I struggled to find periods of calmness throughout the week. Despite the lack of virtual meetings, the days were not devoid of tasks demanding my constant attention. Departing my in-home office for longer than my allocated lunch period was unthinkable. Yet, my desires to realize culinary concepts far surpassed the resurfacing need for rest and burnout prevention.

Wanoka's cloud-like creation resounded in my memory: springy, porous sponge and an airy piping of whipped cream. I set out to relive the experience, dabbling into oil-based formulas for the first time since pancakes.

​My preference for butter has been made known on this space; being a mix of fat and solids, it tends to result in denser, more substantial slices. On the contrary, oil is entirely liquid in nature, claiming lighter properties due to difference in density.

I resorted to Sunday's roster of artful bakery formations for a guideline, then began the experiment, substituting ground chestnut for mugwort powder.

Of 146g of finely pulsed chestnut, 10g was incorporated into the batter. The remainder was mixed with icing sugar and milk - alternately added to test consistency - (and lastly rum!) to obtain a pipe-able cream topping.

​Unlike my really rushed Houjicha Roll Cake base, this time I took heed to stabilize the egg whites properly. Furthermore, the cake was cooled upside down to prevent shrinkage.

The journey through MBTI, and later cognitive functions, had stemmed from a budding desire to understand the vast spectrum of variables that form a person's psyche. Learning from the concept of objectivity enabled a more comprehensive assessment of one's own strengths and weaknesses, rather than groundless gloating promoted by the 16Personalities profiles.

​While the questionnaire does provide some insight on areas for improvement, the descriptions merely begin to scratch the surface of grander issues.
Foreshadowing the tidal wave was one of my favourite lessons, for anticipating these crashes would allow one to make the appropriate preparations, to check in when symptoms are present, and to remediate before the situation grows dire. We have family doctors for physical illness, yet may not be as capable of depicting invisible warning signs to the same degree of detail.
Beyond deducing the preferred methods of information presentation and work tactics, making meticulous observations has assisted me greatly in the workplace, identifying areas of concern and predicting next steps of action needed. In a personal setting, toning down the saviour function has meant gradual steps to relieving satanic chaos. It hasn't been easy, but it's proving easier with each effort made. The first step was identification, followed by acceptance and rehabilitation - no "rectification", as the aim is cumulative benefit rather than instant rebate.

Creations of the week included:

1) Chestnut Tart

With a penchant for purposing the holiday ingredient into a seasonal dessert of sorts, I took to the late-night construction of a Chestnut Tart. A faux Mont Blanc, so to speak, was formed from a no-oven, graham cracker crust instead of sponge base, then coconut rum-infused chestnut cream in place of airy whipped cream and threads of sweet chestnut paste piled sky-high.
Authentic it was not, but delectable it was, in light of its relatively straightforward procedure.

2) Spaghettini w/ Shrimp in Tomato Sauce
​
Sautéed with softened vine tomatoes and freezer-bagged cherry tomatoes was a plentiful portion of finely chopped onion and several cloves of minced garlic. This, along with white wine, ketchup, and rice wine vinegar, assumed the foundation for a tangy, sweet pasta sauce. Lightly scorched shrimp were tossed in for a dose of protein. A dusting of dried parsely finished off a midweek lunch.

The week prior had encouraged a concentrated brew of Thai tea for sudden cravings, while reminders of a friend's business trip to the UK spurred thoughts of shortbread.

Time and time again, I am reminded of the importance of saying "no".
I thought I had safely escaped the burnout danger zone, yet am reminded of my misdoings via a crippling sense of malaise - the demise of health and contravention of productivity.

By standing firm in the workplace, I've scantily avoided detrimental positioning in the corporation. In a personal setting, I've found myself once again committing to undertaking more than is sanely possible within the physical limitations of time and space.

​It ought be unsurprising that my weekdays are spent indoors, within close proximity of a brick of a laptop and absence of ergonomic office equipment. Meals of the week are rarely homecooked these days, as I've sought assistance from pre-packaged products and ready-to-eat varieties.

