10 Random things going through my head

10 Random thoughts going in my mind right now

1. It’s so warm here today. Just 30F (-1C for you metric types). Finally Chip can play outside.
2. How am I going to manage to go to all these parties over the coming weekends?
3. I want to buy stuff. But what? Actually, where do I start?
4. Big Bang theory is the funniest show I have ever seen. I heart Sheldon.
5. How long am I going to fool myself and my friends that I am fully committed to the C25K program?
6. To have lunch now or later?
7. I need a vacation.
8. How best to tell BigGeek that I really don’t want to install the closet shelving when I get home this evening without breaking his heart?


As you can see, I am really out of things to write.

Dear Santa,

Yesterday my son Chip and I decided to get some holiday shopping done and went to the mall. The air had a slight chill, and the mall was all sparkling and glittery. Holiday music blared out of speakers. Shoppers laden with shopping bags, scurrying about with purpose. Amidst the hubbub, my son saw you. Sitting on your big red chair in the middle of the mall. My son was mesmerized. His eyes would have put the well-crafted Disney character to shame. “Is that Santa’s work shop?” he whispered to me. “Yes.” I replied. He inched forward, half-shy, half-delighted. There was no one in line. No one wanted to take pictures with you yesterday, you were just chatting up the photographer. I saw my son go through the ropes and stare at you in fascination – you do look just like you look in your pictures- and then he uttered a shy “Hi”, and waved. You could not NOT have noticed him. He was inches away from you. Standing there with a silly grin plastered on his face. He tried again, you ignored him again. The photographer and the elf turned and saw me, so did you. You saw I did not reach out for my wallet. My son stood there and watched you and you did not even wave to him. He just came back after a few minutes. Utterly delighted that he “saw” Santa. Not caring for a bit that you did not even throw him a glance.

We finished our shopping and were headed back home. My son wanted to tell you that he has been a good boy. And he wanted to show you his list. And ask you if you would come to his house this year. He wanted to tell you he was going to bake cookies and set out a glass of milk (and juice) because you would be so tired. But all that had a price tag. Of what? $15? $20? When I told him, you were tired and would not talk (for I could not find it in my heart to tell him the truth), he just sighed and said, “It’s ok if he doesn’t come, Aie. I’ll put on a costume and be a Santa myself and give gifts to everyone.”

When you put on that costume, dear Santa, I hope you realize the tremendous responsibility you have. At some point you have to go above and beyond your hourly wage and smile and assure the child in every one that, even when the times are grim and money is tight, there are some things that will never change. That the jingle of the bells, the silver of the beard and the twinkling smile will warm a heart, not only at 4, but even at 40.

Sincerely,
Chip’s mom.

Catching Up

No, I haven’t been on a world cruise grande, if that’s what you have been thinking. I was just testing how many people actually read this blog. And the answer is four. Which means I have four really good BFFs in the bloggywogggy world. Even my father has stopped reading this, I see. I haven’t seen a reminder from him either. Hmm.

So I have mostly spent the last 6 weeks working, sulking, drinking coffee and sulking. Those who are not smart enough to feel a deep existential angst, mostly drink good coffee and sulk. Actually, that’s not true. The smart bit is, but not the other. I have actually been going on a baking frenzy and a shopping one. Participated in 2 baby showers, and hosted Thanksgiving. I don’t want to cook any more. I just want to sit and eat. If I see my baking pans, I’ll scream. Except for the lovely LeCreuset baking dish BigGeek’s aunt gifted me for Thanksgiving. I open the kitchen cabinets every morning just to ogle at it.

I am still working those writing muscles. They are really stiff and achy. But, I’ll leave you with the images of the cakes I baked and decorated. I mean a picture is worth a thousand words, so three pictures equal around 5-6 posts, then. And in the meanwhile, let me outsource my thinking to you and ask you for some ideas to write. I am sooo stuck.

Chocolate Cake with whipped cream frosting

Pineapple Cake with whipped cream frosting and fondant accents. Yes, the pink is garish and I don't want to talk about it.

C6H10N402

I have a fairly severe addiction. To the above mentioned substance. While I don’t abuse the substance per se, I definitely do need a fix on a diurnal basis. As BigGeek and Chip have learned through hard and nasty experience, its best to stay a few arm lengths away until I have imbibed my daily quota and my brain cells have all been sorted out nicely.
This morning as I drove to work, my head ached, my feet tapped themselves. Thank god there was no traffic, I would not have hesitated to run people over. Just kidding. Or not.

Withdrawl looks like this and does not feel good at all.

I went into my cube, fished out my bag and counted dimes and nickels and pennies. I needed $1.60. I found it, ran back down and entered the cafeteria.

