Time to be a Snow Bum

The snow came in early this year, but I only started enjoying it.

Went to Falls Creek over the last weekend. Made a quick dash after work, and Jason had planned it nicely for us to crash right after work. After 5 hours drive and a tidy sleep, it was time to hit the slope, and tame those nerves.

Decided that I will dump the skis for a board this time. If anything, carrying 1 board is 1/4 times easier than carrying 2 poles and 2 skis. Not to mention that boarding boots are much softer to walk around with. Barring the physical baggage, there was too much psychological baggage associated with skiing, such as finding yourself few inches away from the sharp drop.

Falls Creek was less crowded and was very pleasant compared to Mt Buller. The lodge was warm and cosy, and Sam was our chef for the trip. The weather was great, we narrowly avoided the gale that stopped the lifts the day before. I had to remove my beanie and was nearly happy to wear just a tank top. Unfortunately, I over-enthusiastically took off my gloves and scratched my knuckles in the process.

The learning curve for the first hours of snowboarding was definitely more trying than skiing. With skiing, you could at least stand up and shuffle along. With snowboarding, the first few hours are usually dedicated to your bum. I must have fell a thousand times until I was too tired to regain my dignified position. Only completed half a real run and a few short ones. At the end of Day 1, all the muscles you never knew you had was aching, you panted on a cold day like you never did before, and being speed-height adverse, I was prepared to find some lame excuse to avoid it altogether for next day.

Day 2 proved to be much better. Although there wasn't a scumptuous breakfast, we went for the Level 2 class. The class was much bigger, 3 instructors and students who behaved very much like nothing can drag them down. Chris, my instructor for the first day was there, and I had to ashamely confessed to him that I still sucked when he asked me how I was doing. As a happy result, he took me and another girl out of the class halfway to personally coach us. He literally turned my bag of nerves into steel, and I was able to be more confident about anything 'toeside' after that. The happier confession was that he ran up the Poma with me, which just means I get to comfortably ride the T-bar lift upslope and he has to do the job of holding my hand, running along and doing a titanic 'I'll not let you go'. Was quite a smitten kitten after that... how can anyone resist a uber cool nitro-boarder with so much patience and fitness to spare?

For the uninitiated of the Poma/t-bar, I love the following description of it, since falling down 2 times on it:
"The T-bar is a cruel joke on snowboarders perpetrated by the skiing industry, but since more and more people with money are snowboarding instead of skiing, these abominations will soon die the hideous death they deserve on scrap heaps around the world. If you do see one the best response is to make a hissing sound in the back of your throat, the sign of the cross with your fingers, and a sharp exit in the direction of a more civilised lift, or possibly a bar of a different kind."

I am now a snowboard convert. Am itching to get up there again but the season's officially over by end of this month. The snow is melting, and it costs an arm and half a leg to go there. Speaking of half a leg, the experience comes with bruised knees, wham-bangs on the head, tailbone and red wrists.. not to mention a sore bum for the not-too-well-endowed.

Such a physical epiphany.

The intellectual epiphany is that I will now grudgingly study for CPA while dreaming of being an aspiring snow bum. I have also since thought of working in Borders/Subway to augment my winter budget.

Awesome blue-sky weather
















From the balcony of Cloud 9 cafe (my fave 'watering hole' on Day 1)
















The girls after lunch

Hanh and I- the only boarders in the group















My bruised knee

One Nuah Weekend

I've been rather nuah this weekend, and it started out on Friday night.

Been feeling sleepy this entire week nights, I think it must be the backlog of midnight snooze and the morning after. Plus met a friend on Mon night and colleague's farewell dinner with lotsa wine on Thurs... flat out!

My good friend sha is finally engaged! And the wedding is next Sat! Gasps.. it does sound like shotgun doesn't it? Nothing of this kind, they have planned the wedding a year back, the proposal only came through this weekend. Zp is going to play the flute as a march-in song, and it was quite touching seeing a video recording of his practice. Guess that fella has a different way of being romantic.

Feeling like hitting the sack again... it's been one rather cold winter!

Break my heart for what breaks yours...

I don't even know why I am hardly angry with the control freak in my office. If I know myself, I should be, even if it's not for myself.

But instead of psuedo-ly staring at the computer screen plotting how to exhaust the last bit of milk before she makes her coffee, my heart was turned to what happened during the weekend.