​On a comparatively calmer days, I take to maximizing oven efficiency by baking pizza, Miso & Yuzu Butter Cod, and Pesto Salmon. Pillsbury Gingerbread Cutouts replaced the painstaking process of crafting - and shifting! - overwhelmingly malleable ginger-people, proving crisp at its edges with a delicate, spiced chew at its core.

​Early in the week are a large Raisin Loaf, prosciutto, and a baguette acquired. I departed not for these components, but merely requested them from my (potentially) permanent second-floor post of misery.

​We skeptically rebooted membership for the sport I had played for nearly half my existence prior to the pandemic shutdown. Coordination levels were not as poor as anticipated, though stamina had undoubtedly dwindled for the high-impact activity. Nonetheless, engaging in badminton again was the right decision, in spite of the torso pains that would ensue.

​The following morning involved a dreadfully early drive to the northeast end of the GTA. Appointments had been scheduled well in advance, leaving my remaining itinerary items to fall outside of the allocated slots accordingly.

Although it may seem odd to welcome mild mercury levels with our Christmas tree fully intact, I deem November a month of transitions. The now lofty sapling outside my window has seen a head of flourish green, then wispy, weaning fronds of mustard yellow, and finally shriveled coils of plum-puce. The changes seek correspondence with happenings in the workplace, where steady separation from the project from hell shall hopefully level the skill roster and compensate the void of technical aptitudes.

As the days grow colder and daylight shorter, any illumination ought be well received. They guide our gaze, and consequently our hearts and spirit.

When my phone began to buzz with FACE blaring over the sound of our aimless kitchen banter, I knew it was now or never.
Bike repairs were complete, weather was splendid, and workload levels were in - dare I say (while holding my breath) - low.
​There seemed no better opportunity to take advantage of the scraps of seasonal temperatures.

​I've come to learn that the city has no shortage of bike-friendly routes in the Erindale area. Yet, rather than taking on a new path prior to winter closures, I decided to revisit an old path - the first that I had ever travelled on two wheels, and the one I had resisted departure from for at least two summers.

​The woodchips and treacherous upward slope that I had feared remained. Though, to combat settlement and endlessly damp climate, boardwalks had been reinforced with additional half-planks. Now sunken beneath sodden soils were the woodchips, barely visible without former familiarization of the trail.

Some good news rolled my way come the latter part of the week: I was informed that graduation from the project wrecking all havoc and hell was within reach. At last I'd be liberated from the ceaseless crises over resource constraints, which are often play out more comical than one would expect of full-grown adults.

​I was done with being interrogated about my time charges,
Done with being interrupted amidst morning caffeination,
And, most importantly, done with leaders of a team acting out against the crux of teamwork.

We spent the days following our Scarborough trip indulging in the various items acquired during the trip. Components of the course dinners would appease our appetites for days onward, while the buns and bakery items from Aromaz would serve as breakfast. The Ginger Milk Egg Tart was a rare item to chance across, and proved scrumptious: flakey and silky with faint yet discernible notes of ginger.

​On a rather tranquil Friday afternoon, I began to construct a layered cake, adopting the techniques used in Cookie Tree's tiered masterpieces. It was the start of a Lime Mousse Cake with Yuzu Jelly.

​In my mind, I had recalled a decent quantity of cream cheese leftover from constructing the Japanese Cheesecake prototype. I wasn't wrong, though it wasn't quite adequate in filling my 7.75 in cake pan in its entirety. To its rescue came the spunky Key Lime Popsicles. Much like how the Mint Chocolate Ice Cream had been repurposed into a pound cake topping, the too-rich popsicles were emptied out from their molds and summoned for use within the mousse layer. Having preserved the lime zest in their freshest state, its sweet-tangy essence could be salvaged for enjoyment months later.

