<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:01:33.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hits&amp;Mrs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>34</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-4696494439049498747</id><published>2011-02-18T18:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T18:49:55.980-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Empty vessels</title><content type='html'>TH always says I am anti-social because I don't like talking to strangers. And I think he likes the sound of his own voice waaaaay too much. He can never tell an anecdote without meandering to explain every single point ("A bear walks into a bar, and this was a grizzly bear spelt with a z not an s...").&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Now I can see it is not his fault. He's just being a guy:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;COMMUNICATION-GENDER/DIFFERENCES&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By Madeleine Cowley&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Women communicate better than men and actually talk less, researchers said on Friday.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men speak more words than women in a day, but have a weaker command of language in social situations, use the same words repeatedly and pay unconvincing compliments, British researchers said after studying how men and women communicate.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Manchester University researchers found that when conversation centred on serious issues such as current affairs men and women used similar language, but they differed widely when it came to chit-chat in social situations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The women in the research commissioned by British female-friendly insurance firm Sheilas' Wheels had superior communication skills and used a wider variety of words in social situations, while men struggled with their command of language.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;"It is men who are more likely to talk for the sake of talking when engaged in social chit-chat by recycling their words with ritualistic and redundant language that doesn't contain new information," Manchester University researcher Geoffrey Beattie said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The team of researchers carried recording devices over a one week period in order to transcribe 50 conversations, which were split between men and women in serious and social conversations.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Each conversation was given to five volunteers who read five different versions with every fifth word removed and were asked to guess the missing word.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Men used a few simple words in social situations and the limited variety of their vocabulary became even more marked when it came to paying compliments, researchers said.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The study showed compliments from men were 90 percent predictable - frequently making use of words "you", "really" and "nice" - while women had more detail in their compliments, making them less predictable and more genuine-sounding.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The Manchester University team helped dispel the myth of women as chatterboxes and discovered it's men who have the tendency to blather on by analysing supporting research into male and female communication.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Only two out of 56 separate studies analysing the difference in communication between men and women concluded that women use more words per day than men - while 24 concluded that men use more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Reuters&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-4696494439049498747?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4696494439049498747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=4696494439049498747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4696494439049498747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4696494439049498747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2011/02/empty-vessels.html' title='Empty vessels'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-2860568937422793011</id><published>2011-02-18T00:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T00:50:55.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Whew, what a long break</title><content type='html'>I just happened to have some time free so decided to click on the old Hits&amp;amp;Mrs link. It's been such a long time since I blogged that I forgot my password and had to try a few different combinations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last you heard of Tubby Hubby (TH) he was recovering from gallbladder surgery. Well, I'm glad to report he's fine and still eating as much fatty stuff as ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been an eventful break. TH lost his job, I got a full-time one, we have since moved from our flat in Mid-Levels to Mui Wo in Hong Kong. Lots happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if I'll have time to update this as regularly as before. The full-time job takes up a lot of time plus I have an overgrown baby (yup, TH) who is always looking to me for assurance now that he has no work performance appraisals to let him know how he's doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, I don't even know if anyone is reading this blog anymore. But for those who do, here's a nice little new post just for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-2860568937422793011?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2860568937422793011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=2860568937422793011' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2860568937422793011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2860568937422793011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2011/02/whew-what-long-break.html' title='Whew, what a long break'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-4508354094165219055</id><published>2008-03-18T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T20:34:52.088-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TH goes in for surgery</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) woke me up a week ago. "Got terrible tummy  ache, can't sleep," he said. "Well, what can I do? Just let me go back to sleep. I've got to go to work tomorrow," I replied grumpily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up, he was still awake, face creased in agony. Knowing how much a baby he is when it comes to pain, I just told him to go see a doctor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Men have such a low threshold for pain," I complained to my colleague later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 3pm, I suddenly get a text from TH: "Got to go in for surgery immediately. Gall bladder severely inflamed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emergency operation. And his first ever. He might die... Aargh! I dropped everything and rushed straight to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH was looking remarkably cheerful for someone who was both in pain and being prepped for surgery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're looking quite happy," I remarked when my pulse stopped racing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah well, it's nice to feel vindicated," he replies. "Bet you feel really bad now."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-4508354094165219055?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4508354094165219055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=4508354094165219055' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4508354094165219055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4508354094165219055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2008/03/th-goes-in-for-surgery.html' title='TH goes in for surgery'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-6228305588434553705</id><published>2008-02-22T06:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T06:15:35.549-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Couple talk</title><content type='html'>Conversation in the Ong-Wood household:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You know what they say about couples completing each others'...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tubby Hubby: Sentences?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. Isn't it weird that we also complete each other's...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH: Songs?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: I mean,  I sing de de dede...