Sunday, August 31, 2008


I miss it.

Sunday Morning

It's good to be home.

On Friday night, as we swept past the flat en route to the parental house, it hurt. Even though I got conversation, tea and breakfast that I didn't have to make, not until last night, when I was curled up on the floor next to The Roomate and Her Boy giggling about something inane and slurping up the Spanish liqueur I swiped from the parents, did I sigh and think, I'm home.

I woke up this morning in a fuzzy purr, and even though there was no milk, The Roommate went to the store and bought it and Her Boy boiled it so MinCat could have her tea.

And now, as we sit on the living room floor caterwauling along with Adam Levine, all the angst, doubt and trouble of the past week melts away: This is why my life is the way it is, and This makes it worthwhile.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Portrait of a Lifestyle?

A photo of my bed, just before I turned in last night. The water: to prevent hangovers; the phones: personal and work; the laptop cord: to keep in touch with the universe; the bed in the new flat: to be an independent adult; the bedside lamp: to keep the monsters away.

In which we live and we learn

Did you know eggs could freeze? I had NO idea. Our fridge, which was kindly bequeathed to us by the parents, and kindly bequeathed to them by some other young independent woman when she upped, got married and left, has this interesting feature: everything freezes. For some reason, no matter how low (or high) one turns the dial, or how much one puts IN it, stuff freezes. So, on Monday morning we found our eggs with vertical cracks and well frozen solid. I made fried eggs on Monday by mashing an egg-shaped crystalline lump of eggwhite and then yolk. The Roommate was much amused.

Which brings me to a poll: The Roommate, in her infinite ignorance, claims that one must put the weight on the cooker from the first minute, not realising that doing so traps air inside WHICH can lead the cooker to explode. In her deprived life she has only used Hawkins don't-remove-the-weight type cookers, obviously, or she would know this simple fact about Prestige cookers. Anyway, the question I have is this: How many of you, my readers, all three of you, use Prestige cookers, and if so do you put the weight on first?

I had my first dinner party last night! It was Colombian in guests, raucous in nature and led to severe food comas in two of the visitors. Quite the success methinks. Conversation was varied, though it displayed a distressing tendency to veer towards the scatological. We did, however, discuss the elephanting of Ganesha, so it wasn't ALL sex and poo. Lovely, in short.

I have discovered that I manage to invent food as I cook it. It's quite a revelation, since I have managed to invent fairly nice versions of food I have never eaten, or atleast not liked the few times I have eaten it. Palak dal. Then the egg curry from last night. We do however have a problem, since The Roommate is obsessed, as are many foolish people who wish to annhilate their tastebuds, with madly chilly-filled food, and I cannot eat chillies in my food. So I've been putting in as much as I can handle, but then it's not enough for her and it's too much for me, and neither of us enjoys it! A solution must be found!

I think I am designed to be a housewife. Seriously! I have been so thrilled with cleaning, grocery shopping, cooking, making sure The Roommate gets off to work with her lunch packed and so on that it leaves me facing the fact that I LOVE BEING A MOMMY. The downside of course is that The Roommate, who leaves the house to go to work, gets heavy princess treatment, and one of these days I'm going to be mad and leave her a note saying "There's not fairy in the kitchen who does the dishes you know..." Her response, she says, will be "Really? I had no idea! Ok, you look after the house while I go off to find one."

Airports and Suchlike Pandemonium

Now that MinCat has a Job and is an Important Person she gets to fly about at the whims of her employers, who very kindly favour the full-service airlines Thank Darwin. This means I get to disdainfully compare airports, and well can I just say this and have it set in stone?


It seriously rocks. The ultimate comparison will be with Bangalore, if and when it happens, but seriously, we fuckin rock.

Chennai airport has the GROSSEST loos EVER. I thought Delhi was bad, because somehow the ventilation only brings in the smell of stale piss, but Chennai is like the waiting room at a third rate railway station!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Moving House

Perhaps we're just preternaturally lucky, but the Roomate and I decided to hunt on Saturday, found the perfect place on Sunday, signed the lease on Wednesday, moved on Friday, shopped and set up on Saturday and Sunday, and have a fully running house as of Monday morning, allowing for the cooking of lunch in the morning before she left for work!

It really is a nice feeling to be living with someone I love so much :) Yes we get snippy, especially at 11pm while washing and drying the last of the dishes to be put away. And we're used to different styles of cookers, and different brands of tea; I must have the fan on and she mostly prefers it off, but it just works. There is little to match the joy of actually setting up a kitchen with someone who will treat it with the respect a kitchen deserves!

I just love my new flat :) It's just the right size for the two of us. My room is full of light and the Good Night keeps the mosquitoes away. The fan groans just the right amount, and theres enough signal on my datacard to manage to check work email and not fall behind. And did I mention, it's about 15 minutes away from most of the places I like to go with my friends! The best bit is that I get to pop off home to the parental house and luxuriate in internet and generally being in their house, which mitigates missing them.

And now I should go and do something. Like think of what else I wish to filch out of here and smuggle off with me! :D

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Of Tributes, Copycat behaviour and New directions

Recently one of my fav people branched out into photoblogging. And dear me, if anyone should photoblog it is she. However, aside from the two people who read this blog who will now go see her fabulous photos, I bring this up because, as happens often with the two of us, the same idea was simmering in the back of my head - especially since I have nothing to SAY anymore.

Therefore: in tribute to one of the finest and most dedicated photographers I know, and an attempt to revive my own interest in blogging, I'm going to post photos too!

This one is from our road trip up the 101 from San Francisco in March.

Thursday, August 07, 2008


Hi. If anyone's left.

I have no excuse, only reasons. I was so very stressed out about The Future and suchlike animals that I really didn't want a post a series of whines. And then I landed a job and was whisked off to other cities and now am so busy I can't breathe.

Apparently I am a natural trainer. Seriously. They tossed me into the deep end, and despite big holes in the material I'm doing fine. My trainees haven't noticed my extreme inexperience, and well, maybe just maybe all will be good.

Spending so much time in Singara Sennai I find that I am immensely tickled by a few things. For starters, I just love the fact that half the drivers of people's air conditioned cars, when they emerge for whatever reason, are wearing veshtis! I just LOVE it. And then, there's the cabbie who took me to the client site yesterday, who sadly informed me that all us city people with our insistence on running the airconditioning are ruining his health, since he was raised in a village and can't manage without fresh air. I refrained from asking him if his village was actually situated IN an exhaust pipe, because I can't really see any other way he could call this fresh air.

I have also resumed my halting and, frankly, backward attempts to read Tamizh, as a source of amusement for those who travel with me. Then there was this other cabbie who wrote out my receipt in Tamizh, citing that fact that we are in Tamizh land, and as such shouldn't be required to write in white people's languages. When we're in THEIR lands we can write in English. I solemnly agreed and averred that there is bound to be SOMEONE in my office who can read Tamizh, especially in the expenses section, so we'd be fine.

Alas the sun appears to be out today, blech. And my cab is here, so I'm off! Dreading another day of 8 hours talking non-stop. Sigh. You'd think MinCat of all people would be eminently suitable for THAT job, but apparently it ain't that simple!