My mother told me that the funny thing about cashew auntie is that she doesn’t actually know how to bake. She knows all the proportions of things, she makes the dough, she cuts the dough into funny little crescent shapes, but she does not know how to operate the oven. That’s because my uncle did all the baking for her, but he passed away a few years ago. Last year was the first year she baked without him and all the cookies turned out a little burnt. She blamed the maid. My mum says cashew aunt is like a celebrity chef.

This year the cashew cookies are the best cashew cookies in the world. I don’t know who has finally learnt to operate the oven, my cashew aunt or the maid.

The above is a rosy antique beaded glass shade, to dress over a lone bulb. The below is an ancient story, in parts light and dark.

I learned very late what it means to want to have photos put in photo frames. It means you want to look for a frame to capture your memories within. For me, this started very innocently. For a long time, almost a year, there were three photos lying around in my underwear cabinet. In fact, they were placed absentmindedly in this cabinet as it was the only place that kept one single category of item and not a paraphernalia of paraphernalia items. Over time, these three photos began to ‘dog-ear’ as they kept collapsing or getting crushed by what else! as I rummaged through day in and out. One day I took these three photos out of their wretchedness and place them on my working table, the table that I never allow clutter, which means I intend to do something about the photos. This was a subconscious decision, as the three then sat bitterly before me for weeks as I typed on this computer-keyboard. Then one day, it was this. This subconscious decision that developed into a slow but sure realisation that I was actively wanting a photo frame, frames!

Many of us take for granted the presence of memories to keep as, memories, but how many of us know that presence without absence?

I really did learn very late in life what it means to have photos put in photo frames. It is not the same as having photos to put in photo frames. Me, the person I still am learning about, wanting three photo frames to put three photos in. So painful, and so long I never thought I would stand in line for.

At this point, Bridget and I did not know the future of the store, but we knew we were not in such a bad shape that we had to give up the business. After that late night phone call with the owner, we felt warm enough to be happier, yet cold to anything that may still happen. The next day, we met up with the estate agent to view a potential place elsewhere, if for some reason we still had to leave by July, and we would just have to move to this new place earlier. This place had potential, as it was not far from Club Street and still quite a central location. The place was also close by the main landlord’s/owner’s office, so the agent suggested we go up to have a chat with her anyway. We all met, for the proper first time. It was a good meeting; everyone felt it was right that we should sign a new lease with the owner to continue to stay till the end of the year, that is, to stay even after the middle landlord’s own lease expired with the owner in July. We were ecstatic, but tired of the ups-and-downs of plans and sheer luck.

That very afternoon, the middle landlord showed up at the store after we spoke to the owner. He told us that he was really sorry that he couldn’t get his lease extended, and appeared genuinely upset. So we told him the good news, that things had turned out well with the owner after all, that we could stay on even after his lease expired. When he left the store, he seemed less upset than he was, and I thought it was because he no longer had to worry about us.

What he did the next day was shocking to us, although Bridget already had a bad gut feel that morning.

He brought a lady to the store to view the premises, telling her that he could kick us out any time because we didn’t pay the security deposit, and that our tenancy agreement wasn’t stamped. His reason was that we plotted against him behind his back with the owner and estate agent; for if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be able to conduct business at Club Street in the first place.

The lady was a church volunteer. The church needed a temporary space to store their bookstore merchandise. The church was also willing to pay 4 months rental upfront in cash. The middle landlord had offered them a good rental, one that was higher than what we are currently paying. He tried to stop us from talking to the lady, but amidst the commotion and confusion, Bridget managed to shove her our phone number. We could hardly make sense of who, why, and how a place could be rented to us and the church concurrently, but we agreed to vacate by the end of March. March!

After the lady left, the middle landlord walked back to the store twice to ask us if we had anything to say to him. We said no; we were miserable. It appeared this time we really had to leave Club Street.

However, the lady called us later that very evening and we arranged to have a chat with her. We told her everything, why we didn’t give our security deposit, why our contract wasn’t stamped, everything. She told us that we didn’t seem like bad people, and she had told the middle landlord that if he was really upset about the security deposit, he should just collect it from us and leave us alone. The church already had a Plan B and didn’t really need the Club Street place. Bridget told her that we wanted to move out by the end of March no matter what, since we no longer felt secure at Club Street, and the church was free to take our space. Even if the middle landlord’s deal with the church fell through, we would still move out. If he could do this to us once, he could do it again. She declined and was certain that the church would not take the space whether or not we moved out.

