Hello from the Otter side...

Oh Hello!

Have I been gone that long?

I try not to think too much about what to write these days because over-thinking things might end up with no writing being produced. Same goes to not giving any thoughts about what to write which will result in just sub-par quality entry. Who wants that, right?

Hence, this would perhaps justify leaving off blogging for a few long dry weeks and nearly two months of hiatus. But I am not one to give excuses since you all know I have an infant who will not be an infant anymore in a matter of weeks -- update: she will be 1 year old in exactly 3 weeks! - so yes, having a baby has definitely changed all my timetables and how I prioritize, and that is definitely not a bad thing. It's a miracle I still can't fathom even unto this day.

But enough about the glimpse into motherhood.

You see, having my time fully occupied has given me less time to sit and ponder about life in general, putting them in words, and publishing for people to read. There are so many current issues I wish I could touch on and yet words continue to fail me. Sometimes I think I am losing it -- the ability (if you can call it that) to write coherently and wisely (if not intelligently). Or perhaps I just need my mojo back, whatever it is and wherever it has gone to. Rome wasn't built in a day neither is a good piece of writing... but that's just me quoting lines trying to make myself feel better. 

Check and balance or so it's called: You gain some you lose some.You make some, you give some. You love some and you loath some. You come up you fall down. You live today you die tomorrow. And still life goes on just fine at the end of every day.

Before I get carried away, best to sum this entry in one sentence: I'll be back! * air fist-punch!*

Till then,
Coffee Girl.

The blank canvas project...

I have a daughter. She doesn't understand yet that she's a tiny little thing and that's why everything and everyone around her is either big, tall or wide. She doesn't understand anything much at all, let alone know that she is a Bidayuh, a Sarawakian, and a Malaysian, living in Kuching.

What she understands so far is that by crying, she'll let out the information that she's either hungry, sleepy, wet and need to be changed, or just doesn't want to be left alone.

She doesn't understand yet that there's a bigger world out there that might discriminates against everything she stands for. Or that somewhere in another part of this universe, a child her own age might not even have the privilege of having a peaceful surrounding to live in, let alone a happy one.

She's like a white canvas ... an empty starting point for someone so small, so innocent and so pure. While I am as excited as her to begin this little life shaping project, I am also every bit as anxious. You see, I have my painting tools ready in my hand but what I'm scared the most of is making a mess out of it or not producing a masterpiece in the end.

My little blank canvas...

But that's okay I supposed... we all have to make do with what we have to bring up a child in this world. I wish I could shield her forever, but that's no way to live a life. I made so many mistakes in my own life growing up, and sometimes I didn't want to heed anyone's advice because I thought I knew better. Sometimes I wish I had listened. But then where would I be today without learning from anything I've done wrong once to not repeat them? 

Our children is what we teach them to be, not just by words but by our every action. They watch and they copy. If you say one thing or do another, guess which one she will follow? And that's why I am a little scared whenever she stares at me because I can't tell which one of my expressions or actions or words she's going to memorize and mimic next.

Poor parents, the endless pressure to ensure a kid grows up right in this world today. Poor baby, there's so much more for her to handle!

The colours of life...

Anyway, the father and I are just taking it one day at a time at winging it because we know our parents brought us up right. Even if I may have strayed a little from their teachings, it's mostly me, nothing on them. So if they can do it, so can we. In God Himself in whom we trust, who gave her to us, this painting is going to be one colorful and beautiful masterpiece yet!

Here's quoting Dennis Leary the actor: "Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a two-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps! End of list."

Back at work...

[Note: Must update this. It's March. Sorry for the remiss.]

Been 15 days already since I came back to work after a three-month leave. Boy have I got a lot to catch up on and get used to all over again... waking up early, daily wardrobe battle, skipping home breakfast, getting caught in the morning traffic, hair woes etc... etc... etc... Workwise, I just need to refresh my memory and sharpen my skill once again.

The hardest part about coming back to work after a long official inactive existence is not the work. It's about being away from my baby for the first time after spending every second with her for the past 3 months. But I supposed if other working new mothers can do it, so can I. I just have to brave it every day and keep myself busy for the next 8 hours before rushing home to my little family.

Gotta look excited, right? =)

The kind of work I do however does not always include going home on the dot. In fact it also includes being away from home for a few days when the work requires it. I used to love traveling and going outstation or visit new places when I was single, because it was the only way I could escape from reality. The irony of it is of course the relaxing and soul searching part that I used to find when I did get away.

