...to guest blog on Vie Hebdomadaires. No, i don't know what the name means, i will google it soon enough. All i know is that it's a novel concept where one blogger posts for a full week, and the baton is passed on to a fellow blogger after that.
I started posting yesterday, and i must say that as always, i rambled on.
Check out Vie etc here.
UPDATE: My guest blogging week has come to an end.
If you'd like to read what i wrote:
The Case of the Hapless Husband etc.
The Shadow
A short story from me to you
Have you ever bunked work?
Meet my early morning visitor
"Hello? Who's calling please?..."
See you later, Alligator.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Mixed up.
Last week, i took stock of the sarees i own. There are a lot. And at least 6% of them are brand new and never worn. No, i'm not giving them away. When i saw them, i realised that i needed occasions to wear these sarees to, and if there were none then i would create them just so i could wear the sarees and strut about. Opportunity came knocking last evening in the guise of our ex-landlord's youngest daughter's engagement.
So there i was, all blinged up, sitting and waiting for the engagement to begin, amidst rows of elderly women in Burqas and with the intent of figuring out if i was single or too old. In the middle of all this, i also tripped on a wire, had to keep adjusting my aanchal to prevent the men from getting more than an ample view of my bosom, and raise the pleats of my saree a little so i could walk easily. If there's anything that can teach you to multitask, it's a saree, i tell you.
As i sat staring ahead at the decorated red and gold chair awaiting the warmth of the bride-to-be's a**, feelings that lay dormant decided to surge forward and i realised again how much i love weddings. How much i love the lights, the glitter, the stress, the excitement and the anticipation and giggles and rituals and flowers and smiles. It all seems like magic. I love being a part of the celebrations, and more as a participant - running around, taking care of guests, doing small chores and the like - than a spectator. (I've always wished that i could see my own wedding without being the bride, but that's an impossible feat.) Sometimes, i've even tried to imagine myself in the bride-to-be's shoes and feel what she must be feeling. I can guarantee you that the gamut of emotions leaves me breathless; such a big risk, such a big chance, all on blind faith but with the hope that it will all work out in the end.
Yesterday, waiting for the engagement to happen, watching the lights flicker off the sequins on the pendal, i started dreaming again. Dreaming of what i would wear for my wedding (Khada Dupatta), whom i would designate to take care of guests (Gujju, R, G, my cousins), keep my father in check (Sister K and PK), shuttle people and run around (Geek Boy and N) and to keep me calm (everybody else!), what food i would like to have (traditional Hyderabadi fare complete with Sheermal and Chicken curry swimming in deliciously flavoured oil, Haleem, Qubani ka meetha, and other vegetarian stuff), what time of day i would like to get married at (night, definitely), and how large it should be (closed group of people); what expression i would be wearing, how my eyes would shimmer with tears because i would see the guy i wanted to get married to standing on the sidelines as a spectator and not the groom, how i would try to be strong and stop my heart from pounding, how i would swallow the grief like a bitter pill...
Next thing i knew, i was sitting in front of a plate piled high with Biryani. I served myself some (okay, a lot) and ate hungrily, all thoughts and dreams beaten to a swift retreat by the grains of sumptuous, aromatic Basmati.
Good thing food came to the rescue!
So there i was, all blinged up, sitting and waiting for the engagement to begin, amidst rows of elderly women in Burqas and with the intent of figuring out if i was single or too old. In the middle of all this, i also tripped on a wire, had to keep adjusting my aanchal to prevent the men from getting more than an ample view of my bosom, and raise the pleats of my saree a little so i could walk easily. If there's anything that can teach you to multitask, it's a saree, i tell you.
As i sat staring ahead at the decorated red and gold chair awaiting the warmth of the bride-to-be's a**, feelings that lay dormant decided to surge forward and i realised again how much i love weddings. How much i love the lights, the glitter, the stress, the excitement and the anticipation and giggles and rituals and flowers and smiles. It all seems like magic. I love being a part of the celebrations, and more as a participant - running around, taking care of guests, doing small chores and the like - than a spectator. (I've always wished that i could see my own wedding without being the bride, but that's an impossible feat.) Sometimes, i've even tried to imagine myself in the bride-to-be's shoes and feel what she must be feeling. I can guarantee you that the gamut of emotions leaves me breathless; such a big risk, such a big chance, all on blind faith but with the hope that it will all work out in the end.