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH: Everybody dance now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-6228305588434553705?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6228305588434553705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=6228305588434553705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/6228305588434553705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/6228305588434553705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2008/02/couple-talk.html' title='Couple talk'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-8663608418779843995</id><published>2008-02-14T04:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T04:48:53.068-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Valentine's Day... not</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) and I have a non-aggression pact for Valentine's Day – no flowers, no expensive dinner, no contributing to the already-fat coffers of romance merchants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You're so unromantic. How can you not celebrate the day of love?" my starry-eyed colleagues asked me yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very easily. It doesn't cost anything, money-wise, to fall in love so why should you have to pay to declare it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as TH says, every day is Valentine's Day for us. Now tell us we're not romantic...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-8663608418779843995?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8663608418779843995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=8663608418779843995' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8663608418779843995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8663608418779843995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2008/02/happy-valentines-day-not.html' title='Happy Valentine&apos;s Day... not'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-2782101988459136595</id><published>2008-02-12T00:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T19:53:27.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Water ways</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R7UwowLNFsI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/hWDqNc6vTNo/s1600-h/water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R7UwowLNFsI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/hWDqNc6vTNo/s200/water.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167089624162309826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"The more I know you, the stranger you get," Tubby Hubby (TH) tells me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Case in point: He and I were trekking along the Hong Kong trail. The guidebook promised us "half a dozen steep, rocky streams" but, because this is the dry season, all we saw were trickles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I soon became obsessed with finding my holy grail - a proper stream , possibly a waterfall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I thought I heard it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me (excitedly): "Listen, isn't that the sound of water trickling?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH didn't even bother to stop. "Nope, that's the sound of your water bottle sloshing."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he was right. Sigh, I hate it when he knows me better than I know myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-2782101988459136595?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2782101988459136595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=2782101988459136595' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2782101988459136595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2782101988459136595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2008/02/water-ways.html' title='Water ways'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R7UwowLNFsI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/hWDqNc6vTNo/s72-c/water.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-4709626164083661726</id><published>2008-01-13T04:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T04:21:36.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Why do women have cold hands and feet?</title><content type='html'>"Brrr," Tubby Hubby (TH) said, edging away from me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But I haven't even put my feet on yours yet," I protested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I can feel the cold emanating from them even before you lay them on mine," he retorted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that the cold weather's here, I've found a great use for a husband – as a hand-and-foot warmer. Problem is, TH is not too happy with that role.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why do women have such cold hands and feet?" he wants to know. His mum used to do the same thing with his dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's done a poll of his colleagues and they all say the same thing – their wives have absolutely freezing tootsies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since the last frozen-foot incident, I've been banned from warming mine on his. So it's either the cat or...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aargh, what happened to your feet?" TH almost fell off the bed the other day. "They look like duck feet."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aha, I've taken to wearing bed socks in bed. They're warm and toasty but there is one problem: They look exactly like baby booties, which makes my whole Punjabi-outfit bed assemble look really unsexy now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To save his own feet, TH has allowed me to wear them, with one caveat: "Don't you ever call me Daddy!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-4709626164083661726?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4709626164083661726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=4709626164083661726' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4709626164083661726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4709626164083661726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2008/01/why-do-women-have-cold-hands-and-feet.html' title='Why do women have cold hands and feet?'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-9103957825136221110</id><published>2007-12-27T08:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-29T03:32:40.393-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A geeky Christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R3YwSel3aKI/AAAAAAAAAEA/OxqoeovqUrw/s1600-h/ipod.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R3YwSel3aKI/AAAAAAAAAEA/OxqoeovqUrw/s200/ipod.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149356317952403618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My handphone beeped. "Me wuv me Ricoh," was Tubby Hubby's (TH) SMS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Me wuv me iPod," I SMSed back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It has come down to this. We have unwittingly become technosexuals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This Christmas, TH's present to me was an iPod. And not just any iPod, mind you, it had to be the special limited-edition red Action for Aids nano (more for the colour than the cause, I regret to say).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And his, which he'd been hinting at for the longest time, was the new Ricoh GR-D II camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad to say, we have bought into this whole sexy technology stuff. Which means that, even sadder to say, we have massively overspent this month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my spiffy iPod is being housed in a S$1 pouch while his sexy Ricoh has to go naked for the moment. But who cares? Me wuv me iPod.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-9103957825136221110?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/9103957825136221110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=9103957825136221110' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/9103957825136221110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/9103957825136221110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/12/geeky-christmas.html' title='A geeky Christmas'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R3YwSel3aKI/AAAAAAAAAEA/OxqoeovqUrw/s72-c/ipod.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-8703042526062210897</id><published>2007-12-15T02:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T02:58:26.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disneyland, our new "happy place"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R2OwsopEvGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/NI4HKCc1llU/s1600-h/disney.