Now... I'm not sure how to put it. I still love traveling, it's just perhaps with a heavy heart.. .what's with it being left at home with the baby/daddy and all. However, if it's a holiday travel together, that would be a totally different thing. :D

How's the baby doing? She's fine! The first month was an adventure as clueless new parents, both us and the baby getting to know each other and setting up a routine (or upsetting a routine hahaha then reset). The second month was independence period, me learning to handle the baby on my own without my mom around. The third month was a revelation... when the baby begins to coo and smile and learning to recognize faces. Her sleeping routine though hasn't changed much.

And how is the daddy doing? He has been such a tremendous pillar of strength for me. Because we're doing this alone without staying-in parents or nannies or babysitters, he has been very involved with Carissa's development since day one. I must say he's such a natural with babies. :D He is even a pro at bathing an infant, trust me. Even Carissa love her bath time, judging from her cooing and smiles when she's in the tub with daddy holding her.

Baby-mommy leisure time at home... pardon the mess...

 

I miss one thing though... little baby otter moving in my womb actively for the past few months before her delivery. I tell her that every chance I get now. When I look at that adorable lovely face, I just couldn't fathom how such an amazing miracle ever lived in my belly for 10 months. The wonders of God.

So here I am.
Back at work.
Life goes on.
Happy to return.
Have a blessed Wednesday everyone!



Those little thirst quenchers...

I once resolved to actually chronicle this whole journey here (some parts anyway), but between here and there and so much going on in between, that became another forgotten good intention. Who knew being in the family way could sap the energy from a person like a vacuum suck up dust?

Anywayyyyyy... Week 34 today and thus far all I can say about myself at this stage are:

1. Didn't completely leave coffee off my diet the entire time, well, i.e. until the first trimester was over and we sailed by the danger zone safe and sound. It was completely nuts going cold turkey on such a short notice, but hey... things we do for love, right? Although I alternately consume them consciously and rather sparingly during the second trimester onwards, and counting my quota per day, as per doctor's advice. 

 Ipoh white coffee...



2. A sucker for Coca Cola at most times... A lot of times... All the time. The minute I think or say about having one, I gotta and must have one. In fact last night I had two cans before bedtime which kept we up slightly later than usual. Wasn't proud of myself, but sometimes you just got to have one, you know, as long as it's counted in the quota intake. Wasn't this crazy about Coke before, but hey... At least this craving is easier and cheaper to assuage than some crazier and more unreasonable ones that some other people have, thank God.

 

 Coke on the rock...

 

3. And young coconut juice. Funny how I never actually liked it before, now I just cant have enough. On the bright side, reviews actually said they're good for the baby and me. 5 points for that!

Fresh young coconut juice with extra ice...

 

4. I still drink the recommended maternity milk... usually with a dose of cereal to make it tastier. Although now a little less since we changed gynae. He said those are 'stuffs made of sugar and fat' and that it would do us both a lot better having my calcium intake from natural fiber sources. Well ok doc... You know best.
 

Milk with choc cereal...

 

5. Lots and lots of plain water in between. Other than to dilute the sugar/caffeine intake as per above etc, also excellent for avoiding swollen ankles/hands or puffy face caused by water retention. Makes no sense to reduce water retention by drinking more water right? Apparently it works! Although it frequents the toilet trip. But no biggie. 

 

 Iced plain water...

So there you have it. No judging please. We're fine. Meanwhile, this oversized otter has a few more weeks to go... So with God's grace and mercy, we can do this baby! Wohoo!!

Note: Photos of S3 and Mi3 quality only

Almost missed March... And some homemade cooking!

What can I say, even a busy bee is not as busy as me. Exaggerating, of course.

Life has been awesome thus far. So many things to write about, if only I have the time and patience for it. As it stands, I am stuck between experiencing a writer's block or merely going through a state of complete idleness (from blogging i.e).

It's the beginning of the year, and that probably explains the block. The Key Performance Index or KPI lists go on and on and I/we must catch up with or run faster than it, as long as I don't get left behind before the third quarters. That's work for you. Work hard now, play hard later. 

Won't it be nice to be a housewife and still get paid what I'm being paid now? Travel the world every now and then, do as I please, spend as I may, write what I want. But alas. Isn't that every woman's dream job?

