For the price of two lattes

It brings tears to my eyes to know that people abandon their kids because of poverty.  It saddens me that I indulge my picky eater with foods of his choice when there are orphan girls grateful for two meals a day.  I am thankful every day to be there for my kid when he is sad, angry, hurt or just wants a hug.  As I hug my child at night and put him to sleep in his comfy bed, I remember that there are girls sleeping on thin mattresses laid out on the bare floor of a large hall with no one but each other’s company to comfort them.  

As I watch kids in my son’s cafeteria throw away uneaten apples, unopened juice and milk cartons and even sandwiches they brought from home, I think of the 108 girls sitting in orderly rows in the big hall of Vaidehi Ashram in Hyderabad, India.  They are waiting to be served a simple meal of rice and sambhar (a thin lentil soup with some vegetables thrown in) which they will finish without wasting a single grain of rice.  But not before they sing a hymn of thanks for the food they partake. 

 Lunch time

It is not very often that I am at a loss for words but this post turned out to be one of those that took the longest time to pen.  It is easy for me to complain about the sordid state of affairs, be it on blogger ethics or Facebook superficialities.  But there are times when I am thankful to have befriended some wonderful people on fb who, unlike me, decide to do something about a problem rather than complain.  Siri, of CookingwithSiri, is one such generous soul who always manages to amaze me with her positive, upbeat attitude.

Recently, she moved back to India and instead of complaining about the cultural shock that comes with moving from US to India, she got involved with Vaidehi Ashram, a refuge for orphaned and destitute girls.  She was so moved by what she saw and experienced there, she decided to help raise funds for these deserving girls and make their life a little bit better. 

Vaidehi Ashram

A week into the drive, she has already made significant progress with the fundraising.  But more is needed.  Besides, Siri has managed to score some awesome raffle prizes for you to go with each $10 raffle tickets.  Among the things you can win through the raffle, there is a Kindle, some awesome cookbooks from authors like David Lebovitz and Ammini Ramachandran, professional photo prints and kitchen gadgets to make your life easier.  For a complete list of raffle prizes offered, click on this link to Siri’s blog.  If the prizes don’t inspire you to donate, here is a little information on the Ashram to convince you to participate in a good cause.

The girls

Vaidehi Ashram for destitute girls houses some 108 girls (3 to 22 years) who are either orphans or who have been abandoned by their parents.  The ashram is managed by Mrs Suvathsala, who is fondly called Mataji (mother).  Along with some eager volunteers, she takes care of the girl’s upbringing, their education and vocational skills.  The girls are housed in the three big halls of the ashram where they all sleep communally with open cupboards on the walls reserved for their personal belongings.  

The stories of how these girls end up in the ashram are heart wrenching like the story of the youngest girl Samatha who was found wandering near a railway station with her baby sister.  She could have suffered a worst fate if some policemen hadn’t brought her to the ashram where she is in now in the company of girls who understand her plight and are able to give her emotional support and some semblance of normal life.  For more information, read the following two posts by Siri:

 A visit to Vaidehi Ashram

A second visit to Vaidehi Ashram

Sitting thousands of miles away in a quiet American suburb there is not much I or you can do except donate a few dollars and help spread the word.  Make that $10 you would otherwise spend on a lunch date or two cups of latte go to a worthy cause.  

Love their smiles

Here is how the fund drive works.

1. Buy a Raffle Ticket (or 2 or more)

Each raffle ticket is worth $10 (or Rs.500). You can increase your chances of winning the giveaway by buying more than 1 raffle ticket.

For Example, a donation of $20 will fetch you 2 raffle tickets which can be used to choose on any of the raffle prizes. You can use all your raffle tickets on one prize (in turn increasing the chances in the lucky draw) or on different prizes.

2. How to Buy the Raffle Ticket

Use the link below for making your payment. Once you click it, you will be directed to the fund drive and raffle page. Use the widget to make a payment via Paypal or credit.

Once the donation process is completed, please forward your payment confirmation message to info(dot)siri(at)gmail.com, clearly specifying the raffle prize you are interested in.

Within 24 hours, your name and contributed amount will be added to the ‘Fund Drive Supporters List’. If you want to stay anonymous, please let Siri know in advance. For any correspondence/questions/queries, use the comment section or the email address mentioned.

Fund Drive Supporter's List and the List of Raffle Prizes

Go on, make a difference in someone's life.

The purpose of my blog…

This post has been languishing, half-written, in my drafts for a while and seemed like the perfect piece to explain my absence from the blogosphere. I would like to say I was musing, all these months, on the purpose of my blog. The truth is I was busy with the business of being a mom, a part time student, an anime junkie and a BBC comedy snob. Blogging seemed like a chore to be done at the end of the day; a chore which wasn’t as enjoyable as watching an episode of Coupling or Full Metal Alchemist while the kiddo slept soundly in the other room. However, I am back now, rejuvenated by the extended break and hopefully will blog more regularly, for a couple of months at least. Till my next post, here are some reasons why Desisoccermom exists.

