This morning as I walked to work there was a decided chill in the air, so much that I had to button up my jacket and huddle into it for comfort. Further south, I could feel my toes turn
(un)comfortably numb. I reluctantly conceded that it's time to be out with the sandals, and in with the boots and closed-toeds.
Oh autumn, why hast thou forsaken us?!
Goodbye toesies, see you next May.
Entirely unrelated:
Yesterday I sent out an email to all the employees with some clarificatory (??? - too lazy to check for correct word) information. Later that afternoon, Seagull came to me and asked me about exactly the information I'd distributed.
"Don't you ever read my emails?!" I grumbled.
"Oh, I love reading your emails," he responded. "They always make me laugh."
Hmmph. I'd almost rather he didn't.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Somewhere, a heart was broken
As I was walking down the street yesterday, I noticed a young man carrying a large bouquet of roses. Aww, I thought. Lucky lass. He was pacing nervously back and forth in front of a building entrance.
The tension in his air was palpable. First date? I wondered. An anniversary? A birthday? A marriage proposal??? I was instantly lured by the drama, sad sap that I am.
NO, I didn't just stop and stare. Please. I'm too poised for that. Instead, I pretended my laces had come undone, and assiduously untied-and-retied them three times while waiting for the next step to unfold. Yes, my pathetic slyness knows no bounds. I know, I know - I should stop gleaning vicariously off other people and just find some drama in my own life. But there's only so much one can blog about new sunglasses.
The guy was obviously agonising over something, he raked his hands through his hair a few times, gritted his teeth, and kept rubbing his palms on his jeans. His turns back and forth had a tense vehemence to them. These are flowers to make up for a fight, I concluded. Awww, lucky girl. She's going to be so thrilled, and hopefully it'll be okay again and -
He suddenly threw the flowers onto the ground, deliberately stamped on them, crushing all the flowers, and stormed off. I stared after him unabashedly, mouth agape. He had deviated from the plot, thrown it to the winds and stomped all over my happy ending. And I thought of the person still upstairs, who didn't even know this had happened. Probably waiting for him to come and apologise. Probably hoping for some flowers.
Suddenly, I felt guilty to have witnessed something that went so wrong.
The tension in his air was palpable. First date? I wondered. An anniversary? A birthday? A marriage proposal??? I was instantly lured by the drama, sad sap that I am.
NO, I didn't just stop and stare. Please. I'm too poised for that. Instead, I pretended my laces had come undone, and assiduously untied-and-retied them three times while waiting for the next step to unfold. Yes, my pathetic slyness knows no bounds. I know, I know - I should stop gleaning vicariously off other people and just find some drama in my own life. But there's only so much one can blog about new sunglasses.
The guy was obviously agonising over something, he raked his hands through his hair a few times, gritted his teeth, and kept rubbing his palms on his jeans. His turns back and forth had a tense vehemence to them. These are flowers to make up for a fight, I concluded. Awww, lucky girl. She's going to be so thrilled, and hopefully it'll be okay again and -
He suddenly threw the flowers onto the ground, deliberately stamped on them, crushing all the flowers, and stormed off. I stared after him unabashedly, mouth agape. He had deviated from the plot, thrown it to the winds and stomped all over my happy ending. And I thought of the person still upstairs, who didn't even know this had happened. Probably waiting for him to come and apologise. Probably hoping for some flowers.
Suddenly, I felt guilty to have witnessed something that went so wrong.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Fancy new sunnies
Milo's entry on binge-shopping yesterday got me thinking about my latest impulse purchase - a pair of sunglasses. You know. Cos with summer ending and all, it's a practical acquisition.
They might not be Versace or goldframed, but I love my new sunnies. Obviously, as luck would have it, right after I bought them we were plagued by a bout of cloudy/rainy weather. So I've been patiently biding my time, waiting for a sunny day when I could whip them out and strut my whippersnapper act on the streets. So you can imagine my excitement when I peered out the window this morning and was greeted by glorious sunshine.
Ok here's the thing. I've picked myself up a pair of those light, nearly-transparent shades. I don't know what I expected of the secret protective technology behind this, but well, I certainly didn't expect - transparency. As it turns out, the shades don't really block the sun.
But they DO have a wide frame that is something of an impediment to my peripheral vision. So although they didn't block the sunlight, the did block the large gap in the pavestones which I subsequently stumbled in, sending my sandal flying into the middle of the street. And they did block a view of the woman standing next to me, so that I almost elbowed her mistakenly in the face, bless her heart. So I have a few blindspots I'm going to have to get used to.
I suppose I could return them, but the problem is I LOVE them. I LURRVVE them. If I were American enough, I might even say I heart them. It's an aesthetics vs. practicality battle, and, well, Practicality ain't my middle name.
Besides, they feel so great (and we all know this is the real purpose of sunglasses anyway) perched on top of the head.
They might not be Versace or goldframed, but I love my new sunnies. Obviously, as luck would have it, right after I bought them we were plagued by a bout of cloudy/rainy weather. So I've been patiently biding my time, waiting for a sunny day when I could whip them out and strut my whippersnapper act on the streets. So you can imagine my excitement when I peered out the window this morning and was greeted by glorious sunshine.
Ok here's the thing. I've picked myself up a pair of those light, nearly-transparent shades. I don't know what I expected of the secret protective technology behind this, but well, I certainly didn't expect - transparency. As it turns out, the shades don't really block the sun.
