Oh Look, Krill!

Oh don't worry. Whales don't eat clownfish, they eat krill.


It’s been a week since I’ve decided to put on the hijab. My parents have been trying to convince me to put on the hijab since I was in my teens but I’ve always said no. I’ve always felt that is a commitment that one does not take lightly because it’s a commitment to your faith. I wasn’t ready for this commitment until now. It’s been challenging but it’s something that I’ve been considering for a long while. It started with a click in my heart and head but I didn’t do anything about it. One of the first and biggest challenges that I had in my journey was convincing my husband that I want to do this. It’s hard to tell him why when I can’t even verbalise it to myself. And so, I stopped thinking about it for a while.

When the new year rolled in, and my mother-in-law returned from her trip to the Holy Land, I started thinking about the hijab again and this time, I couldn’t shake the feeling. I couldn’t start wearing it even if I wanted to because I didn’t have any in the house. During those initial months when I started to seriously consider putting on the hijab, I talked a friend of mine who had also recently put on a hijab. She gave me some good tips on what essentials I needed and what I needed to do to change my outfits.

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This fertility thing

I’ve always wanted to have a family, to settle down with a partner and raise our children together. It never occurred to me how getting pregnant isn’t going to be easy, until we tried.

Medically, a couple is said to have an infertility issue if you’ve not been successful after a year of trying. It doesn’t help that it’s been drilled into my head during reproductive biology,  that getting pregnant after 35 is fraught with danger. So I started panicking a little bit that we were still unsuccessful when our first wedding anniversary rolled by. The unavoidable questions started coming from relatives. I hated the questions. It made me angry and sad at the same time. Like I’m faulty and there’s no exchange or return policy.

We’ve tried the ovulation predictive kit, tracking basal body temperatures and taking pre-natal supplements, but to no avail. So recently, we’ve decided to see a specialist about it. We’re in the early stages of tests to check if there is anything is wrong with us medically. Part of me is scared to know the results but the other part of me needs to know, just so that we can see what options are available to us.

It’s scary, this journey. You don’t know what to expect and rather stressful as well. I get poked and prodded with needles and other medical things. Sometimes I look at couples who are lucky enough to get pregnant easily and I wonder, what am I missing? What am I doing wrong that we’ve yet to be blessed with a child.

I don’t talk about this as much as I’m not sure if it’s appropriate. And also, i don’t want to open myself to unwanted ass-vice from people who’ve never gone through this. Talk is cheap. Unless you have something useful to say, don’t say anything.

I do hope that we’ll be blessed soon. The house feels a little empty without children.

So this is married life…

I celebrated my first wedding anniversary yesterday. Frankly, I didn’t feel any different today than I do yesterday or the day before that. My relationship to Dude hasn’t changed one bit since we started dating in 2010, just that he’s the last person I see before I sleep and the first person I see when I wake up.

In the year that I’ve been married, we made a home together, spend almost all free time together, and head to work almost everyday together. He’s such a big part of my life that when he went to reservist the two weeks preceding our wedding anniversary, I felt lonely in a way that I’m not accustomed to. I had to relearn how to sleep alone (all covered up to the point where all you can see is a big lump of blankets and pillows), to eat what ever is available for breakfast because making breakfast for 1 is such a hassle (I ended up with coffee and left over Eid goodies), and spending my commute to work, playing more games on my phone that I normally would.

In the one year, I realised how much my priorities have changed. Family takes precedence over my work. I spend most mornings and evenings prepping for his lunches instead of dumping everything and sitting down to watch tv. His work shirts get priority over all other laundry piles, and they get ironed before the weekend is over, even if it means cutting short our outings. Trying to get all of us eating healthier means trying out new things to cook, new recipes and even new ingredients, even if it’s a little strange.

I never thought that married life would be like this but I wouldn’t change it for anything. 

My First Ramadan As A Wife

Today marks the 15th day of Ramadan. In the past two weeks, I’ve been trying my best what my mother and my late granny has done for the family, prepare meals for sahoor and iftar for the family.

My mum and granny would always be the first ones up, heat up the left overs from the previous day’s iftar and dinner, so that everyone can have a hot meal in the morning. Dude and my in-laws are not so much into eating rice, or eating all that much in the morning, so I prepare overnight oats with chia seeds the night before for them. But I’m one of those people who need savoury things at all meals, so I tend to heat up the left overs for myself.

Iftar is usually not as grand as it is at my mother’s house. We have whatever that Dude’s granny has made for dinner, or the left overs in the fridge. I’ve been feeling the urge to cook a lot and I’ve been experimenting with ingredients. I’ve made spring rolls, pulled beef (mostly done by Dude), pot stickers and bread pudding with salted caramel sauce. I’ve also been frying up things in the air fryer, just to break the monotony of rice and side dishes.

This Ramadan has made me realise that I can feed my family with my cooking. The food won’t be traditional Malay food but it’ll be as healthy and as delicious as I can make it. I still need a lot more practice with my cooking but I’m getting better. I do miss my mother’s cooking a lot but I’ve decided that if I want to eat something, I should learn it because no one is going to cook it for me the way I want it.

I’m hoping that the rest of Ramadan will be just as great as it’s been so far.  Ramadan mubarak to all.

Good food vs comfort food, a journey.

I realised that since I’ve met Dude, I’ve refined my palate somewhat.

I didn’t use to enjoy salmon, and would refuse to eat sashimi. But now, I enjoy salmon head in soup, pan seared salmon and especially raw slices of salmon. The only requirement that I have of salmon is that it must be fresh. Really fresh. I don’t know why most people can stand to eat salmon that isn’t fresh. Do they not smell the rancid fish oil that marks a not so fresh salmon?

It’s this scent that always turns me off from salmon. Some people say that I’m picky or have an expensive palate. I don’t. I just like good, fresh food.


Raw sushi at Ikeikemaru

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Married life so far

Last Monday marked my 6th month of being a wife, someone’s life partner and co-owner of a home. Most days I don’t think about the changes my life has gone through in the last half a year but on the days that I do, I’m surprised at how different my life is now.


Our wedding bands

I realised how pampered I was before my marriage, with my meals and my laundry all being taken cared of by my mum’s helper. Now, I do the laundry for the household and breakfasts too. I’m not great at it but I’m learning. It’s not to say that I don’t know how to cook. It’s just that I need practice.


Caramelised onion grilled cheese sandwiches for breakfast

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