Apart from those who comment, do you know who else reads your blog? I know for a fact that my family, back in India, with the exception of my brother does not read it. For them it is just a hobby I indulge in, especially since I didn’t cook much for the first 27 years of my life.

It doesn’t matter that this blog has been a launching pad for a long due apology to my mom for my bratty behavior when I was in my troublesome teens. It has been a platform to pen an ode to my grandma and the battered heirlooms she passed on to me. Have they read any of it? No. For them, if I am not working in an “office” and bringing home a paycheck, it is a hobby. (In their defense, my grandma does not own a computer and my mom is not computer savvy or refuses to be one.)

Then there are friends of mine from college days who sometimes drop by to catch up and once in a while leave a comment. But these are few and far in between. Recently, one of these friends, let’s call him Y (because his name starts with it), told me that he could not figure out the purpose of my blog. When a good friend of 20 years can’t figure out the purpose of a blog which is titled Desi Soccer Mom, the writer of the said blog has to pause and do some soul searching.

The blog was started, like most things in my life, with an impulse and no clue. If I had done some research, I would have gone with Wordpress just because they have so much cooler templates than blogger (no offense blogspot). As it happens, I went with blogger.

It is true I did not have a purpose in mind when I opened my template and started writing. In the beginning it was an attempt to chronicle the goings-on in my life, which, now that I think of, are not that interesting. The kiddo had just started preschool, I had a few hours to myself and this seemed like a good way to brush up on my writing skills. To be honest, the skills needed more than just brushing. They needed to be sanded, scrubbed, brushed and polished. (The polishing is still going on and hopefully will never end.)

Like most desis I know I too cook almost every day, to the great surprise of my American neighbors. It was natural that writing about food or about my life somewhat overlapped. Once the food was put to pen, I couldn’t stop, not because I am a great cook or everything I cook is finger licking good. Heck, I am not even a versatile cook like some bloggers I know.

I am however, what I like to call, an evolving cook. In my dictionary, an involving cook is one who does not follow a recipe to a T or stresses over just the right ingredients the recipe calls for. Ok, that may be because I am incapable of following a recipe to a T and I never plan in advance for a recipe, so I am forced to innovate substitute garam masala with sabzi masala and sometimes omit the dhana-jeera because I have run out of it. I have been known to use red chili powder instead of green chilies because I was too lazy to chop them.

So, why do I blog mostly about food, but sometimes also about the books I read? It is certainly not intended as collection of recipes for Jr. who is as picky an eater as I was till I started college. I also do not have scores of followers waiting with bated teeth for me to post a recipe. Maybe it is because I like the fact that I created something edible and possibly delicious that my friends and family liked. I think that warrants it getting recorded, possibly for posterity on the world web.

I do love reading books and our book club directs me to books I may never have chosen or found out about on my own. So instead of reading the labels on the back of processed foods, I pick up a book every month, read it, review it and sometimes cook from it. Reading well constructed sentences and clever use of words gives me pleasure no amount of dark chocolate can. Never mind that I savor the dark cocoa confection while I devourer the book.

My last post, some months ago, was a piece of fiction I wrote for one of the finest bloggers to grace the blogging world. I have to admit, I have enjoyed the attention garnered by my fiction pieces. In fact, my fiction posts seem to be more popular than my food posts. Does that give me another purpose to keep blogging? Possibly yes. Because as much as I blog for me and me alone, I also like the little bit of attention I sometimes get.

Which brings me to the second part of the story, It takes two to err..., that all of you have been waiting for me to post and that I haven’t finished writing yet. But I am working on it and hopefully, will post it sooner than later.

As to the purpose of my blog, well, I have to say, I still am not sure what it is. Maybe it is the pleasure of knowing that my words are read and appreciated. Maybe the thrill of knowing that my recipes, stories and anecdotes, no matter how lame or corny, have been recorded on the invisible tracks of the internet for posterity.

I know for certain that I enjoy the comments that start to trickle in a couple of hours after I post something. I certainly feel lucky to have made some wonderful friends through this blog, friends who have indulged me in my rants and patiently answered my questions about their photography skills.

I guess, above all, it is the unbridled pleasure of knowing that Desisoccermom is MY space to write whatever it is I want, when I want or not. There are no pesky editors, no demanding boss or nagging overseer. It is my domain, to do as I please or take a three month break if it pleases me.

