Bedecked

Another piece of inheritance, a century old, at least, one that I wouldn’t “be caught dead in” in the bygone decades of juvenile delinquency.

Age makes humble pie taste delicious.

Unusually pink-red rubies Rare.

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Back in the battle

…if you know what I mean !

A few days back, I complained that my life was spiraling out of control and listed a bunch of backlog chores.  A few days hence, the spiral is nowhere gone, especially given that the kid’s mid-term exams have added a few tight turns to it, but at least I got some of the work done.  The pile of clothes has been ironed, and as I ironed the clothes, a long post was composed in my head, the gist of it being, I was not only terrible at ironing clothes, but also hated the chore in the past, but now, I don’t hate it, it gives me an opportunity to be in silence, and give into my thoughts.  That does not mean I have become better at it, mind you.  I continue to, excuse the expletive, suck big time at the job.

I completed editing the boring non-science documents without gouging my eyes out, not that the eyes fared any better – the forties have not been kind to the windows to my soul.  I have not started the sciencey stuff yet.  I continue to wear rags because shopping for clothes for myself runs a close third after cooking and editing non-science documents, but I finally got the kid fresh school uniform; she has been wearing uniform that have forgotten what better days look like.

On the up-side, I spent a few hours at my dad’s house.  Sometimes I miss having a set of female care-takers who could pamper me now and then (mom/grandmom), but my dad, despite all his other faults, fills the gap quite nicely.  He had ordered lunch, let me sleep on the floor of his living room for a full hour, and woke me up with a cup of tea.  Oh bliss, to drink tea not made by me, after a siesta.

This led me to a rather disturbing thought.  How much we take for granted, the stuff other people do for us.  We don’t realise this until we have lost it. I wish I could thank my mother and grandmother for having done so much for me when I was growing up, and even beyond – I just took them for granted.  I also realise that history is repeating itself, self being at the receiving end now.  And then the thought got a bit meloncholic and even morbid, and I stopped the train in its tracks before it derailed and went on to other things.  But before that, I thanked my father, and told him that his tea was the best I have tasted in a long time.  He teared up.

Thanks for missing me.

 

 

 

Hiatus

My life seems to be a little out of control.  I have not been diligent about anything at all, with the result that work has piled up.  We are talking of unpleasant work, such as ironing a pile of clothes, buying daily wear clothes (you won’t believe the rag I am wearing these days), planning weekly menu (groan), and taking care of the editing backlog ( four docs in non-science fields, ugh).

I also have some not-so-unpleasant work, like starting off on the US-EPA solicitation, editing an engineering paper and resuming the tutoring that seemed to have cooled off these past two days.

I think I need a break from wordpress. I will not be reading or writing posts for a week.  So, please miss me.  I know I will (miss you, that is, not myself).

 

 

Weltschmerz

Do you know that gnawing feeling in your head that slowly moves down, so that the there is something chewing the stomach?  The feeling of “oh, eff it, I need to do something with my life”.

Coupled with “Oh eff, I am so effing bored…KMN”.

Pretty sure it is hormonal.  Everything in this world is hormonal. Especially when the eff word is involved.

*Welt: world; schmerz: pain. Yes, I know a smattering of German.  At least the words that matter.  Like Scheisskopf , Verdammt and Quatsch.

Monday mishmash (in retrospect, a boring mishmash)

Yesterday, I had three back-to-back tutoring sessions, each a couple of hours long.  The first was physics to my daughter and her classmate, the second was also physics but to my daughter’s friends who are one class junior, and the third was biology revision for my kid alone. The revision was not my choice, but the kid decided that the best way to know if she was prepared for her test was to teach someone all that she knew, and I became the taught, rather than the teacher. You’d think I’d have been exhausted, given that just ten minute of social talking with people makes my voice box collapse along with my body and soul, but I was not. My voice box was just fine, as was the b&s.  I can’t understand myself.

Here’s the irritating bit. Two people, my father, and an aunt, advised me to take it easy on the kid and not push her too much. Here I am, grumbling all the time about how I am a sub-par mom when it comes to pushing the child, and two people have indirectly called me tiger mom. Do they have a point there?  Am I tiger mom for tutoring the kid at home instead of sending her to tuition centers and staying out of her academic life?

Why doesn’t parenting come with a manual?

***

I struggle with my garden, as I have mentioned innumerable number of times.  Glossing lightly over my own inherent black thumb, monkeys are a pain in the arse to my plants and to me.  While the adult ones are ok, the younger ones create havoc – pulling out leaves, uprooting plants, upsetting pots…

Apart from the monkeys, the large canopy of the mango tree does not allow too much sunlight down below, and given that photosynthesis is divided into the light reaction and dark reaction, of which the light reaction actually needs considerable light so that carbon dioxide and water are split into oxygen, hexose sugars and energy in the form of ATP and NADPH (did I tell you my kid was thorough with the biology lesson?), the shade of the tree makes the already traumatized plants depressed.

A couple of weeks back, I went to my local nursery to buy some dung cakes for the struggling garden and asked the woman-in-charge what I must do to help my hibiscus plants grow better. She was shocked when I said I watered the plant every day and said I was killing the plant, and that hibiscus needs very little watering.  Feeling guilty, I held back from watering the hibiscus, hoping that it would help the plant.

I am a science person.  I know the chemical basis of photosynthesis.  I know the micro structure of plant parts. Why I would listen to someone asking me to parch a plant, in the peak of Indian summer, is beyond me.  My plant wilted.  I steeled myself and let it wilt further, believing that the woman from the nursery knew what she was saying –  the plant will wilt before it will catch on.

So, it wilted and wilted with no sign of catching on.  And then the steel melted.  I decided that it’s ok if my plant does not grow, at least it is alive, and resumed watering it as before.

It’s been two days now, and the leaves are back to being green, with ATP and NADPH being produced as before.  Perhaps it will not grow any further nor bloom like I would have liked it to, but it’s alive and that’s enough for me.

**

Turned out to be a boring post, but that reflects on my general mood today.  Perhaps tomorrow would be dazzling, but this is it for today.