Oh! Blessed Caffeine.

Here I am now, bright and chirpy, having downed 16 oz of the finest Columbian that has made its way here through Seattle. My brain can finally get down to work, and people around me are safe. I am fairly tame when I am well caffeinated.

I have been drinking coffee ever since I remember. No, seriously. My mother, many decades ago, weighed the cons of coffee to the pros of milk and decided there was absolutely no harm in stirring a small teaspoon of NesCafe into my morning milk. Which was the only way I drank it. And wait, before you roll your eyes at me, my mom prior to the NesCafe, would try and stir malt-extract-with-fish-oil into my milk.

Anyone remember what it was called? Gluta-something. Blech. Tar tastes better. I still carry emotional scars of the Gluta-something days. After that, I refused to drink milk. My mother claims I refused to drink milk way before that and that Gluta-something was a way to improve its taste (what was she thinking?) and get the additional nutrients into the skinny-minny that I was (I am not any more; I wish I were, but am so not).

So, after going down the rungs by trying to get me to drink Horlicks (yuck), Complan (still yuck, it should be named Complain, not Complan), Bournvita (not bad, but still a bit yuck), she finally settled down on Nescafe. Which sowed the seeds of my addiction.

I try and wriggle my way out of staying overnight in households where they don’t worship the altar of caffeine. Or at least brew a good cup every morning. My dad makes a mean cuppa of filter coffee and my mother-in-law is kindly disposed to it as well. She drinks Bru – which is not bad at all and she whips it up to a nice froth.

In our household, we are a bit snobbish. Beans are carefully selected. We are partial to Colombian. Freshly ground every morning and then brewed with two unbleached filters into a thermally-insulated carafe. Not the hotplate ones – they burn the coffee. Any variations in the quality of water (yes), coffee or filters is met with pouring the brew down the drain, intense cursing, severe withdrawal and re-brewing.

Which is what happened this morning. BigGeek half made the coffee. He rinsed the carafe, and poured water and left it at that. When I came down, I rinsed the carafe, filled the water, ground the beans and brewed. The resulting brew would have put dishwater to shame. It was dilute and BigGeek had used “smelly” water and so I had to throw it out (or water my plants with it). There was no time to re-brew which is how this post started.

Freshman

I am sitting in my car on a bumper-to-bumper road, on my way to work, listening to the local station trying to tell me how the roads are all clear. Yeah, right. Look at those darned cameras, now, you. Just as I am about to switch to my friend of misery, I hear an interesting tid-bit. That the class of 2013 was born in 19-fricking-91.

Let’s do the math.

In 2013, when the class graduates, Chip himself will be only 10 years away from being a freshman. Which is how long I have been living in this country and have very little recollection of how the decade whizzed past.

1991.

When these kids were barely out of their babyhoods, I was a freshman myself. In the time, these babies cut their teeth, learnt to walk, talk, read, write, do math (or not) , date and apply for college and basically grow 5ft at least, I have graduated, and post-graduated, met a guy of my dreams, married, got a job, bought a house and spawned.

Now that I think about it that way, it makes me feel a wee bit better. Also makes it easier to ignore the fact that I have also grayed, put on 30lbs (and that’s all I am really going to admit to) and wrinkled like a shirt that was not removed from the dryer promptly. I am a bonafide auntie now.

So, for the class of 2013, the following has always been their life.

1. Salsa has always outsold ketchup
2. Text has always been hyper
3. They never had to “shake down” an oral thermometer
4. European Union has always existed
5. Cable TV has always offered phone service and vice versa
6. There have always been flat screen TVs
7. Smoking has been uncool
8. There has always been a computer in the Oval office
9. Britney Spears has been always heard on classic rock stations.

(See the complete list here)

For my generation, living in India,

1. Internet was unheard of,
2. PCs were rare, we worked using “dumb terminals” in colleges
3. W used Pine for email.
4. Sundays meant Ramayan or Mahabharat or Star Trek re-runs on Doordarshan
5. MTV was the new fangled “western influence out to corrupt young minds”.
6. Floppy disks (the 5 and ¼ inch) ones were the rage.
7. USB was unheard of.
8. CDs were criminally expensive and tape was the way to go. There was no random access and you had to change sides. Chip, has seen my old tapes and thinks they are “funny” and wonders what their use is. When I tell him they play music, he looks for a button on the cassette, a la ipod.

For Chip, the idea that someone does not own a cellphone or an ipod is unthinkable. Everything can be found “online”. And “online” is a button away with the iphone. So are games, music, photos and videos. CDs are so 20th century. Tapes can be found in museums. You never print directions, you just punch the address into the GPS. If you don’t know something, you don’t look it up in a book, you ask your mom to just google.