Yesterday, waiting for the engagement to happen, watching the lights flicker off the sequins on the pendal, i started dreaming again. Dreaming of what i would wear for my wedding (Khada Dupatta), whom i would designate to take care of guests (Gujju, R, G, my cousins), keep my father in check (Sister K and PK), shuttle people and run around (Geek Boy and N) and to keep me calm (everybody else!), what food i would like to have (traditional Hyderabadi fare complete with Sheermal and Chicken curry swimming in deliciously flavoured oil, Haleem, Qubani ka meetha, and other vegetarian stuff), what time of day i would like to get married at (night, definitely), and how large it should be (closed group of people); what expression i would be wearing, how my eyes would shimmer with tears because i would see the guy i wanted to get married to standing on the sidelines as a spectator and not the groom, how i would try to be strong and stop my heart from pounding, how i would swallow the grief like a bitter pill...
Next thing i knew, i was sitting in front of a plate piled high with Biryani. I served myself some (okay, a lot) and ate hungrily, all thoughts and dreams beaten to a swift retreat by the grains of sumptuous, aromatic Basmati.
Good thing food came to the rescue!
Monday, February 20, 2012
The poetic genius of e.e.cummings.
I love the man. My first real taste of him was way back in my second year degree, when this extremely well-articulated and sharp literature professor took us through the discourse on 'Anyone lived in a pretty how town'. As was her habit, she didn't stop there, but went on to introduce us to more wonders of his poetry.
I find him interesting and love his poems because they're so...against everything a poem was dictated to be. He always signed his name in lower case. His utter disregard for commas and everything that goes with them, seen in poems that are unconventional with twists and turns of vocabulary, is absolutely worship-worthy, and he's explored every possible facet of the linguistic system. It's like i can imagine him flicking away the rulebook of poetry with a careless finger almost as if it were a speck of dirt on his shirt, and sitting down to pen a work of art that was always triggered by the question "so how am i going to mindf*** the literary world today?" His use of parenthesis, the syntax, the flow of the words, the layout - what absolute pleasure each one of his poems is to read!
Look at this one, for example:
l(a
le
af
fa
ll
s)
one
l
iness
The beauty of it lies in the way he's broken up the words - to imitate the falling of a leaf.
I've got him on my Flipkart wishlist. Now all i need to do is get his books in my hands. Soon, e.e. Soon.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
This and that.
I've got the sewing machine and the fabrics, and i finally got the threads. All i needed then was a little project to find my sewing mojo again. And that happened too!
This here's the Sewing 101 hard disk pouch i made last evening. Done without measuring tape and still a snug-as-a-bug fit. There's a half-an-inch thick layer of sponge sandwiched between the inside and outside fabric, and the pouch opening comes with a drawstring function.
I originally wanted to try out one of the fancy shmancy stitches as a pattern between the lines, but after two failed attempts, i gave up - the fabric was going through unnecessary wear and tear. Also, originally, i wanted to use some cotton fabric with maps printed on it that i've had lying around for years, but when i saw them i stuck to the original plan of turning them into cushion covers.
Okay, that's enough of originality then.
And then, on Tuesday, because i was generally bugged with life, i painted a little clay vase. It originally (last time i say it, promise) started out in a Mithai Pink colour - a shade of Pink i have been obsessed with for a while - with hand-painted fine zig-zag lines in bright yellow. I had finished the base colour and six of the zig-zag lines when i got lazy and tried to convert the design into something that eventually ruined the entire vase. So i went dip dip dip and mixed and blended and added a bit of a metal finish and voila! Whattey, if i may say so myself!
Yeah, so that's what i've been up to. Between all-night putting and talking sessions, mad hectic work and pointless meanderings of the mind.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
A letter to Saint Valentine.
