Hello February (and hel-lowww 2024!)

February 5, 2024

Happy February! (And a belaaaaaated happy new year!)

Gosh it has been a hot minute since I last wrote! Have I really left this blog for that long?!? How has the new year treated you so far? I think I’ve more or less settled into the year; we’re back to our normal, day-to-day routine, and I’ve stopped mistakenly writing “2023” instead of “2024” in my dates - which is usually a sign that I’ve crossed the threshold and firmly planted both my feet in the current year.

looking back on January…

January went by pretty quickly: we spent New Year’s day at home, school started, and then two-thirds of my household caught COVID - which meant a quarter of the month was gone, spent in quarantine. I was the one-third that somehow didn’t catch it. Thankfully we’re all good now, and after coming out of quarantine and gradually getting back into the swing of things, it was already the end of the month.

new year, new me?

Since we’re still in the new-ish part of the year, thought I’d ask whether you have any new year’s resolutions? Do people still do resolutions? I don’t, to be honest. I did try, back in the day, but I’d forget all about them pretty quickly. What I did do last year, though, was an idea that a friend had suggested, which was to have a running list of new things to try over the course of the year. It didn’t have to be big, project-like endeavours, but small things, like try a new restaurant or a new cuisine, go to a place you’ve never been before, or read books and watch shows in a different genre… that kind of thing. I had a pretty long list of things to try in 2023, and I did manage to cross some items off, so I think I’ll just carry the list over into 2024, adding new items and crossing stuff off along the way. It’s so much more realistic (and fun!) than having grand resolutions. For me, at least.

the story behind the riceflower pattern

The month of February showcases my Riceflower pattern.

New month, new page on the calendar. The pattern gracing the month of February is my Riceflower pattern, which is one of the two patterns in my Tuesday Blooms series. This pattern (and the Tuesday Blooms series) was born back in 2021, when we still had to stay at home under the MCO (Movement Control Order). For a brief period of time during the MCO, I subscribed to a weekly flower bouquet delivery service. It was a nice little luxury I treated myself to, since we were all stuck at home. It was also a nice way to support a business that may have been adversely affected by the MCO.

The riceflower was one of the bouquet fillers often used in their arrangements, and I loved how the structure of the branches and the way the tiny white flowers sat atop them made it look like delicate little trees. Since flowers wither and die, I decided to immortalise the riceflower into a pattern; and since the bouquets were delivered every Tuesday (or was it every other Tuesday? I can’t remember exactly), I named the series Tuesday Blooms. I suppose my intention back then was to add more patterns derived from other flowers and other bouquets, but somehow I managed only two designs. I didn’t add any more. I think I stopped subscribing to the service shortly after that (because the MCO was lifted), or maybe life just got in the way. Still, I at least have something to remind me of the little moments of happiness during that period of time.

busy bees

There will be a significant change in my household happening very soon, so this month will be a pretty busy one for us. February is already a short month, and with the Chinese New Year holidays and the school holidays just around the corner, it will feel shorter still. So much to do, so little time… yikes!! When the time comes, I’ll write about it - or at least design a pattern inspired by it :-)

That’s enough from me I think… I’ve rambled on for long enough. Before I sign off, thought I’d share some messy sketches of what I’m currently working on…

IThey’re for a client commission, and I’ll share more along the way. For now, toodles from me!

-A-

Looking Back On 2021: The Highs, The Lows

January 19, 2022

Hello there! A very belated happy new year to you! (Better late than never, right?) We’re well into the new year now - by the time I post this, we should be nearing the end of January, and about to step into another new year - The Year of The Tiger.

I hope 2022 has been kind to you so far, with no rude surprises. The past couple of weeks were surprisingly busy for me - in a good way, thanks to the sales of my calendars. I made them at the last minute, as gifts for my son’s teachers, and for our close friends and family members. Then a couple of people asked whether I sell them, so one thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I was fulfilling orders. If you’re reading this, thank you again!

The Year That Was

It has definitely been a better January than the one I had last year. This time a year ago, I was quarantined at home with Covid, while our son - 4 years old at the time - was hospitalised with pneumonia (not Covid, thank heavens). It was a pretty challenging time, especially for Q, who had to stay in the hospital with our son, and later take care of him at home, while taking over some of my duties as I was self-isolating in the room.