But they DO have a wide frame that is something of an impediment to my peripheral vision. So although they didn't block the sunlight, the did block the large gap in the pavestones which I subsequently stumbled in, sending my sandal flying into the middle of the street. And they did block a view of the woman standing next to me, so that I almost elbowed her mistakenly in the face, bless her heart. So I have a few blindspots I'm going to have to get used to.
I suppose I could return them, but the problem is I LOVE them. I LURRVVE them. If I were American enough, I might even say I heart them. It's an aesthetics vs. practicality battle, and, well, Practicality ain't my middle name.
Besides, they feel so great (and we all know this is the real purpose of sunglasses anyway) perched on top of the head.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Bloggeurosis: Part I
Bloggeurosis. Yep. Neurosis of the bloggeur.
I've always had a semi-obsessive approach to life. And sometimes get so absorbed by an activity that it starts to take over my mind. And that's what's been happening with blogging lately.
As I go through daily life, I find myself, back in the nether regions of my mind, constantly testing incidents and moments for their blog-worthiness. Like chatting with Jeet as we cooked dinner this evening. She made a funny comment, and I caught my mind thinking, hmmm, I wonder if I can write a blog about that.
Nope, I told myself firmly.
But then another part of my mind started up: what about the diced tofu, can we write about that?
Or what about the way Rohinton's so engrossed in America's Top Model, wouldn't that make a funny entry?
The mind can be a many-faced goblin. Oy, pipe down, Li'l Ficali, I had to tell myself.
Sometimes, the simplest of activities can grow to take on a life of their own, and then there's no controlling them. Like take the MSN IM smileys for instance. One can only assume they were designed to imitate real human expression. But they have developed such an iconic presence, that by some perverse reversal of nature, I sometimes catch myself imitating the smileys rather than the other way around! Seriously. Like an over-dramatic bawling when the pettiest of things aren't going my way. Or making the :s face when baffled. You're right, it isn't pretty. But now it's become reflexive, and I have no control. I'm worried for the day I start sticking my tongue out at work in a cheeky :P
But back to bloggeurosis. It's not just the constant examination of life's daily foibles for blogworthy content. It is also the irrational excitement when someone's posted a comment. The hasty click on the comment link, and - oh no it's goddamn spam again.
And this ain't the last you'll hear of bloggeurosis nuther. In fact, for Part II, queue Macklaine.
** UPDATE **
Macklaine was supposed to do a follow-up post to this, but has decided he now can't, citing 'bloggeurosis' as the reason. So I guess it also includes some form of writer's block.
I've always had a semi-obsessive approach to life. And sometimes get so absorbed by an activity that it starts to take over my mind. And that's what's been happening with blogging lately.
As I go through daily life, I find myself, back in the nether regions of my mind, constantly testing incidents and moments for their blog-worthiness. Like chatting with Jeet as we cooked dinner this evening. She made a funny comment, and I caught my mind thinking, hmmm, I wonder if I can write a blog about that.
Nope, I told myself firmly.
But then another part of my mind started up: what about the diced tofu, can we write about that?
Or what about the way Rohinton's so engrossed in America's Top Model, wouldn't that make a funny entry?
The mind can be a many-faced goblin. Oy, pipe down, Li'l Ficali, I had to tell myself.
Sometimes, the simplest of activities can grow to take on a life of their own, and then there's no controlling them. Like take the MSN IM smileys for instance. One can only assume they were designed to imitate real human expression. But they have developed such an iconic presence, that by some perverse reversal of nature, I sometimes catch myself imitating the smileys rather than the other way around! Seriously. Like an over-dramatic bawling when the pettiest of things aren't going my way. Or making the :s face when baffled. You're right, it isn't pretty. But now it's become reflexive, and I have no control. I'm worried for the day I start sticking my tongue out at work in a cheeky :P
But back to bloggeurosis. It's not just the constant examination of life's daily foibles for blogworthy content. It is also the irrational excitement when someone's posted a comment. The hasty click on the comment link, and - oh no it's goddamn spam again.
And this ain't the last you'll hear of bloggeurosis nuther. In fact, for Part II, queue Macklaine.
** UPDATE **
Macklaine was supposed to do a follow-up post to this, but has decided he now can't, citing 'bloggeurosis' as the reason. So I guess it also includes some form of writer's block.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Out of the frying pan, into the fire
Early yesterday evening, Seagull casually sauntered into my office. "Aren't you going home yet?" he asked.
"Noooo," I groaned, banging my palm against my forehead. "I just have so much work to get done."
Turns out both Seagull and I had to stay late at work, so ultimate frisbee was out of the question. Thank GAWD. I'd started to get a bit angsty about it as late afternoon approached. Of course, there's next Monday. I know I can't escape it forever.
But it's good to know, that for this week at least, I still have a shred of dignity left.
Later that evening, there was a refreshing light drizzle as I walked home from the station, so I decided to go for my daily walk. Halfway through, without the decency of a warning, the drizzle suddenly turned into a downpour. Wouldn't you know it, Hurricane Rita right on my head. Unprepared for this as I was, there was naught to be done but turn around and brace myself for the worst of it. I scrunched up my nose to stem the flow of raindrops rolling off of it onto my chin. I must have been making a wierd face without realising, because I noticed a passerby give me a startled look. Quickly re-arranging my features into a degree of normalcy, I set off on the sloshy trundle home.
"Noooo," I groaned, banging my palm against my forehead. "I just have so much work to get done."
Turns out both Seagull and I had to stay late at work, so ultimate frisbee was out of the question. Thank GAWD. I'd started to get a bit angsty about it as late afternoon approached. Of course, there's next Monday. I know I can't escape it forever.