I was unintentionally thrown into a conversation with 2 friends. While it wasn't a bible-bashing session, I thought one of them was being rather unobjective, claming that a 'slick marketing ploy' was used to lure her into Christianity, and how she finally saw the light and got out of it. Who you choose to believe is your perogative, but re-pledging your allegience and biting the hand that feeds you during your down-time, and attempting to persuade others to think on your side is principally despicable. Of course, the other friend was happy to claim that there's no point in believing in anything, because doing good works will be her passport to heaven/happiness etc.

One day later, I bumped into a friend in church. This is a not-too-close friend whom I've been praying for his cancer to just leave. He's 30, newly married, and after a merry-go-round of ups and downs, he's been given 6 months to live by doctors. Even if I don't know him that well, it's surreal to have someone you know to be hit by news like this. I was in a 'no-you-must-be-kidding' stage, thinking that I'll see him well soon. He walked up to me, said Hi, and I asked him how he was. He told me that the doctors have all given him the bad news, but "I'm still beliving for the best and that I'll be well". At this point, I really do want to cry... I don't know where he got his faith from, why he's even in church, but I tried to maintain a happy face. I asked him what he's doing, and he was occupied with buying a new bible for his mother. I now know why the people who visited him came back and related his story with tears in their eyes- not the sad kind, but 'I-really-don't-know-where-he-got-that-kind-of-strength-from' type of tears.

Surely this sick friend has not placed his last bet of life and death on a marketing ploy, nor is he hoping to rely his hope for living by getting more good works done.

"Break my heart for what breaks yours...."

How My Day Begins...

7.30am: First alarm rings... (slaps snooze button)
7.45am: Alarm rings again... (turn on itunes to listen to 5min news by BBC via podcast)
8.00am: Stand and stare at wardrobe wondering how to vary winter clothing.
8.20am: Pack for what seems like a ridiculous pinic outing (aka: lunchbox, fruits, yoghurt, breakfast, to bring to office).
8.30am: Leave house.

That's when the adventure begins. First I'll walk past the smell of espressos, lattes and flat whites at the italian cafes along Lygon street, and the tempting cakes and breads. If I have a gold coin to spare, I'll go and buy a chocolate scone from Bakers Delight- freshly baked! Then I'll walk pass some little parks, lots of victorian houses, and finally pass the stretch of RMIT uni, cross over to Melbourne Central for 2 floors of window shopping, and if I'm a minute late for work, i can cut pass Myer and pretend to speed-shop (and enjoy the heating)... And finally dart under the Commonwealth Bank building, slid and slide down the underground parking at the back lane, and arrive at another day's of work. 2.6km worth of travelling, and some calories burnt.

12.30pm: Lunchtime at the Galleria@ Commonwealth bank building, since it's winter now and the outdoors aren't worth spending time at. After a quick lunchbox lunch of whatever-was-yesterday's-dinner, Claudine and I will go in search of adventure (part 2). Frozen yoghurt at Myer? Or coffee at degraves? Hot choc at Brunettis? Kaypo-ing at David Jones Food Hall? Go browse cuilinary books at City library?

5.30pm: It's dark and cold. Retrace morning walk. Think about what to cook for dinner, and lunch tomorrow.

Sounds like work is an adventure everyday isn't it?

The Foggiest Day in Melbourne

Epi-not-curious

All things food for this long Queen's birthday weekend.

I'm so stuffed with food I really don't know when to start. I just had brekky at Mart 130 (Middle Park), following the reviews of the breakfast blog. The corn fritters that I had was fresh, the rows of corn kernels stuck together reminds you that it was fresh corn off the cob, not out of a bag of frozen corb nibblets. Evie had the Pancake with caramelised bananas, but she preferred the oatmeal pancakes we had at Cafe Sweethearts a couple of weeks ago. I was as usual, cheery at the sight of the black speckled vanilla bean cream that can only scream of pure vanilla bean- from the $4-a-tiny-pod, not the $2.50-a-bottle. (Forgive me, I'm not a food snob, but there's nothing more vanilla than those from vanilla beans- essence hardly counts.) Yuan had an omelette, but he was not impressed with the sourdough that came with it. The genovese coffee is average and fluctuates according to the barista, the verandah side of the converted tram-station was scenic, and the parking was a breeze. Although the breakfast blog gave it a 19/20, I'll have to let Cafe Sweethearts gain the upper hand with their stellar poach eggs with hollandaise sauce- value for money too if you order it with oat pancakes and bacon.

