Pumpkin flower
My mum says this is a pumpkin flower (that is, a flower of a pumpkin plant), but there will be no pumpkin if there is no male and female flower on the same vine. I think she said this was a female flower. We’ve yet to see a fruit, so I guess the male flower was a no-show.
Pretty, anyway! I love how cheerful it looks.
“Moi? Get stuck? Never!” says the tubby cat.
This has been shamelessly taken from Cute Overload. It’s too precious! I just love how he/she finally gets out of the box.
Kaoru’s Cake House
Picked this up at a nearby bookstore. Glad to see that local publications are now being distributed quite widely — albeit a tad bit late.
Kaoru is dubbed on the back cover as “Malaysia’s famous manga artist.” Her illustrations are pretty, no doubt about that. Perhaps a little too pretty … I could barely tell the guys from the girls. Gender aside, I enjoyed the drawings.
The storylines, however, fell short. Wing, for example, was introduced as a pessimist who never smiles unless he’s in pain or about to do something diabolical. I expected something more for Wing, being the one who owns Kaoru’s Cake House. A bit more insight into his character, a bit more depth.
I understand this is a collection of stories, one with (as the artist herself admits) limited space. But I would have been happy to have had a couple of stories fewer, if it had been replaced with a bit more meatiness in the others. Some stories felt like fillers, and they were unforgiveably preachy to boot.
It would seem that this was originally written in another language — Malay? (There’s an English translator in the credits.) The English translation was not proofread carefully because there were … grr … grammatical errors peppered throughout the book. Having said that, I liked the fact that the translation had a bit of a stilted feel to it — you see similar anomalies in manga translated from Japanese to English. But the grammatical errors … gah!
Then again, this is two years old now. She has a new series out: Maid Maiden. From the sneak previews online, it looks promising. The art is gorgeous. The language, however … oh, dear. They must have used the same translator.
Dusk
After I’d fed the dogs, did some of the usual things I did at that time in the evening, I looked up and noticed a strange hue in the sky. It was so striking that I had to take a picture of it. Alas, my picture does Mother Nature no justice.
So I just looked. The brilliant golden orange, lighting up the darkening evening sky. It stayed like that for a few brief moments, and then the darkness of the night took over.
There was a crescent moon that night.
NaNo dreams
I have a ton of things in my Documents folder. Lots of things I can’t bear to delete. Or have just forgotten to delete. I created a misc folder and a lot of junk went into it. I rooted around in there today, and found an effort of mine from NaNoWriMo 2007. I didn’t complete it (let’s put it this way: I was no where near 50,000 words, and that’s putting it mildly). But I did write something that could have gone somewhere, if I’d only let it….
CHAPTER 3
It was a Friday morning. As she stumbled groggily out of bed to the shower, she took a look out the window. The sky was bright and it looked like it was going to be a nice day. By the time she got out of the shower and made herself a cup of tea, she was already running late for work. The phone rang and she picked up, knowing full well it was going to be Shayna on the other side.
“Yoyo, you’re still at home?” Shayna shrieked down the line.
“Yeah, I’m just on my way out. Why do you call if you know I’m running late? Never mind, I’m going to be there in 20 minutes, tops.”
“Fine, fine. Hurry, okay? Really need that folder back. I’ll see you at the shop. Bye, now!”
The line went dead. She looked at the receiver, bemused. Shayna had already been that way. Always in a hurry; always hurrying her. She was that way when she was five, and she was that way now. And Shayna never stopped using her childhood nickname, Yoyo. It was something that stuck after a rather unfortunate incident involving a yoyo and the boy who lived next door. Jared was the boy who was always running around the neighbourhood causing mischief. The neighbourhood wives would yell at him whenever he came near. They were especially suspicious of him when their fruit trees were in season. He could never resist the luscious fruits hanging temptingly down their branches. He always took more than he could eat, and he always chose the ones most fiercely guarded.