It was around this time that the country went into lockdown again, the first of a series of convoluted and logic-defying MCOs/CMCOs/Phases1-2-3 that accumulated to a total of six months of staying, working, and learning from home. It turned our lives upside down, wreaked havoc on our mental health, killed businesses, and drove people to fly white flags as a cry for aid. For some, it was literally a matter of life or death.

Hello, Hospital.

As the days passed under lockdown, one day no different from the next, we had a few more health issues. I developed a couple of minor conditions, which persist until today, but are thankfully under control after multiple doctor visits and an overhaul in what I use and do in my day-to-day routine. Our son was hospitalised again in October, for bronchitis - but thankfully not as severe as earlier in the year. He’s recovered now, and I’m hoping that’ll be the last hospital stay for a while.

Cute Bears In Procreate While Paints Hibernate

I didn’t do as much design work as I would’ve liked last year. With everyone at home during the prolonged lockdown, I spent my days planted at the dining table keeping an eye on kiddo’s online classes, while Q occupied my office/studio upstairs. It was too much of a hassle to bring my paints and supplies downstairs, so I turned to digital artwork instead. For no other reason apart from wanting a bit of a change, I tried my hand at drawing cute animal characters on my iPad. I’m glad I did, as not only was it a great way to shut the world out and de-stress, but it also led to an exciting new project for 2022; a silver lining in the lockdown cloud. It’s still early days now, and I’ll share more when the time is right.

There was a project that I did complete last year, and one that I can talk about: a design job commissioned for a friend’s cafe. That was pretty exciting too, and deserves a post of its own… coming soon 😄.

No More Wallpaper Wednesdays

I stopped doing my monthly Wallpaper Wednesdays in the second half of 2021. As much as I enjoyed creating the patterns and making them available as downloadable backgrounds, I felt that after a year or so, I needed to do things a bit differently. I haven’t fully decided how to go about it, and I expect it’ll require quite a bit of tinkering on my site, at the very least - but it is something I hope to get done this year. Watch this space! 😉

In Summary, 2021 Sucked.

I wish I could say that 2021 was the year that I developed a new style, or fell in love with a new technique, or found new design influences, or even created a signature colour palette; but it wasn’t. It was a year that sucked all my energy, one that had me trudging along, not knowing when we would turn a corner. Save for a few highs and bright spots, it was a year full of lows and mental fatigue. 2021 was a long and arduous twelve months, and I really, really hope we don’t see a repeat of it.

Having said that, I’m grateful to have survived into the new year. I haven’t set any resolutions for 2022, but I’m looking forward to getting on with some jobs on my plate that will keep me busy over the next few months. Hopefully I’ll be able to work on a few personal projects, too. They’ve been sitting on the back burner for a while now, and it’s about time I get started on at least one of them.

Here’s to hoping that 2022 is a better year for us all. And not, heaven forbid, 2020, too. Or 2020 (2).

Stay safe, everyone.

New Year, No Smell

January 27, 2021

What a start to the year.

We weren’t even halfway through the first month of the new year when I noticed something odd. My 4-year old son was washing his hands in the kitchen when he said something smelled funny, and asked me what it was. I didn’t smell anything weird, but I looked around all the same. I noticed the fish I was defrosting for dinner, and thought he could have been referring to that.

But I couldn’t smell it.

Maybe I’m coming down with the flu, I thought.

The flu didn’t come. There was no cough, no runny nose, not even a sneeze. I could breathe easily. But I could smell neither my morning coffee, nor the onions that I sautéed for our stir fry dinner. I took the lid off a 3-wick scented candle and took a whiff: nothing. Not even when I picked it up and stuck my nose into the jar. I sprayed perfume into the air in front of me. Nothing.

I couldn’t smell a single thing.

I started Googling, knowing full well the answer to my question, hoping I was wrong. A little ball of panic grew in my gut as I scrutinised my calendar for places I’d visited and people I’d met in the past 14 days; but nothing in it could confirm my suspicions. My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and fears, denials and consequences, but once I’d calmed them down, I stopped Googling for answers, and searched for a list of clinics and hospitals, instead.