And since I'm at the breakfast topic, Cafe Sweethearts has the added draw of the South Melbourne market. I bought a sell-by-weight tub of cocoa to make hot choc (oh, I'll review hot choc the next time) and some apple chips. The cheeses there are drop-dead cheap if you want to consume it really soon, and there are aged meats for the 'ing cheem' (picky) steak-snobs.

Back to the long weekend. Communion extended from church to the Yarra Valley. I was quite determined to visit the Yarra Valley Dairy again, since the last time we stumbled upon it with melbie pals Cindy, Clara and homepal Edwin. This time the Persian Fetta was unavailable for tasting, and there were too many soft goat cheeses for my liking. The last time, Clara and I had 6 years of Pinots lined up in half-glasses when we went. This time, I was introduced to the wines of Yarra from the boutique wineries. I know I ranted about the lousy Chandon and large-touristy-nice-packaging wineries the last time I came. This time, my favourite has to be the 2002 Gembrook Hill Sauvignon Blanc. The Jamsheed Shiraz was also commendable. Both tasted much flavoursome than the earlier cellar door tastings at De Botoli and Yering Station.

My rechargeable batteries for my camera has gone kapuk. This will explain why there's hardly any decent pictures to complement the narration.


Mart 130

















The Corn Fritters and Bacon I had

A Little Surprise

It's just one of those old fashioned things that still warms my heart. I came back today to see an envelope on the table, evidently with Nel's handwriting on it. It's was for no particular occasion, but I think she's being really sweet about things, to send me a cute card with photographs that she took- of us three, of her trips to Japan, Taiwan and Korea. It stopped me on my tracks as I got home from a tiring day, with no dinner nor housemate in sight.

Ever since I came here, every little post means a lot to me. I still get them often from good friends, and nel, sha and jocelyn are the ever-faithfuls. I hope I'm not too emotional when I say that sometimes tears do well up in my eyes when I see them, especially when the day is long or it's just one of those lonely nights.

The Tribe

I made some cupcakes for someone's birthday last week. There were some extras, and I was at a loss at who to give to. They were gorgeous Bill Granger cupcakes with white chocolate icing, and the texture of a soft buttery cake good enough for an nice afternoon tea. Of hand, I could think of a few, but I wished there were the kind of friends who truly know who your thoughts are with when you give it to them.

And my thoughts were transported to miles away, where there's a tribe waiting. It's a few ex-colleagues whom I've been very close to while working there- people you share 2 hours lunches with, who sits with you over those weekly ops meetings, people who took annual trips together with, and those you hung out with eating durians and watching midnight shows, or playing Risk over New Year's eve with... people who gave me a blown up photograph of our kelong trip for me to take to Melbourne... and yes, we even had a 'Tribe' t-shirt...

I called Ah Ong, we talked and laughed... she can read my thoughts, and we can switch from serious to candid... she's been my travel partner to Australia, NZ... then there's Small Man, my Saturday soulmate at chijazz, my arthouse movie buddy, my breakfast and supper partner... there's Larry Cool who's really getting excited over our Darwin trip and I'm excited to hear that he's excited.... and Mok Mok who gets on ur nerves everytime with his por-ma, but is really a caring person deep within.

I don't know if I'll ever have friends like these in a workplace here. It's been 3 years since leaving and I still get a present sent to me on my birthdays by these wonderful people. I always thought God has been over-generous in the 'friends' department, and I really felt the loss when I am here.

I know if I had made those cupcakes in Singapore, I'll have no problem giving them away. In fact, I'll have to think of making more to give to people I really want to give.

Here's one for The Tribe. I miss you all :(

Hope

"In the depths of winter I finally learned there was in me an invincible summer."-Albert Camus

He walked into church while the congregation has already worked the beat. I wasn't sure if I saw the right person. Few moments later, he walked out and 'picked' her, leading her to the pew. From few pews back, I caught a glimspe of her whispering to his ear, her cheeky but lovely smile was far from the reaction expected of wives with a husband going through cancer. Just married recently, bought a house, they have just started on their dreams of a happily married couple. The cancer came like a hurricane, moved in fast, destroyed everything on its path, left no stones unturned, the bad news pelted down one after another, and beyond the fuzziness of their happy courtship memory, the focus now are only trips to the hospital and the operating table.