​In light of my strained neck, a last-minute appeal to reschedule my slated Sunday slot for pilates was made. The request was revoked, as same-day cancellations or swaps were not permitted. The studio policy - one that I had never heard of nor signed in acknowledgement of until that day - enabled "make-up classes" for cancellations on short term notice, however these classes were to be held outside of one's regular slot, pending availability, and within two weeks of the original cancellation.
With their weekend sessions assuming prime slots, my options were limited to weekdays, either mornings commencing at 10 AM or evenings at 7 PM. Neither option was viable in consideration of my work schedule, especially with the surging 401 congestion levels associated with economic recovery. I grudgingly accepted my fate, offering to take a day off based on class availability.

An eventual confirmation of a Tuesday morning opening at 10 AM led to my application for a half-day vacation. We commenced the day even earlier than the standard work day, setting  ̶f̶o̶o̶t̶ tire on the highway even before 9 AM. Weather was wondrous and, thankfully, so were traffic conditions. I arrived twenty-five minutes early to the only (official) group class for the day; private lessons would take place in parallel in other sections of the space, yet were unlisted from the posted schedule.
A total of four instructors reside at Studio Bon. Besides the owner, I have had the opportunity of learning from two of these instructors during my time at Sum Pilates. Younger, fiercer-looking, and sharing the same name as a rising artist in the Latin music scene, the final member of the instructor quad was unveiled. As with previous sessions, I had stated my case prior to the start of class, noting aspects and angles of movement that I was refrain from. She gazed upon me with a blank stare, expressionless and potentially questioning the reasoning behind my profession. Perhaps she found it odd that I was informing her of injuries, and proceeded to place the responsibility on me to moderate my own movements, noting that I should inform her in the case of pain. It was a different response than the previous two instructors, who had urged caution of the injury and gladly agreed to provide modifications.

​Soon, I was joined by a trio of Chinese-speaking ladies on the floor. The class was now full.
Instead of a cardio warmup sequence, we were instructed to stand behind the Reformer Carriage, just behind the shoulder rest, and face the footbar. Several rolldowns were executed, followed by rolldowns with rotation: Placing one hand in front of the forehead, the rolling up portion entailed rotation of the upper body in the direction of the bent arm. This was then repeated with the other hand. Standing hamstring curls were also performed: With one foot positioned along the centre axis of the Carriage and the other before the shoulder rest, one was to extend and retract the leg. Reminders to utilize core strength were made, though there was nothing to be heard regarding maintaining stability of the standing leg (in regards to hyperextension, rotation, etc.)

Lying on the Carriage facing upwards, a series of blogilates' level core exercises followed. Single leg extensions in tabletop position were conducted on one leg before moving to the other. Next came double leg extensions, then flutters at a "low diagonal", a qualitative description for inclines of 45 degrees or more (with the hips as reference point). The final move of this section were reverse crunches with ankles attached and knees slightly open. Rather than positioning the palms by one's side or having them looped through the hand straps, we were instructed to grip the bars affixed to the shoulder rest. The configuration made tired wrist and tensing of muscles from the shoulders up. While we were to press the shoulder blades onto the Carriage while executing the routine, I found the position offered more discomfort and tightness than needed for proper engagement of the core. As the other girls hugged their knees to combat the tremendous flexion, I rolled my wrists in relief.

​If the recent weeks of tropical temperatures and tank top-sporting haven't made it clear, the confusing colour transitions have proved our distinctly inconsistent, above-seasonal weather. In some neighbourhoods, the leaves have turned yellow, while others mark confusion with relatively full green branches, tinted with orange and red only at its tips.

I extended my long weekend with an additional two days with the sole aim of recovering sanity. The objective had been rest, and rest alone, yet I fought endlessly to suppress the subconscious internal desire to schedule more outings with my free time.

Instead of my regular walking workouts or choreography review, I indulged in bike rides about the neighbourhood, going beyond the typical routes and exploring more of M City's cycling initiatives in the northwest.

​On a particularly muggy day, I set out to examine the freshly paved MUP and bike signals along the west side of Erin Mills Parkway. Traffic disruption and dust levels had been tremendous throughout the summer months, though the commuter-friendly aspects of the initiative seemed to have concluded (with the exception of final pours and warranty walks).

​Beyond the intersection of Erin Mills Parkway and Britannia, there were no bicycle lanes nor MUPs for use. The stretch was exceptionally bumpy with sidewalk bays showing wear.  Thankfully, it was not long before I arrived at Lake Wabukayne.