Oh, Chip! How will the world change when you go into your Freshman year? How, indeed?

Women, fire and other dangerous things

When we look at a sweeping landscapes, gory accidents or even a common object like a desk or a chair or a key, does the language we speak matter? I stumbled upon a very interesting article on EDGE that seems to think so. For years famed linguists like Chomsky and Co. were like, “Dude, no way!” and I daresay that’s still pretty much their stance in the matter, but after years of being swept under the rug, the question is being aired again by a Stanford professor Lera Boroditsky.

One day, Lera packed her bags and travelled to Australia, to Cape York to meet a small, interesting Aboroginal community – the Kuuk Thaayorre.

Instead of words like "right," "left," "forward," and "back," which, as commonly used in English, define space relative to an observer, the Kuuk Thaayorre, like many other Aboriginal groups, use cardinal-direction terms — north, south, east, and west — to define space.1 This is done at all scales, which means you have to say things like "There's an ant on your southeast leg" or "Move the cup to the north northwest a little bit." One obvious consequence of speaking such a language is that you have to stay oriented at all times, or else you cannot speak properly.

As BigGeek reads this, I am sure he is Googling (or Binging) to enroll me in a Kuuk Thaayorre class. But jokes apart, when they put the Kuuk Thaayorre on unknown streets and unfamiliar buildings, they did not go “Huh?” as I would definitely go, but had a keen sense of direction, just like a compass, and far, far more impressive then the your usual Joe. Amazing or what? So tuned into space they were that when asked to order cards like a baby growing older or man eating a banana, they ordered it not left-to-right as we would, but east to west while facing south, west to east while facing north and so on. And while in a closed room.

Note to Garmin: Don’t even try and sell GPSes in Cape York.

Lera and her team also tested people speaking other languages by doing this experiment. They chose objects that had different genders in different languages. For e.g. “key” is llaves in Spanish and is feminine but masculine in German (what is it called in German?) And here is what they found-

German speakers were more likely to use words like "hard," "heavy," "jagged," "metal," "serrated," and "useful," whereas Spanish speakers were more likely to say "golden," "intricate," "little," "lovely," "shiny," and "tiny."

Key is also feminine in Marathi, and I would definitely jot use jagged and heavy to describe it. Actually, if you ask me, a key is intelligent and elegant :-) There are other aboriginal languages where they don’t have 2 or 3 genders for nouns, but like 16 (at this level, we should call them classes or bins, right? Calling them genders is a bit creepy). They have separate genders for totally arbitrary stuff (arbitrary to us, ok to me, at least)

For example, some Australian Aboriginal languages have up to sixteen genders, including classes of hunting weapons, canines, things that are shiny, or, in the phrase made famous by cognitive linguist George Lakoff, "women, fire, and dangerous things."

Other interesting points – in Turkish, a verb form HAS to have information about actuality. In a sentence like “He drank water”, the verb “drank”, if it were in Turkish would have a different form if you actually saw the action, another form if it were hearsay/second-hand information. Or in Spanish, where “to be” has two forms – one for long term, one for short term. So if I say “Soy contenta” it means I am a happy, have always been one and will be in future – in short, I am a happy person. Now, if I say “Estoy contenta”, it means I am happy at this minute, no telling how I was in the past or will be in the future. Does thinking of “being” in short term or long term or looking at events to see if they actually happened or someone just said they did, not in abstract terms, but as an essential part of language that is a must to communicate – does communicating like this impact how we “see” the world?

Would you start looking at the world differently if you picked a new language?

The only language I have somewhat learnt in adulthood is Spanish and I must say, I do miss the Soy and the Estoy bit in English/Marathi/Hindi. It’s just so convenient, you know? But another question that popped into the aging mind was this – Why did the Spaniards in the first place feel the need to have two forms of “to be”? Why didn’t English, Germans and Maharastrians didn’t feel that need? Why did the Turkish feel the need to add information about if an event actually happened/it is second hand information in their grammar? Why is “key” masculine in German but feminine in Spanish? Are these things arbitrary or is there more than meets the eye?

Summer will have its flies

The summer is passing by and I am simply watching it go by. Come to think of it, I like nothing about the summer. Except that it gets Chip out of my hair and on to his bike. Or except the veggies in the backyard produce a bounty and make shopping for vegetables eye-rolling-oh-so Winter ‘08. Or except that the sun lingers and doesn’t go to bed until, much, much later. Or that I can find a cushy parking spot right by the elevator even if I reach work late.

So, what am I exactly complaining about?