She spoke to the middle landlord after our chat, and she made him promise her that he would let us conduct our business and continue our lease in peace. She offered to have us call her if he came to us again regarding the legality of our lease, and she would help us where she can. In a bizarre way, we were happy the ‘potential tenant’ he brought was someone like herself, one whom we didn’t have to explain much to and could form her own conclusions, AND has even offered to help us talk to the middle landlord.

We’ve since spoken to someone we trust, and he told us to stay put. So we’re going to stay put. For now. Everyone involved in this saga has been exceptionally kind to us, and for that I am grateful. Sometimes, it’s really not about whether you have the legal right to do something, but whether something is the right thing to do.

And it’s always better to tell the truth than to hide a secret. We learned.

“What school do you attend boy?”

“The School of Rock uncle.”

“Is that a new school?”

“No, old school.”

He still thought I was a boy when I got off the cab. “4 dollars boy,” he said. He still can’t beat the 7-11 auntie who called me “boy” for a year before she discovered that I’m not a boy. I think it says more about older folks being blind to the nuances of gender than it says about my appearance.

Also, if you think I’m that quick-witted with the school of rock schtick, you are wrong. It’s just that I’ve played back this scenario in my head a million times thinking of all the witty things I could say if it actually happened, and well, IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. My daydreams are all about banal scenarios with me being particularly witty to no one in particular. I have never thought about, for example, negotiating with Donald Trump.

“Donald, a million dollars and you can take all my thick, Asian hair for your one-of-a-kind toupee.”

See, I’m shit at that even when dreaming.

I have a standing dare with Bridget that if Irene Ang ever walks into the store, I’d yell “DA BAI SHA” and blabber about how much Xiao Fei Yu was my favourite show when I was… 5. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then you were not sentient 80′s Singapore.

ANYWAY. I just wanted to remind you that providence throws little gifts at us all the time, but you’ll only grab those gifts if you want them badly enough.

Last year at this jingle time we had only moved into Club Street for a month. We picked things off the street and tried to coax the unwanted with the average and will only believe it was for the best. That the store items would not roll off the wobbly planks of wood nailed against the wall and that the wood would not peel off that uncertain wall. At that stage I was already beginning to segregate our wall nails into old and new. The old was the precious few we got from Japan while the new were the ones from Self-Fix.

One year has passed and most things that needed to happen in my life have happened in this one. I am an emotional coaster, but the store and its old and one or half year-old friends have distracted me well. Suddenly at this time I find we have many people on our Christmas list. That there is even a list is an amazing step for me.

Thank you, and may your year end resolve old hurts and set off a light for renewed hope.

By the time we left the store, the night though not deep felt deep and the skies though not felt light.

We have been working to loosen up Stevie’s vintage section. It’s turning closer to HY and my dance moves.

Another memory: San Lang smells like ah mah. HY has put Tiger Balm all over these rash spots as a result of our/Indonesia’s weather. But indeed, he has stopped scratching.

I keep wanting to say something about how precious life is, but blurry hopes outline the images and only episodes linger.

It’s a good time for me to share some pictures of 93 Club Street pre-Stevie. Bridget and I do everything ourselves, and that includes clearing up shit. As you can see from the pictures, Stevie General Store came into existence only after a lot of shit clearing.

Also, without our dog San Lang, there would be no Stevie General Store. I say that in the most emphatic way possible.

This is what 93 Club Street looked like pre-Stevie

This part is now the vintage area and second fitting room

Here's me and San Lang in what is now the fitting room.

Here's San Lang helping Bridget clear away a shitload of expired hair products

Hacking away

Do you like old things? I do.

Yet I have very few things that truly once belonged to me. Nature and other people’s trash and treasure have come to erect an adulthood in my clenched childhood.

Black and White Streaked Brooch

Cleopatra Brooch

Enamel Rose Brooch

Gold Rose Brooch

Ivory Gold Flower Brooch

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Hwee Yee is the Pygmy Sperm Whale; I am the North Atlantic Right Whale; we run Blumen when wearing rubber human skins.