But it's good to know, that for this week at least, I still have a shred of dignity left.
Later that evening, there was a refreshing light drizzle as I walked home from the station, so I decided to go for my daily walk. Halfway through, without the decency of a warning, the drizzle suddenly turned into a downpour. Wouldn't you know it, Hurricane Rita right on my head. Unprepared for this as I was, there was naught to be done but turn around and brace myself for the worst of it. I scrunched up my nose to stem the flow of raindrops rolling off of it onto my chin. I must have been making a wierd face without realising, because I noticed a passerby give me a startled look. Quickly re-arranging my features into a degree of normalcy, I set off on the sloshy trundle home.
Reaching out
What does one do when a friend's in a bit of a spot? When you want to reach out to help, when it pains you to watch them grieve, and you wish, somehow, you knew the thing to make it better.
I usually find myself trapped within my own ineptitude. Wanting to say just the right word, do just the right thing, but paralysed by my own hesitancy. Of what? The fear of doing the one thing that might make it worse. The fear of being presumptious in assuming they may want my involvement, or that I may be able to help. And I reach out a tentative hand, but before they've even seen it, I withdraw it quickly again.
Each time, I find myself wavering at the bring of should-I-or-shouldn't-I. And suddenly, even as the thoughts are still swirling in my mind, the moment's passed, and I can't offer anymore. And they've done it on their own, they're okay again. But it just might have been so much easier if I'd only offered to help.
And I think to myself retrospectively - How ridiculous, I should have just offered. What could I have possibly lost. Next time I'll do it right. Next time.
What do you do?
I usually find myself trapped within my own ineptitude. Wanting to say just the right word, do just the right thing, but paralysed by my own hesitancy. Of what? The fear of doing the one thing that might make it worse. The fear of being presumptious in assuming they may want my involvement, or that I may be able to help. And I reach out a tentative hand, but before they've even seen it, I withdraw it quickly again.
Each time, I find myself wavering at the bring of should-I-or-shouldn't-I. And suddenly, even as the thoughts are still swirling in my mind, the moment's passed, and I can't offer anymore. And they've done it on their own, they're okay again. But it just might have been so much easier if I'd only offered to help.
And I think to myself retrospectively - How ridiculous, I should have just offered. What could I have possibly lost. Next time I'll do it right. Next time.
What do you do?
Date with myself
As soon as I woke up yesterday, before I'd even gotten out of bed, a glance at the thunderclouds outside confirmed that it was an 'at home' day. So what should we do today, Ficali, I said to myself. The world's our oyster.
With Rohinton and Jeet away for the weekend, the apartment had a larger-than-life kind of stillness to it.
I absorbed the silence for a while. Then, revelling in the absolute stillness around me, I did an hour of yoga. Then, feeling lithe and energised from the yoga, I did an hour of pilates. Then I groaned and cursed myself for having gone overboard in my enthusiasm. How had Macklaine so eloquently put it? Hoisted by my own petard.
The other day, Milo had asked me out of the blue, "do you draw or paint?". His question reminded me that I hadn't touched my sketchbook or colours since moving from London earlier in the year, and all of sudden I started to miss it terribly. So yesterday I nipped to the local art store across the street and did an impulse shop for sketching pencils, a sketchbook, water colours, brushes, palette, the works. Fortified with my new acquisitions, I spent all day listening to music and painting pictures.
Not that they're any good, mind you. I'm totally unartistic, and wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression. But painting is just so therapeutic and relaxing. And it was just such a perfect day.
With Rohinton and Jeet away for the weekend, the apartment had a larger-than-life kind of stillness to it.
I absorbed the silence for a while. Then, revelling in the absolute stillness around me, I did an hour of yoga. Then, feeling lithe and energised from the yoga, I did an hour of pilates. Then I groaned and cursed myself for having gone overboard in my enthusiasm. How had Macklaine so eloquently put it? Hoisted by my own petard.
The other day, Milo had asked me out of the blue, "do you draw or paint?". His question reminded me that I hadn't touched my sketchbook or colours since moving from London earlier in the year, and all of sudden I started to miss it terribly. So yesterday I nipped to the local art store across the street and did an impulse shop for sketching pencils, a sketchbook, water colours, brushes, palette, the works. Fortified with my new acquisitions, I spent all day listening to music and painting pictures.
Not that they're any good, mind you. I'm totally unartistic, and wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression. But painting is just so therapeutic and relaxing. And it was just such a perfect day.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Things that make you go hmmm.
Just cos it's a trendy bar is no reason to build in the bathrooms a convoluted labrynth of tall plants and fountains. Just cos it's a trendy bar is no reason to have washbasins disguised as fountains, where the water emerges from concealed spouts, when you press a concealed button.
There's no need to make it more complicated than necessary. Especially when people go there to - you know - drink.
The first time, I wandered around in the bathroom area a couple of times before the kindly attendant showed me the way.
The second time, I gave the attendant a jaunty wave. "I'm practised now," I told him with a smile. And walked right into the broom closet.
There's no need to make it more complicated than necessary. Especially when people go there to - you know - drink.
The first time, I wandered around in the bathroom area a couple of times before the kindly attendant showed me the way.
The second time, I gave the attendant a jaunty wave. "I'm practised now," I told him with a smile. And walked right into the broom closet.
Just like the old days
10 pm on a Friday night, and I've just got home. No way is that a big night out. No way should it feel like a big night out. But the combination of lack of sleep, lack of dinner and a couple of generous mojitos can go a long way towards distorting reality.