That we never take a vacation. When the sun comes to town, the deals go away as they say, ok, really it is as we say, so we go into a self-imposed-expedia-exile. While the world – and owing to the small fact that this old bag-bones has lived in the U.S. for over a decade now, the world solely consists of 50 states and Canada, and those tropical countries where monsoon comes in summer, do not exist beyond the pages of “My First Atlas” – so while the world suns on the lush, palm-fringed, expensive beaches of Barbados and Cabo San Lucas, sipping drinks with little hats on them, I meant the drinks, not people; but maybe people wear hats while drinking drinks with hats too. Which they should especially if they are fair skinned. So while the world sunburns tans we slog away in our temperature-controlled, gray cubes, counting pennies, because, who needs a tan? It simply does not go together with “Fair and Lovely” anyway.

So while “others” clutch surfboards, I clutch the grimy gray mouse, clicking at pictures wishing I was a permanent fixture in this landscape.

*from Denali National Park and Kenai Fjords National Park , Alaska. Visited May 2004, just before Summer started. Sigh.

Writer's Block and Other Stories

A writer’s block has no cure, I just found out. The old brain was mightily overloaded past few weeks. Work sometimes has that effect on me. Sometimes. And then the news of a wedding in the immediate family. Awesome news, that. I am missing all the excitement and action and my mother-in-law is certainly missing my help more, I am sure. My head has been wrapped in which sarees to buy. Never mind the tiny fact that most of my sarees come out of their hibernation two times a year, at best.

And tending to the garden. And lessons learnt. About soap. The story goes like this. Or should have gone like this. BigGeek calls me to tell me that the pumpkin plant is infested with black insects. I look. I know what they are. I get appropriate weapon of bug destruction. Ka-boom. End of bugs. Hello, pumpkin. What happened was I looked at the insects, I did not know what they were. I tried my trusty vinegar. They did not die.

I got angry. Really angry. And when The Dot gets angry, beware. She gets soap. I squirted good amount of Palmolive dishwashing soap in the squirt bottle, added a little water and went on the sprayed every bug and its egg with it. Which was pretty much every leaf of the vine. And then, because In was so angry, sprayed the eggplant plant and the pole beans and the cukes and the tomatoes. You get the picture. Next day I survey the warzone expecting to pick up dead bugs. But. I see dead vines. Almost dead plants. 19 to-be eggplants on the plant and 2 weeks later, only 4 survived. The pumpkin vine BigGeek has tried to tell me gently has passed on.

But I learnt lessons. It’s better to use insecticides than soap. And BigGeek, the day I went beserk with my soap spray had bought two insecticides for me to choose from. Bless his heart. And I scoffed at him and told him we grow stuff without damaging pesticides. Sigh. But, I have harvested over 30 cukes, 2 lbs of beans, 1 lb okra. 10 squashes, a few tomatoes, a few strawberries. Tomatoes are still ripening. There are three pumpkins on the pumpkin vine, no idea how they will fare.

What also happened in the past few weeks was that BigGeek went on his annual gadget-buy. He bought a ton of gadgets and we have spent all this time trying them out. A new DLSR – Canon T1i, a new prime lens for me – Canon 50mm f/1.4, which I love, love love. Zooms confuse the hell out me, I realized. A new set of Celestron eyepieces for the telescope I gifted him earlier this year for his birthday. And coupler rings and adapters to turn the above mentioned telescope into a gigantic lens.

In all this excitement, I even forgot that this blog turned 2. And it would not have without you. Your comments are nothing but encouraging. So, to show you my gratitude, I am going to filch an image of the moon taken by the BigGeek from our backyard last week. Enjoy and thanks for all the fish.

Dog fight

If a day is going well, I have noticed, a karmic balance to the contrary is usually achieved by 4:00 pm. This Saturday, my own gentle temperament underwent a raging change due to a certain bovine who buttonholed me in a small park. Allow me to narrate the sequence of events that concluded with ample exercise of vocal chords, liberal finger waggling and general foot stomping.

As it turns out, I was looking after a friend’s son for the day this Saturday. When he and Chip got tired of riding bikes and kicking ball, I decided to walk them to the small park at the end of our little lane. It was a beautiful day. The sun was warm, but not too warm. Gentle breeze and all that. The only regret I had was that I had forgotten my book at home. When we entered the always-empty park, two children came up running to me warning me to beware of a certain dog. I squinted my eyes and through the sun I could see a girl of about 12 sitting on the kid’s play set, a snarly dog beside her.

