Small Change

Hmm... Just finished reading Small Change by Sheila Roberts. Great book on how a bunch of girlfriends change their spend-thrift ways and eventually straighten their out of control lives. I liked the characterization and the vivid descriptions of the emotional dilemmas faced by the lead characters. But it also set me thinking about altering my own ways.

Ok. I am definitely not a spend-thrift. I like to call myself 'Economical'- which is far from stingy and definitely farther from spending foolishly. I do not skimp on education, health and food and safety. For everything else, there always sales and bargains. :)

But the department in which I fear, I am sadly lacking is Housekeeping. Oh- I'm quite all right. Not pathetic- but definitely not exemplary. But I want to be. So, my New Year Resolution is to take charge of all the Household chores [which are not many and which is why my Guilt-o-meter beeps frequently.]

I've been reading Jen's Blog 'IHeart Organising' and taking inspiration from it- am going about to do just that. Will post on my progress soon enough.

Oh, and do read both Jen's Blog and Sheila Robert's book.

Yet Another Good Day

Watched Beauty and the Briefcase yesterday with Hubbyji. He really did not like it that much- no wonder; since the movie is more of a Chick Flick. But he patiently sat through it when I told him I wanted to see the very end. How cute is that?

We played Chinese Checkers. He is quite a player. I moved 22 of my 30 coins in though. I feel great about that. Hubs also made lunch- an exotic recipe he learnt from his Mom.

Plus, am reading Murder at Hazelmoor- by Agatha Christie. And I earned 8000 grains for children of poorer nations on FreeRice reaching Level42 of 60 on my English vocab. My day could not have been better.

GoodDay

Feeling great and upbeat today.
All the good things that happened today are:
I exercised
Drank lots of water
Watched the movie The Next Karate kid
My cousin is possibly coming to visit
Consumed fresh salad
House is almost clean- the dishes are still waiting [ :( ]
Am looking fresh after a nice luxurious shampoo bath
Bose speaker is booming with lovely songs
Scenery outside is quite nice- all wintery grey with the trees lightly swaying their branches in tune to the wind.

As added at night:
Had wonderful Butter Paneer- Master Chef Hubbyji's creation. Yummy!
All the cleaning was eventually done.
Cuz could not make it- but we did chat on the phone a bit. Hubby and I instead played a leisurely game of Scrabble.
Bose blared all evening.

Finding faults is a virtue...

Finding faults is a virtue. At least in my case. Everyone can spot flaw in others - it is almost a reflex action. In my case, the tendency is more acute. Add the fact that I am a female, have a very good nose for gossip and come from a long lineage of shrewd people and you can complete the sordid picture. My mind seems wired with an instinctive transmitter that picks up the slightest of errors in the works of others, especially the written word.

And did that make me hugely unpopular at work? Did I ever even find a job? Absolutely. I am a former testing executive. In fact, I would revel in announcing my job description to people. There is something spitefully enjoyable about telling people that my job is to find mistakes in other people's jobs and get paid for it. This particular explanation was obviously only for people outside of testing domain. Even engineers, including developers fall in this [Testers are quite a scorned lot.] The result was always the same- a dropped jaw, a jealous stare and turning away. Saved me from quite some bores. 

I reserve a lengthy, grand elevator job pitch however for the testing crowd. Can't serve the same dialogue to people well aware that fault-finding is a thankless, tedious and precarious job. Constant possession of undeniably solid proofs and compressed timespans with doubly hard deadlines are some of the parameters of my working environment. I take these challenges as the spice of life.

In case you focussed on the word former- rest assured. I quit to get married. Now I have a person all to myself to find fault with. This state of affairs would be most agreeable and delightful; if it were not for the fact that Hubbyji is the most dearest and amicable of folks. He is funny, witty, charming, generous with a decidedly sunny disposition. Oh, he does breathe fire occasionally but then I am not called 'all steel and ice' for nothing.

And before I drift any further, let me reiterate the point I was trying to make, Finding faults is not such a bad thing after all.