But, I have been visiting the kitchen more often these days because it's so therapeutic. And nothing is as flattering and as rewarding as having your husband gaining weight from all those loves. Hehe.

While we're at it, here's a simple recipe for Kueh Tiaw Indulgence Soup (because most everyone can fix this. It all depends on your taste buds, your creativity and how indulgent you want to be.)

My Ingredients:

- 1 packet of plain kue tiaw (store-bought)
- A handful of fresh medium sized prawns (or as many as you like in your soup)
- 1 chicken thigh 
- Three-layer pork (about 3 inch length) - sliced thinly
- A handful of fresh bean sprouts (taugeh)
- Bok choy or choi sum (or whatever greens you prefer)
- 4 fat beef balls (store-bought) (if you prefer)
- Onion & garlic
- Parsley leaves (or you can also opt for coriander leaves)
- A pot of water
- Chicken stock
- White pepper powder (if you prefer)
- Vegetable oil & sesame oil
- Birds eye chilli (cili padi)
(Note: This serves 2 only) 

My Methods (instructions, if you may):
1. Boil the chicken thigh in a pot for 20 - 30 minutes or until cooked. Take out the chicken and wait to cool.
2. Use the same water in the pot to boil the deshelled prawns (I normally leave the heads to preserve the taste) for 1-2 minutes until the color comes out. Take out the prawn and wait to cool.
3. Bring the same water in the pot to boil, add onion & garlic, beef balls, extra chicken stock and pepper for seasoning and flavors, add a few drops of sesame oil. Taste the soup according to how you prefer. Leave the soup aside but keep it boiling on small fire.
4. Put the slices of pork in a non-stick pan and fry using its own lard on a small fire, until crispy. Put aside.
5. Fill another pot with water, bring to boil and add drops of vegetable oil. Once boiled, blanch bok choy, beans sprouts and kue tiaw in it until slightly soft; probably 1-2 minutes only. Cut the boiled chicken into few bite-size pieces.

All the ingredients are now ready. Here comes the easy part.
7. Arrange kue tiaw into two servings inside two bowls. Arrange crispy three layer pork on top of the kue tiaw, add the boiled chicken, bean sprouts, bok choy, and prawns in equal share. Arrange nicely, presentation does matter.
8. Pour the soup on top of the serving, and garnish with red chillies and parley leaves.

Voila! Dinner is served!

Easy right? And yeah... You can't really see the kue tiaw, it's like emm... drowned by all the awesome ingredients on top and all around. And that's why I named it Kueh Tiaw Indulgence Soup everyone! Hehe.

Have a great weekend ahead! Muahh!

That thought about God and grief...

This is off topic of any kind. Just a reflection.

Talking about grief. Who understands the word better than those who have gone through the suffering of losing loved ones? Been meaning to approach this subject for a long time but somehow the points kept evading me, and also it might come of sounding insensitive. Not the intention at all.

But you see...

I find it strange that when a loved one dies, people tend to say "God loves him more". "God loves her more."

I not only find it strange, I find it a little lacking in depth because of all the excuse that we can come up with, we have to put it on something that we don't even begin to understand. The implication in that one very line -- in  my own understanding of comprehending grief -- is it makes God sounds like He doesn't care that you love him/her too or that you suffered upon losing a loved one.

Subjectively, every time I hear those words, I mentally tend to add "God loves him more... than WHO?" More than the loved ones left behind? But why the need to put it in a comparative mode because of course God loves all His creation.

Imagine a young woman losing her husband in an accident... how is it emotionally right for us to give words of comfort in that very sentence? Can you really tell her that? Put yourself in her shoes. Someone you loved, depended on, craved the sight of, missed the voice of, presence, heat, intimacy etc...is brutally taken away from you and you don't even get to say goodbye. Try reasoning with her. Does God loved him more that He would prefer her to suffer?

Just a little example.

If this is me defending God, then it is perhaps a futile attempt, but I shall say it anyway because we all know deep in our hearts that God isn't heartless. He shouldn't be made an excuse all the time. Deaths that occurred always have a reason behind them and an explanation that goes beyond all that is humanly explainable. 

Perhaps in some cases where an innocent child died from say, child abuse... I guess it could justify the phrase because indeed God loves the child more and doesn't want the child to suffer further hurt in the hands of his tormentor. But still, that is only my own reasoning. It still doesn't give God enough credit.