Dear All-heart Man,
Your simple act of permitting men to lasso women and rope them in for life has evolved into such a high-pressure day in the 21st century that you'd be amused to see it. Even before the sun was up and about, the florists were polishing their teeth and wringing their talents dry from 4:30 in the morning to entice people with their flower arrangements and fresh-as-dew roses. Heck, some of the florists were even open all night! I know because i was up all night as well, drinking it out with a couple of friends from 6:30 last evening.
The things people do in the name of love - suicide, dinners, a couple of days out of town, hell i think today there are going to be at least three flash mobs happening in the city. (Flash Mobs are not evil, Saint Valentine, they're not the same people who torched you. It's the term used to put up a public display of planned random dancing.) Wives will put pressure on husbands to take them out, girlfriends will fleece boyfriends dry, the married and old ones will not fight for a day... yes, that feeling of love makes people do weird things. I think Cupid's got a big-ass manufacturing unit for his arrows now, that's how much he's in demand.
You made it so that for this one day, being single is akin to committing a heinous crime. You bestowed the power of the social order on the hooked ones for this one day every year, making them look down on the singles like they were the outcasts, the scum of the earth. Today, mushy feeling defeats intelligence and all other emotions; but only today, thank heaven.
I'm telling you, Saint V, if there was a system of paying royalty way back in your day and age, you'd be rich enough to own more than three quarters of the world today. You'd be the Hugh Heffner of Emotional Love. The Bill Gates of Windows to the Heart. You'd also be the sole cause for a serious outbreak of lovemaking anywhere and everywhere.
But then, at least there'd be more love in the world. Shared, felt and happy.
Lovingly,
The Optimist in the Guise of a Pessimist
Your simple act of permitting men to lasso women and rope them in for life has evolved into such a high-pressure day in the 21st century that you'd be amused to see it. Even before the sun was up and about, the florists were polishing their teeth and wringing their talents dry from 4:30 in the morning to entice people with their flower arrangements and fresh-as-dew roses. Heck, some of the florists were even open all night! I know because i was up all night as well, drinking it out with a couple of friends from 6:30 last evening.
The things people do in the name of love - suicide, dinners, a couple of days out of town, hell i think today there are going to be at least three flash mobs happening in the city. (Flash Mobs are not evil, Saint Valentine, they're not the same people who torched you. It's the term used to put up a public display of planned random dancing.) Wives will put pressure on husbands to take them out, girlfriends will fleece boyfriends dry, the married and old ones will not fight for a day... yes, that feeling of love makes people do weird things. I think Cupid's got a big-ass manufacturing unit for his arrows now, that's how much he's in demand.
You made it so that for this one day, being single is akin to committing a heinous crime. You bestowed the power of the social order on the hooked ones for this one day every year, making them look down on the singles like they were the outcasts, the scum of the earth. Today, mushy feeling defeats intelligence and all other emotions; but only today, thank heaven.
I'm telling you, Saint V, if there was a system of paying royalty way back in your day and age, you'd be rich enough to own more than three quarters of the world today. You'd be the Hugh Heffner of Emotional Love. The Bill Gates of Windows to the Heart. You'd also be the sole cause for a serious outbreak of lovemaking anywhere and everywhere.
But then, at least there'd be more love in the world. Shared, felt and happy.
Lovingly,
The Optimist in the Guise of a Pessimist
Saturday, February 11, 2012
The beginnings of summer.
My only other favourite time of the year other than monsoons is when winter's slowly but surely giving way to sultry summers. The weather is breezily warm, there's a sleepy freshness in the air and the light is just beautiful. The evenings are made for parents and grandparents to sit out in verandahs and balconies, catching up on life, everyday mundaneness and gossip with neighbours; for the young ones to feel the stirrings of crushes and steal glances at eligible, teenage love; for the kids to get out on the streets and play till late in the night when the power goes off.