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R2OwsopEvGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/NI4HKCc1llU/s200/disney.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144149480257666146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tubby Hubby (TH) and I have favourite spots to go to. We call them our "happy places" – which is rather self-explanatory, really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, our happy places in Hong Kong have been restaurants (Bizou along Elgin Street is one and any Pizza Express outlet is another) and bookshops (Flow on Lyndhurst Terrace).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then TH took me to Hong Kong Disneyland for my birthday and we absolutely loved it. Being journalists, we approached it with a hefty dose of skepticism but we found it a charming place – in a post-modern ironic kind of way of course, as TH would say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing is,  you have to leave all cynicism at the door and give in to the "magic" or else you'd miss it completely. We love it, the kitschy parades, the inane mascots, the fireworks, the goofy grins on everyone's faces (not just Goofy's)...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much so we bought annual passes. "I never thought I'd see the day I'd actually get an annual pass to Disneyland," says TH, who is a big Carl I-hate-Disneyland Hiaasen fan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he has. And I (blush) actually have Minnie Mouse ears hanging on the door. Bring on the magic, Tinkerbell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-8703042526062210897?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8703042526062210897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=8703042526062210897' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8703042526062210897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8703042526062210897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/12/disneyland-our-new-happy-place.html' title='Disneyland, our new &quot;happy place&quot;'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/R2OwsopEvGI/AAAAAAAAAD4/NI4HKCc1llU/s72-c/disney.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-2927942790618629882</id><published>2007-11-29T06:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T06:55:39.395-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter's here</title><content type='html'>I have a new hobby – checking the Meteorological Department's website every hour to find out the outside temperature. "It's 17 degrees and the humidity is 45 per cent," I told Tubby Hubby (TH) at 7pm today. One hour later, I duly reported: "It's 16 degrees and the humidity is down to 40 per cent."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor TH can do without the frequent updates because he's busy dashing off a 1,000-word article on really boring stuff like wealth management. But he humours me anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's British so he knows all about changing seasons whereas I have never had to bother with the weather forecast, having lived in an equatorial climate all my life. After all, in Singapore and Malaysia, it's always "sunny", "cloudy", "scattered showers" or "thunderstorms". And the temperature is always 27-32 deg C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We broke out the heater yesterday when it was 16 degrees and it was such a novelty for both me and my Singapore-born cat that we both just sat close to it the whole night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But more importantly, winter means a whole new wardrobe. Stuff that I've always wanted to wear but never could for fear of dissolving into a puddle of sweat – long wool coats, leggings, knee-length boots, knitted hats and the like. It's so fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if only it would snow in Hong Kong...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-2927942790618629882?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2927942790618629882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=2927942790618629882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2927942790618629882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2927942790618629882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/11/winters-here.html' title='Winter&apos;s here'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-3438284267080517600</id><published>2007-11-27T05:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T06:57:53.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shopaholics not-so-anonymous</title><content type='html'>My name is Ivy and I am a shopaholic. I am pathologically incapable of walking more than 20m down Queen's Road Central without buying anything. Clothes, costume jewellery, towels, toys...  you name it, I've bought it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Hong Kong, street vendors are free to set up their stalls wherever and whenever they want. The smart ones peddle their wares just outside MTR stations during after-office hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I'm walking back, tired after a day's work, I always think: "What the heck, I owe myself a treat." So I end up buying a coat here for S$20, a blouse there for S$10... and before I know it, I've spent S$100 before I even reach the Mid-Levels escalator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well at least my impulse buys are pretty cheap," I defend myself to Tubby Hubby (TH).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"S$100 x 12 working days a month is still S$1,200," replies TH, a financial journalist. "Just one month's spending can cover my Ricoh GR-digital 2 camera already."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He has a point. But one digital camera versus a cupboard-full of cheap clothes? I know which one will give me more satisfaction.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-3438284267080517600?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3438284267080517600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=3438284267080517600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3438284267080517600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3438284267080517600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/11/shopaholics-not-so-anonymous.html' title='Shopaholics not-so-anonymous'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-6393877956769364634</id><published>2007-11-25T00:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-25T00:17:57.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Neck-and-neck with TH</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) commented recently: "I think this shirt has shrunk in the wash."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Are you sure?" I asked. It was his favourite white shirt that he's had for about 10 years so it sounded a bit strange that it has only now decided to start shrinking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    He ran his finger along the collar. "Yup, it feels a bit tight around the neck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "That's because you've grown fat," I told him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    What is it about men and vanity? TH keeps moaning that he's put on weight but refuses to let me buy shirts a size bigger. He used to be the same about trousers, until he realised the alternative was to either lose weight quick or go about in his underpants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The other day, I found a lovely pair of Marks &amp;amp; Spencer jeans at the Salvation Army thrift store. It was only S$5 – but it was one size larger than the ones he normally takes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Shall I get them?" I asked him. "You might just have grown fat enough to find that they fit."&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;    "If they fit," he stated, "shoot me."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-6393877956769364634?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/6393877956769364634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=6393877956769364634' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/6393877956769364634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/6393877956769364634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/11/neck-and-neck-with-th.html' title='Neck-and-neck with TH'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-2673179161176754614</id><published>2007-10-23T20:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-23T20:43:39.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can a woman have too many bags?