Monday, 08 September 2025
This morning, work pile stares at me with judgmental eyes, but my kitchen insists on being part of the narrative. Leftover yellow rice from my birthday was sitting there in the refrigerator, looking too precious to waste. So I threw in some kecombrang and tongkol. Voilà, brunch was born.
The side dish: stir-fried green beans with pork slices, sautéed with white wine. Yes, wine. And yes, I shamelessly asked ChatGPT for the recipe just by sending a photo. Technology, my friends, has gone from solving equations to fixing dinner. And it turned out delicious. A little fancy, a little rustic. Exactly like how I want life to taste.
By noon, I decided to spoil myself. Birthday gift, self-issued. A two-hour body treatment at home. The package was originally designed for post-partum care, but I had it tweaked for my own post-hysterectomy healing journey. The difference is, of course, nobody’s massaging my belly, no steaming herbs, no breast massage (seriously, who would nurse? The husband? LOL).
The funny thing is, I used the exact same service seventeen years ago, after giving birth to my youngest. Same company, same concept, still standing since 2002. Back then, I lost 15 kilos like magic, partly thanks to exclusive breastfeeding. From 64kg back down to 49kg, I felt like a human balloon that found its air valve. This time, it’s not about shrinking, but about reclaiming my body. Nurturing it, acknowledging the changes, and saying: thank you for carrying me this far.
As the therapist worked, we talked. Her story unfolded like a novel. A village girl went to Jakarta, working as a maid for free in exchange for schooling. She worked her way into a factory job, but sacrificed her own chance to go to college in order to pay for her sibling’s education. Ironically, the sibling dropped out and got married young. Life’s plot twists can be brutal. And yet, she spoke without bitterness. Just quiet strength, the kind that humbles you into gratitude.
Evening rolled in, and the kitchen came alive again. This time with my eldest taking the chef’s crown. Her signature salmon steak, seasoned with Montreal steak spice and Japanese garlic butter, roasted in my retro mini oven air fryer. She used a brand-new silicone baking mat, reusable and eco-friendly, which doubled as a plate. (Honestly, the mat is so efficient it might replace my dinnerware one day.) The side dish: small potatoes baked with spicy Wegogrill seasoning. It was perfect; crispy, savory, comforting.
At night, it was Netflix time with the husband. We picked The Internship (2013). Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, two middle-aged salesmen trying to survive in the hyper-digital world of Google. It’s a light comedy, but also a reminder that adaptability is the name of the game. Life keeps throwing us into new systems. Sometimes kitchens with leftover rice, sometimes tech tools that summarize our identity in bullet points. The question is: are we willing to learn, laugh, and keep playing?
Speaking of tech, my husband introduced me to a new browser: Arc Search. And wow, game changer! Just pinch the page, and it neatly summarizes the content. Or, you can tell it “search for me,” and it compiles insights from across the web. I tested it with my own name, and it spit out a summary that made me sound like some sort of lifestyle philosopher with an MBTI license and a community builder badge. Not bad, huh? Almost like a Wikipedia page curated by a bestie.
It made me chuckle, but also pause. How easy it is these days to compress a whole human life into a neat little package. Followers, career highlights, viral moments, personal quirks... all distilled into paragraphs. Convenient? Yes. But also a reminder: life itself is lived in the messy in-betweens. In the mornings when rice and kecombrang save you, in the hands of a therapist who carries untold sacrifices, in the joy of eating salmon steak made by your child, in laughing at movies with your partner.
I once read a line online that stuck with me: “Happiness is not a big thing you chase, it’s a thousand little things you notice.” And honestly, that checks out. Joy is not in the grand finale. It’s in the bloopers, the side dishes, and the random apps your husband insists you “absolutely must try.”
Today, my “little things” weren’t grand. They were simple: to nourish my body, to connect, to laugh, to savor. And they made everything else... whether healing from surgery, juggling work, or adapting to new tech... feel not just bearable, but meaningful.
Because let’s be real: nobody ever looks back and says, “Wow, my highlight was when I answered 134 unread emails in one afternoon.” Nope. It’s the rice + kecombrang hacks, the salmon experiments, the silly giggles during a mediocre movie that somehow felt nice. That’s the kind of stuff that makes an ordinary day feel a little more special.
Love the leftovers,
Nuniek Tirta
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