Uly’s got the words…..

It’s been a while since I updated my friendster blog. I’m very much into my new place: facebook. I like it better because I can set my notes for selective users or friends only. Or sometimes, I just write some notes for myself. I can do the same thing on Multiply, but I set up Multiply for Alana. So facebook is my new friendster.

For those who like to read this blog and wait for me to update regularly, I’m so sorry. I just don’t feel like writing here. I may be back to write on friendster later, I may not. Let’s see…

It’s 4 AM, I cannot sleep at all… It’s been like this since I got back from Indonesia. I thought my body was trying to adjust from jet lag, but I should have been over this a while a go. So, it must be something else.

I think I miss my friends already. I think I miss my sisters. I think I miss my lover, Jakarta. I think I miss some things that I cannot have. I think I just realize Jakarta is all about the past, that even if I’m there life is so much different than it used to be.

It was funny how I didn’t even get the chance to explore the city I love so bad, I just gave up with the bad traffic jam and Alana’s napping time. It was weird to visit my Jakarta with a husband and a baby in tow.

I guess my love affair with Jakarta is all done. And for that, I’m not sure if I have to thank or be sad.

My dear friends,

I’m back home in Arizona.

I’m so sorry I didn’t get the chance to see all of you. I guess 3-week-visiting was not enough at all. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even call some of you. It was pretty hectic schedule. I didn’t even get the chance to eat bakso or any street vendor food. I didn’t get the chance to show Monas to my husband and my daughter (penting ga sih? hehehe…).

I’m happy enough I got to eat lots of fish cake in Palembang, had some durians, rambutans, and mangostine. I went to Opi’s wedding party in Mesjid Sunda Kelapa. I went to Metro TV then Siloam Hospital in Karawaci to see my ex-producer who’s suffered from bad accident in Banjarmasin. I had my best friend, Upit, stayed over for a night in our serviced apartment in Kuningan.

I saw almost every girl friend I wanted to see. But I had to skip meeting with Mbak D from Freeport (very sorry, Mbak!). And I bet I missed many-many good friends because of the time frame was not good. So sorry for that. Hopefully next time I can stay longer than 3 weeks.

For all of you, thanks for the presents. It’s very thoughtful of you (even though I had to pay Rp 400,000 for Palembang flight and Rp 700,000 for Bali flight due to overweight!). Thanks for visiting me, getting me some food, having great laughs with me. Thanks for having me during your crazy working hours. I really had good time with you!

I miss you guys already. I miss Indonesia already. I cannot wait to see you again. Please stay healthy, take very good care of yourself.

Cheers,
Uly

PS: Opi, if you got the chance, please check out if U-magz got my column published in June? Let me know. Thanks.

I got four wisdom teeth pulled last Friday. My jaw and gums are still sore. The bottom left is swelling, I feel like I have a big lump in my mouth. At least, the oral surgery went well. They put me to sleep, and I woke up dizzy with my husband holding my hands, and some gauze pad sticking out from my mouth (not really pretty picture there!). And the most important, no complications! I didn’t get dry socket (which could have been really painful). BUT, I don’t take narcotics painkiller because I breastfeed, so prescribed ibuprofen 600mg does all the job every six hours.

What bothers me is I just cannot stop thinking of chewy food, like juicy rib-eye, Indonesian fish cake aka pempek, and all yummy food, while I can only have liquids. Oh, well, I lost 5 lbs already… that I should maintain so I look hot for Indonesia trip?

Day 3, and it’s still recovering. Hopefully, by the time our flight take off, I don’t have any problem with my teeth. It won’t be nice to have a fussy Alana and sore teeth in looooooong plane riding?

By the way, stay healthy y’all!

Gosh, when you cannot eat well, you realize how much you should be grateful when you’re healthy, and take care of your health really seriously. No kidding!!

One fine afternoon, on breezy lazy day.