There was no way to know if the dog was having a bad day or it was generally ill-tempered dog. I certainly wasn’t interested in finding out. The kids ran to the play set and the dog snapped at them. Then growled and snarled and leaped. The boys were scared, obviously. I asked the girl, nicely to take the dog away since it would not let the children play on the play set. She said “No.” I gently pointed her to the fact that play sets were for kids, not dogs. She was as surly as the dog and sullenly told me “No.” I asked her again, she said “I am not.” After 10 minutes of trying to reason with her, asking her to get her mother, I lost my patience and told her if the dog was not off the play set, I was calling the authorities. She climbed down and two minutes later returned with marching bovine of a mother and her surly husband.

“Lady, “the mother barked at me, “Do not judge my daughter.” Huh? I thought and said, “Huh?”. “She came home crying.” “She and the dog were on the play set. The dog was being very aggressive and would not let my kids play. It also frightened a couple of women who were taking a walk because it leaped at them and snapped and your daughter was unable to control it on its leash. I asked her to take the dog elsewhere.” “This is a public park. My dog is allowed everywhere.” Shouted the husband. Obviously, civic responsibility and logic, both, were both lacking in this couple. I repeated my statement. They repeated that their dog was gentle. I saw the woman who had been scared by this dog. I pointed it out to this cow. She shouted to her “Did my dog scare you?” The woman was scared by the dog’s owner now. “No Ingles” she said. “See?” said the dog-owner. “She said no.” At that point I did not know whether to laugh or get really, I mean really angry and settle this mano y mano. I, instead chose to point the very obvious fact that the woman had said “No English.” Which meant she did not understand the question. The dog-owner, was severely lacking in the general common-sense department as well because she said, “Whatever. She said no. OK? She said no.”

At that point, I lost it and said “Madam, all I asked of your daughter was to keep the dog off the play set. Your daughter was as misbehaved as your dog.” At that point, she spluttered. Not knowing if I intended an insult, they walked off shouting “My dog is welcome everywhere. This is a public park” and all the empty rubbish that made no sense at all, given the context.

Of course, in the course of the altercation, I kept repeating my point like the clichéd broken record and the choicest wit came to me 15 minutes too late. Not that it was needed here, given the fact that the combined intelligence of the couple was less than the shredded rubber mulch underfoot, but it would have provided much needed smirk-laden satisfaction to me. Because, sometimes, just making your point is not enough!

Nine Days, Eight Nights

It hard enough trying to squeeze a month long trip into two weeks and harder still to squeeze a hectic 2-week trip into a blog post. Or two. Or even three. But try, I shall.

On the day of Dussehra, my tuck-his-wooden-sword-into-an-elastic-hairband-cummerband, spiderman-loving, he-man-obsessed brother got married. I don’t think he tucks swords in anymore or plays with he-man action figures – I am sure his wife took care of those obsessions when she appeared on the scene (wink, wink). My new sister-in-law a.k.a vahini is really sweet and even in the short evening we spent together, I totally saw what my brother meant when he said about that she had a positive vibe to her. There is one, no doubt.

The wedding as most Indian weddings go, was a weeklong affair. Exhausting. Exciting. My memories of the hectic week are so disjointed that I have been unable to gather my thoughts in to a coherent post. So I am giving a glimpse of what I remember. Fragmented, just like it is in my mind.

Rustling jewel colored silks. Grandmother, mother and daughter whispering, gossiping until the dawn sun broke. Grandfather threatening to wake up Chip if we did not immediately go to bed. Giggles. A flash of diamonds. The quiet shine of a gold necklace nestled in plum velvet waiting to be worn. Tinkling of glass bangles. Green. Gold. Silver. Fragrance of hot upma and coffee. Flurry of activity. Aching feet.

Rain.

Perfect tie hunt. Perfect jooti hunt. Perfect sleepwear hunt. Overheated Fabindia. The heat. The dust. The traffic. Datenight. Autorickshaw ride with BigGeek. Sizzlers. Too tired for a movie.

Attempts to find cotton nighties and slips. Muddy puddles. Caught in an unexpected shower. Drenched. Buying the perfect earring. Loosing its tiny screw but finding it, in forgotten dustballs under the bed. The aroma of havan smoke. That lingers for days afterward. Covering BigGeek’s designer dress shirt hung out to dry in the balcony with a smoky scent. Henna. What to give who. Packed in suitcases. Shown but not given.

Meeting relatives. Some older, some grayer, some taller, some drained, some unchanged. Forgetting names. Forgetting faces. Another wedding, another meeting. Perhaps.

Am Back

From a hectic 2 week trip to India. Hightlight of the trip was the wedding. Stories coming up!

Just another post

No blogging this week. Except for this post :) Got back from a hectic but super nice long weekend + one day trip to San Francisco. Was supposed to meet/call DDMom and could not which sucked, but now i have a reason to go back and visit. Will resume blogging on Monday. Check out for these posts (with pictures) next week.

