A domestic horror

A little while ago, Dipali tagged me to describe a domestic horror. Now, we have one, on a daily basis, and that’s me, but I think she meant one of a kind. Which would also be me, actually. However, a few months ago, a terror of some inconceivable magnitude descended upon us. Masked as a general contractor, wielding a clipboard, wearing expensive cologne and designer shirts. The Contractorator.

For about 3 years now, I had been nagging the BigGeek for new bathrooms. Watching too much HGTV will have that effect on any sane person, not to mention others like me. In the end he conceded to my idea of brand new los banos. My visions of restful spas, seen, you guessed it rightly, on HGTV had to be curtailed to fit our square footage, our wallet and the size of our water heater. I mean, what’s the point of having a fancy footed tub with jet sprays and bubbles which conveniently allow you to disguise that-which-shall-not-be-uttered-by-a-lady if your water heater can only heat 5 pails of water?

So, we went for the minimalist look. Small vanities, simple tiles, subdued palette. The Contractorator nodded, gave us a price including all labor and materials and we spit and shook hands. This contractor, had been un-recommended by a friend. By that I mean, I had wrangled a phone number out of her, but along with it, also many reservations about the less than satisfactory velocity of his efforts.

Now, I consider ourselves quite the opposite of naïve. Contractor-wise, at least. This was not the first major remodel we had undertaken. But your remodel experience should not be counted by the number of remodels, but by the number of Contractorators you have worked with. And by that yardstick, we came under an inch.

On good days, I had no idea what he and his assistants planned to do. The Contractorator was not big on punctuality. The smallest division of time for him, was not minutes, but days, even weeks. “I’ll come today to tile the powder room” meant “I’ll come in 6 days to rip the vanity in Chip’s bathroom.” All I could do was pray that I had a place to answer nature’s call when I came home from work. That and plead with BigGeek to not give him another penny until the promised milestone was met.

Amongst the other stupid things they did, the first was to cut tile inside the bathrooms that covered everything in a fine white powder. The second was a mysterious leak in the powder room, the third was to keep assorted nails and other toolery on the speakers. The fourth was to forget to lay tarp and track muddy boots all over the carpet. The fifth was to reverse hot and cold for the master shower because he thought “C” meant calor (hot en Espanol). The sixth was he had no idea then, what “H” stood for. The seventh was to offer to paint the bathrooms for free because of 1-6 and then ask for money. The eighth was to repair a shower leak and fail to repaint over the mend. The ninth was to forget to paint the new baseboards and the tenth was to fail to seal the granite vanity tops. I am sure I am missing a few.

Are the bathrooms done? No. the baseboards still look like they came in from a rough game of football and a huge patch of unsanded, unpainted spackle greets us every time we shower.

Tagged: Ro, MGM, Rayshma

Feliz Cumpleanos, BigGeek

So, BigGeek turned, err, ok, I am not telling how many years. Let’s just say it was his birthday yesterday (happy budday, love and now en espanol, feliz cumpleanos, querido). The thing with BigGeek and birthdays is this. Two words. Low maintenance. The poor man will ask for something nice to eat and want to spend time in company of family and a few friends. It is a fairly easy birthday (or not) wish to grant. Throw in a gadget or two and the man is in budday heaven.

Which is how the day started. By receiving customary phone calls. And Chip singing Happy budday in a cute, ear splitting voice – an oxymoron only your own child is capable of executing with aplomb. Chip had also made, with not so gentle nudging from his Aie a card for his Baba. He is not big on drawing – he has inherited my genes in that regard - the only things he draws are things that look like people. But they are encoded. In squiggles and strokes and furious scratches that only a mother’s love and father’s adoration can decipher. So the card was basically, an Easter bunny cut from a catalog, stuck with blue glitter glue – for who would not like a little sparkle in their life? Inside, I drew a line for Chip to write the words Baba, but the pressure it generated for Chip was a bit much. In the end, after much hemming and hawing, he made me hold his hand and write the letters. Then he scribbled a picture of Baba with a wide grin and some hair, cut it out and pasted that alongside the lettering (for what if Baba can’t read?) with some more glittery glue.

Chip was so happy with the result, he was jealous. Of his own self for making such a fab card for baba. So from the bits and pieces of scrap left over, he fashioned another birthday card from himself, with huge globs of blue glitter glue. And made a train ticket for him to ride the train at the mall while he was at it too.

This year, BigGeek wanted pooran-polis for his birthday. Which is what he got (and het also got to grind the pooran in my very buggy Anjali food mill.) Unlimited quantities of pooran poli. And sabudana khichadi. No cake. (Chip asked BigGeek several times in the course of the day if he would like some cake, made with “special” eggs that doesn't cause an allergy.)

The gift I ordered for BigGeek did not arrive because they sent an email saying it was backordered. A fancy telescope with a motorized drive that will allow him to take pictures of nebulae and the moon and stars. And, in his own words, other “heavenly bodies”.

But that was not all. What a birthday without a little excitement? While we were talking with the ILs (mine, not his) over sykpe yesterday afternoon, Chip, who was pottering nearby, came in and told me he had a bead up his nose. I peered inside his snotty nostril and true enough a bright pink plastic bead lay wedged. I panicked. BigGeek did not. He is the man that does not panic. He has nerves of steel. He is the rock of Gibraltar. A man with derring-do. And lots of it. While I was blurting out words like “drive” and “E.R.” and “now” with as much coherence and syntactic accuracy as a pet goldfish, BigGeek leaped in the bathroom and came out flashing a tweezer. As I held Chip down, he very carefully, inserted the tweezer up Chip’s nose and extricated the bead. I don’t think I know anybody who was extricated a bead from their kid’s nose while their parent’s looked on the other side of the world in a different time zone on skpe, on their birthday? Do you? See? Told you BigGeek was one of a kind.

Anatomy of a delightful blunder

From: Dottie
Sent: Thursday, January 22, 2009 3:59 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Weekend in Feb

Can’t find deals for Feb long weekend. All ridiculously expensive. Tried Miami and Ft.Lauderdale both. Maybe March?

From: BigGeek
Sent: Thursday, January 22, 2009 4:02 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Weekend in Feb

Let’s go to Orlando, instead

From: Dottie
Sent: Thursday, January 22, 2009 4:03 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: RE: Weekend in Feb

Nooooooooooooooo. It will be warmer in Miami. And we have been to Orlando once. I want to see Alligators and the Everglades. And the Keys. Don’t you?

From: BigGeek
Sent: Friday, January 23, 2009 2:05 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: RE: Weekend in Feb

Not really, but OK. Let me see if I can find some deals.

From: Dottie
Sent: Monday, January 26, 2009 1:05 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: RE: Weekend in Feb

Well.. any luck? It’s too late to book tickets I think.

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday, January 28, 2009 10:13 AM
To: BigGeek
Subject: RE: Weekend in Feb

Sigh. Let’s go in March. Days will be longer. And we will get better deals. Looked again on Expedia, Kayak, you name it. Nothing.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Wednesday, January 28, 2009 10:20 AM
To: Dottie
Subject: RE: Weekend in Feb

No, no. I want to go in Feb. Let me find something.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:00 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Vayama

Gives me this for the Feb long weekend – not too bad… what do you think?
Fare Summary »
2 Adult 1 Child $qwert.yu USD
Taxes and Fees $224.85
Trip Insurance $32.85
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Total $XYZ USD

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:10 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: RE: Vayama

Go for it.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:23 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: I am a moron

Shall I throw a tantrum? :(

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:24 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: I am a moron

What happened?????????

From: BigGeek
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:25 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: I am a moron

Boohoo boohoo
I am such a fool. I am so sad.

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:34 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: I am a moron

Aie-ga! We booked for March instead of Feb. What do we do now?

From: BigGeek
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:35 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: I am a moron

I check it ten times. Everytime. I will email them and see..