If you haven’t drifted off to another blog by now, let me ask you this: what is the purpose of your blog?

You may want to unsubscribe now...

A few months ago, when Manisha asked the same of her readers, it was for a totally opposite reason than mine. She was about to embark on the NaBloWriMo.
I, on the other hand, have already embarked on a journey I never thought I would take again after I was done with my degrees and started working. Now, a decade and some later, in my adopted country where it is never too late to start anew, I have decided to get a degree in arts, something I had always wanted to do.
Combined with all the trappings involved with being a mom and a good student, it is hard to keep up with the obligations of a blog not to mention hours spent blog hopping and facebooking.
When Randy Pausch tells you to prioritize your work load according to the following rule, you listen and as a result, blogging takes a back seat to the four year old, school and the four walls one calls a home.

That is not to say I am taking a permanent break from blogging. I will still post but not on a regular basis. Or should we say my regular basis will be sporadic, as evident from this second post in a month.
If any of you want to catch up with me or what is going on in my life, you can always look me up on 359 days of DSM, where I try to post at least once in two days. Why that and not DSM, you may ask? Because it takes me a few minutes to post here as opposed to a few hours on this blog.
So, if you decide to unsubscribe, I understand and agree. Let the countdown begin.

Simplify your life: Turn off the TV

Today, I woke up to a quiet house. Usually, I wake up to the cacophony of early morning news, chatty TV shows and loud advertisement, not to mention weather and traffic updates every five minutes. As far as I can remember I have always woken up to noise whether it was Vividh Bharti (radio) and later Doordarshan (TV).

Except in the summers when we would sleep outside, under an open sky, snuggled in our blankets under the mosquito nettings and wake up to a quiet, cool summer morning. But that was years ago.

Today, T had left for work earlier than usual and had not turned on the TV like he does every morning. The house was so calm when I woke up, it reminded me of those early summer mornings. I warmed my cup of tea (courtesy T) and basked in the quiet warmth of the ginger infused concoction.

Till, my four year old woke up. On any given day, if we are not watching TV our son is, which is most of the time. Today, he seemed content to play in his room without the TV on and I decided not to turn it on till he asked for it.

Well, as it turned out he didn’t ask for it till half the day was over. Instead, he found and played with toys he hadn’t played with in months, we had a quiet breakfast together, went for a haircut, to see a train, took a bath and cut our nails, all before noon!

All clean and groomed, he watched TV for an hour and a half and had his lunch. A play date with a boy on the street and he was ready for his afternoon nap.

After the nap the TV was still off. We played together for a while and after T came home we had tea and snacks together and caught up on our day.

The three of us played pretend fighter pilots for a little while before I headed off to cook. Dinner too was a quiet family affair with still no TV.

Usually, we feed the picky eater while he is watching his favorite movie or cartoon, then the two of us eat together. Today, all of us sat down together and had a quiet meal without the TV blaring and the click of the remote between shows. 

A quick kitchen clean up and we were back building blocks and reading books. Before we knew it, it was an hour to bedtime.

This may sound strange but my son’s bedtime routine includes about an hour of computer games, which I play with him. We decided to stick to it but ended it earlier than usual.

As we prepared to go to bed, we realized how calm our day had been and how much more time we had to interact as a family. T told me he had not even surfed the net or listened to the car radio on the way to work and back home. I did no such thing but just turning the TV off opened up many more hours in the day for my son and me.     

More than the free hours, my life seemed calmer and less complicated. You just have to count the number of times I wrote the word ‘quiet’ in this post (six times, not counting the word ‘calm’).

After harping for so long about wanting to reach my 100^th post and agonizing on whether to cook a dessert or an entrée to post, this day somehow seemed more apropos to log as my century.

Tomorrow, no car radio and if I can help it, hopefully no surfing the net. Unless…

If you are leaving a comment, tell me how many hours of TV your family watches? Ours was 7-8 hours between the three of us.

Disclaimer: This is not to say we are packing and donating our TV to charity. But now that we know we can live without watching our favorite shows or listening to the news, we will think twice before picking up the remote.

Doubt in a bottle

My new year’s resolution is to lay off wine. As if to compensate for the lack of red anti oxidents I decided to join the Project 365  (which is not to be inferred as a daily drinking habit). With only a day into the project my head is already swirling with ideas.
The project requires carrying a camera everywhere you go -- grocery store, a restaurant, the neighbor’s house, on the road, to the gym. The idea is to capture the year with a picture a day.

Since I joined the group six days late, I will be chronicling only 359 Days of DSM (desi soccer mom).

