Feeling sick to the bone now...got a cold now and depending on the day, I will be plagued by various aches and pians on various parts of my body. Sometimes individually and worse times simultaneously. Coughing occasionally and today is backache constantly.
But a girl being a girl, one is almost NEVER to sick to shop. I was woken up by an intense pain in my lower back. It had been so intense that it managed to permeate into my dreams where I was transported back to my last work place and I couldn't walk cos I was suddenly wracked by a blinding pain in my lower back. That was why I woke up...crappers.
But I managed to overcome the pain with great help from lots of painkillers and being the 'dutiful' wife that I am, I cooked lunch for dear husband before he came home from work. He would have been mad at me if he knew I was cooking while in pain but since it was done, he wouldn't have much to say. That's how it usually works anyway. But I did have to take many intervals during the cooking to lie down.
But after lunch, as he had promised, husband dear took me to IKEA! Yay! We stopped by the mall first (double YAY!!) cos he wanted to go to the pharmacy but of cos we ended up looking at other things as well. even though there were good sales going on now, I didn't find anything I liked...ugh!
So going to IKEA was really fun. We had about SGD200 as a wedding gift to spend in IKEA from his aunt and went on looking to beautify or else buy essential things that changes a bachelor pad into a home fit for a family.
Since moving here, I realise somthing that unnerves me a little about the typical Swedish home. And the home of husband dear is not different. He is Swedish after all.
They like it dark..or as they prefer to call it, cosily dim. An entire home can be lit up in the darkness of a Swedish winter night by a small lamp (that I prefer to call a night light) on every window sill and the occasional tiny lamp by the sofa or in a corner. For a girl who likes it bright and loud, all this dimness freaks me out. How does one see what one eats and be able to effectively dodge all the nasty things one does not eat like onions?!? How does one read the wonderful words of a good book? And how the heck is a lady gonna dress up her face in the light of a 15 watt bulb?
The atrocity!
And now as I stare at the gorgeously bright ceiling light that I insisted we have in the living room, I feel contented and truly warmed by the rays of the 60 watt bulb (highest wattage they got here) that will accompany me in the darkness of a Swedish winter. Unlike all those other homes about us.
Strange...strange...

It is the Nobel Prize presentation today and because it is held every year in Sweden, hosted by the Swedish King and Queen, it is a big deal. It is actually equivalent to the Oscars.

Why the Oscars, right? I mean, winning the Nobel Prize is so much more well, noble, than winning best actress and what the winner is wearing.

But in actual fact, this is the day that the royal family and all other celebraties who get the chance to win or attend the Nobel Prize presentation and the dinner later at night, dress up to the nines. The preparation for this much anticipated day competes well with the fuss and fury of dressing up for the Oscars, Emmys and whatever other award show that may exist. During the morning new show today, they had a court etiqutte specialist to tell the TV audience on what guests should wear, shouldn't wear, should do and shouldn't do.

One interesting question that did come up was, how much jewellery does one wear? The show host had thought that it would be unwise to flash much bling bling on oneself in the event one outshines the royal family, especially the Queen.

Outshine the royal family?? That question must have caused much distress within the expert for she said, rather contemptously I would think if she had been snobby, if you had the jewellery, wear it, flash it, show it off for all it's worth.

And if you are able to outshine the royal family, what more the Queen (how dare you deign such thoughts!?), it will be quite an accomplishment. Technically, that is true. One should no longer be afraid of getting beheaded or banished to the deep forest to encounter 7 dwarves for the being the fairest of the land. Especially with what the Royal Family flashes out themselves in the bling bling department. Who's gonna beat a bejewelled tiara heavy enough to crush a small child right?

According to husband, the Royal family has at least 2 outfit changes, which will become the talk of the town tomorrow (it always is). They have one outfit for the actual prize presentation and another (much more anticipated) for the dinner thrown by the royal family.