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:37 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: I am a moron

Awww.. there there. It happens. You know why this happened? Because Feb and Mrch have same dates on same days.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:39 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: I am a moron

That’s no excuse though. It shows you all the days and options, and asks for confirmation :( boohoohoohoooo.. I have sent them an email, Let see what they say. I feel so terrible. :(

From: Dottie
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:50 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: I am a moron

Look into Vayama’s FAQ.. they charge $100 for change/cancellation per person + whatever fees the airline charge. Not worth it. Might as well enjoy the mistake :)

From: BigGeek
Sent: Wednesday Thursday, January 28, 2009 2:42 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: I am a moron

I suppose. I am surprised that they are still as expensive in March. I guess I am more troubled by the fact that I made a mistake than I am by the mistake itself. I have been on hold for 12 minutes. They get 2 more minutes else it is what it is.
Why don’t you put in a cheap offer on priceline for a _good_ hotel and see what you get?

From: BigGeek
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 2:55 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Ok. Put in 4 or higher stars please. Or try 5 stars first.

From: Dottie
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 3:55 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Did you get the hotel conformation email? Did you see it? I made a terrible mistake :( I booked for Feb 14-16 :( And..

Remember, your Priceline hotel reservation is non-refundable, non-transferable and non-changeable. If you have any questions or require further assistance, please visit our Customer Service area. You may also contact our Customer Service Department toll-free at 1-800-657-9168. Please have your priceline Request Number (xxx-xxx-xxx-xx) and the phone number you used when you placed your request (yyy-yyy-yyyy) ready when you call.
Dang dang dang. Calling them…

From: Dottie
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 4:07 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Can’t get a human.

We are not eating out for 6-8 weeks until we save the $300.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 4:09 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

And I am not getting any birthday gifts. For you either. Don’t be ashamed. Shit happens. Now is the time to bite it and bear it.

From: Dottie
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 4:10 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Ofcourse no budday gift for me. And no anniv gift for me either. You will still get a nice budday gift.

From: BigGeek
Sent: Tuesday, February 03, 2009 4:12 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

No. we are in it together. For better or for worse. Remember?

From: Dottie
Sent: Monday, February 09, 2009 4:10 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Forgot to ask you.. Did you tell Chip about the hotel thing? Because when we were driving home on Friday evening, he asked me which retsuarant we were going out to and I told him we were eating dinner at home. He asked me “Because you wasted that money on that hotel?” How the heck does HE know? Did you mention it to him?

From: BigGeek
Sent: Monday, February 09, 2009 4:10 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Ofcourse not. I did not tell him. He must have overheard us. But did we talk about it? Maybe a couple of sentences…I don’t remember talking about it in front of him..

From: BigGeek
Sent: Tuesday, February 10, 2009 1:00 PM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Let’s go to Miami this weekend. We have a hotel reservation anyways.

From: Dottie
Sent: Tuesday, February 10, 2009 1:10 PM
To: BigGeek
Subject: Re: Miami Hotels

Are you mad?? They will be crazy expensive. It’s valentines + long weekend.

From: Dottie
Sent: Thursday, February 12, 2009 10:10 AM
To: Friend
Subject: Re: Din-din tomorrow?

No can do:( we are going to Miami :)

From: Friend
Sent: Thursday, February 12, 2009 10:30 AM
To: Dottie
Subject: Re: Din-din tomorrow?

I thought you were going in March? You cancelled that?

From: Dottie
Sent: Thursday, February 12, 2009 10:10 AM
To: Friend
Subject: Re: Din-din tomorrow?

No.. we are going this weekend and again in March. Long story. Tell you when we meet.

Andiamo, Everglades and Las Culebrinas

If you ever happen to travel to the Miami-Dade county with young children, Andiamo is the place to eat pizza. The minute we landed in Miami, we realized we had forgotten Chip’s carseat at home. Which meant a quick trip to Target to buy one, install the said seat and strap Chip in it. Securely. We checked into the hotel and the exhausted trip promptly fell asleep on the soft perfectly-made beds.

We woke up as the sunlight faded. “What do you want to eat?” asked BigGeek. Pizza, I said. It was safest given Chip’s crankiness with the steroids he had been taking for his asthma. I could not believed we travelled for 5 hours to eat pizza. But BigGeek said he would find the best pizza place ever. And he did. He browsed and hunted down reviews and drove us to a great place called Andiamo. Fabulous outdoor seating. Coming from 20-degree weather, we were thrilled to sit in perfect 75-degrees, gentle breeze, in the glow of warm tiki lights, surrounded by trees with leaves on them and children. Yes! Lotsa kids, lotsa of noise. It was perfect. We devoured the pizza – which is almost as good as a New York slice (no, it really was awesome pizza) .

The next morning was our Everglades day. The BIG swamp. By the time we woke up, gave Chip his nebulizer, showered and ate (a very expensive) breakfast at the hotel, it was almost noon. We drove along the Tamiami highway to the Everglades. A good 1 hour drive. Chip napped a lil, fussed a lil, threw a tantrum or two and declared he did not like his parents at all. (But he later made it up in the evening when he said, I don’t want beaches, I don’t Miami, I don’t want Dolphins, I only want my Aie and Baba)

When we reached Everglades National Park, the sign at the entrance said “Parking lot full.” Are you kidding me? I thought. BigGeek had wanted to go to Orlando but I had insisted on Miami because I wanted to see Everglades. “It’s a fascinating eco-system” I had told BigGeek. We HAVE to see it.” BigGeek had relented, although he did have his reservations about the “swamp”. This is it, I thought. We flew all this way, then drove all this way, only to see a Parking lot full sign? There has to be justice in this world. We decided to go in anyway. We drove a few yards and reached the ranger’s post. There were three cars in front of us. Each of them talked to the ranger for some time and turned about. It did not look good. We pulled up. BigGeek rolled down the window. “You know what?” said the ranger “I have one parking spot that just became available.” Yipee-yay! We paid and sped inside and parked. Chip was napping, BigGeek ran to the ticket window and got us tickets for the guided trip for 3:00 pm. We then took turns with the camera and babysitting.

The ranger on the everglades tour was an annoying New Yorker. She talked too much and in the heat and the unchanging prairie landscape, we dozed. The Everglades IS a swamp. Apart from a few egrets and herons and the alligators, and miles and miles of sawgrass, there really isn’t much. If you are in Miami, it’s worth a trip. Definitely not worth spending airfare just to see it. Or perhaps we have been spoilt by the Alaskan wilderness. After being rather unimpressed with the everglades, we drove back.

“We are in the heart of Spanish-country. We have to eat some authentic Cuban food.” I declared. “What will you eat? It’s hard to find vegetarian stuff.” Said BigGeek. “Oh, I’ll find something. Yucca fries? Salads?” “I want to eat dolphins” said Chip, who refused to listen that dolphins were not food. BigGeek hunted again and found us this place Las Culebrinas. We drove up and a valet opened the car door (What this with Miami? Why are there valets everywhere? Why does the city discourage people to self-park?). A step into the restaurant and we were transported to another world. The décor, the patrons all seemed to come from another time and place. The hostess led us to our table and handed us over-sized menus. Really. I have never seen 2ft long menus.

There indeed was nothing vegetarian. But there were dolphin steaks and frog legs and alligator bites. A food runner came over and placed the bread basket. “Does this have egg in it?” I asked. He looked at me blankly then said “No hablo Ingles” Holy mother of earth. BigGeek had picked too authentic a restaurant. Looks like nobody spoke English. The menu was mostly in Spanish too. I looked around. The other diners were all Spanish. “Perfect” said BigGeek. “Now you can practice your Spanish.” I gulped. My ears were turning red from the thought of having to speak Spanish in real life situations. With native speakers.

A few minutes later, the waiter came over and started reciting us the specials in rapid fire Spanish. “In English?” I said timidly. “No Espanol?” asked the waiter surprised. Ah. That was it. We looked like a nice latino family. No wonder we did not get curious glances that American patrons got. “Uhhh.. hablo un poco..Estoy apprendiendo espanol” I said. The elderly waiter beamed and said something again rapidly. I was getting super conscious. “Un momento, por favor?” I beseeched. He smiled and said something and left. We discussed the menu. BigGeek and Chip would share a salmon. We would a salad and side of yucca fries. And sangria ofcourse.