Directly across from the Aunty's Kitchen plaza was a park I hadn't expected. The sign had been spotted while traversing southbound from The Apple Factory, instigating the impromptu ride.

Technology serves as both a source of convenience and suffering. With modern-day inventions, information is as easily accessed as it is capable of being eliminated from the world, instilling tremendous fear in those unfamiliar with various systems. I spend a fair chunk of my time troubleshooting process these seemingly endless issues, whether it be making sense of cloud servers in the workplace or workarounds for low RAM at home.

​In my already scarce pockets of leisure time, I embarked on expeditions of sustenance. Longtime pizza longings were rounded out with discounted Dr. Oetker thin crusts, while unsatiated cheesecake cravings prompted a revisit to basque cheesecake.

My ebay cookie stamps were also finally put to use. Despite their near-instantaneous failure - though I do have my obscenely soft, eggy dough to blame - at least twenty of each seasonal print emerged successfully.  Last year's black cacao cats were swapped for bite-sized witches' hats, wonky houses, grinning jack-o'-lanterns, and Casper's cousins.

The very creation that had raised wariness towards my oven's digital heat gauge and resulted in acquisition of an oven thermometer, Basque Cheesecake was constructed from a non-Sunday recipe (gasp!) this time around in its fundamental form. 

​My Amazon purchase informed me of vast fluctuations with my secondary cooking apparatus, though my tardy response led to only partial charring. The desire for more uniform colour led to overbaking, indicated by a lack of ooziness in the cross-section. A more watchful eye is demanded in future iterations.

​I set out for yet another batch of freezer-friendly Bran Muffins, only to find my brown sugar solidified in its entirety. Mixing granulated sugar and molasses was not an unviable workaround, though a terracotta saver may not be too much trouble either.

Green Tea Snowballs from Sunday Baking were created within 24 hours of video upload. A tad crumbly yet nonetheless grassy and delicious, the circular morsels disappeared well under nine hours of being removed from the oven. Glutinous rice flour had been used in place of rice flour due to availability, however it is humble hope that adopting the standard variation shall lend the cookies structure and crunch.

​As the final days of t-shirt weather pass us by, Mother Nature grows unpredictable with her sudden gutsy gusts, inexhaustible downpours, and unusual humidity.

The varying temperatures inflict minimal involvement on my part, for the majority of my days are still spent before spreadsheets and screens. A persistent unwellness lingers about my mind and body, urging meals of congee and lean red meat. Pickled cabbage stimulates a tenantless appetite, while Salted Pork Congee reigns at the top of the Most Wanted list. Blanched leafy greens and delectable beef brisket from Wonton Chai are also procured.

A desire for solid food is somewhat recovered by the end of the work week, once the draft of a major deliverable has finally been, well, delivered. The Square One parking lot at Rathburn and Duke of York was converted into a physically-distanced outdoor market for the first weekend of Night Market TO: Harvest Festival. Rotating each week was the vendors list; Liko's Hawaiian Barbecue was spotted on the lineup for opening weekend, prompting a visit for wonderfully marinated pulled pork.

We pulled into a fairly full lot just after 7 PM and made our way past the blaring speakers of repetitive Jalebi Baby. Positioned along the perimeter of the lot were the various food vendors. Each stall had been allocated a minimum radius of 10 metres for operations and queuing; photo-ready displays filled the spaces between in the forms of wooden swings and multi-toned pumpkin arrangements. At the centre of the lot was a small pumpkin patch, mini hay stack, chess board, life-sized Connect 4 contraption, and even a merry-go-round.

I made my rounds to each of the stalls in review of our options, though my heart had not wavered from the plan of Liko's. Known for exclusive participation in pop-up events, I was keen to catch a glimpse of their array of offerings since my last experience at the Waterfront Night Market.
The Harvest Festival menu unfortunately excluded the skewers and Pulled Pork Bun I had hankered for so desperately. Instead was the availability of SPAM musubi, a popular Japanese-Hawaiian street snack, and an Aloha Plate. The set comprised of rice, macaroni salad, barbecue chicken, short ribs, and their infamous kahlua pork. A no-tax discount was offered for cash payments for a total of $30 for two Aloha Plate boxes.