Ilajna had emailed me first thing in the morning. "Fancy a couple of drinks here?" she'd asked, sending a link to a fasionable West Village bar, which I subsequently found out often featured in Sex in the City.
"Sure," I'd said without more than a cursory glance at the site. I've a lot of faith in the trendy locations Ilajna suggests. We sat enjoying the pleasant summer evening on the rooftop garden until the faint autumnal drizzle turned into large plopping drops of warm rain. We were lucky to find a cozy nook in the indoors section downstairs.
There suddenly seemed so much to talk about and catch up on, and it made me realise how long it had actually been since we'd last had a proper tete-a-tete. We hadn't had a chance to get together since we both started our new jobs, and for the first time, I missed unemployment. And also for the first time, I got to see Ilajna's much-heard-of portfolio. It's funny when you just know your friend's an artist, but totally different when you actually see the art. And it simply blew me away.
"Will you decorate my home for me one day?" I asked her, overcome by the ingenuity of the designs.
"Sure!" she beamed happily.
A couple of hours later, as we were heading our separate ways, "don't forget the party at Paul's next weekend," she reminded.
I grinned. It was great to be back to the olde routine again.
Ilajna had emailed me first thing in the morning. "Fancy a couple of drinks here?" she'd asked, sending a link to a fasionable West Village bar, which I subsequently found out often featured in Sex in the City.
"Sure," I'd said without more than a cursory glance at the site. I've a lot of faith in the trendy locations Ilajna suggests. We sat enjoying the pleasant summer evening on the rooftop garden until the faint autumnal drizzle turned into large plopping drops of warm rain. We were lucky to find a cozy nook in the indoors section downstairs.
There suddenly seemed so much to talk about and catch up on, and it made me realise how long it had actually been since we'd last had a proper tete-a-tete. We hadn't had a chance to get together since we both started our new jobs, and for the first time, I missed unemployment. And also for the first time, I got to see Ilajna's much-heard-of portfolio. It's funny when you just know your friend's an artist, but totally different when you actually see the art. And it simply blew me away.
"Will you decorate my home for me one day?" I asked her, overcome by the ingenuity of the designs.
"Sure!" she beamed happily.
A couple of hours later, as we were heading our separate ways, "don't forget the party at Paul's next weekend," she reminded.
I grinned. It was great to be back to the olde routine again.
Multiplying like rabbits
This afternoon Big Boss M from the higher upper legions suddenly popped his head around my door. "I just wanted to let you know you're doing a great job," he said.
"Oh, thanks!" I beamed. I'm always thrilled with a compliment, few and far between as they come.
Little did he know, though, that I'd been about to post this:
Multiplying like Rabbits
Emails in my inbox
Growing
By the hundred
There's no keeping up
There's no keeping track
The ones at the bottom
Long forgotten
Lost in the black hole
Hope they weren't important
Time for some
Emergency damage control
Like autoforward
To someone else's mailbox
Maybe the guy
Sitting there in the corner
Never liked him much anyway
Heh heh heh
Just kidding. I'm on top of things really. Honest.
(Spoken like Napoleon on the eve of Waterloo)
"Oh, thanks!" I beamed. I'm always thrilled with a compliment, few and far between as they come.
Little did he know, though, that I'd been about to post this:
Multiplying like Rabbits
Emails in my inbox
Growing
By the hundred
There's no keeping up
There's no keeping track
The ones at the bottom
Long forgotten
Lost in the black hole
Hope they weren't important
Time for some
Emergency damage control
Like autoforward
To someone else's mailbox
Maybe the guy
Sitting there in the corner
Never liked him much anyway
Heh heh heh
Just kidding. I'm on top of things really. Honest.
(Spoken like Napoleon on the eve of Waterloo)
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Ficali McPeanut Brain
I had to distribute some important confidential information to the 20-strong leadership team yesterday, so drafted the email, and read it and edited it about a 100 times.
Then wouldn't you know it, I sent it to the wrong distribution list.
Dammit. Only happens with confidential information, mind you. It took me a moment of fumbling around, and I have to admit I did think about calling Sizzle, my Outlook Guru, for help, but I managed to locate the 'recall' function. Did it all pretty quickly, but a lot of the eager-beaver recipients had opened the mail anyway, so only managed to recall a small percentage.
Then I wanted to organise a meeting to discuss the information I'd sent, and wouldn't you know it, I sent that to the WRONG dist list too. Quickly recalled that too, this time with a practised hand. Sent everything to the right bods, and thought all was set.
Seagull popped a smiling face into my office. Seagull and I are buds now. "Bit trigger happy with Outlook today, aren't we?" He teased.
I grinned.
If only I'd stopped there.
"It's impossible to please you guys," I said instead, dramatically feigning victimisation. "It's like being caught betweeen the devil and a hard place. Or a rock. Or the deep blue sea. You know."
I gave a little shrug, but it didn't quite convey the nonchalance I was trying to muster. There was still a laugh in his eyes as he left the office, shaking his head.
Then wouldn't you know it, I sent it to the wrong distribution list.
Dammit. Only happens with confidential information, mind you. It took me a moment of fumbling around, and I have to admit I did think about calling Sizzle, my Outlook Guru, for help, but I managed to locate the 'recall' function. Did it all pretty quickly, but a lot of the eager-beaver recipients had opened the mail anyway, so only managed to recall a small percentage.
Then I wanted to organise a meeting to discuss the information I'd sent, and wouldn't you know it, I sent that to the WRONG dist list too. Quickly recalled that too, this time with a practised hand. Sent everything to the right bods, and thought all was set.