At this point in time of me typing this, I am actually watching the prize presentation. A Maldivian man (is that right?) just spoke and I had to sit through 5 min of opera. Hai...well, Al Gore has now been called to make a speech and the man speaks like a true American. With a large booming voice, spilling out word after word of bombastic character making up analogies, metaphors and of cos very American words such as 'unprecedented', 'desperate', 'evacuation', 'conflict, 'massive' and even more 'unprecendented'. But unlike countless times before, this American is actually making sense and speaking truth. This time, the rah-rah way of the American may actually be able to bring the good message of the climatic truth across to the common man and make it interesting to him.

Thank you for that.

It is very scary listening to all of this. It's not like I am in the dark about the causes and effects of pollution and climatic change and global warming. I am well aware of it but to actually hear the blunt truth, how close we are to and end 'in ice or in fire', that brings a dark truth across to one's heart. Oh dear, Al Gore has used the extremely American phrase 'the elventh hour'. Ugh..but anyway, back to his important message.

The man got exactly what he deserved at the end of his speech; a standing ovation. And now back to more opera..hai..I think it's their version of interlude between speeches. I dunno which is worse though.

Living in a country where the weather pretty much remains the same, getting either warmer or wetter but never more, one never truy realises the extent to which global warming is affecting our lives. We are aware of it certainly, but it does not affect us enough to get us off our butts to do something about it. To recycle more, to be more aware of the products we use, to take a step in the right direction.

Now living in a country with a whole new way of life, a new way of weather and temperature where even the slightest change in the air creates a monumental difference, one becomes even more aware. In a country where the laws take a deep consideration of the environment in almost everything even though it may take more effort and more cost. But then again, isn't the cost of losing one's future so much more painful?

Thanks to Al Gore, I suddenly got a surge of patriotic pride and protectiveness. Patriotism for my true home, EARTH.

Ok, now time to switch off the lights in the house.

It is St Lucia Day on Thursday so in the small town of Askersund, the townspeople celebrate on Sunday instead. There is a small parade that goes through the entire town past the building we live in so we actually have an option to watch the parade pass by the balcony. How fun!

What is St Lucia Day, you ask?

Well, I had not been introduced to St Lucia until I came to Sweden but it is a day to celebrate in honour of St Lucia who had been persecuted for her beliefs. That's about as much as I know. Well, as much as the husband managed to explain to me on his way to the kitchen to make himself a nice Swedish sandwich.

Helpful man. Hmph..

Anyway, we decided to go down to the town square instead to watch the parade pass since we live so close to the square and we would have had to run like crazy to get a good spot. Plus the fact that we wanted to go have a look at shops which close just before the parade.

The whole square has been very charmingly set up with a huge Christmas tree lit with lights and the streets decorated with stars and leaves and some other unidentified bright thingy. The shopfronts had covered up their shopfronts and revealed their Xmas decor just a few days before. It is apparently a town tradition (Swedes have A LOT of that) and they take off the paper they stuck to the glass front of their shops on a launching day (weekend of cos. It's a whole event. Small town, catch my drift?).

The sun had set by the time we left the house at 4pm but the square was alive with people, singing, dancing santas and a mobile cafe. Yup, I saw a cafe built into a bus, equipped with a cashier counter, a wall of magazines and books and another wall filled with goodies. And in case they don't have the chance to set up the tables and chairs outside the bus, seats have been left at the back of the bus for customers to sit and enjoy their coffee, tea, chocolates, magazines and whatever else they deign to enjoy at the back of a big dark bus. Now, ironically enough, this bus had been designed and is operated by a Christian church group. For what purpose, I'm not entirely sure but it sure is interesting.

The parade started a few minutes early but we heard the choir girls singing some lovely hymns which got us running rather ungracefully down the street and squeezing our big butts through some people to get a good view of the people and animals passing by.

Did I mention the animals??