​Our departure was made shortly obtaining sustenance. As we proceeded past the blaring speakers once more, I caught sight a vehicle zooming through the aisles of the asphalt lot. My mouth dropped agape, for the vehicle's speed had far exceeded local roads, let alone a parking lot with pedestrians weaving between cars. Crowds began to gather in the lot - in a rather raucous manner, if I may add. We took it as our cue to leave, and utilize extreme caution while doing so.

Weekends are meant for sleeping in. I relinquished such privilege in exchange for a last-minute chiro treatment. The appointment had been made available after endless pleading to the receptionists, and it was only right to be punctual for the accommodation.

The visit confirmed injury of the AC joint, as I had speculated, and entailed a shoulder adjustment and laser therapy to alleviate inflammation. My range of motion was restricted by 75%, where movement beyond the 90 degrees between my sides and shoulder height was forbidden, or at least heavily opposed.

Between the hours of 10 AM and 2 PM, there was little for me to do. After confirming bake-ability of my OOMOMO tart pans, I headed over to Platform, hopeful I'd be able to reside there for a while.

"Do you have a reservation?" came the dreaded question upon my entry.
"Um...no." I stuttered. I didn't think I needed one. "Do you have any spots?"
I was informed that all tables had been booked and was offered the bar without a second thought. In reality, the "bar" was more of a waiting area before the window than proper seating. It was the only choice made available, thus I grudgingly agreed.

The splattered, sticky blinds were lowered slightly, diffusing incoming illumination by a tad. Residual rays permeated my eyes, causing reflection on my laptop screen and reduction in visibility. Underneath the equally sticky counter were several potted plants, hindering further lowering of the blinds. My calves and ankles burned underneath the table.
Despite there not being an outlet in sight, I remained stationary. Other parties of one made their entrances; some were turned away, while an older lady was provided a booth for her reading pleasures.

I set foot into the studio around the 1:57 pm mark. The earlier class was ongoing, and a mixture of English and Korean instructions could be heard from the waiting area. The client duo consisted of a woman capable of articulating the Korean language and a man who was an apparent avid badminton player.

After bidding farewell to the couple, the instructor welcomed me with a smile and proceeded with a temperature check. I took the opportunity to address comments and warnings from the morning's chiropractor appointment. There was "shearing" in the shoulder area, which led to audible clicks with certain movements; the arm of the injured shoulder was permitted to move laterally ("abduction"), but not backwards, "as it would cause the AC join to jut forwards" - an unwanted scenario. She nodded and confirmed her understanding twice before initiating the routine.

We started with the Cardio-Tramp in the group fitness area, as the private session room was being occupied by the studio owner and another client. Spacious enough for four Reformers and their accessories, one Chair, and one Ladder Barrel, the group space also allowed for positioning of a water dispenser and several mirrors. Bright bulb lights hung from above, while a chandelier was spotted in the corner. Cubbies for personal belongings could be found against the wall, underneath a floral-patterned speaker.

​We maneveured to the private lesson room once vacated. Reformer exercises continued.

Instability in and injury about the shoulder joint meant shifting emphasis to the lower body and core. A cloth resistance band was wrapped around the thighs and feet were spaced widely on the footbar. I was to maintain tension by pushing the knees against the band for the entire routine and extend the legs - not entirely,  as this would mean losing tension from the band, and return. Constant reminders were uttered to keep tension consistent on the left knee by continuously pushing out against the band, even on the return trip. Weakness was evident on the left side.
A hot pink Miniso Sport foam blcok was placed on the headrest for the next exercise. I rolled onto my side and placed my head on top of the bock. A neutral spine was made such that the obliques did not touch the carriage; arms were relaxed, core was engaged, and the top leg was placed at the edge of the footbar. The top foot was to be parallel with the footbar, with the knee bent at 90 degrees; the lower leg could adopt the desired position, just as long as it was off the Reformer frame and didn't hinder the movement the carriage and springs

As with the previous class, I was told to keep my chin up and avoid tucking it down by default.