I believe God will do what He needs to restore him back to health, beyond all reasons, medical findings and probabilities. This is hardly being religious nor faith, for why would anyone need to believe in the doom and gloom? It's already there. Ask the punter in the casino why would he bother to lay the bets when the reality is, the casino always has a higher chance of winning (the '0' on the roulette wheel)... You have to believe in something- in luck, in your red shirt, in your four leave clover, your lucky day.... and I believe in God.

Last week the pastor at church talked about being in the furnace. A day later, my dear fren Sharon forwarded me daily devotions from her church. It strangely spoke of the exact same things. There are the 'facts', the 'truths' and the 'lies'. The 'facts' are what the world presents to you, without any apologies (ask the guy with cancer, the childless couple), the 'truths' are the promises of God that He loves all his people, and nothing is impossible for Him, and the 'lies' are what Satan likes to fill you with to makes you feel like there's no difference living or praying or hoping... you literally feel like 'hell'.

I believe it's the truth that I saw in church this morning- that smile on her face. It must have been a very difficult smile, but an invincible summer lies in everyone who at least has a hope to cling to in the face of adversities.

The Cook and the English

Instructions behind a packet of Mee Suah... (click on picture to enlarge)

I was reading it to Daisy as she was boiling it, really couldn't keep a straight face.

Back to the Jamie Oliver Mood

I owe my interest in cooking to Jamie Oliver. Before I came to cook-it-yourself land, I sat through almost every afternoon watching how fun and easy cooking can be. The only thing I can muster up then is baked salmon with some dried boring herbs that says 'Italian Herbs'. I'm proud to say that I can now tell the difference between a rosemary and a thyme, and the joys of balsamic vinegar and good olive oil.

Unfortunately the workbench of my kitchen is prime property strip, and I am still unable to find space for a food processor, a pestle and mortar, or a pasta maker, or 5 pots and 2 pans (just as my house doesn't have a place for a herb garden, a lemon tree, a free-range chicken farm, a self-dug BBQ pit, a woodfire oven), I haven't been able to do lots of chopping and herb-ing.

Hence, I was pleasantly surprised to find a jar of "Jamie's Green Pesto is Really Tasty" at David Jones Foodhall. According to the lad at the counter, it was my lucky day to get it at a discounted price, and I must say that, together with the equally tantalizing fresh veal and caramelised onions tortellini fresh made pasta, it was a match made in a heavenly friday night. Using the same amount of effort as making Maggie Mee, this concoction went right into the '10 simple cheat dish' list.

After be introduced to pasta paradise, walking past the pasta shops at Lygon Street no longer give me that same sallivating feeling.

And speaking of David Jones, I have been making almost daily pilgrimage there- during lunch, after work... frequent enough to know that they replenish their fresh pasta stock every Thursday, and that the huge-arse juicy scallops cost $49.90 for a kg, and just front of it lies tender juicy sashimi grade tuna fillets at $52 a kg. Not to mention those miniature Asparagus, Radicchio and Cauliflowers that are so small and cute that you thought they were fake plastic ones.

Mmmm.... I found my food paradise. Close to work, clean to shop, beautiful display.

Latest Acquisition: A wok. Hurrah!

Check out the tiny cauliflowers

















Jamie's green pesto is really tasty!

Express Post

This is going to be a quick round-up of the latest happenings, all in a happy handy once-off digest.

Easter has come and gone, and now Anzac day holidays. The next one will be the Queen's birthday, which is real strange, because it changes date every year, and stranger still, her actual birthday is nowhere near that date. But whichever queen or date it is, I'm thankful for her, because there'll be a drought of holiday till November.

Autumn is here too! But due to the other kind of weather drought, there are not much greenery to turn orange and red.

So what is interesting between those pack-lunch weekdays? Venturing into the nicest bank lobby along Collins St, the ANZ banking lobby is possibly the loveliest place to do your banking in. It feels like stepping into an old Gothic church in the 1960s, and the banking counters and lamps feels so old-world!

Just saw the cutest veggies at David Jones food hall- the best place to go to avoid peak-hour human supermarket traffic if you just want to get some greens. There were mini cauliflowers, mini asparagus... imagine, it's the same feeling you get looking at kittens and puppies.