Joanie had just been given a yoyo by her favourite aunt who was visiting. It was a difficult toy for a six-year-old girl with poor coordination. What she lacked in coordination, she made up for in determination. She tried for hours to get a hang of the yoyo, and she wasn’t getting anywhere with it. Lips pursed, she tried repeatedly. She was getting frustrated, and her arm was starting to tire. Jared was tearing down the lane on his bicycle when he caught sight of her, sitting in her porch, staring at the yoyo with a fierce glint in her eye. He stopped in front of her gate, and watched her as she gave the yoyo a go, and failed yet again to get it to roll back up the string.
“Ha ha! You’re doing it all wrong. Girls don’t know how to play with the yoyo. You better give that to me.” Jared opened the gate, walking purposefully towards her.
“It’s mine,” she said, putting the yoyo behind her back.
“Okay, fine. I can teach you how to do it right,” he said. “Let me show you.”
“You have to give it back to me afterwards,” she said.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said, tossing his cloth sack on the floor. It fell with a thud on the ground, and Joanie could tell it was filled with fruits. And from the fragrance, she guessed it was probably booty from Auntie Lian’s prized mango tree, which yielded the sweetest, juiciest mangoes. The tree also produced the least fruits amongst all the mango trees in the neighbourhood. Auntie Lian guarded them jealously. If you received a mango from Auntie Lian’s garden, it meant you were in her good books. Everyone liked being in Auntie Lian’s good books, because she also had the sweetest rambutans and papayas in her garden. Auntie Lian also had a durian orchard, and everyone liked to say that the durians from Auntie Lian’s orchard was so delicious, it could bring a dead person back to life.
Joanie passed the yoyo to Jared. When he didn’t quite succeed in getting it going either, Joanie decided she wasn’t learning anything from the fraudster, and proceeded to attempt to take the yoyo back. Then Jared decided to run. He ran out the gate, got on his bike and went off like a shot, his bag of mangoes forgotten.
Joanie couldn’t believe her eyes. She went straight for her tricycle and put up a chase. Jared was a bigger boy, older by two years, but his bike wasn’t a particularly fast one. Joanie pedalled furiously, almost managing to catch up with him. “Stop!” she yelled imperiously. Jared went on pedalling. “Stupid boy, you stop now!” she yelled. The anger gave her a sudden burst of speed, and she rode right into Jared, making him teeter violently off his course. He tried his best to stop, but the momentum kept him going, landing him right into Auntie Lian’s rose bush.
That was the last time Jared came anywhere near her, or Auntie Lian’s house. He suffered a fractured ankle, a bruised chin and multiple lacerations from the rose bush. Auntie Lian’s rose bush was, of course, famous for its gigantic blooms, which all came with monster-sized thorns. When Shayna heard the story, she giggled and said, “All because of you, Yoyo Girl.”
When she finally reached her shop 30 minutes later, Shayna was already there, sitting in her car and tapping her fingers impatiently on her steering wheel. She wound down the window when she saw Joanie. “Hurry up, will you? I won’t go in, just grab the folder and throw it to me,” she said.
Joanie unlocked the shop and went in, depositing her things on the reception counter. The folder was on the nearest table, where Shayna had been sitting just the day before. She took it and went back out to Shayna.
“What’s the big urgency with this folder?” she asked Shayna.
“It’s my damn tax forms. I should have submitted them yesterday but you know how we were talking and I guess … never mind.” She looked in her rear view mirror, a little distracted. “I have to go. See you later, okay?” With that, she wound up the window and drove off.
Joanie looked as Shayna’s car disappeared out of view. Shayna? Queen Efficiency herself forgetting to submit her tax forms? That’s not like her. What’s up with that?
A voice calling her name shook her out of her thoughts.
“Hey, Joanie, are you going to stand there all day?”
She looks over to Micah, her assistant. Dear old Micah, what would I do without her, she thought. Micah dropped into her life a year ago, out of the blue, and she could not imagine life at the shop without her. Micah was only 17 then, fresh out of school, but she was an old soul, wise beyond her years. She was also exceptionally intelligent, and while she had some curiosity about what university life would be like, her family couldn’t afford it. So she decided to work and save money, and decide later what she wanted to do with her savings.
How nice to have that kind of freedom, she thought.
Perhaps I’ll give NaNo another shot in November. Maybe.
(Image courtesy of www.adigitaldreamer.com)