Seagull popped a smiling face into my office. Seagull and I are buds now. "Bit trigger happy with Outlook today, aren't we?" He teased.
I grinned.
If only I'd stopped there.
"It's impossible to please you guys," I said instead, dramatically feigning victimisation. "It's like being caught betweeen the devil and a hard place. Or a rock. Or the deep blue sea. You know."
I gave a little shrug, but it didn't quite convey the nonchalance I was trying to muster. There was still a laugh in his eyes as he left the office, shaking his head.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Update on the housing situ
Yesterday, Ilajna and I both went over to Milo's apartment so she could have a poke about as well. As I knew she would be, she was beaming by the end.
"Wow," she admitted, "I never thought we could have so much space." Yep. The overall situ's looking a bit brighter.
Of course, things are far from decided, and even further from final. There is, for one, the distinct possibility that Milo might wake up and come to his senses, and decide not to move after all. Or that Ilajna and I might decide living in the city is the way forward. But the truth is, househunting is a dreary, bleary affair. And just seeing this apartment has given us hope. And in this rather bleak business of finding a home, hope goes a long way in making things seem brighter.
If nothing else, at the very least after all these weeks, it was just lovely to catch up with Ilajna again.
"Wow," she admitted, "I never thought we could have so much space." Yep. The overall situ's looking a bit brighter.
Of course, things are far from decided, and even further from final. There is, for one, the distinct possibility that Milo might wake up and come to his senses, and decide not to move after all. Or that Ilajna and I might decide living in the city is the way forward. But the truth is, househunting is a dreary, bleary affair. And just seeing this apartment has given us hope. And in this rather bleak business of finding a home, hope goes a long way in making things seem brighter.
If nothing else, at the very least after all these weeks, it was just lovely to catch up with Ilajna again.
The Latino society
As a means of furthering my Spanish education, I've decided to start a Latino society at work.
"But you're not latino," Fran pointed out.
Does it really matter? Shouldn't we be embracing globalism?
So I asked Fran and Cilla if they would want to join the society. With them both being hispanic and all, I think it'll lend the society more credibility. As we currently stand, there's just three of us. But don't worry, we'll grow. I noticed there's a chap called Juan who just started last week. So he'll be the next target, heh heh.
But for the moment, it's just us chicas. Fran and Cilla always giggle when I call us las chicas. I don't think they realise I'm dead serious :)
Now the next problem is thinking up what to do. I know a really nice salsa bar - that should be a good starter shouldn't it?
"But you're not latino," Fran pointed out.
Does it really matter? Shouldn't we be embracing globalism?
So I asked Fran and Cilla if they would want to join the society. With them both being hispanic and all, I think it'll lend the society more credibility. As we currently stand, there's just three of us. But don't worry, we'll grow. I noticed there's a chap called Juan who just started last week. So he'll be the next target, heh heh.
But for the moment, it's just us chicas. Fran and Cilla always giggle when I call us las chicas. I don't think they realise I'm dead serious :)
Now the next problem is thinking up what to do. I know a really nice salsa bar - that should be a good starter shouldn't it?
Eyes wide shut
Insomnia is a relentless and restless monster.
After a couple of hours of sleep last night, I suddenly found myself wide awake. Not an alert, adrenalined kind of awake. Rather a tired, depersonalised, eyes-wide-shut kind of lack of asleep-ness. No amount of counting sheep or tossing and turning or bargaining with myself brought on the sleep I was craving. Even the few moments of sleep were filled with tumultuous dreams that would wrench me back to reality with a start.
When going to the bathroom and a glass of warm soy milk didn't help, I tried to think about what could possibly be disturbing me enough to ward off sleep in this manner. Nothing I could particularly put my finger on.
So I decided to do what my laptop calls a 'full system scan', into the dark inner recesses of my mind. Down the soft, creaking, wooden steps, into the basement. Shone a flashlight around the murky depths, trying to peer past the cobwebs to see what lay in wait.
And I found the following sources of deep stress:
a) A Sudoku puzzle which has had me stumped for the past three weeks, which believe me has been rankling and festering
b) A heated debate with Caveboy about the way one should fold socks after the laundry, which is still TBD upon his return
c) A general angst about my eyebrows, which if inspected closely, never appear symmetrical
I suspect that my id would have been something of a disappointment to Freud.
This morning I came in to work to find an especially busy day yawning in front of me. After a sleepless night, alertness might be too much to ask for. But I do hope I don't succumb to random bouts of narcolepsy. Which is just the kind of cruel joke my mind would play on me.
After a couple of hours of sleep last night, I suddenly found myself wide awake. Not an alert, adrenalined kind of awake. Rather a tired, depersonalised, eyes-wide-shut kind of lack of asleep-ness. No amount of counting sheep or tossing and turning or bargaining with myself brought on the sleep I was craving. Even the few moments of sleep were filled with tumultuous dreams that would wrench me back to reality with a start.
When going to the bathroom and a glass of warm soy milk didn't help, I tried to think about what could possibly be disturbing me enough to ward off sleep in this manner. Nothing I could particularly put my finger on.
So I decided to do what my laptop calls a 'full system scan', into the dark inner recesses of my mind. Down the soft, creaking, wooden steps, into the basement. Shone a flashlight around the murky depths, trying to peer past the cobwebs to see what lay in wait.
