking the pie. The pie crust recipe can be found here.

Ingredients (pie fillings enough for 1 large and 6 small pies)
leftover turkey meat, shredded (about 4 cups )
1.5 large carrots. diced
3 large white onions, diced
1 can of button mushrooms, sliced
butter for frying (approx 4 tbsp)
1 cup stock (I used chicken but veg stock works just as well)
1 tbsp cornflour or plain flour mixed with 1/2 cup water for starch
pepper and salt for seasoning (optional, as the turkey, butter and stock is already tasty on its own)
1 egg yolk for brushing onto pie pastry to get that golden brown tinge

In a large pan, melt butter and fry the onions and carrots till soft. Add mushrooms, turkey and fry till fragrant. Add stock, mix well and add starch while constantly stirring the stock to prevent lumps. Quickly remove from heat. Let the divine mixture cool, and get to work with the pie crust.

I have to say it looks good considering its molded by pie virgins A-gal and Tommy.

Few days before this, my online conversation with Tommy went like this:
me: We’re having Death by Turkey session 2, starring Turkey Pie at A-gal’s. Wanna come?
T: Huh?
me: Sunday lunch. Turkey. You. Come?
T: Ok. What do I bring?
me: We’re having pie. A salad would be nice..
T: Sure! How do you cook a salad?
me: *sound of crickets*
T: Hallo?
me: Nevermind. Just bring drinks.

Never one to let people down, Tommy brought not only drinks but this as well.

Don’t ask. Just..don’t.

Hand knitted Scarf

for a special friend. Hope she likes it. It’s suppose to be her Christmas gift but we met up 3 weeks too late. And then I met her last week I forgot to bring it along.

I hope she’ll use it soon cause she’s gonna be skiing in some exotic eastern European city which name I can’t even pronounce. Well, actually more like I can’t remember. Pregnesia does such things to you.

Who are you again? What am I typing? What’s this blog thing?

*I think she looks really cute in it. Don’t ya?

Happy Christmas & Make Merry in the New Year

Do you remember what you were doing during the last few days leading to the millennium? Can you believe its been 10 years since Y2K (I just felt a white hair emerging from my balding scalp)? And if the 1990′s was the 20th century, what is 2011? The 21st century doesn’t quite cut it anymore, does it?

Ok grumbles aside, I’ll like to thank all my friends for sticking around for so long, and for all your unwaivering support amidst the tornadic weather. May all your dreams and fantasies come alive, and 2011 bringing you boundless happiness, health and prosperity.

The Great Restoration

A couple of you asked me why I started sewing and like I mentioned, I was inspired an antique patchwork baby blanket made for my by my paternal great grandmother. I still keep the blanket till today but because its so old, it’s disintegrated into shreds and I’m so afraid to use it least it turns into dust. Bear in mind that when virtuous housewives of ancient times make patchwork, the fabrics were remnants of old clothings, unlike now where we often buy new materials for a desired pattern. The older folks know a thing or two about recycling.

So I decided to start this restoration project. I cut adequate fabric, hem them, and hand sew the pieces over torn patches. Some say it’s not sustainable because the other fabric would start to tear as well but let’s worry about that later. At least for now, I can hand down a true piece of antique to our beanie who’s about to meet the world.

This was the condition of many of those pieces before.

and after the cover-up is sewn over.

The finished product (sans the ironing sorry)

My Favourite Cafe

It’s the name of the place but I also mean it literally. Or shall I shall OUR favourite cafe of the fellow sweatshop slaves. Honestly I had wanted to write about this wicked eatery for the longest time, but you see, we are very protective about our Yong Tau Foo, with special possessiveness towards The Meatballs. We were worried if we told the whole world about The Meatballs, they would run out and we would rot in hell forever. I mean FOREVER!

But luckily only 3 persons read my blog and they all know about this special place already. Oh and let me tell you a legend of this Yong Tau Foo place…


Once upon a time, not so far away in the craziest shopping district of Singapore lies this magical fortress. On the 6th floor of the fortress there is this mythical cauldron that produces the most spellbinding, wonderfully delicious little crispy meatballs. Anyone that had eaten these meatballs becomes instantly contented, balanced and happy with life again.

Once, a knight and his chariot came upon the cauldron and set a record for eating more than anyone could possible stomach. He was crowned God of the YTF and challenged everyone to eat as much as he did. Many kingsmen (and ladies) came and tried to top his record but were all terribly defeated. It was simply beyond any normal human’s capabilities to eat that much.

True story.

The End.

I have sworn to protect the secrecy and whereabouts of this wonderful place but if keeps you awake at night, you can email me.

*photos courtesy of AhJune’s Weblog