</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) thinks we are living in imminent danger of a bag avalanche. When we moved, I gave away more than 20 bags, ranging from dinky purses to huge luggage. It made TH happy... for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since we set up home in Hong Kong, I've been going crazy buying bags from Salvation Army. I just can't resist them and besides, they're all below S$10 so it's not as if I'm blowing the entire household money on fripperies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only thing is, I have a LeSportSac hobo that I really, really like and that's the only one I use all the time. So TH has been on my case to give away the others. "Can't," I told him. "I'm starting a bag collection that some day, some museum somewhere would give their eye-teeth to display."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pretty good explanation, wouldn't you say? Pity it hasn't stopped TH for imposing a bag ban. I need to find something new to collect now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-2673179161176754614?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2673179161176754614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=2673179161176754614' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2673179161176754614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2673179161176754614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/10/can-woman-have-too-many-bags.html' title='Can a woman have too many bags?'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-1071047489226311918</id><published>2007-10-16T19:24:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-16T19:31:48.801-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't tell me what to do!</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) always says I irritate him by telling him to do something he was going to do anyway. Like: "Go wash up" when he's already at the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And he hates it when I say: "Be careful when you cross the road". "No, I'm going to walk in front of a bus just for fun," he usually retorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when we got a special deal of 500 free minutes of overseas calls (but only if you dial a certain code), I told him the code and left him to his own devices. I wasn't about to remind him: "Must dial 0060 aah" everytime he picked up the phone. After all, as he keeps telling me, he is a fully-functioning  adult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And guess what happened? We ended up with a S$400 bill for overseas calls. Without me nagging him, TH just blithely dialled his usual 001.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't care what he says. He's going to be nagged to death from now. Think I better call him now to remind him to look left and right before crossing the road...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-1071047489226311918?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1071047489226311918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=1071047489226311918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1071047489226311918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1071047489226311918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/10/dont-tell-me-what-to-do.html' title='Don&apos;t tell me what to do!'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-1302899523609806317</id><published>2007-09-27T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T04:25:11.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joint account, one big headache</title><content type='html'>In Singapore, I have both a joint account with Tubby Hubby (TH) and a personal account. I love that personal account because it means I don't feel guilty using it to buy clothes, pay for manicures and get TH's birthday present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and squirrel away lots of money for myself, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in Hong Kong, it's too troublesome to maintain so many accounts so we just have a joint one. Both out salaries go into it so in theory, I shouldn't feel guilty about using it. But I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH's birthday is coming up and he said to take the money for his present from the joint account. But somehow it doesn't feel the same. How can I tell his I got it with my money when it comes from a pool anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah well, shall console myself with the fact that at the moment, the contribution's 80-20 (with TH putting in the most). So when I spend, it'll most likely be his money. Way hey! Now, if I can just get rid of this guilt...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-1302899523609806317?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1302899523609806317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=1302899523609806317' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1302899523609806317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1302899523609806317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/09/joint-account-one-big-headache.html' title='Joint account, one big headache'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-5623025035462738092</id><published>2007-09-23T03:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-23T03:51:15.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TH's new girlfriend</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) has a new girlfriend. Everytime we go out, he's too busy looking at her to take in the sights. Worst, at night, he takes her to bed with him and prefers to play with her than take part in our usual bedtime talk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that she's easily turned on. In fact, he's got to keep her in that state all the time so that's probably why he's giving her more attention than me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I talking about? Why, his Blackberry, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He brought her back last week. "Office requirement," he said, barely keeping his glee in check. TH's a real gadget freak so giving him one is like giving a toddler a new toy. Since then, he can hardly keep his hands off her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He thinks I'm crazy to be jealous of a palm-sized thing but it really does take up all his time. And, with his new job, I already hardly see him on weekdays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday, I hid his Blackberry. He went into a major panic atack, but not because he was worried his office might need to contact him. "My Blackberry might be feeling lonely," he wailed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anybody know of any good Blackberry-obssessive-compulsive-disorder therapist around?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-5623025035462738092?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5623025035462738092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=5623025035462738092' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5623025035462738092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5623025035462738092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/09/ths-new-girlfriend.html' title='TH&apos;s new girlfriend'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-5190304448278290265</id><published>2007-09-15T19:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T19:43:25.014-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wife or mistress?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RuyUqVYUN2I/AAAAAAAAADo/VnnVDEHxCrk/s1600-h/_MG_0431.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110623132173219682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RuyUqVYUN2I/AAAAAAAAADo/VnnVDEHxCrk/s200/_MG_0431.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Phew! It's been a crazy, crazy month trying to set up home. That's the view from our new rooftop, by the way. I'll post more when my computer is up and running.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For a week, I had to sleep on the floor in our empty Hong Kong flat while Tubby Hubby (TH) lorded it out in his hotel room. Of course, I could have shared TH's room but then, what about the cat? She had been cooped up in a cage for more than 12 hours just so we could have her in Hong Kong so I wasn't about to leave her on her own in an empty flat. See? That's the cage she came in... it's tiny.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5110626108585555826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RuyXXlYUN3I/AAAAAAAAADw/LWccHJoC_qM/s200/IMG_0434.