And I found the following sources of deep stress:
a) A Sudoku puzzle which has had me stumped for the past three weeks, which believe me has been rankling and festering
b) A heated debate with Caveboy about the way one should fold socks after the laundry, which is still TBD upon his return
c) A general angst about my eyebrows, which if inspected closely, never appear symmetrical
I suspect that my id would have been something of a disappointment to Freud.
This morning I came in to work to find an especially busy day yawning in front of me. After a sleepless night, alertness might be too much to ask for. But I do hope I don't succumb to random bouts of narcolepsy. Which is just the kind of cruel joke my mind would play on me.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Thanks. and thanks.
Thanks to M and 'anonymous' for your advice on househunting! Believe me, I need all the help I can get. And believe me, I'm listening and learning.
And thanks to "Kev" for point out that 'Sometimes we have to make fun of the world around us to retain our sanity'. What a succinctly accurate description of my life. I think I'm going to have to add that in my profile.
Sorry it's taken so long to read the comments. For a while there I lived in fear that if I clicked onto the comments, some of the spam would automatically download onto my computer in the form of spyware.
Don't ask.
Some people have arachnophobia or claustrophobia. I suffer from spammophobia. But, you know. Potato, pot-ah-to.
And thanks to "Kev" for point out that 'Sometimes we have to make fun of the world around us to retain our sanity'. What a succinctly accurate description of my life. I think I'm going to have to add that in my profile.
Sorry it's taken so long to read the comments. For a while there I lived in fear that if I clicked onto the comments, some of the spam would automatically download onto my computer in the form of spyware.
Don't ask.
Some people have arachnophobia or claustrophobia. I suffer from spammophobia. But, you know. Potato, pot-ah-to.
The ultimate challenge
As I was walking (as usual) along my jogging route the other day, I bumped into Seagull. I'm not meant to bump into work people when I'm all hot and sweaty and untidy and ruffled on my jog. In fact I'm not meant to bump into anyone. But especially not Work People. I tried to get away with a quick smile and a wave, but turns out he wanted to chat. So we stopped to shoot the breeze* for a while.
We were talking about the Hoboken Dev Center. Basically, there's a contingent of five people at the office who all live in Hoboken. They call themselves the Hoboken DC, and I've joined the clan. Dorky, I know. But when in Rome... and all that jazz.
Anyways, so Seagull, who's also in the Hob DC, suddenly asked me, "So, you joining us for ultimate frisbee next Monday?"
"Eh?" I wasn't quite sure what it was, but I knew it was more than just throwing a frisbee around. I was hesitant to commit myself to sure disaster.
"Don't you have to be remotely athletic to play that sport?" I wanted to know.
"Oh, come on! It's just us from the office! It'll be fun! We play in Hoboken every Monday!"
"Okay," I said, knowing even as I said it that it was a mistake. But I've never been one to turn down an offer. And I've always been one to make a fool of myself. So why change the pattern now, eh.
I quickly IM'd Milo: "What's ultimate frisbee?" I asked.
"You're not ready for anything that American yet," he responded.
So when I got into work this morning, I googled 'ultimate frisbee' to find out what I was letting myself in for. And I found this:
and this:
Boy. I have a lot to learn by next Monday. My plan is to go in disguise to the pitch where they play and check out how good everyone is. Obviously a foolproof plan.
* I learnt the phrase in Tom Sawyer, oh, some 15 years ago, and I've been dying to use it since
Monday, September 19, 2005
Tempting fate
Yesterday Milo and I were debating , as one sometimes does over casual Sunday lunch, whether or not we believed in reincarnation. I confessed that I was open to the possibility, but had not given the subject enough thought one way or another to have formulated a defined opinion.
Milo's thinking was somewhere along the same lines. Although he didn't believe it in particularly, nothing in his system of beliefs precluded reincarnation, he said.
"Although," he added, "I must say I don't reckon I'll come back in my next life as an inanimate object like a rock!"
"Touch wood," I replied, knocking my knuckles against my forehead. I don't think people should tempt fate.
He laughed. But I must have planted the seed of doubt, because I saw him surreptitiously knocking on the table.
Heh heh.
Milo's thinking was somewhere along the same lines. Although he didn't believe it in particularly, nothing in his system of beliefs precluded reincarnation, he said.
"Although," he added, "I must say I don't reckon I'll come back in my next life as an inanimate object like a rock!"
"Touch wood," I replied, knocking my knuckles against my forehead. I don't think people should tempt fate.
He laughed. But I must have planted the seed of doubt, because I saw him surreptitiously knocking on the table.
Heh heh.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Just like in the Matrix
When I glance out of my bedroom window, I can, albeit unintentionally, look straight into the apartment building across the lane from ours. It's a tapestry of different lives, playing independently, and yet together. I never intend to intrude, but sometimes as I pass my window, an object of intrigue momentarily catches my eye.
I've learnt for instance that Joe Bloggs on the third floor watches Desperate Housewives every evening. I smile wryly at the juxtaposition of him acting macho outdoors and then coming home to enjoy soaps. And in the apartment next door, there's a couple who have one of the cutest puppies I've ever seen. It's exactly the kind of dog I am hoping to get one day. Two floors above them, there's who appears to be a single mum who's home taking care of her baby every day - and I wish I actually knew her so I could offer to help out once in a while.
Without any intention or design, I'm offered a momentary glimpse into this matrix of lives happening around me - and I feel a sense of connection. I'm intrigued.
It occured to me yesterday, that I've been so busy formulating opinions on my window-neighbours, that I hadn't thought about the fact that they could probably see me too. I wonder what they think about the 'girl across the street who uses a hairbrush to pretend she's a singer as she's getting ready'.