Mommy: OK, Alana, now can you say "apple"?
Alana: "apple"
Mommy: Good girl. Now how about "bunda"?
Alana: "apple"
Mommy: No, Alana, say "bunda"
Alana: "apple"
Mommy: Try again, Alana. It’s "bun-da"
Alana: "apple"
Mommy: OK, that’s fine. How about this. You like mango. Say "mango"
Alana: "mango"
Mommy: Say "mommy"
Alana: "mommy"
Mommy: That’s very good, my love. Now, try again "bunda"
Alana: "apple"

Does she not like the sound of "bunda" or she just loves to say "apple" too much?

because I now iron his clothes! Never in my life, I had this picture: early morning after feeding my child oatmeal for breakfast, I pick my husband’s shirts from the dryer and iron them.

Those ‘fresh from the dryer’ shirts are actually wearable, especially some of his shirts are iron-free. But they’re not perfectly neat. I love it when my husband wears his shirts done by professional laundry. The light starch and perfect press create crisp shirt and slack.

I want my husband to look really good when he goes to work, but I don’t want him to spend money on his laundry (hm… I’m too much of a homemaker?). So, I tell myself, "You can do it, Uly. You hate it, but you’ll live with it. Ironing sucks. The heat sometimes makes you sweat (it’s spring here, but Arizona has the sunnniest spring), and it takes so much time."

So yeah, I’ve been ironing my man’s working clothes for almost a week. My husband loves it, but he cannot stand every time I say, "You know how much I love you? Gosh, you’re the only guy whose clothes I’ve ever ironed!"

I don’t know how long this new thing will last though… Maybe next week my ‘feminist spirit’ will find its way back, and yell at me, "What were you thinking, Uly? You take care the baby 24/7, cook dinner, clean up the house, and now you have to iron his shirts and pants? Geez, he can do it by himself!!"

So, honey, don’t be too excited just yet? This may not be permanent.

**pic taken from clipart.com**

After nearly 3 years, finally I’m coming (home) to Indonesia. It’s not very long visit, only less than a month. Very tight schedule. Too many destinations: Jakarta-Palembang-Jakarta-Bandung-Jakarta-Bali. If I travel alone, that would be just fine. I just need to prepare reading material or good conversation (just in case I sit next to a cute gentleman) but I travel with my husband and my soon-to-be 18 months old baby. It’s pretty handful with a baby in tow.

You know how complicated it is to plan the trip (to Indonesia)? If I fly solo, I can just take the crappiest airline… the cheapest one. Let’s say, the infamous China Airlines. Or if I have lots of extra dollars, I can splurge on business seat SQ that cost $5000 for direct flight LA-Singapore. But hey, it’s time to get real. As a family trip, I have to consider everything very carefully. I cannot just fly with the cheapest airlines. Even it doesn’t really matter to me, it matters to my baby and my husband. So, ok, Singapore airlines it is. But I (and my husband) already stopped dreaming of the comfy seat of Raffless SQ. C’mon, one seat (once in a blue moon) is still in affordable price range. Three seats??? Dream on, Uly!

I never thought trip to Indonesia would cost us so much, much more expensive than a trip to Europe. But sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?

So, we’ll be in Jakarta in May.

Is the ticket airfare the only huge expense for Indonesia trip? Noooo….!!! There will be expensive accomodation. In Jakarta, I want us to stay in any hotel/apartment in the golden triangle while my husband wants to stay in a 5-star hotel… which makes the combo even more pricey. I don’t mind to stay in the old Kartika Chandra or any hotel around Kuningan, Sudirman, or Thamrin. Who cares? So long the room has a huge bed, clean, and easy to reach, I’m all for it. The result…? I don’t know. I’m tired to work on the accomodation.

It’s been so much pressure to plan this trip. I’m still nervous about flying up to 22 hours with Alana. How will I handle her in the plane? What if she screams because she gets really bored in cramped space? What if she gets sick in Indonesia? Dengue fever? Malaria? Gosh…. I know I’m paranoid. But hell, yeah, I’ve been having this uneasy thought.

There is another thing that really bothers me. I know it’s very common when you have some friends or relatives come from overseas, there will be certain expectation, "Oleh-olehnya jangan lupa!" And for lots of reason, this gets in my nerves.