Recipe for Disaster

Quite an eventful day- in the kitchen. My culinary woes, or more accurately, hubby's gastro woes never seem to cease.

Today's menu was Methi Paratha. The leaves were soaked, cooked and tasted. Since, it was the first time I was independently preparing them, had mashed potatoes for some Aloo parathas as well. Sounds like quite a strategy, doesn't it? Fool-proof, I thought.

Obviously, I underestimated my own abilities to botch up the simplest of stuff.

Open to scene where the first aloo paratha is prepared. Methi paratha is on the tawa merrily cooking. After I happily flipped the paratha one last time, I heated some ghee for Hubby's favourite roti accompaniment - ghee and sugar. All done and I called out to him to take  the parathas. I was quite confident since I had my backup of aloo paratha. I have made them many times previously, so I was happyily rolling out the next ones.

Act 2: Hubbyji delightedly took his first bite. At my questioning glance, he swallowed and tried to curb the spasm of distaste that was overcoming him. My frown lines were growing deeper than Grand Canyon when he replied- too much salt. 'Okie- skip that and have the Aloo under that one' was my reply. Hubby turned and left only to come back with a horrifying shout. What? was my only comment. This is terribly salty too. Our jaws dropped. Okay, extra salt was his excuse- mine was plain misery. The flour- replied my inner Sherlock and a ravenous Hubs dear.

Hmm. I wish that were the end. Sadly, the day had was yet not over. I'll leave out the gory details of a partially cooked Frozen paratha. I won't even mention the  overcooked one that followed the half-done partner or even Hubbyji's growing ire. It is just too gory and painful. Just a one word description will suffice- Disaster.

So, what can I reveal? Well, I must mention Hubby dear's sweet gesture of cooking for me. [I take offence at anyone who says 'About time' though.] And I will include his sympathetic way of wiping away my tears of frustration at having lost the battle in my kitchen. Hubs is a sweetie- really; and not just because we shared the next parathas slathered with lots of ghee [my favourite]. Not just due to his way of making me double up with laughter at his jokes as we ate. Could be that he allowed me a close win in the round of Scrabble that we played next- just before his offshore call. Could be because he nudged my favourite MB towards me as he took his daily meeting. Could also be his handing me an almond sprinkled chocolate ice-cream. But mostly, it was for understanding. For comprehending my feelings, and sympathising at such silly times. Especially, since Hubs is a great cook and is an expert at new dishes and the fact that he had asked specifically if we could have an early dinner as he was a bit hungry and had loads of office work.

Is it any wonder that I adore this man? Absolutely not. My efforts in the kitchen might have ended up in an utter failure. But that's paltry compared to the comforting fact that I've ended up with the right man! Adios- to a new day and a new recipe, maybe.

Let them sweat!

Let them sweat. I think as I look at my windows. Not the technological ones. I mean the shut and close types. I am in Chicago and winter is beginning to set in and my windows are open.

Brrr!! It is cold. This city is cold. And winter has not even begun properly yet. Coming from a hot and humid country, especially from the seaside city of Mumbai, I find the Windy City quite frosty. I don't mind the unpredictable rains here- as a matter of fact, I love it. It reminds me of the incessant rains during the monsoons back home.

But the cold. Oh dear. I am one of those millions of fellow Indians who bundle up at anything below 25 degrees Celsius and grumble at how chilly the weather has turned. So, coming to a place that has single digit temperatures is hugely difficult.

It's not just the climate that I am adjusting to. I am also getting used to the simple actions that are a given in cold climates. Like sealing air conditioners. I never knew people do that. Like buying multi-layered winter gear that needs to combat extreme winter, severe moisture and blasting winds. Like adjusting temperatures on the heaters. Temperature monitoring was something I have encountered only in my college laboratories.