As I write this post it is 1 AM in the morning. The dishwasher is quite and all I hear is the rattling of my keyboard and the drip of the leaky faucet in the sink. Did I mention before I am an insomniac? Any remedies/ cures short of sleeping pills will be appreciated.
Coming back to my doubt in a bottle: I know this year is going to be busy, with tackling three classes in school every Sat, my writer’s meet once a month and a resolve to start writing something every month for critiquing, not to mention getting rid of clutter before the winter is over. That’s right, I like to de clutter in the winter when I am cooped up in the house instead of spring-cleaning when I would rather take a walk.
Right now it is too cold to take a walk, even if it is from the parking lot to the gym. I finally did it yesterday, six days into the new year and I am hoping I’ll be able to make it at least three days a week till Summer, when it will be too hot to walk.
As I lay in bed, tossing and turning, willing myself to fall asleep and counting all the above things I have resolved to stick to, I began to wonder if I have chewed more than I can eat. Is the overeating going to give me a bad case of indigestion? (Remedies for that are also appreciated.) An elder in our family always gave out ten tasks to finish, knowing only eight will be done. I am hoping all ten will be done by the end of the year.
Wish me luck and check out 359 Days of DSM.

The Decade from Hell!

In response to Time's last week's cover story, The Decade From Hell by Andy Serwer, a reader, John Grull from Lincoln, Nebraska, had this to say in this week's issue: " How can TIME devote six pages to the "Decade from Hell" without acknowledging that for eight years we had one of the worst Presidents in the American History? The divisiveness that Bush and Cheney fostered was a key part of this abysnal decade."

On the fringe and back

November was a tortoise/ rabbit month for me. I had my final papers due in college, a group presentation, a PP talk at my writer’s meet besides taking care of a friend’s kid for a few days and carting him and my son to school. Of course, other regular chores like cooking, cleaning and entertaining go on as usual. At the end of the day, what little energy I had left I chose to spend on catching up on missed episodes of Fringe instead of blogging. After all, I reminded myself, a wise man once said about blogging “blog only if it is fun”.

It was hard not to blog though. In the eight months that I have started blogging, it has become an extension of me. In the few weeks I have been absent from my blog, I was constantly taking pictures to post and mulling over my text to write. But at the end of the day, sitting in front of my laptop, my hands would pause, the mind would turn blank. I would hit the shut down button and go back to watching Fringe.

If you are into sci-fi/ paranormal genre, you can understand how addicting it is to watch Fringe. It airs every Thursday on Fox but clashes with my other favorite genre, comedy. At the moment, there is nothing more hilarious on TV than NBC’s Thurs nights with The Office and 30 Rock. Thank the technology for Hulu, where I can watch my other favorites the next day, especially if I missed the first season but can catch up with the click of a button.

Did I just digress from blogging to TV talk? Well, that is what happens when you take a break and come back after a few weeks. Hopefully, I am back for good, at least for a while. My college doesn’t start till middle of Jan and even though my next three weekends are busy, my weekdays are relatively free. So, brace yourselves for a barrage of posts (fingers crossed).

Before I leave, here’s a bunch of photos I clicked on my brief hiatus. More details and recipes coming soon.

Methi Theplas with potato cauliflower sabzi and carrot, tomato, onion koshimbeer (salsa).
 

Found this simple but yummy recipe for Eggplant Talasani at Manisha's Indian Food Rocks.
 

Eggless Banana Walnut Bread made with semolina (rava). Recipe on Supriya's Red Chillis.
 

Jammy Biscuits baked from Curry Leaf's Experiments, Emotions, Experiences with Food .
 

"I'll eat the jam first, cookie later."
 All those concerned parents out, don't worry. He didn't get to eat the whole plate of cookies. I took away the plate after he polished off two. So don't send me any concerned, anonymous comments like this one.

Mom Song

Ok, before you click on the play button, let me clarify that my almost four year old is still manageable in terms of getting dressed, eating his food or taking a bath. But I know I am getting there soon when I too will be singing the MOM SONG.

Where was I when it happened?

I was sleeping in bed when the first plane crashed into the WTC building. A friend from Australia called up to let me know what had happened. I was still new to the country and it took me a few minutes to realize the enormity of the situation. As I sat bleary eyed in front of my television another plane crashed into the WTC and after a while another one into the Pentagon. I had a hollow in the pit of my stomach and the whole day was spent chugging cups of tea and watching news updates, calling up relatives and friends in India and US. T came home from work early and we sat in silence, trying to comprehend the horrific events that had started the day.
Days that followed were rife with speculations and war talk. Eight months later when I left to visit family back in India, I had to undergo search of my check-in as well as my carry-on baggage at the security gate. But when my bags were checked a second time at the boarding gate, fellow American passengers nodded sympathetically as they moved on. As the last person to board the plane, they helped me find a place in the already full overhead bin and smiled a reassuring smile.
I have never felt like an alien in the post 9/11 America and I expected nothing less of my country of adoption. I am proud and happy to live in America.
Terrorism has no religion, nationality or race. And no humanity for that matter.