Now try to put yourself in my shoes. See… it’s not really pleasant, is it? I have 9 siblings. You count (besides my siblings) how many nephews and nieces expect "oleh-oleh" (presents) from me. I don’t think I can get what they expect. Maybe some of them will be jumping around (I’ve got an iPod shuffle for Bintang and still trying to get a fair quality of black violin for Bayu), but for the rest, I’m clueless and frustrated. Especially as a stay-at-home mother, I don’t make money. I have to break my piggy bank (literally… I collect coins and dollar bills I find in my husband’s pocket when I do his laundry!) just to buy some little presents for my relatives.

So my friends, if only you know how much I want to please you with cool presents from here. How much I want to bring you 501 Levi’s (they’re cheap here!), pairs of Rockport shoes, or any American brand’s stuff. Or even books or CDs. But I have to set my priority straight.

I do miss you, my friends. Can we just meet up over a coffee, or brunch, or dinner? Don’t hate me for not getting you any present. It doesn’t mean I don’t care for you. It means, I don’t have enough time… or I’m simply broke. And with new regulation 50-lb-luggage, there’s not really much room to stuff my luggage. Especially if you have a stroller and a violin, which I still try to figure out how to carry them…

I confess.

I like gossip, as a chat. I like talking. I like talking about other people, the goods and the bads. And I’m a good listener. I do love talking about myself much more than I talk about others. That’s why if you notice, my blog is mostly about me, my family; some silly stuff that I enjoy. Sometimes I talk about public figures, or breaking news.

I like gossip, because I’m only human (a stay-at-home mom at the moment! Hahaha…). But I want to be honest. I don’t want to be one of those who write on their blogs, "I don’t like gossip… Don’t they have something else to do besides gossiping? I don’t have time for gossip. I’d rather do something more important, like making money to pay my mortgage" but at the same time, her/his blog is all about how annyoing their mother-in-laws are… how stupid their colleagues are… how they diss housewives for not making money to support their husbands… Every posting is about how bad other people are and how good she/he is. OK, I’m not pointing at any particular person, let’s just leave it that way.

But as much as I love gossip, I set some rules. The rules I try not to break.

No harms caused. No making-up stories, especially the stories that affect others’ life. Telling brutal lies to spice your story up? NO-NO! That’s just wrong. But I can talk like this, "Gosh. I hate Susan. She wears Gucci purse, Dolce and Gabbana shades," then continued, "Yeah, but she works, she deserves everything she can get. I just cannot understand why she loves brand name stuff so much? Is it even important? But she doesn’t have kids, she’s actually almost free like a bird. I’m jealous that she can just fly to Jakarta for a week when there’s cheap promo ticket. I wish I could do the same. Bitch!"

Talk about how you have different opinion with others, and how you think your thought matters than others. Or talk about, "OMG! Did you see the picture of her house? That’s huuuuuuuuuuuuuugeee!!! I wonder how much it’s worth (but don’t go on with investigating through paid web service. That’s just creepy!). And other girl would say, "Naa.. that’s not that expensive. It’s located in the forest. Try a huge house in SF. Now that’s something! That won’t cause any harms. It’s just something you say for the sake of talking.

And those are my kind of "gossip".

The most important is don’t cross the line. Talk about the ladies, a little dissing is fine. But don’t say mean things about the kids. That is just soooooo wrong. The kids know nothing. They’re all wondeful, no matter how "bad" they are. And if you have problem with the ladies, don’t include the husbands. WTF? The lady I talked about on my previous blog (And don’t be mistaken, I’m not talking about the lady who’s sadly been fired back by lots of ladies here. This one is my own thing, some girl from the old time in Arizona), called my husband’s cell and said, "You know, your wife is humiliating me… bla bla bla…" And that’s it. That’s how I knew how sick she was. My husband knew nothing, and he never wanted to care about silly stuff like that. Of course he’d been comforting me when I cried for days. Thank God for that. For sure, I don’t want my husband to be involved with ladies’ stuff. So, I was so happy he replied, "What did you say? I cannot hear you. Sorry, I’m gonna hang up now."