I did not even know until this first winter that windows sweat. That was only for people- especially in overcrowded trains. It came to my attention during when I first looked out for tiny snowflakes. Ah, the first sight of snowing is indeed a delightful one. But then I got distracted by the row of dewdrops on my clear glass windows. Daily wiping was now leaving me vexed, so we called the apartment staff who oversee such stuff. An affable, burly engineer informed me: Madam. your windows are sweating. I've used a sealant but you will need to keep your windows open for a while daily -just a crack. Especially when you cook.

An inwardly horrified me kept a pleasant face. Even after the poor guy happily mentioned- it is just around seventy outside. [in degrees Fahrenheit]. I nodded by way for reply. But I don't think he believed it. And he is right. Seventy is cold for me. Keep the windows open indeed. No, I won't.

Let them sweat, I thought as I stared at the windows. But they stared right back at me with tear-rimmed corners. Hmmph! Oh well, wiping windows is a bigger ordeal. So, here I am, coffee mug in hand; bundled up in a cosy sweater, writing away madly while the cold swirls around me from the open windows. The freshly brewed coffee is healing, the melody of keys being typed is soothing and my clean, dry windows are offering me a beautiful verdant scene- almost like extending a magnificent olive branch. I think I've taken it.

Mumbai

Mumbai! Seems so far away! Well, geographically it is - since I am in a suburb near Chicago, but never mind that! This article is a tribute to the city I grew up in- Mumbai.
I did not always think that my heart was so attached to Mumbai or that it's essence and character were so deeply entrenched in me,

I believe in the maxim of 'Home is where Family is'! I've moved in quite a few places and have never even stayed in proper Mumbai. But even then, I realize that I actually miss the place almost as much as I do my family.

It never occurred to me, Ms.Am-So-Comfortable-With-Myself, that I would ever feel such over-whelmimg love for a city. After all, I have never succumbed to discriminating based on city or region, I am very much secular and I look down on dumb generalizations based on one's place of residence. I admit our location does shape us as we sport certain habits but that should not influence our judgement of people.

Anyway, back to my point. I'm proud of being from Mumbai. Yes, but the magnitude of my love of this city sunk in only two  months ago when I was watching the song 'Rim Jhim Gire Sawan' [Lataji's version]. I love this song as my parents resemble the star duo in mannerisms- especially my Mom laughingly trying to keep pace with my tall Dad. I've watched it a million times. But the moment of truth came when my hubby asked me with some curiosity- What? He knows I am a fan of Big B but I surely don't look so adoringly at anyone but Hubbyji. My answer stunned me- Mumbai! And in that moment, I knew that this city has a place far larger in my heart than I ever imagined.

After this startling relevation, I decided I might as well as accept the inevitable. I love Mumbai. Proud to say that - loud and clear.
I love the rains, the trains, the tall skyscrapers, the moviemakers, the street food and Fashion street, the malls and the road stalls. I adore the Queen's necklace and the crowded beaches where I find solace. I am proud of the fact that like all train commuters- I consider distances in terms of time and time of the day. I know that like every Mumbaikar, I am resilient and possess an ambitious streak tempered by a tendency to indulge in myself and have fun along the way. I am glad that I lived in a city that embraces all- rich and poor, young and old, classy and dhinchak, khadoos and bindaaz. I am so glad that I am a Mumbaikar.

Envious!

En-vi-ous!
Quite catchy a title for my first blog experience? I came up with this in the first few nanoseconds  when asked for a title.
Aha! And what line of thinking prompted this expression of my much-touted vocabulary? Hmmm...
I can't deny that the title does not epitomise my very much base human tendencies, or even my commonplace and trite thinking. But truth is, that the word is actually a homophone of my initials- NVS: V being Daddy darling's initial and S being hubby dear's. It's that mundane. And no, I really do not conform to the coveting mean image which the heading evokes.
I just wanted to begin voicing my thoughts and observations and this title seemed to be just the thing to get started. In fact, I can already see the draft of the next post that outlines just who NVS personifies. Inspiration strikes - and all from a name. Awesome.
So long then, until the next post.
Cheers,
NVS