Few minutes later, the waiter appeared again and spoke in Spanish. Now, I know enough Spanish to order a meal, to tell the waiter I am a vegetarian and that Chip is allergic to egg. But on that fateful evening, I just could not remember the word for egg. And forgot most of my Spanish too. And ended up ordering chicken fries and rice for Chip, salmon and salad for BigGeek and a salad for me and yucca fries and plaintains. When the food arrived, there wasn’t enough room on the table. BigGeek was surprised to see all that food. Chip was tired and sleepy and just ate some rice, BigGeek finished his salad and most of the salmon. I thought the salad dressing to be too rich and only had a few bites of it. And a few yucca fries with the most yummy cilantro dip ever. The fried plantains were too heavy and remained practically untouched. I had turned into a beetroot. All my hopes of practicing my Spanish had led to utter disaster. We paid the bill, told the waiter the food was delicious and stepped out. It was then I realized I will still in the US. It felt so foreign, the whole experience that for an hour and a half I had forgotten where we were. We had, I think experienced the true Miami.

Day Before Miami

So, one day BigGeek decided to take us all to Miami. Ok, the story is slightly more complicated than that, and shall be narrated in due course, when the time is ripe. So, as it happened, we had tickets and hotel and a car to go to Miami on the 14 of this month. It was a last minute thing and we had no clue what we wanted to do, except of course go and see the biggest swamp or rather, the river of grass - The Everglades. May be sun a bit on the famous South Beach (while trying best not to get the spirits dampened by the supermodels and sculpted bodies) and generally get away from the freezing temperatures here by heading towards the sub-tropical paradise, where the palms swayed gently in the breeze and the blue skies and the azul ocean beckoned. And of course try and practice my Spanish.

If something is too good to be true, it prolly is. So, said a wise man once. Ok, it really was BigGeek, but he is wise, you know. On Thursday, when I went to pick up Chip from the daycare, his teacher told me, he had been wheezing a bit. No problem, I thought. He had a bad cold and the fluctuating temperatures had not done him any good. A whiff or two of the broncho-dilators and he would be good as new. But, no. Thursday night, despite the bronco-dilators, his asthma worsened. I gave him a steady dose of the bronco-dilators every 4 hours, all night, but the wheezing would go down for an hour, only to come back with a vengeance. I have him some anti-histamine, and some homep, but the poor buy could not sleep. He wheezed and gasped and by early morning, his heart was beating rapid-fire. He was hyperventilating. His lungs, unable to oxygenate his blood, was making his heart pump it faster so all the cells in his body got proper oxygen.

When it was morning, I called his doctor and headed there immediately. The doctor said his lungs were quite hard and his blood oxygenation had dropped and he had been hyperventilating. The plane ride would be dangerous for him in this state, said his doctor. Lung collapse could occur because of the low pressure in the cabin. I was worried sick. This sounded a lot more serious than a mild asthma he often gets. The doctor put him on a strong dose of inhaled steroids and bronco-dilators through a nebulizer – right in his office. (Chip who does not use a nebulizer, but uses a metered dose inhaler was wide-eyed at seeing one. “This is just like House”, he exclaimed) 40 minutes later, the doctor checked Chip again. He was looking better. Sounding better. Very little wheezing. But since we were travelling, he also gave Chip of an oral steroid. Just to be safe.

But Chip was in a bad shape. The wheezing came back in 4 hours and another round of bronco-dilators was administered through the nebulizer. Add to that, BigGeek’s sciatica which has been troubling him for a couple of months now, had graduated to numbing feet and then to numbing hands which was definitely not sciatica related. Too much sickness in the air. I did not want to go to Miami. It seemed jinxed, you know. BigGeek scoffed at my superstitions and an exhausted mom, a limping dad and a cranky, asthmatic child boarded the plane next day to see if Miami did them any good.

Time Capsule 2008

These are the things we often buy over at our household. I thought it would be fun to keep a record of prices and how things look today. I did a smilar time capsule in 2007 (see it here)

On the whole, it cheaper to drive than a year before (gas is down by almost a $1.50 since last year), but more expensive to get that cup of coffee on the road, costs more to mail a letter and read the newspaper, but less to eat healthy- organic stuff seems to be more affordable. How are prices in your part of the world?

Cheerios: $4.99(18oz)
Juice: $7.49/gal (Tropicana Orange)
Oatmeal: $4.99/42 oz, (Quaker Oats)

Milk: $5.79/gal (organic), $3.75/gal (regular)

Bread: $3.29 (Organic), $1.99(Wonderbread)
Pasta: $1.25/lb
Rice: $2.39/lb (Tilda Basmati)

Sugar: $0.53/lb
Salt: $0.69 (26 oz)
Oil: $3.74/quart (Canola)

Potatoes: $0.79/lb (regular), $0.99/lb (organic)
Apples: $1.16/lb(regular), $1.99/lb(organic)
Spinach : $1.69(regular), 2.69(organic)

Chicken: $4.99/lb
Salmon: $9.99/lb

The Washington Post: $0.50
U.S. First Class Stamp: $0.42
Cup of Coffee: $0.80
Gas: $1.58/gal (87 octane), $1.83/gal(93 octane)

The LadyBug Mystery

So, as the weather turns cooler, we get around two or three ladybugs in our house. Every year. They live on the ceiling of our bedroom, in a corner, and some times crawl down the frosty window and let us admire their utter cuteness.

Chip is fascinated by them. From since he was a baby. When they come down the window, he can watch them for hours (ok, I am exaggerating, but hey, I am a blogger!) with rapt attention. Their tiny feet, their hard backs, their strange wings and their half-hearted, clumsy attempts to fly and their total inability to flip themselves if they happen to land on their backs. It’s a fascinating lesson of nature right on our windowsill for Chip.

Last weekend as we got ready to go out, Chip spotted a ladybug come down from its heavenly abode. He was delighted to watch it. I was delighted to get him out my hair while I dressed. He watched the bug for a few minutes and then dashed out of the bedroom. I could hear him downstairs in the kitchen, opening a drawer. In a flash he was up, wielding a plastic storage box. “I wanna keep them” he told me. Without waiting for me to answer, he ran into the bathroom, opened the vanity and got a ball of cotton. Using his makeshift brush, he tried to coax the red bug in his box. The ladybug was obviously frightened at Chip’s ham-fisted attempts to “catch” it and tried to feebly move in the other direction. “Aie, its running away”, he exclaimed. “Let it” I told him. “Why do you want to catch it? We don’t even know what it eats” “I’ll give it a green leaf.” said Chip, no doubt drawing his wisdom from the nature bible for 3 year olds – The hungry caterpillar.

“Please put him in the box” he pleaded with me. I gently brushed the ladybug (which appeared a little lethargic and sick) into the box. “What are you calling him?” I asked. Chip pondered over the question. “Sheanoo.” He said. Sheanoo? Chip has come up with some imaginative names in the past – his rag doll is called Shant because he is quiet, duh. And our fish is called submarine because it lives in water. “What’s Sheanoo?” I asked. Chip looked as if some great force had sucked out the intelligence from his mom’s head. “I told you. That’s the ladybug’s name. He is Sheanoo. How many times must I tell you?” And off he walked with the ladybug, trying to snuggle with it under the comforter.

After I told him, he could not snuggle with the lady bug he looked sullenly at me and he just kept playing with it on the window sill when, another ladybug joined Sheanoo in the box. Chip ran into the bathroom to show me. “Another one came” he grinned. “That’s so cool. What are you going to call Sheanoo’s friend?” I asked. “Chivda.” This time I did not bother asking what Chivda was all about.