I had no idea there would be animals. Of cos the fact that we are surrounded by big fields and forests full of wild, tame animals big and small eludes this big city girl. Of cos I had expected some motorised monster of yuletide cheer and people dancing and waving. I got the waving but the dancing only came from the semi drunk santas from a half hour before and the motorised monster came in the form of a car that decided to back his car into the front of the parade so he can exit the parking lot and go home (the middle of the square is actually a parking lot and the parade circled the only street that allowed access out of this parking area. Smart design, yea?).

But no one could stop this big city girl from embarassing herself (but then again who can?) with her oohs and aahs as animal after animal passed me by. Big hunting dogs kept back by flimsy looking leashes fronted the parade followed by horses. So many horses!

Apart from the horses that we all see so often on tv (cos what other world do I know apart from the fantasy of TV right?), I had never seen horses of any other size up close and personal before. So I was very very pleased to see how tiny miniature horses can get and I saw a horse that was so huge, it must have been plucked from the farm of a Giant. And it had the honour of pulling the cart with 6 girls in white holding candles representing St Lucia. Now this animal is so enormous that I do believe, without exaggerating, it's head is about the size of Mathias's torso, and that is impressive. It is taller than Mathias and would have given me vertigo had I tried riding it. I think it must have been big enough to eat me! But due to the new husband not used to te new camera, all the pictures taken of this incredible animal is out of focus or too dark. Oh well.

To me, it was a shame that the sky was so dark during the parade but to Mathias who had been enjoying this festival since childhood, he says that the parade would not be the same with sun (I knew those fangs of his indicated something more that an anomaly). But I did wish that there was snow covering the streets and crunching from under my boots. It would have added so much more to the atmosphere.

This weekend, I am very glad to say passed much more calmly without any attempts on my life (with the help of glögg, that awful awful black drink. Which, to rub poison down the throat, is drunk warm) or o the life of my mother in law who though allergic to nuts was given hazelnut chocolates by her crazed daughter in law.

So yes, it has been a very lovely weekend, filled with random boredom and a big ass horse.

Boys and girls are made very different indeed. While the boys are busy catching tadpoles, the girls are dreaming of their future. How beautiful their wedding will be, the handsome prince that they will marry and the gorgeous flat that she will decorate.

Hai...such wondrous fantasies.

I used to have fantasies like that. But never in any of my fantasies could I have imagined I would eventually end up with a white man who can't tan, in a small quaint and old town in a cold European country, occasionally encoutering deer and cows in the backyard of my parents in law's house.

Life is full of quirky twists and turns.

My first boyfriend had been what I would say a pretty normal selection for me, looking at what I had to select from. He was Malay like me, living in a 4 room flat with his family and went to the same school as me.

Even though I realised we didn't really have much in common and that he is a typical malay Mat Rockers, I didn't care cos I was full of puppy love for the guy.

Now for all the clueless folks out there, allow me to explain what a malay Mat is like. They are of cos Malay, tend to be sporty, love soccer with a passion, usually think they tell the best jokes but it's very lame and thinks that they are ROCK musicians. Now some of them may be talented with a instrument, no doubt, and for those who are not imagine themselves to be talented singers, which they usually aren't. They love rocks groups like Metallica, Bon Jovi, Deep Purple (you get the idea). And for those really into the rock music, some guitarist with wild, untamed hair called Yngwie Malmstein is a hot favourite.

My ex-boyfriend was one such individual. And unfortunately, he falls into the singing category cos the fella can't play the but fancies himself the lead rock singer. Let's just say that even during my throes of love with him, I would laugh when I saw him singing along to his guitar playing mates. Such concentration, such passion and yet so little talent...YIKES!

And so because I had to endure 2 years of such an eye opening experience, I swore never to date a Mat Rocker again. And I was successful for many years and I thought that I would never walk down that rocky path again.

And here I am, 6 years since the end of that era, sitting at my desk typing away in my marital home and finally accepting the truth that the very man I married..is a Mat.