The San Francisco Trip - Chip touched a shark here!

A Tale Of Two Cakes: The Panda bear cake from the bakery vs. the bear cake I make. I bake, you vote. I have NO idea how I am going to accomplish that, the party is on Saturday and I am sleep deprived and still on West Coast time.

The artist formerly known as DotMom

One morning as DotMom was waking up from anxious dreams, she discovered in bed she had been changed into a monstrous verminous bug. She lay on her armor-hard back and saw, as she lifted her head up a little, her brown arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow – like sections. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide off completely, could hardly stay in place. Her numerous legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of her circumference, flickered helplessly before her eyes.

“What’s happened to me”, she thought. It was no dream.


OK. I better stop before I get sued. So I have metamorphosized to a new moniker. And like the paragraph above it too is plagiarized borrowed. When I started this blog, it was a device to coerce me to write regularly. To polish my craft. To bore you. Chip and BigGeek were was my muses and still are. But I am more than a wife and a mother. My blog is more than a mother-and-wife blog, or I so I hope. And thus, the moniker follows suit. The moniker is a hand-me-down. It was BigGeek’s a very long time ago. And he graciously allowed me to take it. I wish he were that way with his T-shirts too. (I borrow them anyway and cook in em and stain them with curries and he has given up).

I think I am going to miss my old moniker though. For a few days anyway. It was such a tacky pun, but I liked it. But I like the new one too. Sorta cool, a lil pretentious. Very 90’s. Hope you all like it too!

(And a thousand, no million apologies to Kafka.)

Chip’s Fishing Expedition

Only, this one did not involve a creel or a bait or a rod. Maybe I am wrong about the bait. I was the bait. Chip loves fish. In every way. To watch, to eat. Mostly to eat. The first time he saw live fish swimming was over a year and half ago in a store that old adventure gear and clothing. The store has a huge stone aquarium filled with, I think, Koi fish. Chip ran excitedly to it, he was only 18mo then and I pointed the fish out to him. Chip saw them for a bit, then promptly asked to eat them.

A few days ago, bolstered by the wild birds coming to our back yard, I decided to give in to Chip’s demands for getting a fish tank at home. We got a small plastic one, a live plant to put in it, some gravel, water conditioner, some food, a thermometer, a net and of course some live fish. We set up the aquarium last Sunday, put the fish in and Chip promptly asked to eat them. As he had asked a few days ago, to a rather chubby bird sitting on the fence, “Birdie, will be you be my dinner?” He was asking the same question to the fish now, his mouth watering. “Chip”, I explained patiently, “Remember those bushes with red berries near you school?” “Yes.” Chip answered. “Do you eat those berries?” Chip shook his head “No.” “Why don’t we eat those berries, Chip?” “Because they are for show only. No eating them.” Pat came the reply. “See? These fish are for show only. You can’t eat them. OK?” Chip agreed. “They are your pets, you have to talk to them, feed them. Not eat them.” “Let’s give them pear to eat.” Chip was excited. “They don’t eat pear. They eat this fish food.” I said showing him a jar of stinky fish flakes. Chip sniffed them. “Mmmm.. they are yummy, Aie.” Before he could grab and eat a few I dropped some for the fish. The fish came up to the surface and gobbled them up. “Isn’t this fun?” Chip wasn’t impressed. He walked away bored.

The next day, when we got home from school, he did not glance at the fish tank. “I want to go out and ride my scooter.” We went out, he rode his scooter, got back home, I fed the fish, Chip was still not interested. Wednesday evening, one fish died. I was upset. Well, not a whole lot upset, but just a little.. I had no idea why it died. It could have been old or diseased, it had been eating well. I did not want Chip to see a dead fish, so I sent him out to play while I cleaned the tank. Two days later, I caught him looking intently at the fish. “Do they have ears?” “I don’t think they do” I replied. “A mouth?” “Yes they have a mouth.” “Look they have eyes also, Aie. And hands. They don’t have legs.” “That’s right Chip. And those are not hands... they are fins. There, that’s a new word for you.” Chip sat looking at the fish as they played hide and seek. I went inside the kitchen to fix him his dinner when Chip came rushing in, excited. “I just gave them their dinner.” He ran back out and got the jar of fish flakes. “I gave them this. Not pear.” I ran outside to the aquarium. There was more than a teaspoon of fish food in it. I cleaned it out, changed some water to decontaminate the tank and explained to Chip that the fish were so tiny, they needed only 1 flake per fish. Not more. He wasn’t buying it. “They were very hungry.” He insisted. Yesterday morning, same thing. He ran down stairs and dumped some fish food into the tank. I did the clean and explain routine again but he was too fascinated watching the fish eat the food.