At 7:20am the next morning, I went for a swab test.

As I was waiting, I spotted a rainbow. A good sign, I tried to convince myself, although I knew it was merely evidence of raindrops and sunlight, not of intruders in my body. When your mind is addled with fear, you cling to any sign of hope, no matter how ridiculous. It is how feelings are calmed, and how superstitions are born.

The swab test wasn’t as painful as I’d feared; just uncomfortable. And it was over before I knew it. I would receive the results within 24 hours; if I don’t hear anything by then, I was to call them.

I drove home and went up to my room where I had begun to self-isolate. The wait had begun. I started messaging close friends and family members, to inform those I’d met recently, and to share my fears with those I hadn’t. Apart from the anxiety of waiting for the results, and the confusion over where and how I could’ve gotten it, I felt perfectly fine. I didn’t have a fever, or a cough, or breathing problems; I had none of the other symptoms that had been drilled into us through the many infographics and articles flooding our lives over the past year or so. I just couldn’t smell.

I slept early that night. There had been no phone call.

I woke up the next morning and looked at my phone. There had been a missed call from an unfamiliar number the previous night, at 11pm. I could feel that little ball of panic again, forming in my gut. I put the phone down, and headed to the bathroom. I needed the shower to chase away my nerves, and I was hungry. If I was to receive bad news, then I should do so on a full stomach.

I calmly ate my breakfast, and then called the hospital. After a few tries, I got through, and having given my details, I was asked to wait.

A few minutes later, I received a call.

My test result had come back positive. I had COVID.

Ok, I said.

How else was I to respond?

The doctor asked what symptoms I had. Just the one, I said. Had I been exposed to anyone who was positive? Not that I know of, I answered.

“Do you know where you could’ve gotten it?”

“I have no idea.”

I was advised to isolate myself (which I’d already done), to get plenty of rest, and drink a lot of water. My symptoms were mild: Tier 2, he said, so I would most likely be allowed to quarantine at home. Above all, he said, stay calm, and everything will be ok.

I told my husband my results, and then I started calling those whom I’d had close contact with over the past ten days. My husband and our son went to get tested themselves, as did my close contacts.

The waiting game began again.

My husband didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms, but my son had the sniffles. Please let that not be a symptom, just the common cold, I pleaded silently. I started thinking what needed to be done if they both tested positive. If they do, I thought, hopefully their symptoms will be mild. I feel fine, I told myself; I can still take care of him. Would all three of us be able to quarantine at home? What if any of our symptoms became worse? It was common knowledge that quarantine centres were quickly filling up, and that the healthcare system was fast approaching a breaking point.

Stay calm, I told myself.

Their results came back the next day, and they both tested negative. Thank God.

I continued my self-isolation with some degree of relief. I realised that it could still be the incubation period for them, but I allowed myself what little sense of security the first negative results afforded me.

One by one, the family members whom I’d had contact with received their test results. They all tested negative, thankfully. There was an exception: our part-time cleaning lady, who (up until recently) comes in twice a week. She, too, exhibited very mild symptoms: a sore throat and a runny nose. She has since been quarantined and discharged, and is feeling fine, thankfully.

At the time, I honestly believed I felt fine; just slightly under the weather, if anything. In hindsight, however, I realise that there was definitely fatigue, especially on days 4 to 6 of my symptoms. I’d wake up feeling slightly lightheaded, but at the time, I put it down to hunger. I had more than enough energy to get out of bed and into the shower, so I didn’t think much about it. My appetite wasn’t great, but I never skipped any meals, as I knew my body needed the fuel. Funnily enough at the end of every meal, the moment I finished eating, I would immediately feel tired and sleepy. I’d tidy up as quickly as possible, and then rest in bed. I took several cat naps throughout the day. I tried reading, but I couldn’t get past a paragraph before I drifted off into sleep. I felt slightly achy, but at the time, I thought it was because I’d been spending all day sitting or lying down in bed, either sleeping or on my phone.

