Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Random thoughts5



Work Antics...


They called a meeting. I was about as alert as a log being shoved uphill. I said the Nescafe didn't seem to kick hard me enough. Someone recommended Cappuccino. Another volunteered a localized version. He called it Kopicina...


So, while they discussed issues which didn't directly involved me, I scribbled random notes to stay awake and look busy. Any casual observer will think I'm busy taking the minutes. Appearances are most vital, right?


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There was a new project called New Analog Platform. Dubbed NAP for short. It was taking a long time for the line to materialize.


Hence, when passers-by asked, "How's the NAP?"


The response was; "Sssshhh".


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Another complaint was; it's ridiculous that while it takes only 2 days to build a sample, it takes a whole week to deliver it to a customer.


"No. It's not." I declared. Everybody stared at me.


"Well, it takes only a few minutes to make a baby, but nine months to deliver it!"


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Football solution:


The quarrel was about a troublesome Final Test equipment that couldn't fulfill it's requirements. While suggestions were bandied around, a football fan piped up: "How's about a semi-final test?"


 

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Random thoughts4



 


It's OK, just to go ahead and pronounce words like Peugeot as "Piu-jiott", Carrefour as "Carry-four", Citroen as "Sit-tron"… Americans have always pronounced our Orang-utan as "A rang-a-tan" as in when you called a number and someone showed up with a infra-red lamp and proceeded to give your hide a tanning session after which you ended up looking brownish like you'd been on a sunny beach for a few hours...


And why do they pronounce island as i-land and not IS-land? Why is a bouquet not a bow-kuett but a boo-kay? And a buffet not a buffet but boo-fay? You explain, Professor Higgins…


Just as you'd have to know; the rain in Spain no longer stays mainly on the plain… And those dainty ladies upon hearing "move your blooming ass!" no longer faint, but give your bum a squeeze for good measure!


 

Random thoughts3


 


Standing under the sky


Unlimited, so wide


People rushing to places


Time is yet flying by


I'm standing right here


I'm still a stranger


And I wonder why


Have I taken this fork of the road


In those years gone by?


 

Monday, March 26, 2007

Workplace misadventures



A colleague has been having problems with his keyboard. The letters L and K kept getting missing and he had to bang on those keys quite hard to get them to show up on the screen. This morning he poured half a cup of coffee on it. (It was an accident lah...) The rest went to the floor.


I was waiting for my PC to come awake when I noticed a few spots of brownish liquid on my desk and smelt the nice aroma of (Capucino? Nescafe? Old Town? ...whatever..) and I peeked over the cubicle wall and asked, "Have you been stirring your coffee?"


He said' "Yes. But no chance to drink it."


"Not too vigorously, OK? Just use tea-spoon provided, not an oar."


He grinned.


He had the presence of mind to unplug the keyboard and blew it dry with an airgun. (If at home, use your vacuum cleaner. Plug the tube to the blow outlet).


And presto! His keyboard now works fine. No more banging on the L and K keys!!! Evidently all it needs is a shot of caffeine to get it going....


His workmate who shares the cubicle with him has the same problem with his keyboard. (Brand name withheld to prevent any unwelcomed lawsuits against this blogger)


I said, "Now you know the solution?"


 

Lemon Grass

A friend sent me this info.  Something worth knowing.  (Lemon grass, serai (malay), Chang-mao (hokkien/teochew)


 


A drink with as little as one gram of lemon grass contains enough citral to prompt cancer cells to commit suicide in the test tube.


 


Israeli researchers find way to make cancer cells self-destruct at Ben Gurion University.


 


At first, Benny Zabidov, an Israeli agriculturalist who grows greenhouses full of lush spices on a pastoral farm in Kfar Yedidya in the  Sharon region, couldn't understand why so many cancer patients from  around the country were showing up on his doorstep asking for fresh lemon grass.


It turned out that their doctors had sent them.


 


"They had been told to drink eight glasses of hot water with fresh lemon grass steeped in it on the days that they went for their radiation and chemotherapy treatments," Zabidov told ISRAEL21c.


"And this is the place you go to in Israel for fresh lemon grass."