It brings back smiling memories, the days when i was 14 and power cuts were as much a part of our lives as mugging for exams. I used to stand at the wrought-iron, shoulder-level gate for hours and look up at the sky, wonder about everything and nothing. I remember my landlord's kids - all of them, except for the younger one, much much older than i was - and i playing Lock and Key or Chain Cut on the road. The landlord's oldest son and me sitting on the steps of the terrace, hidden from the world under the shade of the towering, swaying coconut tree, with him hugging my shoulders from behind as i cried while he said sorry over and over, telling me that he was sorry he was dating somebody else but that he really liked me and didn't know what to do. My being just 14 and him being 20. I remember it like it was just yesterday,
I remember the summer of my tenth standard in Hyderabad. Living in the Janaki Nagar house, sharing a mutual fascination with the boy across the road as the tunes of Ali Haider's Chand sa mukhda and the Amitabh/Daler Mehendi hit Nananana re mingled with the heat waves and wafted into my bedroom. The lights going on and off in our respective rooms as if in a private Morse Code. Waking up to a breakfast of thick , ice-cold Mango milkshake or Sheermal Nahari. Reading Asterix, my first late night movie - Jurassic Park - with mom, uncle, grandma and uncle's friend. Making friends with the kids next door and indulging in endless hours of play mostly involving water as a respite from the heat.
My first party when i was 19, with the creative director of the agency i was interning at, and whom i had asked out for coffee. His favourite song then - Chod na re from Kaante and how we listened to it in his Gypsy. Getting dropped off at PK's place after the party, a tentative hug and a peck on the cheek, holding hands on the road as we walked to her place from where the Gypsy was parked.
Stolen evenings from work at The Nameless One's place, where we spent nights that ended too soon, sharing secrets and kisses. A late ride to the outskirts of the city on a whim, looking for accomodation for a night (at which we didn't succeed).
Endless drives with The Boy, sneaking into a hidden side road and cuddling up under a sky shimmering with stars from between the coconut trees. Getting caught and being called 'the wife who was leaving the city' to explain why we were doing what we were doing. My heart skipping more than a beat when that happened.
Yep, this time is my favouritest because of the memories it brings. The breeze escorts the shiny bubbles storing the follies of my youth from faraway lands and leaves them at the doorstep of my mind. As the season comes around again, maybe i'll hope, long and wish for new rememberances to be formed. And i'll be young again. Young, and in love.
It brings back smiling memories, the days when i was 14 and power cuts were as much a part of our lives as mugging for exams. I used to stand at the wrought-iron, shoulder-level gate for hours and look up at the sky, wonder about everything and nothing. I remember my landlord's kids - all of them, except for the younger one, much much older than i was - and i playing Lock and Key or Chain Cut on the road. The landlord's oldest son and me sitting on the steps of the terrace, hidden from the world under the shade of the towering, swaying coconut tree, with him hugging my shoulders from behind as i cried while he said sorry over and over, telling me that he was sorry he was dating somebody else but that he really liked me and didn't know what to do. My being just 14 and him being 20. I remember it like it was just yesterday,
I remember the summer of my tenth standard in Hyderabad. Living in the Janaki Nagar house, sharing a mutual fascination with the boy across the road as the tunes of Ali Haider's Chand sa mukhda and the Amitabh/Daler Mehendi hit Nananana re mingled with the heat waves and wafted into my bedroom. The lights going on and off in our respective rooms as if in a private Morse Code. Waking up to a breakfast of thick , ice-cold Mango milkshake or Sheermal Nahari. Reading Asterix, my first late night movie - Jurassic Park - with mom, uncle, grandma and uncle's friend. Making friends with the kids next door and indulging in endless hours of play mostly involving water as a respite from the heat.
My first party when i was 19, with the creative director of the agency i was interning at, and whom i had asked out for coffee. His favourite song then - Chod na re from Kaante and how we listened to it in his Gypsy. Getting dropped off at PK's place after the party, a tentative hug and a peck on the cheek, holding hands on the road as we walked to her place from where the Gypsy was parked.