But this is not the end of the story. I told Chip to go downstairs and put his shoes on. Chip for once did not run, but climbed down the stairs carefully, with the ladybugs in his box. As I straightened up the room, I could hear Chip pottering around the kitchen downstairs and when I went down a few minutes later, Chip had dumped a bag of skittles (they are small hard, round candies, that umm look like ladybugs, the red ones at least) in the box that had the ladybugs and was eating them one by one. “Chip! That box had ladybugs in them. What have you done with the ladybugs?” Chip looked down at the box and searched for Sheanoo and Chivda. “They are lost” he told me with a puzzled expression on his face. “Lost? Lost? How could you put skittles in the box that had ladybugs? And you wanted to keep them as pets? You can’t even look after them for five minutes.” I ranted. “Where are they?” “I don’t know Aie, they are lost.” “Did you eat them?” I was suspicious. Chip had eaten ants before and it took him a while to get into his head that we don’t eat ants. “Did you eat them?” “Umm.. I don’t know.” Sheanoo and Chivda were no where to be seen. I looked in the kitchen if they had flown away, but couldn’t see them on the countertops, floor, even the ceiling. One of them was too sickly to even move, let alone fly. I looked and looked but we never did find those ladybugs. Wonder what’s happened to them. I guess we’ll never know.

Debug my batter

For all the things I can cook, and cook well - just as BigGeek and Chip, they will vouch for it – I can’t, to save my life make idli/dosa batter. I usually buy the overpriced tubs of batter in my local Indian store and palm the dosas and idlis made from it as “home-made”. It’s pathetic, really. My mother, on the other hand is the queen of idlis. She had a bunch of Tamil co-workers and she got awesome tips from them and her idlis turn out to be soft and fluffy and delicious, her dosas crisp and golden that will put any udipi to shame.

Her batter always rises well. Always. No matter where she makes it. In German winters where she lived for a few years or in winters here. And we keep our house coooold. 65F. And she makes the batter and it rises like it is the tropical Mumbai. She can make batter on an Antarctican ice-shelf and it will rise. I don’t know what she does. I ask her and she says she has given me all her tips, but I still can’t get my batter to rise unless I keep it on the deck outside on a hot July afternoon.

It’s so depressing that I have stopped making batters at home. Altogether. But two days ago, optimism reared its head again and I said, “Why, not?” So I soaked two cups of urad dal (the skinned, whole ones), some methi seeds and tried my hand, again at making a multipurpose batter. Idlis, dosas, uttapams. But it turned out to be a total disaster. The uttapams were so heavy that I sprained my back holding a plateful of them. Sigh. So, please all yout idli-maidens out there, help me debug my batter. This is my trace output.

Tuesday, 10:30 a.m.
Yay! Vetran’s day. Let’s make idli batter. Soak two cups of Urad dal with a tablespoon of methi seeds. No rice. Plan to use idli rava.
Urad dal is skinned but whole? Check.

Tuesday, 6:30 p.m.
Hmm..dal looks soaked. Let’s grind it in my (horrible) Cuisinart food processor.
Use as less water as possible? Check. Grind very fine? Check.

Tuesday, 7:00 p.m.
Add idli rava. For each cup of urad dal, 3 cups of idli rava. I hope I haven’t got the ratio wrong. What if it's 2 cups? Let’s compromise. 2.5 cups of idli rava per cup of urad dal. Mix, mix, mix. With hand. A little water. I was told that the bacteria/yeast on the hand will help ferment in the chilly weather. No spatula (although I am sure my spatula also has a ton of bacteria too)

Tuesday 7:15 p.m.
Find a warm place for the batter to rise. Vents are not warm. Top of the fridge? Umm, no. What if I forget? That will be one stinky science experiment by the weekend. Oven? Maybe. (Stick hand in oven.) It’s not exactly warm. But it will do. Turn on the oven light for warmth and put the batter in.

Wednesday 8:00 a.m.
Who turned off the oven light? Who ? Who? BigGeek confesses to having committed the act before he went to bed on Tuesday. Arrrrgh. Take out the batter with zero hopes. The batter looks pathetic. It hasn’t risen. Turn on the oven light and stick the batter once again with many prayers.

Wednesday 6:45 p.m.
Batter looks even more pathetic. It hasn’t risen at all. My dinner plans crumble to tiny pieces. I have been looking to eating utthapams since two in the afternoon. BigGeek to the rescue. Batter is stuck into the oven. Oven is set to warm (170F) despite my vociferous protests that the batter will be cooked in it at that temperature. A large hairy hand shooes me away. The oven is too warm, the batter in. In a few minutes or an ternity in Dottie’s time, the oven is turned off. Hope hangs in the air.

Thursday 7:00 a.m.
Gingerly take out the batter. What are the three brown spots? Did the batter get cooked? Sniff, sniff, sniff. Its smells ok. And it has risen. But in an over-fermented sort of way. Store batter in fridge. Oh well. Atleast it did rise.

Thursday 7:00 p.m.
Chop onions for uttapam. Make chutney, make sambar. Drool at the smell.

Thursday 8:00 p.m.
Get the batter out from the fridge. Thin it a bit with water. Add salt. Heat griddle, make uttapam. They stick. Oh no they stick. Change griddles. Repeat. It sticks again. Panic. Chip is super hungry. Think fast. Take a can of flour from the pantry. Rice flour, hopefully. Add it to the batter. More water, more flour. Make uttapams. Better now. Still a bit sticky but not plastered to the griddle. Repeat 6 more times. Thank god dinner is over.

So this is what happened. Where did I go wrong? Please debug my batter. Sending out an SOS.

Blackhole memories

When they are not fighting over guitars –not real guitars mind you, but the guitar controllers for RockBand and Guitar hero, our little kingdom here settles into a cozy Sunday night routine. Chip’s insistence that his toy guitar be granted the same sharing privileges as the guitar controllers, meaning, he get his legit turn pushing the plastic buttons on “our” toy guitars is as old as the Friday night and the last hours of a lazy, cozy weekend are spent post-dinner in the family room.

As one of us does the dishes, the other shoos Chip upstairs for his night-time routine. Brush teeth, get into his pajamas. Ten minutes later the kingdom of three assembles excitedly in front of the TV. The lights are dimmed and BigGeek who has the supreme powers granted by his being the “Secretary of Remotes”, either turns on a specially DVR-ed show or we just browse our favorite channels until we find something that excites us. We huddle on a couch at first, but soon the cushions find their way to the floor as we stretch lazily, arms and legs in every direction. Chip burrowing here and there like a little squirrel, trying to fit into this crook then into another as we all try to get the “sweet” spot to watch the show, catch the sound effects and stay away from that elbow poking in your ribs. A few minutes after much twisting and turning, some yelling and some compromising, the three of us settle down. Monday morning blues are still far away.

Yesterday is one of many such Sundays. We find our places on the couch, fleece throws covering chilly hands and feet. BigGeek turns on the TV to the science channel. He flips through the guide and we see “Supermassive black holes”. “I want to see that! I want to see the black hole show” Okay, BigGeek, true to his name is a sucker for things like that too. “Are we playing Rock Band?” asks Chip and dives for the “real” toy guitar. “Are we playing Black hole sun?” Chip’s connects black hole to black hole. The cosmological phenomenon to Soundgarden’s 1994 hit. “No sweetie, we are watching a show on black holes.”

The show starts. The graphics are mind blowing. And it’s a bit nostalgic too. For BigGeek and for me. Black holes, Special theory, Quantum physics are some of the topics we discussed at the dining table, growing up. Ditto with BigGeek. His claim to fame is also a couple of uncles who were particle physicists. So, to the both of us sitting here with Chip, watching a show on black holes brings back many childhood memories and as Chip snuggles close to me, I realize that we are making memories here for Chip too. That being said, watching a show on black holes with a three year old is a multi-dimensional experience.

Some excerpts.

“Why is there a black hole?” Asks Chip with his typical 3-yr old existential logic.
“Well… that’s what the physicists have been asking too. For a really long time.”

A graphic of a swirling black hole in the middle of a galaxy fills the screen.

“Is that a black hole?”
“Yes, that’s a black hole.”
“What’s that?” pointing to a swirly graphic.
“That’s a quasar”. Wrong answer. I have dug a hole and a super massive one just now.
“What’s a quasar?”
“It’s just a lot of dust that goes into the black hole. The black hole eats the quasar.”
“Is it hot?” the graphic artist has obviously done a great job.. Chip can deduce the gases are hot.
“It’s very hot. Very very hot.”
“Like the sun?”
“Yup, just like the sun.”
“So is quasar a sun?”
“Umm. No… no.”
“Is sun a black hole?”
“No, but it can turn into one.”
“I want to touch a quasar.”
“It’s very hot and it’s very far away.”
“I’ll get a boo-boo?”
“A big boo-boo. Go to sleep now.”