Where were you when it happened?

Preschool flashback

Flipping through the latest issue of Parents magazine at my doctor’s office I came across the article “I survived Preschool”. It made me flashback to last August when my then two and a half year old son started preschool. I wasn’t sure I/he was ready for him to start pre-K (even though it was just two days a week). The two of us had not been apart for more than a couple of hours since he was born. Even when I went out to the stores or for the groceries it was always when he was napping and I would be back before he woke up. So of course he threw a fit during first few days of preschool. Here’s how it all went down.
Meet the teacher day: A couple of days before T and I went to meet the teachers and get our son familiar with them and the class room. He got to meet his class mates and was happy to explore while we chatted with his teachers.
Day 1: We woke up early and got ready to reach the school in time. He was quite happy to hold his lunch box with one hand and my hand in the other. I juggled his sleep mat, his folder, a set of extra clothes and my purse in the other hand.
He was quite calm going in the class but then one mom said bye to her little girl who started crying. This made him and the other kids take notice and started a chain reaction of crying and sobbing. Some of the moms were quietly wiping their eyes outside. The teachers assured me they won’t let the kids cry for more than 15 minutes.
I waited in my car, listening to the car radio, waiting for the cell phone to ring. When nobody called after half an hour, I went home. It is the longest four hours I spent waiting for the phone to ring any minute and the school asking me to come pick him up. They don’t and I am happy but feeling strange in our suddenly quite house.
Day 2: A day later all seemed well till we reached the school parking lot. The minute I opened the passenger door he started crying. I managed to walk him to the school building (teacher’s tip: do not carry him, let him walk) but as we entered the hallway he tried to run in another direction. I had to scoop him up and hand him over to the teacher. He was still crying and calling out my name when I walked out. I realized why they say parenting is tough.
I waited in the car feeling guilty and telling myself the separation is good for the both of us. I head to the grocery store after 15 minutes for an hour long, quite roaming in the aisles. When I go back after five hours to pick him up he runs to hug me, says bye to his teachers and comes away with me.
Day 3: We walked to his class holding hands but he again clings to my leg and starts crying. I have to pry him from my legs and hand him over to his teacher. After a few minutes I come back to check on him through the little glass window on the door. He is happily playing with a fire truck.
I had the whole house to myself and I sit on the couch watching “The View” and munching some potato chips.
Day 4: He held on to me a little bit but did not resist much when I handed him over to the teacher. He had some tears in his eyes but he managed to give me a hug and a brave “bye Mamma”. I was happy the crying phase was over and I didn’t have to feel guilty as much. I dared to go to the gym and attend an hour long spinning class. Back home, I took a long shower and enjoyed some quite time surfing the net before I headed back to pick him up.
Over the weekend he told me he wanted to go to back to school again. Two days later, he gave me a hug and a kiss before he walked in the class room, bravely clutching his lunch box. I knew he was going to be ok and for the first time in two and a half years I go for an unhurried three hour shopping spree and have lunch with a friend.
In the days that followed I was happy with our decision to put him in preschool. It gave me time to think of myself as more than a mom and to do things for myself. Every day for the last three months I have been happy taking him to story time at the local library, to the pool, to train rides and cycling to the park. Time has flown so fast and I am sad he won’t be there all the time in the house. But I am also happy for him to go to his preschool he likes so much, giving me some much needed time for myself.

Watching weight and a craving

Dal Methi (Lentils with fenugreek leaves)

As relaxing as my vacation in Atlanta was the side effect of uninterrupted reading and gorging on delicious cooked food was bound to result in my gaining two pounds in five days. As some of you know from my earlier post I had put on a few pounds while in India and had managed to shed, well, exactly two pounds before gaining them back. Now, I am up four pounds since I lost two pounds and up six before I went to India. Confused? Let me break it down.

Before India trip: 114 lbs
After India trip: 118 lbs
Lost in two months: 2 lbs
Gained in two month: 2 lbs
Before Atlanta trip: 118 lbs
After Atlanta trip: 120 lbs
Need to lose: 120 lbs – 114 lbs = 6 lbs
Now, I know six pounds may not seem like a lot to blog about but when you are 5ft1” and approaching 36 in a matter of weeks, the scales move slowly and the clothes either hang too lose or too tight for comfort.
It doesn’t help that I have stubbed my little pinky on my foot not once but three times in the last four weeks. That means no closed shoes or sneakers and no gym. Tushar has come to the rescue again and suggested I take up spinning instead of running on the treadmill. I will attempt it tomorrow and let you know how it goes.
This week’s Time magazine cover story is about how it is eating the right foods that help you lose weight and not high intensity exercise. In the event of my not being able to handle the spinning class, I will have to resort to watching what I eat. So, here are some of the rules I am going to try and stick to:

1. No sugar except my two cups of tea in the day.
2. No ice cream or chocolate.
3. No chips or store bought snacks of any kind.
4. Eat three wholesome meals – breakfast, lunch and dinner.
5. No snacking between meals except on dry, roasted nuts like almonds, pecans and raisins.
6. Try to include all or at least one of these -- daal(lentil) or beans, leafy and root vegetables, fiber (in the form of cereal and salads) and dairy in each meal.
7. Eat at least one fruit for dessert.

To that end I made methi daal yesterday not only because it covered clause 5 but also because I was craving the bitter taste of methi that I have come to love over the years. Also, I had two cubes left over from two months ago in the freezer and needed to finish them off before making my monthly run to the Indian grocery store.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup toor dal
1/2 cup masoor dal (split red lentils)
2 medium sized tomatoes, chopped
2 cubes of frozen methi leaves or a bunch of fresh methi leaves

For tadka:
2 garlic cloves, chopped fine (optional)
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 tsp red chili powder
1 tsp garam masala (optional)
1 tsp asafetida powder

Method:
Combine and wash the daal under cold water two to three times. Soak in some water and keep it aside. Thaw the methi leaves in the microwave or wash and chop the fresh methi leaves.
Heat 1/2tbsp oil in the cooker and add the mustard seeds. As they pop, add the cumin, turmeric, asafetida, red chili powder and garam masala. Roast for a minute before adding the garlic cloves. Turn the heat on med low at this point or the garlic will burn quickly.
Add the tomatoes and let them soften before adding the methi leaves. Cook for a few minutes before adding the dal. Add salt and water before putting the lid on. Cook for two to three whistles before turning the gas off.
Note: I ate two rotis and some cucumber slices with the dal. For dessert I had a nectarine.

This delicious Dal Methi goes to My Legume Love Affair hosted by Susan of The Well Seasoned Cook.

The woods are dark and deep

and I have miles to go before I sleep...

My Atlanta vacation was a relaxing one with scenic walks to go pet the horses and swimming in the pool surrounded by tall woods.

Christmas in July

And my 50th post!

I received my first Christmas present at the age of 28, eight years ago. My dear friend Erin and I had met earlier that year at a memoir writing course at the local community college. We had kept in touch after the completion of the course and by the time Christmas arrived that year we were good friends. She had been to dinner at our apartment a couple of times and had noticed we didn’t have any cloth napkins or napkin rings.
I, of course, knew about them but did not realize their importance in American table etiquette. I was used to the ‘eating with your hands and washing them under the tap’ kind of etiquette. But that cold, December morning when I opened Erin’s carefully wrapped box, I was delighted to find four pretty Moroccan napkin rings and four maroon cotton napkins to put them in.


I don’t get a lot of occasion to use them (maybe three or four times a year) but I cherish them with all my heart. They are not only pretty but the thoughtfulness behind them is so characteristic of Erin. She has since then always given the most thoughtful presents not only to me but to my son with whom she has a special bond. I only hope the presents I give her every year for her birthday are as thoughtful.

Erin’s birthday, incidentally, comes in July and this time round I think I found the perfect present for her. While waiting for a friend in nearby downtown Main Street, I came across a cute little shop whose owner made custom necklaces and pendants. I came across a silver leaf pendant that said “I belong to Erin.” The shop owner strung a wire on the pendant and put it in a pretty little silver box.
My 50th post along with the pendant goes to Erin. Wishing you a happy birthday Erin and hoping the rest of the year turns out as great as the first half.

Indian rickshaw in my home

Yesterday, a friend returning from India brought a toy rickshaw for my 3 year old son. More than him I was excited to see it and I have to confess, I played with it a little too.
Rickshaws, for the uninitiated, are three wheeler modes of transportation that run on two horse power motors. They have a long seat in the back that can seat three people and the driver seats in the narrow front section. There are no doors or seat belts but I have never heard of anyone falling out of a running rickshaw yet. All rickshaws have the same body but they are as unique as the driver who rides it. Some will be decorated with pictures of the god or goddess the rickshaw driver believes in. Some will have colorful festoons and ribbons hanging from the roof. The hi-tech ones will have loud stereos blasting the latest film songs or religious bhajans (hymns).