Next was the Ladder Barrel, where I sat on the curved portion of the apparatus and placed balls of the feet on the ladder rungs. Two 1 lb weights were held at shoulder height. The position prepared me for a weighted half-rolldown. Instructions were provided to execute appropriately:

1. Inhale to chin up
2. Form an imprint with the pelvis
3. Roll down into a C-curve
4. Inhale and maintain the C-curve while rolling up
5. Finally, release the imprint to return to neutral spine

​The move was was likely my favourite of the session, as it demanded immense core control and targeted areas of weakness without fear of overexertion in the upper body. In response to my declaration, the instructor informed that the Ladder Barrel was, in fact, the "hardest" piece of equipment, even more challenging than the Reformer and Cadillac (mat replica).

​Branching off from the recommended rehab exercises I was assigned, a green TheraBand was wrapped about the body in an X-formation. The concept of pilates breathing was revisited: to inhale was to expand the ribcage; as the bands were tugged tight across the trunk, exhalation through the mouth would enable the ribcage to be drawn closer to the back. While performing the external rotation on both arms, I was reminded to suck in the lower abdomen, but maintain a position between imprint and neutral spine to protect the back.

​Moving to the Chair, I sat perpendicular to the handlebar and placed one hand on the tension-affixed paddle. The upper hand was placed on base of the chair for balance, but could be placed beside the head for added difficulty. Keeping the legs hovered (core engaged!) the routine involved bending upwards with strict reliance on the obliques, holding for a few seconds, and then releasing. For proper execution, the hips should be stacked in the same plane. Shakiness prevailed when performing the exercise on the right (weaker) side, thus external forces - the instructor's assistance - were deployed.
The eagerness to undertake more advanced modifications was deemed "adventurous", though it seemed only fitting for me to explore different variations given the many years spent with blogilates.

A Figure 4 stretch was conducted as part of the cooldown. Often would the body shift while attempting to lengthen. At such times, the instructor aided in rectification of body to proper alignment. Fewer adjustments were made on the more flexible (right) side, however greater pressure was applied to shift my body back to proper alignment for left (weaker/tighter) side.

A final examination of the body determined my shoulders to be at different heights. Whereas the right side was visibly higher than the left during the previous week, the opposite observation was made this time.

For the ninth session, the Cadillac was not used at all.

Across from its storefront was the very strip of spaces at which I been ticketed while in pursuit of DAY6 tickets. To my delight, the side street had recently been repaved, its curbs re-done and boulevard-based parking machines covered for the time being. Sprinting southbound, I entered the premises to evaluate their offerings. The staff was undeniably Chinese, with an underlying accent indicative of Mainland origins. The tower of cardboard boxes behind the cashier was another indication of non-authenticity.

Regardless, I had secured parking - albeit temporarily - and intended on obtaining items for tasting. Their best-selling Osmanthus Rice Cake was chosen, along with Mugwort rice cake with soybean flour. Both were presented in flimsy paper trays; Simplified Chinese adorned one of two plastic lids.
Approximately five minutes passed before I obtained the order. While the Osmanthus appeared to be pre-packaged, the mugwort rice cakes were obtained from the kitchen. Initially formed into narrow, snake-like threads, they were sliced into eraser-sized segments and coated in soybean flour to order.

I hurried home with the goods for timely sampling. Vast disappointment was witnessed with the allegedly adored Osmanthus Rice Cake. The blocks were dense, bland, and thoroughly lacking of the tropical blossoms - a great disparity from our handcrafted jelly cubes.  ​When repurposed into a rice substitute and submerged in savoury sauces, the blocks were bearable - not good, but tolerable at best.

The mugwort edition proved far tastier in comparison, though flavoured minimally with the earthy, teal powder and stiff at cool temperatures. Frankly, its texture was softer than I would have preferred. Proper execution of the dish at home was declared attainable, especially considering the immense affordability of the ingredients.