A white Mat. A very white, very rocker Mat.

And while I am pouring my heart, soul and voice into this blog, he is behind me pounding away on one of his 6 electric guitars using his one of 2 amps.

And how do I know I have married a Mat? A species I thought I never again touch again?

I have 2 amps for his electric guitars that come up to my waist to my right, a bookcase that houses nothing but hundreds (really!!) of his rock CDs and concert DVDs (yes, concerts!) to my left and behind me sits his beautiful and latest white electric guitar (his last beloved guitar was gold. GOLD!).

3 Ominous signs of his embedded Mat-hood.

Remember Yngwie Malmstein? I did not remember his name bcos I still reminisce and refuse to forget everything my old boyfriend told me. It's because a copy of this famous (infamous to me) guitarist is staring at my left ear right now. And I know that a few more CDs of his are lying in wait on the shelves above and below it. My husband thinks he's a great guitarist. My old boyfriend thought that he was the greatest guitarist to have ever lived.

If that does not check off another box of the Mat criteria, I dunno what will.

Granted that my husband is a pretty talented guitarist and has been playing since his early teenhood with a decent band and a few CDs produced to his name. It still does not take away his Mat-ness.

He does not serenade me even though he plays the elctric guitar cos in his own words, I DO NOT SERENADE. Hmm...yea, he doesn't. What he does instead is sing me silly songs I've never heard of like Don't Eat the Yellow Snow and some other songs which are totally inappropriate to repeat on public domain. Apart from that, he can scream a few really high notes which may be impressive when I'm in the mood. So I suppose he DOES serenade...just not the way I thought I would be serenaded.

And jokes, well, let's just say that sometimes I laugh just because they are so unfunny. Hmm...that sounds very familiar..my dear old friends would know why.

So let review shall we?

Passion for rock music. CHECK.

Thinks he's a rock singing star. CHECK.

Lame jokes. CHECK.

Yup, he is a certified MAT ROCKER.

But just like in the first time I encountered such an untamed, unfunny, delusional but passionate creature, I am in love.

What's the difference this time? Well, I actually enjoy listening to him play his guitar, he knows when to stop singing, and he respects my dislike of rock music enough to play his rock music and concerts only when I'm busy in the kitchen. And we have a lot more in common that I dare to admit.

I suppose I should learn my lesson from all this.

Mutual respect is very important in a relationship, accepting my partner's individuality and quirks, having rooms to escape each other from and most importantly, NEVER SWEAR OFF ANYTHING. It may be the very thing you end up with. And very happily too.

My days now are filled with lots of cooking, baking and looking for new recipes. Ocasionally I venture to actually delve into my online Swedish language tutorials and learn something new. A good thing about Swedish TV is that for all English programs they broadcast, there will always be Swedish subtitles. So the fact that I LURVE to watch TV helps me to learn a lot of Swedish.
The only problem is that now I know how to SPELL the words...still can\t SPEAK Swedish.
ARGH!! This is so frustrating.
But I do know that learning anything new takes time. A good thing about learning Swedish is that I can at least read the letters. That's a step in the right direction.
I really miss the jemput-jemput pisang my mum used to make for me cos it's my favourite snack. So the other day, I pulled out some bananas that we had bought a few days before just cos it was cheap (we tend to do that a lot..hee!), and decided to make jemput-jemput. It was sooooo good!! Mmm... I missed them so much. Well, at least now I know that I can have them almost anytime I want.
If only bananas weren't so expensive here. Hai...
At least my mother in law is not allergic to them. She just doesn't like them. I didn't realise that she doesn't like bananas so I made some of those jemput-jemput when we went to their house on Saturday and she tried one to be nice but I knew she didn't like the bananas. Oh well.
She is allergic to nuts though. So what did I do but give her something with nuts right?
Cos on sunday when we went to the Christmas market, we decided to sit down and eat some snacks just before heading home. We ate delicious saffron buns and juice and I whipped out some chocolates that I always keep in my bag. Passed Mathias some caramel chocolate bar and handed my mum in law the bigger, better chocolate bar that tastes really good.
You know, I thought I'd be nice to her and try to get into the good mother in law books just to keep the peace. Just something I've learnt from living with my mum and seeing my sis in laws and the many trials and tribulations of being married into a family like mine.
Anyway, I handed her the chocolates which she happily took (the lady likes her chocs and candies) and I took a square from the bar too.
The moment I popped it into my mouth and looked down at the wrapping, I realised that it contained hazelnuts! DAMN!!
My eyes grew wide and I turned to Mathias and almost screamed 'Your mum is allergic!! There're nuts in there!'
UGH! First I made her eat the fruit she hates and then I try and poison her with some geat tasting nutty chocolates.
WHY?? WHY?? Hai...
Note to self: Try not to kill your husband's own mother. Especially when she's innocent. It helps one to keep the peace.