The images on the screen are swirling galaxies now.
“I want to fly, Aie. I want to fly and go there.”
“And you will. Sleep now.”

p.s. thank god he drifted to sleep before the next show on string theory began!

The Diwali that was

Homemade Chakli - check.
Doesn’t matter it turned out to be rock hard

Homemade Kalaakand –Check
Doesn’t matter it wasn’t was sweet as it should have been

Homemade Chivda – Check
Doesn’t matter it turned a bit too sour

Lights strung – Check
In the freezing wind and at the very last minute, along with a lighted Halloween pumpkin thingie.

Oil and Aukshan for Chip and BigGeek on NarakChaturdashi day – Check
Doesn’t matter of all days, we woke up AFTER sunrise on this day.

Laxmi Pujan – Check
Doesn’t matter that BigGeek and I always forget the second stanza of every aarti we sing.

Sparklers – Check
Doesn’t matter it was windy and freezing cold. And that we were wearing nylon parkas for it to be comfortable for me. But, it was fun.

BigGeek’s Aukshan on Padwaa – Check
Doesn’t matter he suddenly remembered at the very last minute he had indeed bought me gift - an ipod and a fancy car integration kit a few weeks before, stating it was an advance Diwali gift, so did not get a second gift despite the guilt I tried to induce ;-)

Chip’s Diwali gift-Check
Doesn’t matter he raised hell and tried every trick in the book to open it before Diwali. He choose to get a big milk truck. Yes, a milk truck. That lights up in a folksy song and moos.

Phone calls to family in India – Check
Doesn’t matter Chip refused to wish and on prodding, told everybody it was not Diwali, but it was Halloween, really.

Pictures taken – Ummm, no.
Thank god a few friends took some at a Diwali party.

Had a good time – Check.
Doesn’t matter things were very laid back this year. Doesn’t matter it is exhausting to rush back from work, make a nice dinner and do poojas. Diwali on weekdays is uber-exhausting.

And such was our Diwali. Hope you had lots of fun too. Leaving you with Chip’s picture taken last weekend at a Diwali party. Chip is trying to fake-smile.

FrontEnd and BackEnd

Yes, I know. My blog life has been neglected. Both in the writing department and reading. My excuse? I was super swamped at work. No, make that a present tense. I am super swamped at work. And while taking 20 minutes to write a post is very doable, no matter how much stuff I am buried in, inspiration refuses to strike an overworked mind. Well, that’s my story and I am sticking to it, ok?

If you read my last post, about the fender bender, well there’s more to it that the little apple green VW bug. The day after I go my car back, I got a call from the auto body shop telling me that I owe them $500 as the insurance deductible. “But, it wasn’t my fault. The other party rear ended my car. They are supposed to pay my deductible.” I tried to explain. The man was very understanding but told me I would have to pay and then the other party’s insurance would send me a check.

I called BigGeek and told him what had happened. “Call your insurance agent” he advised. “Give her the third degree. Tell her on no account will you deal with a third party insurance. Tell her we don’t pay hefty premiums for such shoddy service. You will deal only with her. Tell her you are not writing a check for one red cent. Also, when my car was T-boned by another car 5 years ago, I did not go through this. It was the other party’s fault and I did not have to pay any money upfront. Just rail on her. And of course don’t forget to play the I am shopping for another insurance company card.” So I called the insurance agent and while she tried to brush me off, I stuck to my guns and gave her the third degree. Word for word what BigGeek had told me. It worked. Or I hope it has. I haven’t gotten a call from the auto body shop or the insurance agent. And no news is good news, right?

But I digress. The point of the post is not really my insurance woes. It is how we, as a married team communicate to the outside world. I am the front-end, he is the backend. ALWAYS.

On lazy Saturday mornings.
BigGeek: Dottie, call Verizon. They have charged us $100 for the 20 min. phone call you made to London. Tell them what nonsense is this? We are not paying. Charge us by $0.10 a minute. This is thievery. Call them and yell.

Or on a busy Thursday evening.
BigGeek: Dottie call the construction guy and tell him to give us a discount on the walkway quote. Use your charm.

Or some random day
BigGeek: Dottie, tell Chip to stop making a mess. Look at the mess he is making.

Or the Sunday morning phone call to my in-laws
BigGeek: (to his mom, after she has asked him how our week was): Wait, let me get Dottie, she will tell you what we did.

And you can’t beat this.
BigGeek: Dottie, call M (a good friend) and ask him if he wants to meet me for a haircut and a coffee.

Early on in our marriage, I once complained to his aunt about this rather annoying habit. She laughed and shook her head. “That’s how all the men in this family are. Better get used to it.” And the thing is, now, I am used to it. I get annoyed, but I am used to it. BigGeek will always run in the backend. I would have said he runs like a daemon in the background, but BigGeek does not run on open source. So he runs on the Windows in the Scheduler, like a monitoring script picking up the slightest discrepancies, triggering a warning and feeding it to his error handler that makes phone calls. A match made in heaven. Indeed.

A Bug's Life

For two days, a small dream came true. Anybody remember the Herbie movies? The Love bug and Herbie goes banans and Herbie goes to MonteCarlo? I loved the Bug. Always wanted to own one. After my attempts at getting one were promptly squished by BigGeek many years ago- he warned me he would never sit in one, let alone drive it, I gave up. There was to be no Volkswagen Beetle in my life – also, it was a coupe and with a baby planned, it would be hard to navigate the whole car seat thing with no back doors and all that.

Two weeks ago, no it more like three weeks ago, I had a fender bender. I was stopped at a light and a guy in some Nissan came behind me, forgot to stop and rear-ended my car. I had a whiplash, the rear bumper was splintered. When I took the car to an auto body shop, they told me it had to be replaced. So this Monday, I rose, bright and early and took my car down to the shop to get it fixed. My insurance provided me with a rental car and I waited for 40 minutes to get one, my best scowl plastered on the face.

Finally, a shuttle arrived and took us down to the rental car office. I was still scowling. They had told me the rental car would be at the shop and it wasn’t and I was getting late for work. I surveyed the cars in the parking lot while I waited. Predictable Kias and Nissans, the odd Ford and Chevy. I didn’t care which car I got. I just wanted to get out and on my way. As I went up to the desk and handed my papers to the blonde behind the counter, she beamed at me. “I just have a VW beetle come in. Would you like that?” Would I like that? Would I like that? Was she kidding me? Hell, yes. I am a certified chick, y’know. “And it’s green.” she added, her eyes twinkling. I could see eyes burning holes in my back. But my scowl had turned into a happy grin. An apple green bug for me. Yay. I prayed the body shop took a week to fix the bumper. The car was brought to the front and I happily sat inside. It was spacious. Beautiful big windows.
And that little car had some remarkable pep. Compared to the staid “Mommy” Honda I drive. I was ecstatic. I hadn’t been this ecstatic over a “thing” in a very long time. I eased the car into gear and it purred and zipped away.

Ten minutes later, the sun started to stream in my eyes. I leaned to flip the visor only to find that my five-and-a-half-feet tall frame could barely reach it. Minor Annoyance One. A few minutes later, I made a turn, the sun moved to my left and I reached out to move it to the window only to find that it barely covered half the window. Minor Annoyance Two. No box to store my car essentials – parking badge, EZ pass, cell phone charger, junk. Minor Annoyance Three. And the ride was bumpy (ok, they call it sporty, I call it bumpy). Minor Annoyance Four. I tuned the radio to a news station and cranked the volume waay up. The car was super noisy. Major Annoyance One. But the biggest annoyance was that nobody took my road presence seriously. When I am in the Honda on a crowded road during rush hour, nobody will dare to cut in front of me from a piddly side street. With the bug however, people thought I was just driving a toy and had really nowhere important to get to, and boldly cut in front of me. All the time. Major Annoyance Two.