Stolen evenings from work at The Nameless One's place, where we spent nights that ended too soon, sharing secrets and kisses. A late ride to the outskirts of the city on a whim, looking for accomodation for a night (at which we didn't succeed).
Endless drives with The Boy, sneaking into a hidden side road and cuddling up under a sky shimmering with stars from between the coconut trees. Getting caught and being called 'the wife who was leaving the city' to explain why we were doing what we were doing. My heart skipping more than a beat when that happened.
Yep, this time is my favouritest because of the memories it brings. The breeze escorts the shiny bubbles storing the follies of my youth from faraway lands and leaves them at the doorstep of my mind. As the season comes around again, maybe i'll hope, long and wish for new rememberances to be formed. And i'll be young again. Young, and in love.
Thursday, February 09, 2012
Get rescued by Bach.
Stressed? Nervous angry irritated? Depressed? Anxious exhausted repulsed? Just drink up some flower.
Sounds weird, isn't it? Mine was an accidental acquaintance with the world of Original Bach Flower Remedies a handful of months ago, when i saw a colleague squeezing a few drops from a midget bottle into her mouth. I asked her what it was and she told me. Bach remedies are extracts of various flowers whose properties include calming your nerves, righting your disposition, cheering you up - the problems are endless.
The disbelief must have shown on my face: how can a mere flower extract correct what doctors can only do with pills? But, apparently, there's a science to it and it works. Doctor Edward Bach (you were thinking the composer, weren't you?) mastered it and left the legacy behind at Mount Vernon. My colleague has several bottles that she takes based on the emotion she needs help with. Totally natural, no side effects, absolutely safe. Since she's been taking them for a while, and has sort of converted my manager to try them too, i guess i got my head around the idea and believed her.
I found it extremely fascinating, though. So once i finished talking to her, i went to the Web site and checked out the flower remedies myself. Then i saw the list of remedies that the extracts work on: the inability to say no, mental torture behind a cheerful face, drifting, resignation, apathy... my wonder has only increased since.
The products are not available in India, so you'll have to order online or get somebody to bring it for you when they come back from phoren.
Sounds weird, isn't it? Mine was an accidental acquaintance with the world of Original Bach Flower Remedies a handful of months ago, when i saw a colleague squeezing a few drops from a midget bottle into her mouth. I asked her what it was and she told me. Bach remedies are extracts of various flowers whose properties include calming your nerves, righting your disposition, cheering you up - the problems are endless.
The disbelief must have shown on my face: how can a mere flower extract correct what doctors can only do with pills? But, apparently, there's a science to it and it works. Doctor Edward Bach (you were thinking the composer, weren't you?) mastered it and left the legacy behind at Mount Vernon. My colleague has several bottles that she takes based on the emotion she needs help with. Totally natural, no side effects, absolutely safe. Since she's been taking them for a while, and has sort of converted my manager to try them too, i guess i got my head around the idea and believed her.
I found it extremely fascinating, though. So once i finished talking to her, i went to the Web site and checked out the flower remedies myself. Then i saw the list of remedies that the extracts work on: the inability to say no, mental torture behind a cheerful face, drifting, resignation, apathy... my wonder has only increased since.
The products are not available in India, so you'll have to order online or get somebody to bring it for you when they come back from phoren.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
And here i was, thinking: how could the evening get any better?
It just got worse. Freakishly so.
After a great meal at the new Elements in Frazer Town and buying each other birthday presents, N and i headed back to her place so that i could pick up my bike and ride home. The time was 11 p.m. Not usually the time i ride back home, but somehow, the gorgeous weather soothed my usually wary nerves and led me to ride into the balmy winds.
I overtook a few people on the road (for obvious reasons; they were going too slow) but there was this one chap on a bike that i must have passed by when i was nearing home - about half a kilometre away, is my estimate.
Imagine a rectangle - my house is at the top left hand corner of the rectangle. The right side of the rectangle leads to my house as well, but i usually take the left side of the rectangle to reach my house when i'm coming from the main road, which is almost always. When i took the left turn, the guy honked twice. I didn't think much of it and looked at him curiously to wonder why he was honking. I stopped in front of my gate, got off the bike to open the gates and park inside. Somehow, instinctively, i sent up a prayer to God saying God please, please don't let him turn the right corner and see where i live.