As a single girl living in Mumbai, India, the ubiquitous rickshaw always came to my rescue when I needed to reach an appointment in time or a ride home in the middle of the night. Like taxi cab drivers in New York or Boston, the rickshaw drivers too had their preferences on where they wanted to go and if it was worth their time to travel a small distance or not. Especially at the end of their shift they preferred to take a passenger going in the direction of their home. On a hot, summer noon one could find them parked under a shady tree, reclining in the back seat, taking a nap. There were kind rickshaw drivers who would give you a ride when it was raining cats and dogs in the city and there were the crooked ones who would charge you an exorbitant amount of money if you were in a fix.

I remember one early morning I hired a rickshaw from the Mumbai airport and asked the driver to take me to home. On the way he told me he will have to charge me night rates since it was fairly early in the morning. Too tired to argue with him at that ungodly hour I agreed. When we reached my home he showed me the conversion chart. The amount of money he was charging me did not seem right but “the chart doesn't lie” so I paid him off and went inside. Only later did I realize he had shown me the rate conversion chart of a taxi cab and not an auto rickshaw. An expensive lesson learnt early in the day.
On my last visit to India, my then two and a half year old son had a rocking time riding in the rickshaw. There was no car seat or seat belt to confine him, he could feel the wind on his face and see all the wonderful sights a busy city like Mumbai has to offer.
You can see why I am delighted to have a toy rickshaw for my son to play with and for me to relive my wonderful, single life in Mumbai. And why I had to write about it.

Barter Cabinet

An elderly couple, Georjean and Harley, live down the street from us. They occasionally ask me to feed their dogs while they are visiting their daughter in California. I am more than happy to do it, not because I am a dog-person but because they are good neighbors who have helped us time and again.
Harley grew up on a farm and is very handy with tools and carpentry. He helped me put up shelves in the garage and taught Tushar how to install a fan in the guest bedroom.
Georjean loves to garage sale and if I need a particular piece of furniture for my house she keeps it in mind. Whenever I take care of their dogs for them she pays me back with one of her garage sale finds, all refurbished and polished. In the past she has found an excellent set of patio table and chairs and a dresser for me.
A couple of weeks ago they had again asked me to feed their dogs for 10 days or so. After their return, they came over for a visit last weekend and presented me with this beautiful cabinet I had admired at her house. I think it was a pretty good barter and I have found the perfect place for it in my home.

My Aaji’s (Grandmother) Pots

My Aaji couldn't find brass knobs so she had steel knobs fitted on the pots

As a child I had always admired my Aaji’s tea and sugar brass pots. They were a permanent fixture in her tiny kitchen as she bustled about making tea and snacks for her four daughters and sons-in-law.
My grandparents moved out of their small house and into an apartment (flat) a few years ago. The pots travelled with them and although I was too small to drink tea as a child, the pots somehow always reminded me of my good old days spent at my Aaji’s playing with my cousins and pulling pranks on each other.
On my last visit to India I found out that my grandparents had moved into a bigger flat so my recently widowed aunt could stay with them. However, the pots were not on her kitchen window sill. Instead, there were two shiny stainless steel pots next to the cooking stove.
Now, before this moment I had never told my grandmother how much I liked her brass pots. So imagine her surprise when I told her that I was sad she had got rid of her pots. After the initial surprise she started smiling, took me to her bedroom and there under her bed in a shoe box were the two brass pots. The knobs on the lids were missing they were slightly dinged, but apart from that they were in perfectly good condition. She was going to sell them to a brass shop but she was more than happy to give them to me.
Now, living thousands of miles away from my Aaji’s home, I am the proud owner of her pots, my memories of her and of my carefree childhood.

Stupid things I have done in my life:

I have done a lot of stupid things in my life. The reason I have started this list is to remember and try not to repeat them. Also, last four days have been record breaking because three out of four days I have done something that could have been avoided if I was paying more attention, especially since two out of three of the following involve my son:
It all started on Saturday Morning:

1. Forgot to strap my son:

Almost every Saturday morning we take our train fanatic son for a train ride. This Saturday, riding back home, I looked around to check on my son and saw him standing on his knees, with his back to me, looking out the rearview window. My heart went to my mouth as I realized I had forgotten to strap him in his car seat. We were travelling on a highway and Tushar immediately took the next exit and pulled into the parking lot of a Denny’s. I hugged my son and then strapped him in tight before we headed home again. I could not believe I did that since I strap my son even in his wagon when I am walking 1 mile an hour. I just thank my lucky stars that he was safe and I found out he was unstrapped before something terrible happened.