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This hotel/flat arrangement suited us fine - except I felt like a mistress sometimes. TH would pop over to the flat for half an hour or so after work and then have to leave to go to this hotel or I would go over to his room, have a quick shower (our bathroom in the flat was woefully ill-equipped) and then leave. It felt more like a tryst than a visit and, by the end of the week, we were getting significant glances from the security guards on both ends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once, I asked for the key to TH's hotel room because he was out and I needed to pick something up. The guy at the desk asked me: "Who are you?" "I'm his wife," I squeaked indignantly. "Oh right, his &lt;em&gt;wife&lt;/em&gt;," he said, a tad skeptically.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Guess who &lt;em&gt;didn't&lt;/em&gt; get a tip when TH checked out then?!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-5190304448278290265?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5190304448278290265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=5190304448278290265' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5190304448278290265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5190304448278290265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/09/wife-or-mistress.html' title='Wife or mistress?'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RuyUqVYUN2I/AAAAAAAAADo/VnnVDEHxCrk/s72-c/_MG_0431.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-7356839158399018429</id><published>2007-08-20T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-20T18:40:42.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slowpoke meets Speedy Gonzales</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) is the most deliberate person I know. He never makes a decision without thinking it over at least three times and even then, would tell me: "Wait, don't be too hasty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I, on the other hand, just can't wait to get things out of the way. Need to find a condo? See one in the morning, decide on it by the evening. There, all done – now I can sit back and relax.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH ribs me on being too impulsive but even he had to admire my "faiti faiti" (Cantonese for "hurry up") personality recently. I was up in Hong Kong for a week and in that time, I found us a condo, opened a bank account, applied for two jobs and even located a vet for Bimbo the cat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"At this rate, you would have adopted two babies by the first month," TH observes. "Not if you had any say in it," I retort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm now back in Singapore so TH can finally relax. He can now take two hours to decide what sandwich to have without me bugging him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-7356839158399018429?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7356839158399018429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=7356839158399018429' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7356839158399018429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7356839158399018429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/slowpoke-meets-speedy-gonzales.html' title='Slowpoke meets Speedy Gonzales'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-456398333407369679</id><published>2007-08-15T04:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T04:44:25.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy week in Hong Kong</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't been blogging but I've been running around like a headless chicken trying to sort stuff out so Tubby Hubby (TH) can stop living out of a suitcase - or, in his case, two humonguous bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top on my list was finding a place to live. Rents are crazy in Hong Kong and yet, there still is so much demand. I went to see six condos on Monday afternoon and by the next morning, all but one had been rented out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we've found a place. Photos will come soon, when I can get TH to take a break from his busy worklife to load them for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I went to sign up for a postgraduate diploma in cultural heritage management. Tomorrow, I have two (part-time) job interviews and then it's back to Singapore again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew, the life of a jetsetter can be so draining.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-456398333407369679?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/456398333407369679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=456398333407369679' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/456398333407369679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/456398333407369679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/crazy-week-in-hong-kong.html' title='Crazy week in Hong Kong'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-7059786542762514948</id><published>2007-08-13T08:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-15T04:41:54.821-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All in the family</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsCAAcsBU_I/AAAAAAAAADg/JVrPim22d2s/s1600-h/F1030023.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098215523372585970" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsCAAcsBU_I/AAAAAAAAADg/JVrPim22d2s/s200/F1030023.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsB_vcsBU-I/AAAAAAAAADY/cXuN2O2yoIQ/s1600-h/F1030024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098215231314809826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsB_vcsBU-I/AAAAAAAAADY/cXuN2O2yoIQ/s200/F1030024.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsB_f8sBU9I/AAAAAAAAADQ/tk3AidWfbK8/s1600-h/F1030022.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5098214965026837458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsB_f8sBU9I/AAAAAAAAADQ/tk3AidWfbK8/s200/F1030022.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pictures of me and Tubby Hubby (TH), my two brothers and their wives. You won't believe it but all three of us siblings got married in the same year: 2004.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     Actually, my younger brother, Darric (the pic on the right), and his girlfriend had been planning for ages for their wedding. So theirs was the "proper" one with full wedding dinner and all - which helped my mum get that out of her system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     Mine and TH's was a surprise one. We were going to get married in secret but since everyone was already down for Darric's wedding, they got a two-for-one deal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     Darryl (the pic in the middle) was supposed to get married the year after. But he got his condo early so they decided to bring forward the date.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;     My dad got to wear his good suit all in one year. And my relatives are still talking about our bumper crop of weddings! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-7059786542762514948?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7059786542762514948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=7059786542762514948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7059786542762514948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7059786542762514948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/all-in-family.html' title='All in the family'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RsCAAcsBU_I/AAAAAAAAADg/JVrPim22d2s/s72-c/F1030023.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-8416555225887908236</id><published>2007-08-09T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-09T19:31:07.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Hong Kong</title><content type='html'>Flying off to Hong Kong to meet Tubby Hubby (TH) tomorrow. Can't wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some good things about being single again. For one, the toilet seat stays down (TH always leaves it up so when I get up for a sleepy midnight pee, I almost fall into the toilet). For another, the water heater is always set at the perfect temperature for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I miss having someone to talk to just before I go to sleep. And watching CSI is just not the same without TH playing the air guitar/synthesizer/drums during the opening sequence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've got a week with TH anyway in that spiffy hotel room of his. For those who've been asking me where it is, it's Bishop Lei International House along Robinson Road. Cheap (S$130 a night) and what wonderful views! http://www.bishopleihtl.com.hk/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-8416555225887908236?