Tag Archives: blah

Swing

My emotions have been swinging like crazy today.

Morning:  Had to run around to get my tax papers in order and spent frustrating hours at the bank.

= anger.

Afternoon:  thought the kid was coming down with a fever.

= worry/fear

(she thankfully didn’t).

Evening: heard that a cousin – a childhood playmate of mine, and one year younger than me, died of cardiac arrest.

= shock, followed by misery.

Late evening:  Forced myself to attend the Zumba session just to get out of the misery of my cousin’s death.  Ended up enjoying it despite dancing like a duck on steroids.

= joy.

Weird day.

One of those days…

It is hot.  I have said it before, and I say it again.  It is hot.

I have a lot of backlog work and am bored.  I need a break from editing.  I have a week’s editing work left.  Need to get on to original writing.  Writing withdrawal.

I wanted to rest my back on the cool red-oxide cement floor of my living room for a few minutes post lunch, and fell asleep.  Not a good idea when there is a lot of backlog work and I have plans to go to the gym.

I skipped the gym today because of the previous point.  I am not happy with myself about it.

I had a rather large glass of amazing rose-milkshake this morning.  This brand of rose milkshake has been sold every summer for the past thirty five years (that I remember) by a milk shop near my childhood home.  I had to visit dad today for some chores, and couldn’t resist it.

I am marginally lactose intolerant.  That completes the previous point.

The rose milk also has a ton of sugar in it.  This negates the point three steps up.

My sil who visited me brought me a large box of Honey Nut Cheerios.  As a grad student in US, I had honey nut cheerios for breakfast, lunch, dinner, midnight snacks and all in between.  I avoid going to the kitchen because every time I go there, I pop a fistful of it into my mouth.  This negates the point four steps up as well.

I am craving for honey nut cheerios as I type this out.

It is hot.  I wish it would rain.  I wish I wish.

 

 

 

Tired Tuesday

Yeah, it’s becoming a bad habit, isn’t it?

A lot of running around thanks to a hypochondriac relative deciding that he needed hospitalization for something or the other, and the associated emotional blackmails – oh, I’ll feel so much better if you are around …family is such a dog, sometimes.  I wish I were more confrontationistic by nature – I could just ask these people to cut the crap out and behave like adults rather than children who got boo-boos playing on the seesaw.  Gah.  The drama isn’t over yet, by the way.  Double Gah.

By afternoon I was fairly disgusted that I hit the gym and worked out more than usual, just to get the irritation out of my system.  I felt better after that, but my muscles ache.

Talking of working out, I have had no luck with losing any of the lbs I have apparently packed in the past six months.  Of course it has only been two weeks of working out and calorie counting, but you know it would be nice if  the scales showed me some encouragement.

I haven’t been in the mood to work today.  And yesterday.  It is piling on.  Hmm.

 

 

Weird weekend

I swear I did not try to make the two words of the title start with the same letter. There is no way else I can describe the weekend that is panning out.

Yes, I am home (practically) alone, but it hasn’t been as restful as I had hoped it would be.  Interestingly, it is 5.40 on Saturday evening, and this is the first time this week that I have had a moment to sit and sip tea.

The “busy”ness has been in my mind rather than my body.

Yesterday morning, my cousin (strictly speaking, he is an uncle, but since he is my age, I prefer to address him as cousin) called me out of the blue.  This is a very shy cousin, who prefers to think twice before speaking and not speak after all.  So, I knew it had to be bad news, which is perfectly justified, considering the number of senile oldies in that wing of the family.

“M passed away”, he started.

“Who is M?” I really couldn’t place an M among the oldies, and certainly not someone that my cousin would address using first name.

“M.  R Chithappa’s son.  From [the town’s name].”

“You mean R Chithappa died?” R Chithappa is 90 years old, and completely off his rockers.  And stays with M.

“No.  R Chithapa’s son, M died”.

I thought my cousin had gone mad.  M is (was) a famous urologist, around 58 years old, trim, prim and very calm.  And very healthy.  I wondered if it was April first, but B is not the kind to pull a joke, much less about something as morbid as death.

“I know.  I am shocked too.  Please inform V, S and the other cousins.  I need time to collect myself”.  He disconnected.

Believe me when I say that the exact same conversation happened with my cousins V and S, in these cases, I being the side to break the news and they confused about whether R Chithappa died.

I was in a daze all of yesterday because it made no sense, and I could get not get any further information about the death.  I think it must have been a cardiac failure.  M’s wife, N, is a very good friend of mine, and I am scared to call her/write to her.  What do you to say to an aunt/friend who has lost her husband untimely?

But that was not the end of it.

This morning, my very good friend calls me and says that her husband had mild heart attack.  It took me a while to process that as well.  Thank God it is only mild, it is disturbing nevertheless. Again a young (relatively – in the forties), and apparently healthy looking person, with apparently clogged arteries. What can I do but hope and pray that he gets alright soon, and she retains the strength in her to tide over this crisis.

If the above were mental disturbances, there were material stuff as well.  My ancestral home is 70 years old, and now and then, problems sneak up and grow to fairly large proportions that need immediate attending to.  There is a large loft in the attic, in which the oversized old brass and bronze utensils are stored. They are saved for antiquity value and not because they have any use anymore.  There is, for example, one bronze coffee filter that is used to make coffee for fifty people in one shot.  LARGE.  The problem was that my father discovered pretty serious termite infestation in the loft.  Since the contents of the loft are fairly valuable (not overly so, but sorta), he needed to have the oversized utensils removed before letting the termite control guys into it.  So, gobblefunkist to the rescue.  Climb up the rickety loft, get bitten by termites and bear down utensils that are twice her size.   Then, once the termites were treated, get the termite guys out, climb up the rickety loft again, and put back the utensils twice her size.