This is the train ride we go for every weekend

2. Locked my car keys in the trunk:

Sunday went by without any incident. Monday morning was Memorial Day holiday. Tushar wanted to go to the Y; I wanted to go to Lowe’s to get some herbs. I decided to drop Tushar and my son at the Y, go to Lowes and pick them up 40 minutes later. By the time I finished shopping I realized it was time to go. I loaded my herbs, a rose bush and a pair of shears in my trunk, shut it and headed off to deposit the cart. It suddenly hit me - I had left my car keys in the trunk next to the rosemary. By that time it was way past 40 minutes. I called up Tushar to tell him what happened before getting a ride from a kind lady by the name Lorraine. She dropped me at the Y, which was about 5 miles, gave Tushar a ride back to Lowe’s so he could pick up the car with his keys. It was another half an hour, while I waited with my son at the Y, before we could go back home. So, Lorrain, if you are reading this, “Thank you for giving us the ride to and fro from Lowe’s”.
I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if this was the first time I had lost my keys. Before this I have left my car keys in a restaurant and once behind my son’s car seat while I looked for them high and low.
I hope I have learnt my lesson this time.

3. Almost lost my son at the library:

Today I was at the library with two of my friends whose kids are around the same age as my 3 year old. I asked them to look after him while I went to look for some books.
I wasn’t gone five minutes before I could hear my son crying “Mamma, mamma.” With so many kids in the library, at first I wasn’t sure if it was him but I decided to check anyways. And there he was, standing in the middle of the library floor, crying, with a terrified look on his face at having lost his mother.
I picked him up and walked back to the reading area (10 paces away) where my friends were busy chatting. They had no clue he was missing or looking for me. I will grant that one of them is going through a hard time in her personal life and the other one thought (she told me later) I only asked her to look after my purse.
If you have ever lost a child or almost lost track of your child, you can imagine what I must have been going through. If you have never gone through an experience like that, I pray you never have to.
The way I see it, it was stupid on my part to entrust my kid to my friends instead of looking after him myself. Never again.

Coming soon another list of more stupid things I have done in my life.

Blowing bubbles and jumping on the bed

It has been raining off and on since last night. Which is why I am glad we got so much outdoor stuff done yesterday. I did a little bit of garage sailing yesterday morning and scored a bookcase and a wooden swivel chair for Tushar's study. Both cost $10 each. 

Later in the morning we took our three year old for his ritual, weekend train ride. He loves trains to the point of being obsessed with them. I can see some of my obsessiveness in him and I try to imagine how much patience my mom must have had with me. 

Came back, took a nap and in the evening Tushar finished mowing the lawn just before the rains hit hard. 

While he was mowing, my son and I blew bubbles on the back patio. It was fun for about an hour after which I gave him a bath. That led to jumping on the bed and making mountains out of pillows. The mountains of course had to be demolished so the tracks could be laid for the train. 

The creativity and imagination of my boy never seizes to amaze me. I hope it stays with him for a long time and not get adulterated as he grows older. I am of course wishing for the impossible. But I have my fingers crossed.  

 

The girl with the no-green-thumb

I do not claim to have a green thumb. I am not disciplined enough to take care of potted plants and therefore plant everything in the ground. The plants are taken care by the sprinklers and the occasional rain we get all year round in Texas. Inspite of it my plants seem to do really good. The only reason I can think of is the kitchen scraps (vege peels and rotten fruits) I bury next to them from time to time. My neighbor, Liz (who has a green thumb), tells me the scraps turn into compost for the plants and act as a fertillizer. The only other reason could be LUCK.

Because of my lack of green thumb, I try to plant vegetation that is either evergreen or the kind that comes back in spring. Right now, my flower bed in the front has an assortment of chrysanthamums, winter sage, salvia, sedum and day lilies.
I have to say they are looking pretty good right now. Not too shabby for a girl with no green thumb.

“Stand Back,” said the elephant, “I’m going to sneeze!”

Well, that’s not the name of this article but the name of the book I picked up for .25 cents at our neighborhood garage sale. It is a 1971 first edition written by Patricia Thomas and my 3 year old loves it. In addition to the ‘elephant sneezing book’, I found “Oscar Otter”, Heidi, Thumbelina and a first edition Charlie Brown book, also for .25 cents.
At another house I picked up a Mexican hand painted clay mask for .50 cents. The lady was also selling Hearthside Garden Festival stoneware in a box for $12. When I asked her about it she said the box contained eight 5 piece place settings (dinner plate, salad plate, soup bowl and cup and saucer). They were made in Japan in the 1970s and the pattern was hand painted. It was the cup and saucer that pinched it for me. I haven’t found a lot of cups and saucers that look nice. They are either too big or too small. This was just the right size. I ended up buying the whole set for $10.
I am a cheapskate at heart and nothing warms my cockles than to get a good bargain. When I looked up the stoneware set online, it turns out a set of 4 dinner plates of the same pattern sell on e bay for $14.99. So I think I’ve got a pretty good bargain.
Update on my next garage sale adventure in September.