On day 7, I woke up feeling refreshed. There was no lightheadedness; I felt the way I normally feel on any given morning. I didn’t feel sleepy or tired after meals. I didn’t need cat naps. The aches had disappeared, while my appetite returned. I found myself craving mee hoon tomyum for lunch. I ordered it, and finished the entire thing. I tidied up after myself, and as I was wiping down the surfaces with a disinfectant wipe, I caught a whiff of something.

Could it be...

Was my sense of smell returning?

I took the lid off the scented candle, and... nothing.

Slowly, I told myself. This will take time.

My 4-year old, however (let’s call him H), couldn’t shake off his flu. His sniffles were now accompanied by a chesty cough. He was taking cough and flu meds, he was his usual active self, and - more importantly - his test results had come back negative. He’ll be fine soon, I told myself.

There is this small matter of the incubation period, a little voice whispered in a tiny crevice of my mind. Shhh, I told it. He’d already had the sniffles when he took the test, I said. It can’t be.

I felt pretty much the same on day 8; my appetite and my energy had definitely returned. I opened the cap of my shampoo bottle and sniffed; I detected a faint trace of the yummy banana and coconut concoction. I took the lid off the scented candle, and held it up to my nose. There it was: the sweet and cozy aroma of a white caramel cold brew. It was faint and delicate, but my nose detected it.

I spent the rest of the day still in isolation, but with a renewed sense of hope. I was recovering. I even managed to do some work, drawing and “painting” on my iPad.

That night after dinner, H had difficulty breathing. My husband took him to the hospital while I stayed home. The doctor checked his vitals, which were ok. Continue with the flu meds, she said. H took a second swab test, just to be sure.

The next morning, after breakfast, H had difficulty breathing again. Back to the hospital he went. He was fitted with an oxygen tube, and an X-ray was done.

At around noon, my husband called. Was his test result out? Not yet, he said. But H has pneumonia.

My heart lurched. The ball of panic resurfaced in the pit of my stomach.

So what happens now, I asked. He’ll be temporarily warded in this hospital, my husband told me, until we get his results. If it’s negative, he stays here. If it’s positive, he’ll be sent to Sungai Buloh, the designated COVID hospital.

That little ball of panic grew, and it grew quickly.

He’s only four, I thought.

There was nothing else to do, however, but wait.

I couldn’t concentrate long enough to read, so instead I distracted myself with YouTube videos and a bit of work, stopping every now and then to check my phone. Six long hours later, my husband called again.

H’s test was negative.

Thank God.

It hasn’t escaped me how crazy it is that I was thankful it was “just” pneumonia. It’s perverse, I know, but I truly felt relieved.

H was warded for two days and two nights, and my husband stayed there with him. I still had to self-isolate, so I stayed at home with only Muci, our cat, to keep me company. Despite being home alone, I never felt lonely, thanks to Whatsapp messages and video calls. To his credit, H was in good spirits throughout his stay in hospital, and seemed unperturbed by the IV stuck in his bandaged arm. His “robot pistol hand”, he called it.

Once his condition improved, he was discharged and allowed to rest at home. I continued my self-isolation and was “discharged” several days later, after I’d undergone a COVID assessment by a doctor.

Our lives are somewhat back to “normal” now, in that we are back to our usual lockdown routine: my husband working from home, H attending e-learning classes, and me supervising him while doing the chores and squeezing in some work where and when I can.

H is recovering nicely. He has a bit of a cough still, but it is slowly going away. I have partially regained my sense of smell; I can smell a freshly showered H, and onions sauteeing in hot oil. I still can’t smell my morning coffee, though. If previously my afternoons were punctuated by the smell of my neighbour’s curries and fried chicken, wafting through my open windows, now I only hear an odourless clanging of a metal spatula against a wok.

Hopefully with time I will fully recover my sense of smell. Until then, food expiry dates are my friend, and I will cherish whatever I can smell, be it sweet or foul.

To this day, I don’t know for certain where I could have gotten the virus. I was unlucky enough to have contracted it, but I was extremely fortunate that my symptoms were very mild, that my family was safe from it, that all my contacts - barring one - tested negative, and that we were all in a position to get tested immedately. Things could have been worse.

2021 has been insane so far. And it isn’t even the end of January.

Till next time, stay safe everyone.