Mathias and I went to the in-laws on Saturday for dinner.


To me, it is most reasonable to ask why we are having dinner there. But perhaps my method of self expression is warped (as is the most of me), as it had sounded somewhat blasphemous to my dear husband's ears.


What?? How DARE you question why we are visiting MY parents? YOUR parents-in-law.


Ok ok...perhaps I exaggerate with husband's reaction but I could feel those vibes churning my way. But anyway, he still replied me with a a very calm, 'It's a social thing. Is that ok?'


Well hell, if you put it that way, why NOT go to the in-laws? Free dinner and all. Why not?


I strongly believe that I am recently on this war path due to a serious case of PMS.


That's right. PMS.


Three of the most frightening letters known to MAN. Especially my man. I seem to question everything and anything nowadays. More so than usual. It's like my ex-colleagues know..when Dian is stressed, DO NOT get in her way cos she wll bring you down like a lumberjack and his tree. PMS, I logicalize (is that even a word??), is a most stressful period of a woman's life. And for most women, this happens every month..the hormones surging like an angst ridden teenager, the anticipation in the body that your period is coming REAL soon and it's gonna be uncomfortabe but the inability of the mind to see things logically through a possible chemical imbalance or simply deeply embedded neurotic behaviour coming alive to feed once a month.


So anyway, we went over there and had a good time with great food. We had kebab meat slices and what I believe to be the world's greatest fries from the pizza place in the same building as us. Those people deserve an award for their fries cos it's just HEAVENLY. I dunno what spices they put in there cos it's more than just your run of the mill salt and pepper. So we had that for dinner while watching some charity show that is something like the one in Sg except that it was a lot less performance but a lot more of the stories of the people who would be benefitting from our goodwill calls of charity and donation.


Swedish, being a welfare state, takes really good care of its own people so unlike in Sg, I've noticed that calls for charity and donations are not so much for its own citzens but they are for a much wider cause, THE WORLD. The charities are focused on the children of Africa, 3rd world countries in Asia and Latin America and the environment. I suppose the fact that the environmentalists have a pretty strong political backing in Sweden.


So this charity show was a call out to fellow Swedes to reach into their hearts of hearts and make a call to pledge. And no, this call does not just deduct an amount from your phone bill and transfer it to the charity at hand. No, by dialing that number, you make a commitment to a child somewhere in Africa or the Phillipines to sponsor the child until the child grows up.


Yes, the idea of sponsoring a child from a 3rd World country is not as far off an idea in Sweden as it is in Singapore. Just before we went home, my in laws decided to introduce me to the drink called GLÖGG (pronounced glerg). I was told that it is a special and very popular Christmas drink that you drink out of a tiny mug. I had thought it would be something like egg nog but when they handed it to me, I was so shocked, all I could do was stare at the mug and giggle.

Yup, the embarrasingly high pitched giggle that comes out of me in moments of nervous energy and high anxiety.