 


It all began when researchers at Ben Gurion University of the Negev discovered last year that the lemon aroma in herbs like lemon grass kills cancer cells in vitro, while leaving healthy cells unharmed. The research team was led by Dr. Rivka Ofir and Prof. Yakov Weinstein, incumbent of the Albert Katz Chair in Cell-Differentiation and Malignant Diseases, from the Department of Microbiology and Immunology at BGU.


 


Citral is the key component that gives the lemony aroma and taste in several herbal plants such as lemon grass (Cymbopogon citratus), Melissa (Melissa officinalis) and verbena (Verbena officinalis.)


 


According to Ofir, the study found that citral causes cancer cells to "commit suicide: using poptosis, a mechanism called programmed cell death."


 


A drink with as little as one gram of lemon grass contains enough citral to prompt the cancer cells to commit suicide in the test tube.


 


The BGU investigators checked the influence of the citral on cancerous cells by adding them to both cancerous cells and normal cells that were grown in a petri dish. The quantity added in the concentrate was equivalent to the amount contained in a cup of regular tea using one gram of lemon herbs in hot water. While the citral killed the cancerous cells, the normal cells remained unharmed. The findings were published in the scientific journal* Planta Medica*, which highlights research on alternative and herbal remedies. Shortly afterwards, the discovery was featured in the popular Israeli press.


 


Why does it work? Nobody knows for certain, but the BGU scientists have a theory. "In each cell in our body, there is a genetic program which causes programmed cell death. When something goes wrong, the cells divide with no control and become cancer cells. In normal cells, when the cell discovers that the control system is not operating correctly for example, when it recognizes that a cell contains faulty genetic material following cell division - it triggers cell death," explains Weinstein. "This research may explain the medical benefit of these herbs."


 


The success of their research led them to the conclusion that herbs containing citral may be consumed as a preventative measure against certain cancerous cells. As they learned of the BGU findings in the press, many physicians in Israel began to believe that while the research certainly needed to be explored further, in the meantime it would be advisable for their patients, who were looking for any possible tool to fight their condition, to try to harness the cancer-destroying properties of citral.


 


That's why Zabidov's farm - the only major grower of fresh lemon grass  in Israel - has become a pilgrimage destination for these patients. Luckily, they found themselves in sympathetic hands.


Zabidov greets visitors with a large kettle of aromatic lemon grass tea, a plate of cookies, and a


supportive attitude.


 


"My father died of cancer, and my wife's sister died young because of cancer," said Zabidov. "So I understand what they are dealing with. And I may not know anything about medicine, but I'm a good listener. And so they tell me about their expensive painful treatments and what they've been   through. I would never tell them to stop being treated, but it's great that they are exploring alternatives and drinking the lemon grass tea as well."


 


Zabidov knew from a young age that agriculture was his calling. At age 14, he enrolled in the Kfar Hayarok Agricultural high school. After his army service, he joined an idealistic group which headed south, in the Arava desert region, to found a new moshav (agricultural settlement) called Tsofar.


 


"We were very successful; we raised fruits and vegetables, and," he notes with a smile, "We raised some very nice children."


 


On a trip to Europe in the mid-80s, he began to become interested in herbs. Israel, at the time, was nothing like the trend-conscious cuisine-oriented country it is today, and the only spices being grown   commercially were basics like parsley, dill, and coriander. Wandering in the Paris market, looking at the variety of herbs and spices, Zabidov realized that there was a great export potential in this   niche. He brought samples back home with him, "which was technically illegal," he says with a guilty smile, to see how they would grow in his desert greenhouses. Soon, he was growing basil, oregano, tarragon, chives, sage, marjoram and melissa, and mint just to name a few. His business began to outgrow his desert facilities, and so he decided to move north, settling in the moshav of Kfar Yedidya, an hour and a half north of Tel Aviv.


 


He is now selling "several hundred kilos" of lemon grass per week, and has signed with a distributor to package and put it in health food stores.


 


Zabidov has taken it upon himself to learn more about the properties of citral, and help his customers learn more, and has invited medical experts to his farm to give lectures about how the citral works and why.