God must have been on a break then, because the biker took the turn and was on the same road as me. He approached my house, slowing down in front of it and observing my movements. I felt the beginnings of anxiety. He went away, and i parked my bike inside. As i was removing the bags and other paraphernalia from my bike, he circled the house a second time, slowing down in front of my gate again and observing me. By now, i was quite afraid. Then, he did it a third time. That was it; i was petrified. I locked the gate as soon as i could and with my three bags and a doggy bag from dinner, i scooted up the stairs to the safety of my home.
Just outside the door, i realised that i had left the bike keys on the bike.
I stood for a full minute outside the door, really, really scared to go back downstairs just in case the biker decided to come again. So i rung the bell, waited for my dad to come, asked him to stay put there, dumped all my luggage, ran down the stairs, grabbed the keys from the bike and ran back up. My heart still hasn't stopped racing from fear.
These things usually don't happen. I never ride as late as 11 in the night, and even if i do, it's never alone - A is almost always following me on his Bullet when i insist on riding back home. Today, though, things were different. With hardly three kilometres between N's and my place, it took me less than 10 minutes to cover the distance on fairly traffic-free roads. And yet, yet this shit happened.
Ugh. These things shake up my equilibrium, destroy my feeling that all is okay with the world. It's a reality bite that i can do without because now, it's going to take a good number of days for this fear to go away.
After a great meal at the new Elements in Frazer Town and buying each other birthday presents, N and i headed back to her place so that i could pick up my bike and ride home. The time was 11 p.m. Not usually the time i ride back home, but somehow, the gorgeous weather soothed my usually wary nerves and led me to ride into the balmy winds.
I overtook a few people on the road (for obvious reasons; they were going too slow) but there was this one chap on a bike that i must have passed by when i was nearing home - about half a kilometre away, is my estimate.
Imagine a rectangle - my house is at the top left hand corner of the rectangle. The right side of the rectangle leads to my house as well, but i usually take the left side of the rectangle to reach my house when i'm coming from the main road, which is almost always. When i took the left turn, the guy honked twice. I didn't think much of it and looked at him curiously to wonder why he was honking. I stopped in front of my gate, got off the bike to open the gates and park inside. Somehow, instinctively, i sent up a prayer to God saying God please, please don't let him turn the right corner and see where i live.
God must have been on a break then, because the biker took the turn and was on the same road as me. He approached my house, slowing down in front of it and observing my movements. I felt the beginnings of anxiety. He went away, and i parked my bike inside. As i was removing the bags and other paraphernalia from my bike, he circled the house a second time, slowing down in front of my gate again and observing me. By now, i was quite afraid. Then, he did it a third time. That was it; i was petrified. I locked the gate as soon as i could and with my three bags and a doggy bag from dinner, i scooted up the stairs to the safety of my home.
Just outside the door, i realised that i had left the bike keys on the bike.
I stood for a full minute outside the door, really, really scared to go back downstairs just in case the biker decided to come again. So i rung the bell, waited for my dad to come, asked him to stay put there, dumped all my luggage, ran down the stairs, grabbed the keys from the bike and ran back up. My heart still hasn't stopped racing from fear.
These things usually don't happen. I never ride as late as 11 in the night, and even if i do, it's never alone - A is almost always following me on his Bullet when i insist on riding back home. Today, though, things were different. With hardly three kilometres between N's and my place, it took me less than 10 minutes to cover the distance on fairly traffic-free roads. And yet, yet this shit happened.
Ugh. These things shake up my equilibrium, destroy my feeling that all is okay with the world. It's a reality bite that i can do without because now, it's going to take a good number of days for this fear to go away.
Sunday, February 05, 2012
The visits this year.
It's hardly three months into this year, and i've already made several trips to visit doctors and get check-ups done. I'm tired of them. I don't want to go no more.