Tomorrow life will return to usual and people will return to cohabitate with me.   I wish my time-alone had been a tad more relaxed. But I wonder if that is a myth, and the relaxation is all in the head and not in the environment.

This and that

My erstwhile MAC Air is officially dead.  Its motherboard gave up the ghost for reasons that the apple store genius couldn’t fanthom.  Probably voltage fluctuation, he said. Probaby heat.  Probably the fact that gobblefunkist was finally getting comfortable with it. I am not attached to material things, so I don’t feel bad about the sad demise, except for the fact that considering its cost, it could have lived a couple of years longer.

No use crying over spilt laptops.

I am still getting used to this monstrosity of a laptop I now have.  It has 1 TB of memory (the kid who called it “stone age gadget”, couldn’t close her mouth for a full minute when I gave her the number), and the screen is nice and big and easy on my ageing eyes.  But the speed-of-light transition of keystroke to screen that I got used to in the MAC and the literal AIR-like weight are lacking in this.  But, that’s ok. I will get used to it.  What is more difficult to get used to is the use of the ctrl key on the far left that requires the pinky instead of the command key that used my thumb.  Some serious brain rewiring involved.

This past week I had so many thoughts in my head (largely dark and gothic) that I wanted to put down into words, but now I can’t remember any of those.  The epiphany I get is that that too had passed !

I joined a gym a couple of years ago for all the wrong reasons – my self-esteem had fallen into a dark abyss and I had strongly beleived that losing those handles in the midsection was all that was required to get me back on track. The good side effect was that I had become trim in a couple of months, but the bad side effect was that it did nothing to my self esteem, which needed a more spiritual approach. The second side effect was that once I realised that a svelte body had nothing to do with the crap in my head, I abandoned the gym and the handles reappeared.  I kept putting off resuming gymming because of inertia, and because I had started it for the wrong reasons.

Today I shook off the inertia and went to the gym.  This time, for myself. And with my self esteem is place (more or less – PMS self-bashing notwithstanding). Because I need to get healthier.   Not necessarily thinnner.  I can feel it in my bones that this time I won’t give it up like I did last time.  Let’s see.

I also need a wardrobe makeover because the clothes I bought three months ago are now faded.  But we all know how much I hate shopping.  So, if you see a woman in faded salwar that you can’t believe has ever seen better days, it could be me.

I can’t wait for the Sharing your world questions these days. It is annoying that Monday starts a day later in Cee’s part of the world.  Hrmph.

Happy weekend, all.

Am I back or not?

I bucked under and let the darn WP guzzle up a lot of space on my computer.  I am not happy about it, but considering that my business site runs on wp too, I didn’t seem to have too much choice.   Insert choice expletives here.

I am still no completely ok health wise.  The flu is gone, but I have an irritated chest that makes me want to cough at the intention of talking.  And the cough takes on barfing proportions soon enough.  But that’s ok. Some amount of physical discomfort keeps me grounded in the present.

While the rest of the state has been reeling under heat waves in the recent past, our coastal city has been relatively milder (the watchword being “relatively”).  But that is set to change.  I hear that we will cross the 40-mark starting tomorrow.  Bracing myself for the heat.

My work is catching up after a fairly relaxed fortnight.  So, next week maybe a bit on the busy side.

And life goes on….

Monday Medley

You know how they say eating home-made stuff is better than store bought stuff?  Balderdash.  A couple of days back, in an attempt to make “healthy” icecream, I blended watermelon and orange, added home-made sugar syrup to it, froze it and had home-made “sorbet” for desert.  Within hours, I started the mother of all flu.  I could have just bought icecream from the neighbourhood shop than try out stunts like these.  Between wanting to throw up, wanting to blow my nose constantly and wanting to curl up in bed, I have been largely dysfunctional through the weekend.  A visit to the family doctor has put the spring back to my step now, although the stomach does threaten to empty its content at short notice.

I had a minor epiphany – actually I have always known it, but it just got reiterated.  As I lay moaning and groaning on my bed last night, I yearned for my grandmother’s kashayam (herbal tea).  At that moment, I realised (again) what cowcrap nostalgia is.  When I was young, I avoided telling my grandmother that I was sick, if I could help it, for fear of her kashayam.  Just thinking about the making-hole-in-the-stomach-spicy, hot liquid makes me want to scream.  But the mind is such a fraud – it masks the unpleasantness with romantic imagination and convinces you that everything was better in the good old times – even kashayam.

Talking of grandmas –  I think she passed some of her culinary skills to me when she died.  For the past year or so, any food I make seems to come out good.  Now for most people that’s not a big deal. I have consistently, for twenty years of my life, turned food to ashes by my mere presence, so it is funny how ever since paati died, I have been able to cook better. Macabre, I think.

I threw a tantrum today at a shop.  The kid’s football coach wanted me to get her shin guards, now that she was playing serious matches and I took a detour to the sports shop to get one, on my way to school to pick her up.  As soon as I asked for shinguards, the sales man asked “how old is the boy”.  The fellow didn’t know what hit him when I started with “why do you assume that it is for a boy” and went on for the next three minutes about the evils of stereotypes.  Fellow might have resigned his job after I left.

Have a good weekend folks.