He probably is too little to care for the fish himself, but he remembers to feed them everyday. And he watches them and talks and sings to them. That’s saying something. Perhaps we can graduate to getting an iguana in a few years!



And now for something entirely different. Nobody asked me what the last post was all about. Not even BigGeek or my dad or other people who I assumed read my blog. Either they don’t read or are convinced I have finally gone out of my mind. But I shall still give an explanation, nevertheless. This is what it is all about. Over 70+ bloggers gave an online virtual shower to 10 bloggie mothers-to-be. Spearheaded by Tharini, the idea was carried forward by Gauri to include a treasure hunt and she along with Altoid (who I met for the first time yesterday and what an amazing person she is, so gentle and the personification of nice), Sue and Kiran came up with these Potteresque rhymes (They are giving Rowling a run for her money, I am telling you). MayG designed the amazing website and DDMom, a signature book. We all helped and posted riddles and wishes and gyaan and it was the fun-nest Friday ever. I think kids went unwashed and hungry, deadlines set aside as the 70+ of us watched with bated breath the treasure hunt unfold. A lot has been written about this, so I am going to link to one that summarizes it all and links to others as well (Sorry, I am down with a cold again and the posts are uninspired, so please bear with me)

Am Back

Just got back after a 2 week vacation to India. How was it? In one word - short. I wanted to write so much about my experiences - I hadn't visited India in more than five years, but my crazy schedule kept me away from the laptop. But I am back and no, I haven't stopped blogging. Dear me, no. The tales will come as I slowly piece everything together; sometimes as posts, sometimes as memories woven in other thoughts. And yeah, it was nice to know I was missed. I didn't get a chance to open my reader in more than 2 weeks and I missed you guys too. It's good to be back!

Narcissism

“What do you do when you reach the end of internet? You know those days when there is absolutely nothing to read anywhere online. What do you do?” BigGeek asked me out of the blue one night. He was reading his cases; I was vegging out in front of the TV. “It is a problem.” I admitted. “Rather, is used to be a problem before I started this blog. Now I just read my old posts. It’s guaranteed good reading.” I said trying to hide a smirk. BigGeek broke out in a wide grin. “I knew there was a really good reason I married you.” He grinned and went back to his work.

And here are mummyjaan and then Parul tagging me to be narcissistic (someone knows my secret) and what better person to wallow in self glory than me, huh? So let’s play this game.

Rules
Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given : family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like. Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better.

So here’s what I am going to do. I am going to put a small excerpt from each post and try to entice you to read the whole nine yards. And, if like me, if you have reached the end of the internet, thank your stars because this is your lucky day indeed.

Family
“I thought about you as I read these pages today.” My mother-in-law said smilingly as I stepped out onto the deck yesterday. I had just got home, given Chip his milk, peanuts, raisins, apple, milk again, juice (grape not apple), peanuts again. Finally getting tired of the game, I had given Chip an ultimatum, poured myself a glass of juice, helped myself to the Chivda the MIL had made and stepped out on the deck. The MIL was reading, or rather re-reading after a decade, Many Masters Many Lives, sitting on the swing, a cup of coffee in hand.
Read More

Friend
This is about Chip. It’s been a while since I have done a Chip-exclusive post and this would be a fitting sequel to my other bizarre post. Chip was a colicky, asthmatic baby and he was so hurting most of the time, he did not have any energy to bond with strangers. All that has changed and he is quite the Mr.Friendly to everyone now except a really good friend.
Read More

Yourself
I had always thought of myself as the been-there-done-that-person. So when I read this post by Usha, it made me reflect. I was a passionate twenty-something with a taste for adventure. Took a few years off after college despite the promise of well paying jobs and crossed the line into the artsy world. Jaded and a couple of years later, took a flight to the US, searching for new adventures and to go to a Grad school that had an excellent ranking in the artsy field. I was going on a mission of self-discovery, after all. Nothing was unattainable, not if I wanted it badly anyways. There were mountains to be scaled, rivers to be crossed and roads to be uncovered. Metaphorically, of course. And I had to do it on my own. No second-hand experiences for me, thank you very much. After all, the map was not the terrain. How far could I go?
Read More

Your love
The wonderful noon after having written a beautiful recount of her own engagement has tagged me to do the same. So here goes. It's a movie, mind y'all.
Read More

Anything you like
If you are looking at the title and are not quite sure what to expect, read on. This is about Chip and his passions. In order. Not a day passes without Chip alluding to all three of the above mentioned..umm..things.