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/8416555225887908236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=8416555225887908236' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8416555225887908236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/8416555225887908236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/off-to-hong-kong.html' title='Off to Hong Kong'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-3176796242481751224</id><published>2007-08-08T06:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T06:54:04.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My role models</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrnIL8sBU8I/AAAAAAAAADI/HL3tIvqus_s/s1600-h/09780031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrnIL8sBU8I/AAAAAAAAADI/HL3tIvqus_s/s200/09780031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5096324560941306818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my Mummy and Daddy. Aren't they sweet? They've been married for nearly 40 years now and I look to them to get an idea of what a good marriage should be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I've learnt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bickering doesn't mean divorce is imminent.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The wife is always right.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love is washing the other's car. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;A couple only needs two bank accounts: joint and hers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why say "I'm sorry" when a nudge will do?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why say "I love you" when a packet of mee rebus will do?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I flew home recently and sat in the back seat while my parents bickered throughout the entire trip from the airport. Then nudged each other. Awww...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-3176796242481751224?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3176796242481751224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=3176796242481751224' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3176796242481751224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3176796242481751224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/my-role-models.html' title='My role models'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrnIL8sBU8I/AAAAAAAAADI/HL3tIvqus_s/s72-c/09780031.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-783257181927309715</id><published>2007-08-06T20:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-06T20:39:45.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long-distance relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrfmbssBU7I/AAAAAAAAADA/dF0Jv910vXA/s1600-h/View.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrfmbssBU7I/AAAAAAAAADA/dF0Jv910vXA/s320/View.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095794866919658418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tubby Hubby (TH) has started working in Hong Kong already but I am stuck in Singapore settling things like bank accounts and the movers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long-distance relationships are a common thing nowadays. People don't stay put in one company (or even one country) all their lives compared to our parents' time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn't make it any easier. I find myself packing my days full of activity to make sure I don't miss TH too much. Thankfully, IDD calls to Hong Kong are free on Starhub so we keep in contact quite a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is exciting to be a real jetsetter now, though. I get to divide my time between Singapore, where I am still freelancing, and Hong Kong. How cool is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of cool, check out the view from TH's hotel room window. Yup, it is just opposite his bed. He keeps raving about it over the phone so I have to see it for myself. Flying there this Saturday to take over his double bed. Poor guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-783257181927309715?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/783257181927309715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=783257181927309715' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/783257181927309715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/783257181927309715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/long-distance-relationships.html' title='Long-distance relationships'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrfmbssBU7I/AAAAAAAAADA/dF0Jv910vXA/s72-c/View.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-4313837363798769985</id><published>2007-08-04T04:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T04:28:45.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>TH is officially middle-aged!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrRhzMsBU6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/GKxh2nGL5S4/s1600-h/2007-07-31+Andrew+with+glasses+IMG_0180.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrRhzMsBU6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/GKxh2nGL5S4/s200/2007-07-31+Andrew+with+glasses+IMG_0180.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5094804610669958050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tubby Hubby (TH) has had perfect eyesight for the past 43 years. So he'd never felt the pain of being four-eyed. Grrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He used to have this irritating habit of touching my glasses and leaving fingerprint smudges behind.  And if I complained, he'd just say innocently: "Why? What's so bad about smudges?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well now he knows. Age has finally caught up with him and he had to have reading glasses made. Ha ha...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to leave my grubby fingerprints all over his lenses!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-4313837363798769985?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4313837363798769985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=4313837363798769985' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4313837363798769985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4313837363798769985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/th-is-officially-middle-aged.html' title='TH is officially middle-aged!'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrRhzMsBU6I/AAAAAAAAAC4/GKxh2nGL5S4/s72-c/2007-07-31+Andrew+with+glasses+IMG_0180.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-7056224962637717553</id><published>2007-08-01T19:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-04T04:30:58.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Setting the cake bar</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) prides himself on being quite a good cook. He wooed me with a fantastic lamb navarin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since I took over the kitchen, he's become lazy. The last thing he cooked was sausages for himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really mind because, whenever he cooks, he manages to use up every saucepan, dish and utensil in the kitchen - which he then leaves to me to wash up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let's face it," a friend told me. "Men are just not good in the kitchen."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously, she hasn't met my friend Mark. Here's what he baked for a friend's birthday party:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093921724307690370" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 165px; height: 192px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrE-0csBU4I/AAAAAAAAACo/7DjP7YSpXCg/s320/cake.jpg" border="0" height="215" width="165" /&gt;And, since he's single, he even washed up everything afterwards himself. Now tell me men aren't good in the kitchen!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-7056224962637717553?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7056224962637717553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=7056224962637717553' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7056224962637717553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7056224962637717553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/08/setting-cake-bar.html' title='Setting the cake bar'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RrE-0csBU4I/AAAAAAAAACo/7DjP7YSpXCg/s72-c/cake.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-1595232599514805099</id><published>2007-07-31T02:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T02:47:08.044-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Simpsons and the art of marriage</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/Rq8D7ssBU3I/AAAAAAAAACg/HSiYxG_HiTY/s1600-h/simpsons.