Sometimes, you cannot help but talk about other people. And if you ever talk bad about me, seriously, fine by me. You don’t have to be liked by everyone, do you? I know I can be snob, annoying, ruthless… Sometimes I say things I regret. But I do think I’m a good person, because I always try not to hurt anyone deliberately. I fail once in a while. But then again, I’m only human.

That’s what I like a friend who is able to remind me when I’m about to cross the line. A friend that can be truthful, but she knows me well enough to deliver it with thoughtful attitude. I find some in the states. Too bad, they’re far-far away.

Gosh, this week has been so happening. For some readers who don’t understand what I write. So sorry. I’ll be back on my silly writing soon.

Happy Sunday, Ladies…!

(My husband is in Utah, and Alana is sleeping. No one to play with, so I write my blog on Saturday afternoon. Sooo pathetic!)

Did you know that some women can really be mean? Beyond mean. Even sicko.

So I read a posting about an Indonesian lady who cried her heart out (more like really-really pissed off!). Apparently, her friend (whom she’s been friend for 5 years) talked dirty about her, made up story about lots of lots mean things, from telling her that she’s fat to small silly stuff like the importance of having brand name purses and heels (borrowed, bought from boutique or eBay, or whatever). She hurt so badly, so she talked back openly on her blog. I was stunned. Because from what she wrote and commented, that lady (who talked bad and told lies) was really sick. Why on earth would someone pay $19 web service just to find infos about people she barely knows and has no business with? She wants to know about how much other people houses’ worth and the location, how much their debts, are their cars used or new? Are the houses under in-laws names? What other women’s husbands do for living? And those kinds of information. I can understand if she is investigating some guy she is going to marry, but if the details are used to reassure herself that no (Indonesian) ladies are better than her, that lady is just extremely nosy. Or has too much time in her hands.

I am a victim myself. In the beginning of my US residence, I met this lady (different Indonesian lady!). We were friends for a couple of months or so. She was pissed off because I accidentally replied her forwarded joke to everyone on her address list (which she put on cc instead of bcc). Apparently she knew nothing about how email worked, so she accused me for stealing her contacts, and got really mad at me. “How did you get my friends’ email address? Did you steal them??” I told her I was sorry, and promised her I wouldn’t ever-ever “reply to everyone” again. Also, I explained her about “cc” and “bcc”.  But my, this girl just didn’t stop. She needed to tell me that her English teacher and her husband said I had no etiquette. She even forwarded email from her English teacher (which I was wondering, she’d been 5 years in Arizona with an English teacher, but she couldn’t even spell right or put words in a perfect sense! Guess that English teacher was useless). In short, she kept pushing my button. So I fired back (oh, yeah, I am capable to write in a very polite way but my saying would numb you!). And guess what, she went nuts! So she spread stories all over Arizona, the tale about Uly. She even bumped into strangers (Indonesians) in Asian market and said, “You know Uly? If not, I warn you, she’s a horrible person!” How sicko is that?!

I ignored her. I blocked her email address, her Friendster, and just isolated myself from Indonesian communities. I was too shocked, and I had no interest to make friends. It was very depressing. I was new in Arizona, pregnant, and homesick. And for God’s sake, why did I have to meet this sicko?! WHY?!

Until one day, I finally put on brave face, and got together with some Indonesian ladies. There I heard the real story. That sicko lady actually sent 6-page email to everyone about Uly. One of my friend said, “You want to read? That’s really nasty stuff she said. I still keep the email if you want to read.” I told her I didn’t want to read. Because I did’t want to waste my energy on ridiculous stuff. But I couldn’t help but notice some stuff she wrote because all the ladies gave me almost full report. I was actually mad, but now when I recall, I really have a good laugh. Here is stuff she wrote:

“Uly smells.”
Hahaha… I don’t recall we were that close to let her smell my natural scent. I mean, my husband sometimes tells me I stink. Especially when I fart. He says, “Did you just fart?” And for some reason I always say, “How did you know?” And he runs away from me and screams, “Because you stink!!” Hahaha… I fart in front of my husband, because it’s him. I have nothing to hide. But I don’t think I ever had body odor problem. Oh, yeah, when I don’t take a shower and I don’t put deodorant I have body odor (who doesn’t?). My husband teases me, “Honey, you smell like a man!” But not when I go out. I don’t think any man would have hit on me if I had problem with body odor. Maybe I didn’t put on perfume when I was with her. So what? I didn’t want to waste my money on her! But stinky? No way!