I am just saying. Because all this while I've heard that line being used times and again, and I feel like it doesn't sound acceptable at all. It's not being used right. Perhaps it shouldn't be used at all.

Surely there is a better way to handle these passing moments. Life and death are in the hands of God, true. That doesn't mean He would allow one in exchange for another at our expense, as and when He pleases.

I believe that if you cannot find any words to tell a grieving person, perhaps best not to try. Just show them with your presence, your moral and emotional support, anything... other than telling them that.

Post-note: If I offend anyone, I didn't meant to. My apologies. But the opinion stands.

The Beginning of All Things Good...

My first post for the New Year! And I am like 14 days late! So random.

There are a few posts on the way prior to this one being written, but they are still in the draft list. And some more stories I said I'd write about, but hey, first thing first...

ALL HAIL 2014!

And ya, if you noticed, I attempted to give this blog a makeover. A bit overdue. But I hope it will stay awhile until I can do some more proper revamping work. Whatever it is, there will always be coffee somewhere in this space. :)

Anyway, I promise to write more soon. There are soooooo many things to put into words I hardly know where to begin! The wedding tips, the honeymoon cum Bali trip, the moving house, the whole interlada about being called a new wife cum daytime career woman etc ... it's a lot to digest but it's an adventure of a lifetime that is much better in reality than just coffee-induced daydream. And here I am, can hardly believe I just said that. Haha.

Hope I still have my writing muse, so hold that thought. :) Meanwhile, here's a visual of our first meal cooked and ate at our new home, by yours truly. Never going to be a world renowned chef ever, but I promise I can fix a decent meal. Like my mother. Hopefully.

Herbal chicken, kangkung in oyster sauce (water spinach) & salted fish...

Till then, hope you all have a good month and a good year!! :)

Daddy had a shotgun ...

... and that was probably the reason you didn't see many young men cluttering the house at any one time or another although he had 5 eligible daughters then.

I'm kidding … about the boys, but not the gun. The game were aplenty in those days, back when some of them weren’t protected species. Squirrels, wild boars, foxes, eagles, lynxes, monitor lizards, pythons, and many more wild game have felt the wrath of the shotgun. Father was a great hunter, still is, although he has retired from the sport for years now. These days the shotgun gets rusty from lack of attention, although not broken but is now kept safe somewhere in his treasure trove. 

 

 Back in the 80s... Off hunting. Simunjan.

Oh don’t worry. He has a license for that gun. 

But truthfully, he didn’t need a gun to hold off those boys. He is ever the gentleman but there’s something about him that demands a quiet respect. With just one straight look in the eye and a silent composure, any faint-hearted boy would go speechless. I have seen that happened before and well, it was kind of funny really. My sister’s boyfriend didn’t stand a chance. Ha.

Father is a gifted writer. In fact – and I hope I am not bragging – I inherited my writing flair from him. I believe those two times I won the public essay competition awards back in my studying days, he was secretly pleased. I do still hope that. Now, IF ONLY DADDY HAD A BLOG, that would definitely be stuffs the publishers would die to get their hands on. 

*Yes I initially wanted to write about “If daddy had a blog”, but then again I had no idea of an introduction … nevertheless, I’m getting there now.*

Did I tell you he once had his writing published in a book? The book was a compilation of tall stories, myths and legends surrounding the Bidayuh community. Written in English, and published by the Swallow Publication (if I remember correctly). I read the book when I was 10. Dad's story was entitled "The Man From The Seven Hills." A story about a boy who went to hide on the seven hills, besieged by his father's murderer, grew up and trained alone, kept a bamboo whistle to scare his enemies, and eventually avenged his father's murder. It was a little dark but it was a brilliant story nevertheless. 

On the other hand, he can be really unpredictable. Like that day when I brought this young man – who is now my fiancé -- home for the first time, I intercepted him on his way out the door and whispered “Daddy, that’s my boyfriend.” It was an in-your-face no-holds-barred no-time-to-rethink devil-may-care kind of ‘Surprise!’ moment because I didn’t know how else to tell him. Then I braced for that fact to sink in. 