It was a warm, black liquid that smelled like it had come out of the drain and I was sure would sear my oesophagus as it ran down into my gut. I took the CHILDREN'S version of the glögg (I can't believe they make kids drink that!!) which just means that it does not contain alcohol. Now the fact that my father in law had a naughty glint in his eyes when he handed me the mug and my husband refused to drink it but was all supportive when it came to my tipping it into my mouth certainly screamed NASTINESS. But seeing the runny black liquid bubbling noxious gases up my nasal cavity shook my hands but like a teenage boy on a dare..I could not say no to my in laws..so I took it down and allowed the seemingly poisonous to enter my body.

Thank goodness I took only a teaspoonful cos it was one of the nastiest things I've tasted. Ever. Cheers to those who enjoy this warm liquid if nasty but it is NOT for me. But the other 3 people in the room seemed to enjoy themselves mightily watching me suffer in silence.

Nice end to the evening.


Went to a Christmas market the next day with Mathias and his mum.


The Christmas market is held over 2 weekends every year and it is apparently very popular with people from different parts of Sweden driving down to the town of Vadstena just to go to this bazaar. Mathias told me that it would have been so nice if it there had been snow when we went but as luck would have it, it was a bright, semi cloudy day with naught but the recent morning rain visible on the road.


Too bad.


Since husband dear had been calling this Christmas market a..well..market, I had this vision of something similar to the Hay Market in Stockholm where they had rows and rows of stalls selling everything from fruits to bags and purses to flowers of every imaginable colour. I loved the Hay Market cos of all the colours, flowers and the people screaming thir wares at the top of their surprisingly melodic voices.


Apparently the town of Vadstena, where this market was held is a very quaint and charming town known for their very old buildings and historical landmarks. A large part of the the town is made up of very old but well maintained buildings that people actually live in. So it's amazing to be able to see these buildngs and touch the walls that had existed since the 1500s.


The market is held within the castle walls and I mean actually WITHIN the walls of the castle. The walls surrounding the castle are extremey thick...so thick that the roof (which is covered in grass, to feed goats in the olden days!) is big nough for a small battle should the need ever arise.

That day, I walked on 300 year old floorboards, weaved in and out of very old rooms full of people selling traditional Swedish trinkets including iron candle holders and candle chandeliers hand made by a blacksmith making more candle holders in the courtyard the traditional way in the middle of winter without shelter.

Interesting.

But most fun of all, I met Santa who was doing his usual rounds of the castle (of cos Santa visits the castle..it's royal ground!). I hadn't thought much of the man dressed in red and had a white beard (seeing how I had already met a woman wearing a medieval cape and another wearing a long leather jacket like a wizard).That was until he took my arm and started hugging it while mumbling something in Swedish.

Of cos I was nervous and quick to point out the fact that I don't speak English while beseeching to my nearby husband with my pathetic eyes to save me from this red cloaked madman. But what did husband dear do?

He SMILED happily and said, 'It's Santa! How nice!'

Santa: mumble..mumble...mumble..,

Me: Huh?? Erm...I don't speak English?..

Santa: (laughing and still hugging my arm TIGHTLY) And what do YOU want for Christmas?

Me: Huh?? Er..Christmas? What I want for Christmas? (Note: At this point, even I realise that I soud ike an idiot) Well, I...I want an Electric Car.

Sanat: Huh?? An electric car? (now it's HIS turn to be dumbfounded. Finally lets go of my arm) An electric car huh?...Hmm...that will take a lot of magic you know. (Ha...that's right, Einstein). Well, I can't promise you an electric car but I will definitely try and see what I can do. Ho! Ho! Ho! (Why do they always have to laugh like that?). A lot of magic but I'll see what I can do. Maybe..just maybe...Merry Christmas!!

Hmm....now I look forward to Christmas for a magical electric car to appear at my doorstep. Or maybe just a plate of cookies in it's place.

Either way, I'm excited!