My last visit was to the Gynaec yesterday. I checked my weight. I'm 80 kilos.
WTF???? What gives? When the hell did i hit 80?? It's the most i have weighed in my entire life and it feels horrible! I want to crawl under a rock and stay there for eternity, but i'm worried that the rock will be too small for me size. Freaking frack. I'm this close to depression. Like i don't have the whole SM thing worrying the shit out of me, my health also has to go completely out of control. But i also realise that there's no point feeling miserable and not doing anything about it. I've got to begin some serious exercising and diet control.
Auuuuuugh! I hate it i hate it i hate it i hate hate hate hate hate it! I hate myself for letting go like this. It's not done. It's just NOT DONE.
I don't want to look the way i look, feel the way i look, or visit the doctors any more. I'm through with this nonsense.
My last visit was to the Gynaec yesterday. I checked my weight. I'm 80 kilos.
WTF???? What gives? When the hell did i hit 80?? It's the most i have weighed in my entire life and it feels horrible! I want to crawl under a rock and stay there for eternity, but i'm worried that the rock will be too small for me size. Freaking frack. I'm this close to depression. Like i don't have the whole SM thing worrying the shit out of me, my health also has to go completely out of control. But i also realise that there's no point feeling miserable and not doing anything about it. I've got to begin some serious exercising and diet control.
Auuuuuugh! I hate it i hate it i hate it i hate hate hate hate hate it! I hate myself for letting go like this. It's not done. It's just NOT DONE.
I don't want to look the way i look, feel the way i look, or visit the doctors any more. I'm through with this nonsense.
Friday, February 03, 2012
So much to tell!
I've been ridiculously busy - a good thing - since i came back from Goa, and it was just this morning that i thought to myself: it seems like forever since i posted on the blog! And soooooo much has happened since i got back! I already posted about the telephoto lens but i haven't told you that:
- I have started gymming again. Fingers crossed.
- I have a Snapfish account now, and i'm already beginning to fall in love. All thanks to HDFC, by the way, who sent me a special offer as my birthday gift. I already got 20 free prints of pictures i want to frame and put up on my wall around my writing (now typing) table - something that i've been wanting to do forever now - and now i can get many more through the birthday gift!
- I went out putting with Gujju and A last night after sooooo long. A and i started early and Gujju joined us four hours later but oh boy, what fun it was! The putting continued at A's place (where i had a glass full of Hazelnut Bailey's), and while Gujju passed out on the sette, A and i feasted on Biryani and watched Factory Girl. Distrubing movie, didn't finish the entire thing.
- Somewhere in the middle of all that putting, i also took an overseas work call for half an hour. That's a first for me.
- Work is crazy hectic, but it's keeping me on my feet so that's a good thing - there's no space in my head for unnecessary shite.
- I'm having some very interesting conversations with N these days.
I feel like i'm missing out something else... oh wait... i'm getting engaged.
Haha, gotcha! A harmless prank in ode of the looming Valentine's Day.
- I have started gymming again. Fingers crossed.
- I have a Snapfish account now, and i'm already beginning to fall in love. All thanks to HDFC, by the way, who sent me a special offer as my birthday gift. I already got 20 free prints of pictures i want to frame and put up on my wall around my writing (now typing) table - something that i've been wanting to do forever now - and now i can get many more through the birthday gift!
- I went out putting with Gujju and A last night after sooooo long. A and i started early and Gujju joined us four hours later but oh boy, what fun it was! The putting continued at A's place (where i had a glass full of Hazelnut Bailey's), and while Gujju passed out on the sette, A and i feasted on Biryani and watched Factory Girl. Distrubing movie, didn't finish the entire thing.
- Somewhere in the middle of all that putting, i also took an overseas work call for half an hour. That's a first for me.
- Work is crazy hectic, but it's keeping me on my feet so that's a good thing - there's no space in my head for unnecessary shite.
- I'm having some very interesting conversations with N these days.
I feel like i'm missing out something else... oh wait... i'm getting engaged.
Haha, gotcha! A harmless prank in ode of the looming Valentine's Day.
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