I shan't mention about work, because there is not much highlights, other than the teabags and the friday booze.

Speaking of booze, did too much winery tastings these couple of weeks. First was Yarra Valley, and now Mornington. Did the usual suspects again, but I seriously won't bother with Chandon because it is one tourist-priced (read: pay premium for nice toilets and not-so-great wines), but I still love Montalto's Chardonnay.

And I got a few additions to my life: a flowering plant (Lisianthus) for my nurturing spirit, a car for a social life, a rice cooker to cook rice (of course!).

Time to hit the sack.. nights everyone! Enjoy the random pics.

Pillars at ANZ banking lobby

What lies beneath this mount? Pi Pi and a Crab!

Singapore in Four Weeks

It's easier when I'm writing this in retrospect.

Whenever I returned back to Singapore as a student, it felt like a whirlwind romance- you fall in love, get swept off your feet, and before you know it, it's over. There's nothing sophisticated about it, like the romance, there will be an ending when it's time to turn your back and board the flight.

It does seems like I have a choice to return this time. I didn't do the hungry-ghost "ge tai" rush from one destination to another, because I wanted to take time to savour the times I have with my friends and family. The quantity didn't matter, but to hang out with the people who really mattered meant a lot to me. I could meet them a hundred times and not get tired of it.

I was glad that after 3 years of absence, there are those who have been undying in their friendship and love. Atikah spent countless nights hanging out with me, even though she was hardly a night bird... I had an girly night with Sharon, who took 2 days off just to hang out, watching Dvds till the wee hours of the night, having our pajama party, digging up our old days by visiting NUS, having the Great Jamie Oliver Cookout, egging each other on to buy more clothes at Southaven... Nel who never fails to entertain me with the symbolic prawn crackers and drinks, Tracy who tried to juggle motherhood and mothering me... the tribe who never fails to hound me with late night movies, durians feasting, 2 hours lunches and ambitious holiday plans...

... and of course coupled with my own parents who fed me lots of food, made the house a home to come back to, and just making familar noises that I don't get overseas.

Sharon says that I will forget all these soon when I'm back in Melbourne.

Does the place or the people maketh the person?

That being said, my only grouse about Singapore during this visit is that it is one very very crowded country- there seems to be more cars on the roads, more people on the MRT, more shoppers in the malls, and even the beach is invaded with throngs of campers. At every available space, another handphone shop/food/bakery store is being set up.

I had an eggs benedict at South Melbourne the morning after I arrived at melbourne. Cool weather, occasional sun, and best of all, the streets are almost empty. I can enjoy my food and company in peace.

There's no such thing as greener grass or best of both worlds, only a choice to be made and a perspective to take.

The Great Jamie Oliver Cookout @ Sha's

Moet Night with Cindy and Clara @ Attica.

Slideshow Weekends

The last few weekends, I didn't walk into God's church, but I walked into His cinema, watched slideshows of peace and serenity, witnessed the power of the waves and yielding of the rocks. At times the wind blows colder than the heart, yet the summer warmth attempts to blow some life over it again.

There's a season for everything. As much as you want to rev up the engine, to accomplish, to start achieving, to quicken things, to drum your fingers impatiently on the counter, to wish bad things away, to behold good ones, but yet you find yourself content to breath through the day, sleep another night, pass another day... one day becomes two, days turn to weeks. String it all together, and another season has passed...

Only on a Friday

Only on a Friday does the vent open
The steam releases
At least tomorrow's a Saturday
And no one need to see me

One drink down
One mad rush
One more week
One tear drop

And Sunday's not going to be easier
Another memory to deny
Another sigh to ignore
Another emotion to disguise

What would you have said?

That faithful morning,
When you watched the sun rose,
What would you have said?
That "I was like the sun, constant and unfailing"
"You never woke up without me to greet your day"

That faithful morning,
What would he have said?
That "I've waited till I couldn't
Still you weren't back
I had to go"

That faithful morning,
As you breathe your last,
What would you have said?
That "I wished you were here,
Just as I have always been for you"

This faithful evening,
As I looked at your photo
A thousand miles away
My tears trickle
My heart goes numb
My words are lost
My smile is gone
My sorrow hounds me
I wished you can talk to me one more time.