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/Rq8D7ssBU3I/AAAAAAAAACg/HSiYxG_HiTY/s200/simpsons.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093294027722281842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone seen The Simpsons movie yet? Tubby Hubby (TH) and I went to see it over the weekend and when we came out, he said: "I think I appreciate The Simpsons more after I got married."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How true. I never used to pay much attention to the bickering between Marge and Homer but ever since I got married, I notice I keep turning to TH and saying: "That's you!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the movie, Homer tries to persuade Marge to keep Spiderpig and she is not amused. Then he makes the pig belch like him and Marge can't keep her stern face. Homer says: "Aha, you smiled. I'm off the hook!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's exactly how TH wins arguments. He tries to joke me out of my anger and the moment I laugh, he knows he's in the clear. I really must work on keeping a straight face better...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-1595232599514805099?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/1595232599514805099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=1595232599514805099' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1595232599514805099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/1595232599514805099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/simpsons-and-art-of-marriage.html' title='Simpsons and the art of marriage'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/Rq8D7ssBU3I/AAAAAAAAACg/HSiYxG_HiTY/s72-c/simpsons.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-5456566669637508942</id><published>2007-07-29T23:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-29T23:28:36.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What's your sign?</title><content type='html'>Joanne's post set me thinking about love horoscopes. When I was younger, I used to be addicted to star signs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every time I met a cute guy, I would sneakily try to find out his star sign (both Western and Chinese) and then go back and check if we would be compatible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I met Tubby Hubby (TH), though, I was so in love that I didn't dare to check our signs to see if we would be compatible. What if our horoscopes weren't a match?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny thing is, we actually are. I'm Sagittarius and a Dog while he's Libra and a Rabbit. A perfect pairing both ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess some things are written in the stars!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-5456566669637508942?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/5456566669637508942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=5456566669637508942' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5456566669637508942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/5456566669637508942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/whats-your-sign.html' title='What&apos;s your sign?'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-3773186757869364140</id><published>2007-07-28T21:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T22:03:41.561-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tubby Hubby, the camera freak</title><content type='html'>Tubby Hubby (TH) has a week off in between jobs and plans to spend it doing photography.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He claims that he hasn't had time for it as he's been working so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't bother to argue. I've just pasted this cartoon on his camera bag:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqwfZssBU2I/AAAAAAAAACY/BviCQgSqC60/s1600-h/WTD174.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqwfZssBU2I/AAAAAAAAACY/BviCQgSqC60/s400/WTD174.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092479805002175330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Says it all, don't you think?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-3773186757869364140?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/3773186757869364140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=3773186757869364140' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3773186757869364140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/3773186757869364140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/tubby-hubby-camera-freak.html' title='Tubby Hubby, the camera freak'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqwfZssBU2I/AAAAAAAAACY/BviCQgSqC60/s72-c/WTD174.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-2231922779631948675</id><published>2007-07-28T08:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-28T21:57:45.943-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Buy an original painting – save me from TH's smugness!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqtficsBU0I/AAAAAAAAACI/8KBOCdsJRRY/s1600-h/Painting.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqtficsBU0I/AAAAAAAAACI/8KBOCdsJRRY/s200/Painting.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5092268849093497666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tubby Hubby (TH) has two hobbies – photography and ancestry tracing – which he spends inordinate amounts of time and money on. Last time I went home to Malaysia for a weekend, he binge-bought $200  worth of scanned wills that may or may not have been his ancestors'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why can't you find a useful hobby?" I ask. "Something that we can retire on?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He does some stock photography (www.istockphoto.com/namussi) but makes barely enough to cover the cost of a filter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"A hobby isn't supposed to be useful," he retorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But he has the last laugh. I am taking up oil painting and the flat is filling up with lots of expensive canvases, covered in even-more-expensive paints, that are obviously going nowhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone wants to buy an original Ong-Wood just so TH can stop looking so superior?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-2231922779631948675?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/2231922779631948675/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=2231922779631948675' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2231922779631948675'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/2231922779631948675'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/buy-original-painting-save-me-from-ths.html' title='Buy an original painting – save me from TH&apos;s smugness!'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqtficsBU0I/AAAAAAAAACI/8KBOCdsJRRY/s72-c/Painting.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-4944056853933906780</id><published>2007-07-26T23:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T23:23:12.643-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Men are such babies about pain</title><content type='html'>I'm on IVF, a long and painful procedure involving surgery and lots of injections. But TH still manages upstage me in the whining stakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night before my egg pick-up (day surgery), TH wakes me up. "My back hurts," he says. I'm bloated with hormones, my tubes hurt and my stomach is growling cos I am fasting before the op. But guess who gets the sympathy – and massage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am now on daily progesterone jabs. It's intramuscular so the needle is about 2" long. After the jabs, I can barely walk but I grit my teeth and limp to the bus-stop anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am lying prone in bed because  my legs can't support me when TH pulls a muscle in his back – again.  "Don't be such a baby," I tell him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It really hurts," he yells back. "Try having a little sympathy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sympathy? My back, insides, thighs, bum, tummy are torturing me at the same time. Don't talk to me about pain, mister.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-4944056853933906780?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/4944056853933906780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=4944056853933906780' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4944056853933906780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/4944056853933906780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/men-are-such-babies-about-pain.html' title='Men are such babies about pain'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-9081158255574028598</id><published>2007-07-25T23:57:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T00:44:09.