“Uly doesn’t wear make up. She doesn’t know how to dress. I cannot believe her husband wants to stay with her.”
This is hilarious. Now, why did I want to dress up and put make up just to hang out with her? We went to mall once, to Asian market, or stayed at her house. Duuuuh….. Besides, a pretty girl doesn’t really need make up. I mean, even with her make up and sexy clothing, she was not attractive. And God knows how many guys are attracted to me, even though I don’t know how to put make up! And did it cross her mind that my husband loves me for who I am? Because I’m funny, well-educated… and also very much fuckable? (take that!)

“If it’s not for my Cadillac, Uly never experienced riding a fancy car.”
Ouch… it’s not even important. She took me to Asian market on her new car, and I was jokingly say, “Ooh… we’re driving a fancy car!!! Wow..”
And look what I got into. Hahaha…

“Uly can only eat good at my house. She has to come long way just to eat good food.”
This might be true. Because she invited me, and I was really new to cooking. It was heaven to find a friend who cooked Indonesian meals. But I learned my lesson. When someone invites you over for Indonesian meal, don’t be too excited. Skip it. And don’t ever take leftover home because you feel bad for refusing her “kindness”. You think you are being nice. You’re thinking, “Just take the leftover then throw in the garbage.” But then the story would come out, “Uly desperately wants good food, she takes leftover all the time!”

There are lots of mean stuff she wrote (6 pages!), all ridiculous stuff that I cannot imagine someone is able do that to another human being. But that happened. And I’m glad I found out earlier. At least I didn’t stay friends with her for more than two months. THANK GOD!

This is why I keep telling myself, how I miss my friend in Indonesia. But let’s move on. It’s not gonna happen. There’s no way I can find girl friends like Upit, Opi, Nayu, Ika, Anna… It’s just impossible. Those qualities they have, just very rare. And I think I’m done looking.

(continued)

Call me shallow because I care about American Idol. Aside from the Idol Gives Back that has raised more than $60 millions donation for poverty in America and Africa, nothing really matters on American Idol. Reality talent show is the lowest caste on American tv, right? But hey, some dudes there are really yummy. And this season, I’m all for Michael Johns.

Why do I like him?

He is an Australian, and I always have a thing for Australian dude. Ssst… don’t question!
He is the oldest in the competition. 29 years old, close enough to my age. No matter how cute David Archuleta, I cannot fantasize him. He’s only 17. Not legal yet. And he’s kinda annoying.
And my, Michael Johns fills his jeans really good. He’s really got great style. If I met him in some bar, he would be the guy I’d like to flirt with. He’s just goodlooking and sexy. OK, I say it: I’d do him. Yes, he’s that good. I can picture him shirtless in Bondi Beach carrying surfing board, eating some hotdog and drinking beer.
The last thing (not really important!): He can sing! He sings like a rock star, he looks like one too.

So, what’s wrong with Americans? Shoot. That must be Archuleta’s fans. Those little teeny bopper fans must have been texting like maniac!!

Gosh, I hate to see my man kicked out. If it’s not because the pictures of kids in Africa who suffer from malaria and HIV, I’d have cried tonight. But that would make me too shallow and ignorant.

Today is not really a good day. I found out that my husband didn’t have any pants to wear for his conference in Utah. My wisdom teeth hurt and need to be pulled out. And my handsome Michael Johns booted off.

Whatever.

So, for you, Michael Johns: Hi handsome. If you ever google yourself and find my posting about you: Thanks for a few good weeks on Idol. That was good. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough of you. Nooo… definitely not enough! Now if only you send me message and fly to me to sing a song or two… I let you sing shirtless… My husband will understand (but maybe it’s better if we do it behind his back. He hates Australians, especially one in Canberra. Hahaha..)