Less than 5 seconds and the surprise were actually on me! He didn’t blink an eye, but went straight to the guy. Father shook his hand with a laugh and said “Hello.” In my head, I went, “Wait dad, you’re not going to subject him to at least 5 must-answer-correctly subjective questions?” But in my heart, the whisper was a soft “Thank you Lord that THAT went well.”

And charming? Oh yes, father can be really sweet and indulging when he wants to. To his wife, to his children, to his relatives, to his friends and acquaintances, to his students, to his congregations. Was he ever strict? When the situation calls for it. Especially in bringing up his children, and where the Word of God is concerned.

Uneasily swayed? Well to put it simply, father is a man of principle. When he says No, it’s a No until the end. Humble? This man will never brag about his achievement. You would only hear them from other people. He prefers the company of the underdogs than those in high places. Conventional? ... is waaaay better than modern dads these days. Father most of the time spared the child and spoiled the rod.

Faithful? Oh yes. His holy union to mother has now lasted three generations. How did they do it? My observation says it’s thanks to mutual respect and love, sharing the burden, no secrets, keeping the sacredness of the marriage behind closed doors, and the belief that the couple who pray together stay together. A blessed union until the end.

The parents. Sharing this personal pic of vintage love everlasting...

It’s the same kind of relationship I desire for myself and my future husband, and one I hope to pass on to my children and their children onwards. Amen.

Father was a teacher by occupation. It paid the bills, put money on the table, and clothed us all. But perhaps that wasn’t his real calling. He left the profession to become a Pastor when I was just 6 years old. There were struggles in the beginning for everybody especially the adults, but eventually we all settled in and settled down back home, where our roots were. His firm belief was the promise of the Word that “My God will supply” and “Your grace is sufficient for me”. 

Well you know his faith and belief actually worked. He put us all through school and a lot more with his Pastor’s wage. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t meager either. It was just enough. He even managed to send me to university and look at where I am today. How awesome is that?

If he were to write an autobiography now, I’d say the main concern he would have is whether he did everything correct and accordingly in his life. I would gladly answer he did a lot of things right. With all his children. Whether or not any of us stray from his teaching onwards would be on our own heads.

Soon I will be the most blessed girl to have my father walk me down the aisle. Just like a mother, a father knows in his heart that the day would come when he would let go of his children one by one. Just as I know in my heart he prayed and continues to pray on every eventful day when he would deliver each of his daughters to the rightful outstretched hand of the young man who would take her home. 

 A firm believer in forehead kisses...

You got to love a man like that. 

He turned 73 this year, but in my eyes he looks like he’s only 55. His hair is slowly turning all gray now too but he is still my pillar of strength. I may not be able to linger around much in his presence once I cleave to my husband, but I will still be his little girl. Even writing this now makes me all emotional. Some love and sacrifices are really priceless and no amount of repayment will ever be enough. 

This one is for you father. I hope I make you proud.

COUNTDOWN TO THE BIG DAY Pt 2

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Next: The untold story ... 

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If my mother had a blog ...

... I could only imagine what she would write about.

She is this gentle soft-spoken lady who doesn't talk much, but speaks when the situation calls for it. By soft-spoken, I mean when she deals with friends and acquaintances or even strangers. But in bringing up her children, she is always assertive and will only raise her voice (or her eyebrow) when the situation becomes too much for both parties.

Of course, growing up outside of the technology era, childhood then was  more fun. No TV means no violent shows or soap comedies or daytime series where teenagers talk back to their parents etc. There were books, meager toys, and actual friends and same-age cousins who came over for playtime. Bringing up kids in those days were relatively easier.

I can imagine my mom writing a post about how her eldest kid excelled in babysitting the other siblings. How quickly they grew up and how she would wish she could hold back time. Or not... especially when the only boy in the family kept her on her toes all day.

She would probably write about the first day of school for everyone. Dad was a teacher then. He was transferred a lot, resulting in some of us growing up in different place, space and time hence the diverse childhood experiences.

My first day of school took place in Simunjan where my dad was the Headmaster. You'd think someone like me would be more obedient, or would love school because dad ran the school. Nope. I rebelled the first week of school. Throwing a tantrum (which lasted for a week) every time mom would wake me up. I can imagine she would post a picture of me hanging on the front door all teary-eyed and sniffly and looking unkempt while dad tried in vain to talk me into following him to school (with the other pupils watching). His gentle diplomacy apparently worked with the older kids, but not on the second youngest.