 


He also felt a responsibility to know what to tell his customers about its use. "When I realized what was happening, I picked up the phone and called Dr. Weinstein at Ben-Gurion University, because these people were asking me exactly the best way to consume the citral. He said to put the loose grass in hot water, and drink about eight glasses each day."


 


Zabidov is pleased by the findings, not simply because it means business for his farm, but because it might influence his own health. Even before the news of its benefits were demonstrated, he and his  family had been drinking lemon grass in hot water for years, "just because it tastes good."


 


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Scientific Journal report:


http://www.thieme-connect.de/ejournals/abstract/plantamedica/doi/10.1055/s-2005-864146


 


photo from: http://www.lemongrassworld.com/home/

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Ante up, buster






At last he sold this old jalopy to an antique collector for
one thousand RM.





This piece of scrap has been taking up space right across
from my main gate for years. Then this
morning at about the darkest hour before dawn someone drove his car into the
headlamp and pushed the whole heap of junk back 2 meters. The noise jolted me from my dreams and I
heard the sound of a Nissan engine driving off after a slight hesitation. He opined that the driver could have been
drunk. Talk about a rude awakening.





He called the buyer and told him. That cost him a reduction of RM100.





But I guess some folks don’t care much. The space in front of their main gate happens
to be a vulnerable spot. This was the 3rd
time someone drove their vehicle into one of their cars. The first one happened some years ago when
they first moved in. A new driver took
the corner that turned into our lane a little too fast, veered to the opposite
side and grated both doors of one of their Iswara sedans. The young driver’s parents paid for the
damage.





A year ago one of my kids reversed our hatchback smack right
into the same sedan’s front door and fender.
It blew a 200 buck hole in my wallet after the repairs and paint job. Fortunately our rear bumper was made of tough
material. I only needed to scrape off
the other car’s paint from a corner that made contact.





So they probably think someone else being always at fault,
it doesn’t matter. But fate seems to have
caught up with them.





Ante up, buster. And
good riddance to that piece of eye-sore.







Friday, March 23, 2007

A fine mess of a dinner

 


We went into a cosy little restaurant with a carpeted floor.  Just me and my wife.  We were seated at a table and the waiter brought me a bottle of Glen Fiddich.  Thought it's supposed to be wine, but anyway it doesn't matter.  I'm comfortable with whiskeys.  Wifey's not so keen on drinking.  She'd sometimes take a sip or two from my glass though.  She went about getting something to eat at the buffet.  Then I noticed in the queue was the young man whom I sometimes called in to fix my PC.  He wasn't aware I was there so I ignored him and focussed on my table, cluttered with everything except food.  I had to get me a nice chair with arm-rest so that I could sit comfortably.  Meanwhile the room began to be filled with more and more people.


There was one of my nieces with a few younger kids milling around.  She just came in and sat down on my chair and was saying something to me.  But I wasn't keen on listening.  I was looking around wondering where wifey went.  Perhaps she's still looking around choosing her food.  I wanted to get back to my food, so I grabbed another chair and offered it to my niece and told her to shift over so that I could sit in my chair.  Just then I remembered I had to go the next room to get something else.  I can't remember what it was.  The next room was empty except for tables and chairs. 


 


When I got back, the place became what looked like a large living room.  All my relatives were present.  Well, I'd say, most of them.  I could recognise a few faces.  My dad's brother-in-law, for instance, stood out clearly.  For courtesy, I had to invite him to join us at my dinner.  But I still wondered where my wife was.  Then I spotted her standing in the back row.  She seems to be always somewhere in the back blending into the crowd.  I wondered what she was doing standing there.  Everyone sat or stood facing one direction, as if they were watching TV.  They'd shifted our cosy little table to one side against the wall, but my food and drinks were still there waiting for me to carry on.  I was terribly thirsty.


 


The alarm beeped 6.00 am.  I realized the air conditioner wasn't blowing cool air.  It showed a glowing red lamp on the panel.  Problem again with the compressor restart switch, I guess.  It's time again to get back to the grind.  But how I wished I could Dream Like Danny.


 


T.G.I.F.