Wine is an absolute favorite. Although tempted, I haven’t given him a six ounce in his plastic yellow lion cup yet, but that does not deter my budding oenophile from asking for some vino.
Read More


Passing the tag to new bloggie pals
The TAA Mom
Kowsalya
And old suspects
Altoid
Tharini
Boo

The Anti Jinx

I am feeling a little silly today. Not to mention uninspired to write anything of substance. By which it is implied that what I write usually has some substance in it and there will be many of you, no all of you, who will jump at this opportunity and say A-ha. Gotcha. You don’t. So, well. Scratch that.

We often write about our kids, our homes, our lives. And wise, rational, educated folks that we are, we often say a little prayer to ward off the evil eye before hitting that little publish button. Or if you are like me, you spell a few words backwards or boldly declare the jinxters to go away. So, I thought it would be good fun to be a little creative while doing it. So I created these lil graphics for ya’ll to put on your sites, posts, images to ward off all those evil eyes. Call them cheesy, campy, kitschy, but you can’t deny they are not funny! So enjoy.

P.S. I have added two more icons thanks to Gypsy and CeeKay

Also these are more like thumbnails. The images are hosted on photobucket. Please click to get a larger/better image!

Time Capsule 2007

These are the things we often buy over at DotMom's household. I thought it would be fun to keep a record of prices and how things look today.

Cheerios: $5.79 (18oz)
Juice: $5.79/gal (Tropicana Orange)
Oatmeal: $1.92/lb ($5.19/42 oz, Quaker Oats)

Milk: $6.49/gal (organic), $3.79/gal (regular)

Bread: $3.99 (Organic), $2.69 (Wonderbread)
Pasta: $1.25/lb
Rice: $1.29/lb (Tilda Basmati)

Sugar: $0.55/lb
Salt: $0.89 (26 oz)
Oil: $2.56/quart (Canola)

Potatoes: $0.79/lb (regular), $.1.19/lb (organic)
Apples: $1.29/lb(regular), $1.99/lb(organic)
Spinach : $1.69(regular), 2.99(organic)


Chicken: $5.49/lb
Salmon: $9.99/lb

The Washington Post: $0.50
U.S. First Class Stamp: $0.41
Cup of Coffee: $0.69
Gas: $2.99/gal (87 octane), $3.21/gal(93 octane)

How do things look in your part of the world? Show me. I am looking!

(Image Courtesy: Peapod, GasSigns, Washington Post.)

Good Nope Hunting

Gene Weingarten started this with his column. GoogleNopes. That is what you get or rather don’t get when you type a phrase enclosed in quotes in the Google search bar. You should simply get a “No matching documents found” message. And paradoxically, once you write about it, it stops being a GoogleNope. GoogleYups are the exact opposites. Phrases, however improbable, that do get a hit.

Never mind you Kant- GoogleNope

Rolled on oats laughing- GoogleNope

Gym in North Korea- GoogleNope

Gym in India – Googleyup

Sierra Leone luxury resort- GoogleNope

Iceland luxury resort – GoogleYup

Bill Gates uses iPhone- GoogleNope

Jobs is a Microsoft user- GoogleNope

Microsoft sucks – GoogleYup

Apple sucks – GoogleYup

Google is not Your Big Brother- GoogleNope

Google is Your Big Brother – GoogleYup

North Korean Spa Vacation- GoogleNope

American Spa Vacation - Googleyup

Chicken face cream- GoogleNope

Peacock fillet sandwich- GoogleNope

Eggplant mascara – Googleyup

Telegraph technology breakthrough- GoogleNope

Toolbars of next century- GoogleNope

Buried in keywords- GoogleNope

Will Google survive the next century? – GoogleNope

Texan Food in China- GoogleNope

Chinese Food in Texas – Googleyup

Organize your gray cells- GoogleNope

Organize your shoes – GoogleYup

Rich and thin and smart and beautiful- GoogleNope

Space travel is a fad- GoogleNope

I want to travel in space – GoogleYup

I want to travel in space with Martha Stewart- GoogleNope

Martha Stewart goes gothic- GoogleYup

Blogger comments are famous- GoogleNope

Blogger wins a book deal- GoogleNope

Blogger wins lottery- GoogleNope

Blogger is happy – GoogleYup

Googling your great aunt- GoogleNope

Googling your great uncle- GoogleNope

Googling your great grandfather- GoogleNope

Googling your husband – GoogleYup

DotMom is a millionaire- GoogleNope

DotMom is awesome- GoogleNope

DotMom is a domestic goddess- GoogleNope

Oh. Well... So much for this exercise. Let’s see how you guys do. Tagging Orchid, Sue and Usha and MadMomma.