I've learnt for instance that Joe Bloggs on the third floor watches Desperate Housewives every evening. I smile wryly at the juxtaposition of him acting macho outdoors and then coming home to enjoy soaps. And in the apartment next door, there's a couple who have one of the cutest puppies I've ever seen. It's exactly the kind of dog I am hoping to get one day. Two floors above them, there's who appears to be a single mum who's home taking care of her baby every day - and I wish I actually knew her so I could offer to help out once in a while.
Without any intention or design, I'm offered a momentary glimpse into this matrix of lives happening around me - and I feel a sense of connection. I'm intrigued.
It occured to me yesterday, that I've been so busy formulating opinions on my window-neighbours, that I hadn't thought about the fact that they could probably see me too. I wonder what they think about the 'girl across the street who uses a hairbrush to pretend she's a singer as she's getting ready'.
Changing colours of the sky
I don't understand it. I had a lovely day, was bubbly and jovial and exciteable all day. And then suddenly, for no reason I can think of other than stereotypical cancerian moodiness, I started feeling down.
Like the changing colours of the sky, without explanation or warning, my world suddenly went from sunshine golden to thunderstorm grey. And I did not even get a chance to notice the clouds blowing in over the horizon. All of a sudden, I found myself feeling slightly alone. And slightly uncertain. And slightly tender.
I watched some Bill Maher and it cheered me up considerably to watch him slander the Bush administration - although this lasted only as long as the show itself. All too soon, the half hour had passed, and I found myself again glancing around uneasily in the doldrums. Being of a normally cheery disposition, I'm not accustomed, or indeed equipped, to dealing with myself during my moody lows.
Nothing seemed to work. A quick check through the fridge confirmed that I had none of my comfort food (tofutti cuties) in stock.
I played some Billy Joel, I needed a cheery tune. But it just reminded me of Caveboy and his inane posts about Captain Jack, and suddenly I felt even more alone.
Some days, I suppose there's nothing you can do. Some days, you just feel a little alone and uncertain and fragile. Some days, the best plan is to just hold tight and weather the storm.
I'm sure tomorrow will be bright and happy again. And I'll look back and laugh at my unwarranted lugubriousness. But tomorrow's tomorrow, and today's today. And for today, there are thunderclouds overhead.
Like the changing colours of the sky, without explanation or warning, my world suddenly went from sunshine golden to thunderstorm grey. And I did not even get a chance to notice the clouds blowing in over the horizon. All of a sudden, I found myself feeling slightly alone. And slightly uncertain. And slightly tender.
I watched some Bill Maher and it cheered me up considerably to watch him slander the Bush administration - although this lasted only as long as the show itself. All too soon, the half hour had passed, and I found myself again glancing around uneasily in the doldrums. Being of a normally cheery disposition, I'm not accustomed, or indeed equipped, to dealing with myself during my moody lows.
Nothing seemed to work. A quick check through the fridge confirmed that I had none of my comfort food (tofutti cuties) in stock.
I played some Billy Joel, I needed a cheery tune. But it just reminded me of Caveboy and his inane posts about Captain Jack, and suddenly I felt even more alone.
Some days, I suppose there's nothing you can do. Some days, you just feel a little alone and uncertain and fragile. Some days, the best plan is to just hold tight and weather the storm.
I'm sure tomorrow will be bright and happy again. And I'll look back and laugh at my unwarranted lugubriousness. But tomorrow's tomorrow, and today's today. And for today, there are thunderclouds overhead.
Family McPipe's Day in the City
I've come to realise that when our family goes out together, we don't quite manage to pull off smooth and purposeful progress towards a destination. Instead, we indulge in a significant amount of bumbling about.
At each juncture and intersection, we all bump into each other, because I always forget to tell my parents the next direction in advance, and because they inevitably guess the wrong (and different from each other) way. It's like herding sheep. We reach a crossroad, and all of a sudden, Dad's turning left, Mum's going right, I'm trying to call them both back to base, and Rohinton and Jeet have gone ahead without realising the chaos behind.
We reach the subway stop and head quickly for the turnstiles, when all of a sudden there's a bump, bump, bump, bump, bump. That's the five of us bumping into each other because the first one didn't quite figure out how to swipe the metro card fast enough.
"Dad! You need to swipe it faster!" So he swipes it again, and strides ahead to bump flat into an unrelenting turnstile. He looks at me questionningly.
"Well not that fast!"
A swipe, and bump into the turnstile again. This time it's Mum.
"Mum! The arrow on the metrocard needs to be pointing forward!"
Finally, we're all through.
We get into the city, and head for the TKTS booth at Times Square. Rohinton and I wait impatiently in the queue, and when we finally get to the front, Rohinton says, "Five tickets for a matinee show, please."
"Here you go. That's $300 please. Sorry, but we only accept cash."
What. Shite.
So we have to step out of the queue, find Mum and Dad, pool our cash, and manage to cobble together the required amount. And then it's back to starting with the queue.
Although, having said all this, I wouldn't trade it for any other way. Bumblingly, brakingly, cobblingly, hobblingly, we had a great day in the city.
At each juncture and intersection, we all bump into each other, because I always forget to tell my parents the next direction in advance, and because they inevitably guess the wrong (and different from each other) way. It's like herding sheep. We reach a crossroad, and all of a sudden, Dad's turning left, Mum's going right, I'm trying to call them both back to base, and Rohinton and Jeet have gone ahead without realising the chaos behind.