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Does your wedding ring date you?</title><content type='html'>When we got married, TH and I thought we were being different by choosing simple platinum rings compared to the fancy stuff on offer. But my brother, Darric, got married 10 days before us and his band was exactly the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which got me thinking: Is there a fashion for wedding bands? Bridal mags always tell us to choose something unique to us but is our choice influenced by what's in at the time?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did a non-scientific survey of my friends and here's what I found:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhGuMsBUuI/AAAAAAAAABY/4CpUQOetW4I/s1600-h/weddings_index04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 124px; height: 124px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhGuMsBUuI/AAAAAAAAABY/4CpUQOetW4I/s200/weddings_index04.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091397138236134114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Less than five years: Simple platinum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhHBssBUvI/AAAAAAAAABg/gbd38wfiR1s/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 114px; height: 114px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhHBssBUvI/AAAAAAAAABg/gbd38wfiR1s/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091397473243583218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Five to 10 years: Dual-tone gold or diamond-studded white gold (a la Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhGicsBUtI/AAAAAAAAABQ/D8ic_6dbAs4/s1600-h/images-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 106px; height: 98px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhGicsBUtI/AAAAAAAAABQ/D8ic_6dbAs4/s200/images-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091396936372671186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhQNcsBUyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/yDXv-7yGpIs/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhQNcsBUyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/yDXv-7yGpIs/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091407570711696162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;10-15 years: Simple yellow gold&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhHfcsBUwI/AAAAAAAAABo/9HGeoN03YAo/s1600-h/images-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhHfcsBUwI/AAAAAAAAABo/9HGeoN03YAo/s200/images-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091397984344691458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;More than 15 years: Elaborate diamond yellow gold&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-9081158255574028598?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/9081158255574028598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=9081158255574028598' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/9081158255574028598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/9081158255574028598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/does-your-wedding-ring-date-you.html' title='Does your wedding ring date you?'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqhGuMsBUuI/AAAAAAAAABY/4CpUQOetW4I/s72-c/weddings_index04.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-901253052473950865</id><published>2007-07-24T19:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T18:56:08.374-07:00</updated><title type='text'>There's something special about flowers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqlQpcsBUzI/AAAAAAAAACA/FQrSybkuA04/s1600-h/_MG_0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqlQpcsBUzI/AAAAAAAAACA/FQrSybkuA04/s200/_MG_0003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5091689526724743986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I complained in my column that TH never gave me flowers, I've been getting them in bunches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TH usually gives me eight, not six, stalks each time – because eight is a lucky number "according to you Chinese", he says. Besides, we held our wedding dinner on the 8th of August.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He usually doesn't wait for an occasion to give them so that they'd be more spontaneous. But two days ago, I received some for our 3 1/2-year wedding anniversary. Deep red roses, just the kind I love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SMSed my mum and she was so envious. She hasn't received any from my dad despite being married almost 40 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Mummy. Maybe I'd better order some for her for her next wedding anniversary.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-901253052473950865?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/901253052473950865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=901253052473950865' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/901253052473950865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/901253052473950865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/theres-something-special-about-flowers.html' title='There&apos;s something special about flowers'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqlQpcsBUzI/AAAAAAAAACA/FQrSybkuA04/s72-c/_MG_0003.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-7224362017606406692</id><published>2007-07-23T19:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T19:18:43.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture of TH and me</title><content type='html'>This is us having  fun at Voyager Estate in Margaret River. TH doesn't usually look this gormless, I can assure you. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqVhQMsBUpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJuTXLJRMiE/s1600-h/Voyager.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqVhQMsBUpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJuTXLJRMiE/s200/Voyager.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090581884723876498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-7224362017606406692?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7224362017606406692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=7224362017606406692' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7224362017606406692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7224362017606406692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/picture-of-th-and-me.html' title='Picture of TH and me'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wYzJd8GXnxk/RqVhQMsBUpI/AAAAAAAAAAw/UJuTXLJRMiE/s72-c/Voyager.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-681942921774610517.post-7559484129112167957</id><published>2007-07-23T18:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-26T01:35:30.762-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hits and Mrs is alive!</title><content type='html'>Welcome folks! I see you have managed to navigate the intricate workings of the Internet to get to this blog. Bear with me as I am a virgin blogger so I'm going to muddle my way through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried uploading a picture of Tubby Hubby (TH) here but it seems to keep giving me an error message. So those of you who are curious to know what he looks like will just have to wait a bit while I get some techie guy to sort it out for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, before you go, here's something that's been puzzling me all morning:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.learnenglish.org.uk/games/magic-gopher-central.swf"&gt;http://www.learnenglish.org.uk/games/magic-gopher-central.swf&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyone have any idea how that works? I'm sure it's something that can be explained statistically or something. Am going to bug wannabe-statistician TH when he comes home from work today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/681942921774610517-7559484129112167957?l=hitsmrs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/feeds/7559484129112167957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=681942921774610517&amp;postID=7559484129112167957' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7559484129112167957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/681942921774610517/posts/default/7559484129112167957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://hitsmrs.blogspot.com/2007/07/welcome-everyone.html' title='Hits and Mrs is alive!'/><author><name>Ivy Ong-Wood</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10775133732994615913</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