By the second day, I sorely missed my Honda. I was what I drove. I was very unlike the Beetle. I was not small and cute, I was not noisy, I really had no pep to speak of. And like my Honda, I was more, let’s just say, umm, mature looking and gray and reliable. Quiet. Staid. Mommy-like. So, despite the initial euphoria, I was mighty glad when the body shop called me at work and told me the work on my car had been done ahead of schedule.

I went picked up my car yesterday evening and turned in the VW Bug. It was a fun ride, but I was relieved it lasted just two days. When I went to pick up Chip in the old car, he was sad. He had so liked the VW Bug. I explained to him again that it was a rental and now that my car was fixed I had no need for it. Hours later, after we got home, he stood in our picture window watching the street, and turned to me and said “You know Aie, you were driving that rental very fast this morning.” It IS a good thing I don’t drive a VW after all!

Spaced Out

Stardate 42009.7.

I was forewarned but not so much forearmed. BigGeek informed me that his important design work on a new machine for peace with the Soxulans would take priority over domestic issues. For seven whole stardays. And as Murphy’s law goes, my own important work with life-matter, was and will continue to be until the next solar equinox on Earth, in an uber-crunch mode. I am battling secret, alien bugs. Exhausting, yes.

So, on this evening, as the thermometer continued its upward rise – well it really had no choice, it’s hard to do a downward rise- Chip and I decided to go to the Final Frontier of the known world. To explore strange stores, seek out new deals and new discounts and to boldly go where no man really wants to go. The engines of our middle-class starship were fired, warp drives engaged and the two crew-members put on their space suits, slathered ultraviolet protection (For Type A and B solar UV rays) and headed to the city on the edge forever. We pulled our starship in to the docking bay, aside a bigger, fancier, more expensive starship, climbed down and walked a few feet in the intense, exhausting heat into the glass enclosed nerve-center.

We did not know it then, but we had now entered a fragment of the space-time fabric where space and time and sensibilities warped. And its effects were instantly perceptible. A few minutes inside the city and Chip’s personality underwent a drastic transformation. This child, who sat quietly in his seat watching other spaceships and spacetrucks whiz by, had a sudden, inexplicable adrenalin rush. He twisted his body and shouted and ran. I ran behind him, for mighty dangers in the form of the ColorfulJellyBeans lurked ahead. They beckoned him as the sirens do to lost soldiers at the sea. But Chip, this time turned out to be stronger. My intense mind-lock sessions seemed to be helping him control his crystalline disaccharide urges. He seemed to gravitate towards them, the pink ones in particular, but withdrew himself suddenly, as if a switch in his brain had flipped and released a flood of “artificial-colors-and-preservatives” mumbo-jumbo down his hypothalamus.

He ran again, but stopped in a few feet, mesmerized by a little red contraption. It was a small car; you know the kind popular in 21st century America. This one wasn’t a real car of course, but a replica. Chip immediately wanted to take it for a test drive but wasn’t self-propelled. They were primitive little machines; they had to be propelled by an organism at least 5 feet tall. Since I fit the bill, in not just one, but three dimensions, I seemed like a perfect candidate. Not that there were any other to speak of. Chip, the dare-devil he is, jumped right in that car and sat. I looked for the propeller bars, found them and for a lack of better word, pushed the replica around.

The city was strangely quiet. No buzz, no crowds. Also, no deals, no discounts. I liked a garment fit for an Empress of the Tribbles that cost an arm and a leg. I almost cut off a limb, blame it on the triple warp of space-time-sensibility, but the rabid fear of the billattheendofthemonth jolted me back to my senses. Chip, in the meanwhile was showing an interest in a mannequin displaying garments. In a microsecond that I looked away, he stood up in his replica and peeked inside the plunging neckline. Of the mannequin. Thank Mouse^*. I caught him in the act and he flatly refused he was peeking at the anatomical-parts-that-shall-remain-unnamed, pointing to her collarbone instead. I blamed it on his y-chromosome and we continued to explore and soon found over selves on the upper level.

A gay music was heard. We followed its direction and were rewarded. A giant rotating platform with replicas of medieval chariots and horses. Chip looked at it wide eyed. He had many starweeks ago, been rewarded with a ride in this carousel. He begged for one. I feigned to look for an appropriate currency. Chip looked on expectantly. I shook my head. Chip then asked me if we were impoverished. I nodded my head. But he looked so forlorn, that I decided to look, really look. I found some acceptable monetary token and Chip bought himself a ticket and enjoyed the ride.

Ride having finished and attempts at more thwarted by me, Chip sought nutrition, in what has got to be the most nutritious food in Chip’s mind. Dough slathered with crushed tomatoes and soured milk. He had a slice of that, while I nibbled at leaves that looked like lettuce. Thus our adventure came to an end. It didn’t really, but I am getting tired of writing this now.

*mouse: It was proved beyond reasonable doubt in the late twentieth century by Douglas Adams that a common mouse was really god.

$53,585

That’s what salary.com puts me in for my Mommy job. For all the trouble I take, I expected 6 figures, but no. Oh well. At least Chip and BigGeek think I am priceless.

We don’t have anything special planned this mother’s day. I already got my PS3 and Rockband as a mother’ day + upcoming birthday gift all rolled into one. My in laws are visiting and they arrived yesterday. When I told my mother-in-law last night that Sunday is mother’s day, she said “Aila, you all celebrate mother’s day?” Happily ofcourse. I told her to name what she wanted and she said she wanted a new Glucometer. I shook my head. “That’s not an indulgence. We are getting a new Glucometer anyway.” I think I will take my mom-in-law out for a movie or to the salon or shopping – whatever she wants to do. I told BigGeek that he should be doing something special for his mom, but he has happily delegated the task to me. And truth be told, I am happy about it. My mom-in-law and I always enjoy our shopping trips sans her kid and mine. They both whine the minute they see stores that don’t sell computer parts or electronics. So she and I are both guaranteed to have a whale of a time by ourselves. Ever since Chip was born, my mom had always been here for mother’s day. The first year I was a week away from delivering, so we just took her out to dinner. The next year, we shopped, last year we saw Ratatouille, which was lots of fun. This year it’s the mother-in-law. So the mother’s day party continues.

It’s also my father-in-law’s 70th birthday tomorrow. I plan to bake a cake of course. A chocolate-orange bundt. Fat-free and Egg-free. We also leave for Connecticut/NYC tomorrow morning. I am crossing my fingers it doesn’t rain too much. Or rather it rains back home, so GND won’t have to water my garden and doesnot rain where we are headed.

So on that note, adios and Happy Mother’s day to all you hard-working moms. Oh, and what plans have your SOs and kids made for you? Tell me, I am listening.

And then there were two

Just as I was getting dressed, BigGeek got out of bed in the morning scratching his head and uttered these words. “I think the orange platy fish is dead.” He hadn’t even been downstairs to the fish tank. Why did he think the fish was dead? Maybe BigGeek was turning yogic. “How do you know it is dead? You haven’t even been downstairs to look at the fish tank yet.” I mumbled carefully applying my eye shadow.
“Well, I think it was dead last night.” BigGeek said.
“Last night?”
“Well, I thought it was sleeping. I didn’t think it was dead.”
“Was it breathing?”
“No.”
“Then it’s dead.”
“That what I thought. It might be dead.”
“Oh no! the fish was lying dead in the fish tank. That might have contaminated the water.”
“Will you please, please take it out? Please?”

Fun, anyone?

It all started two weeks ago. We had been meeting up with some friends for dinner, and later went to their house to play Guitar Hero 3 on their new Wii. I had played Guitar Hero 2 some months ago at BigGeek’s aunt’s house. I was no match for BigGeek’s teenaged cousin and I was boo-ed off the stage every time. For AC/DC numbers. Played at easy level. It was no different at our friend’s house but I managed to play one song entirely and not get kicked out. And it was such an adrenaline rush. I had not had so much fun since a really long time.