As with most weddings, there are a million and one pictures so i will be putting up some great memories...over a period of time...meaning occasionally...when i can sift thru this photo mania...

In the meantime, I just realised that there was 1 particular guest that I would like to showcase.

She means a lot to me, especially seeing how she had dressed up particularly for this day. But the fact the her father's only sister was getting married got lost between putting on her diapers and sticking her finger up her nose (an unusually frequent occurence). Nadia was still in her own little world.

2 weeks ago, I attended one of the most important events of my life.

I went to a wedding.

My own.

And yes, the morning of that BIG day was one of minor chaos...from what I've heard.

Cos you see, I made the wonderful decision of staying in my airconditioned room, surrounded by the cheerful green curtains I CHOSE, the beautiful fake floral arrangement I BOUGHT with the furniture placed exactly as how I WANTED it.

BRIDEZILLA you say? Hardly...I was a tranquil flower glowing in a serene light, ready to be further beautified in the hands of a professional as I wait for the hour that my white knight comes to take me away....

I left the tyranny to my mother...a true GODZILLA that can bewilder the geniuses of this world with her staunchly held but truly bafflingly acquired opinions, ideas and arguments.

In light of this 'wonder' woman I call my mother, I would like to take this opportunity to thank all who have contributed to maintaining my sanity in the months before and leading to the very day I sign my life away....I mean I get married.

It has been a tough year planning a wedding with a shift job, a groom who is not there and has no clue (literally), a mother who has moments of tranquility and great ideas, and me being me...with my own moments of insanity.

If not for friends to hold me up, hold me down, hold me back...we would all be looking at a major bloodbath.


My best friend Faridah has been the force behind me, pushing me to actually get my ass moving with this wedding, without whom, this wedding would not have been as beautiful as it was. My in laws thank you deeply for helping them understand what the heck was going on during the entire she-bang...from the kompang to making sure that the magic pot lives on at their table. They told me that never once was the food plates on their table empty. They have no idea how it happened but like magic, the food just keeps re appearing..SPOOKY...but thanks, my dear.


My great gang of friends, Cheryl, Aida, Francine, Sar and even faraway Praisie...have tried to make time for me even though it may sometimes feel like the toughest thing to do in the world. The little time that we do get to spend to just chat, laugh and eat so that I can be ditzy 'ol me is something that I cherish so much, you guys have no idea.

Special thanks to Praisie and Sup who came all the way from Phuket to attend the wedding. Kop khun mak na ka!!

To the great Front Office team I work with, thanks for the great and not so great shifts we've had together. It's only when we've had bad days that we truly learn something about the job and about ourselves. To the wonderful fellow GROs who make and break my day everyday and I thank you for the memories..you guys are one of the biggest reasons why it was so difficult for me to leave.

Liyana, Amin and Duta, you guys have no idea how much I will miss you 3. From your robocop ways, your tepung white face and your silly pranks and stapling of clothes...you guys know who you are... thanks for all the much needed support and advice that you guys give me at all times of the day and night. I hope I have been able to be as good a friend to you and you guys have been to me this past year or so.

To Wilda and Fifah, thank sos much for all your help during the wedding. Couldn't have run so smoothly without you guys. Special big thank you to Fifah who helped my mum with her desperate search into the envelope bag. Good luck, Wil to your wedding plans. Next in line!!
Keep in touch, guys...I mean it.

To my entire family...thanks so much for everything. I can't believe how everyone just pulled up their bootstraps when it came down to the crunch and dove into helping out headfirst. To my aunties who helped sew my curtains BY HAND, cook, keep my mother occupied...thank you thank you! To my 2 sis in laws...you guys are just THE BEST! Thanks for being there.


And last but most certainly not least, to the guy who has had to put up with every tantrum, mood, temper, argument and plain 'ol nastiness and yet still held on for dear life at the end of the day to call me his wife....thank you, thank you, thank you..... for your patience, honesty, good temper and persistence.

You are what got us here.