Lounging on the Throne: A cranky 3-year-old...

If mom had an Instagram, all of us kids would be a living journal then.

She would also probably write about her kids' achievement. Who got what place in class, who got how many A's, who wore what, whose friends bring what toys home, etc. It would be fun to read.

On the offhand note, she would also probably post about her adventures moving towns with dad after every promotion. She would probably hint of wanting to stay rooted or take permanent root elsewhere near home, but never would she write about her dissatisfaction. If she had any. She's the kind of woman who takes things all in stride. Back when she was adventurous then.

Being a teacher's wife and a mother of six -- all girls and just 1 boy -- probably has its own drama and adventure. I don't ever recall her complain about anything in her life. Not her wardrobe, her looks, not even her house which was always in a state of kids-chaos.

I was 7 years old when dad left the teaching profession to become a Pastor. And then the lady of the house followed suit and transformed to become a preacher's wife. I think she was made for her role, her humility and quiet strength just all fell into place. Dad must've been very proud to have her by his side throughout the transition. Even now.

I remember bringing my boyfriend (now my fiance) home about a year plus ago. She was always courteous even while sizing up the man who she suspected was the one to take me away someday. She didn't ask much question, didn't offer much information either, but just sat there indulging us with her quiet company. Sometimes she seemed far away in her thoughts that I was often surprised how astute her sense of hearing was. Mothers.

If she had a Twitter then, she would probably say "Daughter brought home bf today. Possibly the one?" or perhaps "Look who's joining for lunch today! The first time my little girl brought someone home who isn't a classmate or a former playmate" or maybe "Omg I cannot believe my eyes. My baby's all grown up!". I'm ancient, but it's good to read that if she ever did tweet like that.

And now closer to my wedding day, I suppose she would write about the going-ons with her future son in law. Her deepest thoughts on the whole interlada, and if she would agree on the man of my choice, etc. She won't write it all out -- knowing full well I'd be a follower of course -- but if there's one thing my mom is good at, it's saying things accurately without saying anything at all. A strange kind of apt vagueness that few people could read into. Something that I learned from her. Vagueness I mean.

Mostly, she would lay out in coherent words her own preparations for the big day. Giving advice to friends, maybe dispensing tips on weddings etc. Wait... that doesn't sound like her. Perhaps she would just write The 101 on how to let go of your second youngest daughter. [Second youngest kids are usually more cranky and needs more attention than the youngest due to them being in that position. Youngest kids get to have full attention what.]

My mother's daughter...

Sigh. If my mother had a blog, I  bet she would be a very good writer. She would hit her mark right on the spot. She would be vague, insightful, perhaps a tad sarcastic, dropping lots of hints, but always straight to the point... if you know what her points are. All from the single point of view of a wife and a mother. And a very sharp observer.

But, as it is, I am only imagining this. I wish she did, because then she could write a whole book. Those are stuffs of a good story. How can the world survive without stories like hers? To have seen the world and not write about it, to have lived and relived those valuable life experiences and not recount them, to have gone through and so much, and not record them?

Meanwhile, this is a recount of my own journey. Soon I will be someone's wife, and while I am still and will always be my mother's daughter, I foresee that I will have less time to spend with her. I hope by the grace of God, I am in her eyes, the woman she always prayed I would grow to be.

This is a dedication to you Mommy, the Queen of My Heart. <3. I thank God for you everyday. *sniffs sniffs*

NOTE: COUNTDOWN TO THE BIG DAY Pt 1

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Next: Now if DADDY had a blog...

Coffee... How do you take yours?

As she brews, so shall she drink ...

To the devotee, it's the solution to a problem. 

To the detractor, it's the problem to a solution.

To the addict, it's imperative. 

To the sober, it's inessential.

To the needy, it's a shot that changes the landscape in a second. 

To the non-indulgent, it's a concoction to be avoided at all cost.

To the lover, it's a source of joy. 

To the hater, it's a constant disease.

To me, it's inescapable. 

To you, it's a choice.

How does one brew the perfect cup? One cannot because one's own taste is the boss. But the one rule to the exception applies: You can brew the perfect coffee, simply by loving it unconditionally.

Welcome to my world.

P/s: When I'm good and caffeinated, everything else is irrelevant. That being said, I'm not sure I'm being coherent right now. But you go ahead, have a cup on me!