My first video game was, when I was, I think 11 or 12. It was one of those hand held ones. I forgot its name, but it was the type you shoot down airplanes and ships and even subs. It was most addictive. And not just to me. My brother and even my mom. We would fight all the time to play that game. Then came Pac man and Space invaders when we acquired a PC. Then when Windows came out, it was minesweeper all the way. I was so addicted to the game. We never had an Atari or Sega- my father would have thrown us out of the house had we asked for one. Then came Prince of Persia and we spent many hours in the computer labs in college playing that. Anybody remember Prince? In the end, somebody managed to get cheat codes and saved the princess and that was the end of that. I think that was probably the first game with nice looking graphics. Nice looking for the 90s anyway. And SimCity – I played that briefly, never did get addicted to it though. Then came Wolfenstein. 3-D graphics, but it was a first person shooter type game – never did enjoy those. Like Warcraft (which my brother loved) but I didn’t. I played it a couple of times, but never got addicted to it. I stuck to the likes of Atomica, freely available online.

I gave BigGeek an Xbox for his birthday a few years ago and a car racing game with it. I never did get into racing. Or MechAssult. Just not my type. I like my aliens only in movies, thankyouverymuch. The Xbox and the games lay abandoned for most part. The Xbox was eventually hacked by BigGeek and he converted it to be a media hub and it has been proving to be most useful as that. I stuck to Atomica and Hangman. I introduced my mother to Atomica and it gave her a welcome break from playing solitaire online. I think their old monitor died from excess game playing! I kept cribbing that no games ever come out for women – they are all so testosterone laced. Guns and bombs and Armageddon.

But that changed when I saw Guitar Hero. Now, there was a game I could totally enjoy and two weeks ago with Chip in bed, at our friends’ home, I finally got the hold of it. “I have to have one.” I told BigGeek. “Can I get a Wii and Guitar Hero for my birthday?” He was surprised. I thought he would be happy, I mean he was, but he just wasn’t thinking of buying Guitar Hero or a new gaming console. But this weekend we made the trip to Best Buy to buy a TV (BigGeek’s graduation gift – a 52” LCD) and he picked up the PlayStation 3 and RockBand. Not Guitar Hero, but the WHOLE Rock band. With a guitar and drums and a mike for sing along. BigGeek connected the system and the new TV and we sat down to, ostensibly test it – the family room was a mess with boxes and BigGeek’s suitcases lying around from his 2 week business trip from which he got back on Friday. Five minutes later, but we were glued. There we were crating avtars and playing songs – I finally got to be Nancy Wilson (I want to be her in my next life) atleast on play station. Chip was napping and we had such a BLAST playing R.EM. and Nirvana. Just like two teens. We took a break in the evening to run errands and came back home, made a quick dinner of sandwiches and played again. Chip played too. He got his own toy guitar and sat next to his Aie and Baba playing it – Jimi Hendrix style – strumming with his left hand and telling his Baba appreciatively “Changla vajavtois (you are playing really well)”. That lil guy likes his hard rock, let me tell you. I played the drums and realized for the first time that Nirvana, who I think is nursery rhymes for grown ups in terms of musical complexity - has umm… difficult time signatures and I had a hard time playing drums to it. That’s only more excuse to practice more, huh!

And so, the bottom line is this. I am addicted to it. On my drive to work this morning, I tuned to my usual rock station and saw all those tracks coming like they do in play station. And I haven’t been able to get them out of my head. And I can’t wait to go home and play. But we have to stow away boxes and suitcases, make dinner, feed Chip, play with him, and read to him and then maybe. No, I think, and then, definitely.

Ouch

Sticker shock. I have never ordered a cake from a bakery. Never. I like baking. To me, it is a BIG stress buster and since I am always stressed, I am always looking for opportunities to bake. But what with Chip’s upcoming birthday and his school banning home cooked food in fear of allergens like peanuts, I had to resort to ordering his birthday cake from a bakery. That also would bake egg-free cakes. Because Chip is allergic to egg.

Last year, at gnd’s house, at T2’s birthday party, I ate the most amazing egg-free and diabetic cakes ever. E-v-e-r. You could not tell. They were soft, moist, light and unbelievably delicious (I’ll sell my soul for those recipes, lemme tell ya) . So, I got the name of that bakery – it is hard to find a bakery that bakes egg-free cakes and delicious ones too - and went there yesterday to twist arms and get the recipes order a birthday cake. For his preschool. 18 kids. Nothing fancy. A simple quarter sheet cake. Vanilla. White frosting. With a Giant Panda AND a teddy bear. That’s what His Chipness desires. Panda and Teddy. Both. He has been very specific about it. Aesthetics be damned.

The baker, a big, nice guy, greeted me and I gave him the specs. “You want two bears on the cake?” he boomed. “Yes, my son wants both bears. A panda and a teddy.” He was scratching his head. Putting two bears on a rectangular cake that is pleasing to the eye is not easy. But he wasn’t thinking of that. “Ok. What does a panda bear look like?” he was asking. I should have brought a picture. Dang. “Well..its like a black and white teddy bear. Black paws, black eyes, black back.” I replied. “Ok. Let me show you” he went to the printer and made a copy of the teddy bear picture he was holding. “Like this?” he showed me a black and white copy of a teddy bear. It did not look like a Panda. It looked like a black and white copy of a teddy bear. But I am not a fussy sort. And I said OK. Black + White + Bear = Panda. To Chip anyways. “With two bears, you will have to pay for two artworks.” The baker warned me. “That’s OK. It’s his birthday.” I said.

We sat down at the little table and he pulled forms. Stamped NO-EGG and NO –NUTS in large, reassuring, red letters over them. And started to fill out.

Cake (quarter sheet, yellow)- $42.00
Frosting- Vanilla
Filling – None
Artwork - $13.50
Tax – Illegeible
Total – $58.00

$58 for a sheet cake? “Is that 58 dollars?” I asked. “Yes m’am. And its only one artwork. I can add another one if you want.” “No, let’s just do one big panda bear.” I could not believe I was paying so much for a yellow sheet cake. Is that what it is out there? For birthday cakes? Wow.

So the cake has only one Panda bear and all plans of ordering cake for a second family-and-friends party from that bakery because my schedule was going to be too-crazy-to-be -baking has been promptly abandoned. I am rolling up my sleeves and baking cake layers this weekend and freezing them. I’ll also make pandas AND teddies out of chocolate ahead of time. Fill and frost, add bamboo shoots, put the bears and we’ll be good to rock and roll come party day.

And lest I forget and incur His Chipness nuclear tantrummy wrath, I have to find a plastic teddy bear that goes on top the bakery panda cake. Where to put it I don’t know. Prolly on panda's head. Or mine.

The Bird Feeder

Chip, ever since coming back from India has been suffering from a lack of random audio-visual stimuli. Operative word being random. Looking out of any window in India reveals a smorgasbord of sensory delights. People walking. People chatting. People calling out. Cats. Dogs. Crows. Pigeons. Cars. Bicycles. Scooters. All this in a much greater quantity than what can be seen from any window of our quiet, back-to-woods suburban home. There is simply nothing to see here. Sure, the view is pretty, a red-stained deck with flower baskets opening out into a nice green lawn edged with maples. But there is no activity. Save for the odd squirrel - who have decreased in numbers thanks to a neighbor’s newly installed ultrasonic deer/squirrel repellent. The front windows are no better. Sure, they face the road and other homes, but save for an hour or two in the morning when the children walk to their bus stops and parents leave for work in their cars and the evening when they return home, there is really no activity. Kids play basket ball or skateboard but it has been cold and nobody has been doing anything outdoors that much.

So, to alleviate Chip’s boredom while waiting for consistently warmer temperatures, I decided to beckon the wild birds to our backyard. Now I had a make shift bird feeder I had been using for a couple of years. It was a large terra cotta dish where I just dumped in birdseed and let it sit on the deck. That, while effective was messy. Rain ruined the seed and I had to replace it ever time it rained and the birds made a royal mess. As did the squirrels who, I suspect ate most of the seed anyway. So, this year, I decided to upgrade to a proper bird feeder. Chip was thrilled, of course. A small house for the birds and food for them to eat in it? That was enough to make him go completely crazy.