In Loving Memory of the Love of My Life- Kitty (1986-2006)

You came as a week old kitten, frail and helpless
We picked you among the litter of black and white kitties
You were the cutest of them all

Once I wrapped you up like a baby
Rocking you as you slept
Then you made my bed your bed
And you snuggled in my quilt

You'll wake me up like clockwork
Asking me to let you out
You'll meow and meow
And nibble my nose and step on me

Sometimes when you're bored
You talk to me
But all this while
You listened more than talked

You hear my cries when I was sad
Slept by my side when I was sick
You were one faithful companion
Who never changed when man did

I can't even re-tell your story
Without going back to recall my life
You shared 20 years of my life with me
It will be my own loss for the rest

If losing all my riches
If forgoing what I love
If giving up what I have
Will bring you back to me

If those tears I cried,
Could let me can say "I love you" again
Could let me feel your warmth again
And hear you meow again

You know Ah Boy, my baby, my most beloved, my friend, my faithful companion,
There's nothing I won't do for you.

I've been Tagged

My dear kuzzin tagged me. I don't even know what to do when you are tagged. But looking at hers, some kind of truth of myself will ceremoniously do the job.

1)I slept with my kitty cat on the same bed for almost a decade or more. A real one, not a stuff toy. But sitting on my bed also meant I had his white fur on my black office suit. Potentially embarrasing but nothing I can do about it.

2)Like my kuzzin, I can play music by ear, but can't read notes. The first melody I can play came from the first TCS drama series- some army show that featured Hwang Wen Yong, who also happened to be my first crush at 6 years old. Don't ask me if I gave him up for the more handsome Wang Yu Qing in 'The Flying Fish'. And no, the crush didn't last till 'The Awakenings' (Wu Xuo Nang Yang).

3)I once unknowingly took a nice long shower in the gents... that was in an England hostel, where the bathroom cubicles didn't come with doors, but only a flimsy curtain. I walked out without even realising.

Can't think anymore, long day from work... now I need to just zzzz...

Who Am I?

I'm not starting 2007 with resolutions; I'm glad I had the time to spend the time watching the sunset and enjoying the peace that I almost forgot, existed.

What if everything was taken away from you tomorrow? Would you still be able to stand secure? We're happy to be someone's daughter, someone's girlfriend, someone's best friend, some great company's valuable employee, but if these were all taken away, what are we left with?

What makes me the unique person that I am? What makes you different from me?

Before you blame me for throwing that philosophical barrage on you, I'll tell you that being in a different country with friends who hardly know you for more than 2 years, you'll feel the greater need to be rooted in who you are. Either that, you can change with the situation, just be whatever people want you to be.

This year, I want to know more about myself... there's gotta be a starting point.


Frankston Beach (Mornington Peninsular) 

For a Dear Friend

Hi dear friend... waiting to see the morning with you! Hold your breathe while dusk and night falls... Sharing with you a passage I read in a book.

When the worst happens, or almost happens, a kind of peace comes. I had passed beyond grief, beyond terror, all but beyond hope, and it was there, in that wilderness, that for the first time in my life, I caught sight of something of what it must be like to love God truly. It was only a glimpse, but it was like stumbling on fresh water in the desert…I loved him because there was nothing else left. I loved him because he seemed to have made himself as helpless in his might as I was in my helplessness. I loved him not so much in spite of there being nothing in it for me, but almost because there was nothing in it for me. For the first time in my life, there in that wilderness, I caught what it must be like to love God truly, for his own sake, to love him no matter what. (Frederick Buechner, in John Ortberg’s Love Beyond Reason)



Trust His Heart
(Babbie Mason)

“All things work for our good
Though sometimes we don’t see how they could
Struggles that break our hearts in two
Sometimes blinds us to the truth

Our Father knows what’s best for us
His ways are not our own
So when your pathway grows dim
And you just don’t see him
Remember you’re never alone

God is too wise to be mistaken
God is too good to be unkind
So when you don’t understand
When you don’t see his plan
When you can’t trace his hand
Trust his heart

He sees the masterplan
He holds our future in his hands
So don’t live as those who have no hope
All our hope is found in Him

We see the present clearly
But he sees the first and the last
And like a tapestry
He’s weaving you and me
To someday be just like Him

He alone is faithful and true
He alone knows what is best for you