Off we went to the hardware store. We got a plastic feeder, a shepherd’s hook to hang it from and some birdseed. What ever happened to putting out stale bread and other old grain for the birds I don’t know. I can’t believe I paid $5.99 for a bag of birdseed. But Chip was excited and we drove back home. I hammered the hook in our back yard. “Let’s put their dinner for them in their house.” I said. Chip jumped up and down. I unpacked the birdfeeder, opened the bag of birdseed, planning to pour it. But Chip wanted to help and in his enthusiasm dropped more birdseed on the deck than what went into the feeder. The feeder filled, we hung it on the stake. “And now the lil birds will come and sit here on the perches and eat” I announced. I went to keep the birdseed in the shed and back to work on my vegetable bed. Chip, who I thought was pottering around, came running a minute later. “The birds aren’t coming”, he was worried. “Give them a few minutes.” I said. “They don’t know we have put out some seed for them.” Chip had no patience. He ran back to the feeder and standing right beside it started to sing “Birdy birdy come here, birdy birdy come here.” I tried telling him the birds will not really come if he stood there like a scarecrow. But he spent the afternoon calling out to them and wondering why they would not come!

This morning, the minute he got down for breakfast, he looked at the feeder. “No birds there.” He was a little dejected. He hemmed and hawed at the crumpet on his breakfast plate. It was the perfect evil mom moment. “Chip, if you eat your breakfast, the birds will come and eat their breakfast too!” Chip found that logic to be impeccable. He gobbled down the crumpet and drank his juice. And lo behold. At that instant, a cute red breasted robin sat on the feeder and feasted on the birdseed. He flew away and returned with two more of his friends. Chip was delighted and looked at his mother with a new found respect. “I ate my breakfast and that’s why the birds came to eat theirs. Wow, Aie.” He was beaming. And awe-struck. Relieved, I said a silent prayer convinced somewhere out there is a guardian angel for all moms. Even for the sometime evil ones.

Out of sorts

It has been a rough week in the kingdom of DotMom. I have been down with a horrible sinusitis. It is so bad that I feel my eyeballs are going to just pop out. But, no I won’t bore you with my tales of cold and sinuses and nasal drips. I shall bore you with tales of Chip. These are not amusing tales. Far from it. These are the tales when a mother throws up her hands in the air and howls for providence to rescue her. OK. I am exaggerating here. But hey, I am a blogger.

On the issue of Chip. Chip has been out of sorts since we got back from our trip in India. And he had good excuses too – jetlag, stomach bug, cold, getting back into a boring routine. But since all that is behind us now, there are really no more excuses left as to why he is so cranky and tantrummy and most importantly, very unfriendly towards BigGeek. He refuses to let BigGeek brush his teeth, run his bath, warm his milk, put on his clothes, feed him breakfast. The first sentence out of his mouth when he wakes up is “Are you going to office?” When I reply with a yes, he insists I dress him and feed and drop him to school (which if I do, he simply clings to me and cries and refuses to let go)

Even during bedtime Chip refuses to go near BigGeek. If Chip is asleep and BigGeek happenes to stroke his forehead or give him a kiss, Chip stirs and says he doesn’t want Baba. Only Aie. Even when he is half asleep. I have tried to ignore this thinking it’s a phase. He had a very anti-Aie phase when he was about 18mo. But never this long. I am at a loss what to do. He is cranky too. All the time. There are tears for everything. Coming back home after play, asking him to finish his dinner, bathtime. I asked his teacher if he has been acting out in school and she said no. I have asked him if he is unhappy with something, but I don’t know if he can quite express it yet. Last night I asked why he doesn’t like Baba, he said it is because Baba has thorns and he pushes me. What???? The thorn bit is obviously from the times when I have asked in exasperation – “Does Baba have thorns?” And obviously Baba has never pushed him. Baba rarely yells at him. I am the stricter parent. So it’s all very perplexing and annoying. I don’t know if this is truly a phase and it will all sort itself. Or if I need to do something to help. But I don’t know what to do.

Two Tired

I am glad I am done with the morning. What started as yet another boring, hour long, commute to work went quite the other way. I was on the interstate cruising after what seemed like an eternity of bumper-to-bumper traffic when I hit a small piece of something black. A piece of shredded tire, I thought. Or something like that. I hate these flotsam and jetsam on the road – especially interstate. But this was a piece of something soft and it was around a bend so I could not see it clearly even I wanted to avoid it. But I couldn’t avoid it and drove over it. A minute later a strange clanking sound started to come from the car. Portentous metal grinding. I thought the little black piece was caught somewhere. I drove for a few yards and felt the car drag. I pulled over to the shoulder- the left shoulder as I was in the left lane - to take a look. It was chilly and windy and I stepped out to the cars whizzing by. The driver’s side seemed ok. No flat tires there. I tried to get over to the passenger’s side, but with cards going at 65mph+, I could scarcely get a view.

Okay, I said to myself. Time to take the car over to the right shoulder. The flashers were on and I slowly eased into the fast lane. I could still sense a drag and I didn’t want my rims damaged if this was indeed a flat so I was going at about 20mph trying to cross four lanes to get to the right shoulder. When I see this b**** in a yellow truck honking. And honking and honking. And honking. Complete with hands up in the air and mouthing what must have been expletives. I can’t lip read. I know we all get annoyed with fender benders or cars suddenly breaking down in the middle of the road, but honking is not going get anyone anywhere. What’s the point in honking? But only if her IQ was as developed. Only if. Anyway, I found a spot in the traffic and eased my way, flashers on, to the right shoulder where I got down and saw I had a flat.

Now what does a modern, independent woman of the 21st century do when she has a flat? Call her husband, of course. BigGeek was dropping off Chip to daycare when I called him. He offered to come over and help me change the tire but it would have taken him 40 minutes to reach the point where I was stranded. Not to mention 40 minutes to get back to work. “Call AAA” he suggested. Our membership had expired over year ago and we had not renewed it thinking we had two new cars that were well maintained. “They might charge you a fee for the service but at least someone will come over. I called AAA but I had to renew my membership for someone to come change my flat. Ten minutes later I called BigGeek and told him to not come over as help was coming in about 40 minutes. I chatted a bit with him lamenting that this did not get me my 2 second of spotlight on the local traffic coverage on the radio station. Nobody rubber necking to see what the matter was. No cop pulled over next to me. I was being so ignored. But then a tow truck pulled up. I was perplexed that AAA had sent in a tow truck. They tow away a car because of a flat? The driver got down and beckoned me. Odd. I stepped out of the car. “Is there something wrong with your car?” he was asking. “I have a flat.”I said. “Do you need help changing it?” “No thank you. Help is on the way.” “I could help.” “Yeah, but I already called AAA.” “Oh! Good then. I am not AAA. I was driving by and saw your car with the flashers on and stopped to see if you needed help.” Now I want to think he was a Good Samaritan but since he had a tow truck I also suspect he wanted to make a quick buck. This is what happens when you live in a big metro area. You refuse to believe in the inherent kindness of another human. Sure sucks.

But the AAA guy came soon after and changed my flat. Which is so easy really. I should have done it myself. Could have done it myself. Only I wouldn’t do it myself. Fear gripped me and I chose to pay $94 and wait for a better part of an hour than change a flat tire. My father, if he is reading this is slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. He told me I HAD to learn how to change a flat before I could drive. And I know how to change a flat. Or at least used to know. Haven’t changed one in over a decade. Oh well. It was cold and I was in fancy shoes and had no gloves or a hat or a heavy jacket that would have allowed me to work in the “elements”. At least that’s my story and I am sticking to it.

And a simple flat it turned out not to be. My tire was shredded. Not just the flat one. But also another one in front of it. I called BigGeek. “What do I do?” He thought I was best with getting new tires right away at the nearest tire store. Before I put any significant mileage on the unflat shredded one and the one that was freshly replaced with the spare donut. He, being my right hand man, quickly found a Tire Kingdom 4 miles away and the address was punched into my GPS, its soothing robotic voice guiding my frazzled brain to rescue. It took 75 minutes and $432 to get new tires installed. And yeah, this time I said “no” to all the extra things they wanted to do to my car. But, ack. What an expensive morning it turned out to be! (Who can I sue? :P )