We reach the subway stop and head quickly for the turnstiles, when all of a sudden there's a bump, bump, bump, bump, bump. That's the five of us bumping into each other because the first one didn't quite figure out how to swipe the metro card fast enough.
"Dad! You need to swipe it faster!" So he swipes it again, and strides ahead to bump flat into an unrelenting turnstile. He looks at me questionningly.
"Well not that fast!"
A swipe, and bump into the turnstile again. This time it's Mum.
"Mum! The arrow on the metrocard needs to be pointing forward!"
Finally, we're all through.
We get into the city, and head for the TKTS booth at Times Square. Rohinton and I wait impatiently in the queue, and when we finally get to the front, Rohinton says, "Five tickets for a matinee show, please."
"Here you go. That's $300 please. Sorry, but we only accept cash."
What. Shite.
So we have to step out of the queue, find Mum and Dad, pool our cash, and manage to cobble together the required amount. And then it's back to starting with the queue.
Although, having said all this, I wouldn't trade it for any other way. Bumblingly, brakingly, cobblingly, hobblingly, we had a great day in the city.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Housing dilemma
The time has now come for Ilajna and I to find a new apartment. And suddenly we're faced with all the difficult decisions we've been avoiding so far.
To stay in a large new apartment in Hoboken/Brooklyn, or to move into trendy city pad?
Milo, who's moving out of his apartment, offered for us to take it over after him. I went over to see it the other day, and it was simply gorgeous. I was in awe. Wooden flooring, a cosy lounge, large bedrooms, a little breakfast table, everything I'd dreamed of for my first apartment in America. Even as he was showing me around, I was already envisioning long, leisurely weekend breakfasts on the kitchen table. Warm winter evenings curled up with a novel in the living room.
And then there's the lure of the city. Can we afford a two-bed in the city? What about living with more friends and making it a four or five bed? And I'm lured by the vision of an easy return from nights out. A quick commute to work. A home in the midst of all the excitement the city has to offer.
I am torn.
To stay in a large new apartment in Hoboken/Brooklyn, or to move into trendy city pad?
Milo, who's moving out of his apartment, offered for us to take it over after him. I went over to see it the other day, and it was simply gorgeous. I was in awe. Wooden flooring, a cosy lounge, large bedrooms, a little breakfast table, everything I'd dreamed of for my first apartment in America. Even as he was showing me around, I was already envisioning long, leisurely weekend breakfasts on the kitchen table. Warm winter evenings curled up with a novel in the living room.
And then there's the lure of the city. Can we afford a two-bed in the city? What about living with more friends and making it a four or five bed? And I'm lured by the vision of an easy return from nights out. A quick commute to work. A home in the midst of all the excitement the city has to offer.
I am torn.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Oh no, I swallowed a fly
The weather was absolutely perfect when I got home from work yesterday, so I decided to meander down to the river.
The sky was overcast with clouds hanging thunderously low, but it wasn't raining. The air was charged with an electric current that sent a trill of adrenaline through me. The grass by the river was an unusually bright shade of green, so I kicked off my sandals and stepped onto it gingerly with my bare feet. I scrunched my toes and basked in the tickly sensation of the little blades of grass.
Across the river, the Manhattan skyline was blazing brightly with all the building lights on, and it cast an odd orangey glow on the dark clouds overhanging. A riverside breeze was picking up strength, and for a moment I thought I might have a Dorothy-in-Kansas moment and have to cling on to the lampost. But ultimately, the worst it did was tousle my hair.
I had plugged myself into my mp3 player as my invisible shield from the world. The promenade was relatively deserted, so I started singing out loud. There's nothing to beat singing out loud in public. Stereophonics was the flaveur du jour, so I sang to myself about handbags and gladrags and having a nice day.
Just as I was entering the final chorus of my tuneless rendition, I swallowed a fly. It just flew right into my mouth.
Stop. Gulp.
It reminded me of the time I once mistakenly swallowed a fly when I was young. Well, many years ago, but not young enough to blame the ignorance of childhood. It was early on a hot, sultry summer morning in India, and I was still dozing through the last remnants of sleep, when an incessant buzzing forced me to struggle awake. I opened an irritated eye to find a fly buzzing langourously in front of my face. Through the torpor of heat and sleep, I could not summon the energy to lift my arm and swat it away. Instead I decided to blow it away with a huff and a puff. Yes, we aren't always rational creatures, you know. I drew in a deep lungful of air so I could blow the fly away. I guess I drew in too deeply.
All of a sudden, the fly was gone. A quick internal check revealed that yes - I'd swallowed it! I jumped out of bed with a cough and a splutter, attempting in any possible way to get it out. But ultimately, I had to admit defeat and resorted to downing a large glass of water and washing it down.
This time, the episode was a lot less dramatic. I acted like a hardened fly-swallower. Just a gulp, a little panic, and an immediate stop to the singing.
Thank god for the stomach juices.
The sky was overcast with clouds hanging thunderously low, but it wasn't raining. The air was charged with an electric current that sent a trill of adrenaline through me. The grass by the river was an unusually bright shade of green, so I kicked off my sandals and stepped onto it gingerly with my bare feet. I scrunched my toes and basked in the tickly sensation of the little blades of grass.
Across the river, the Manhattan skyline was blazing brightly with all the building lights on, and it cast an odd orangey glow on the dark clouds overhanging. A riverside breeze was picking up strength, and for a moment I thought I might have a Dorothy-in-Kansas moment and have to cling on to the lampost. But ultimately, the worst it did was tousle my hair.
I had plugged myself into my mp3 player as my invisible shield from the world. The promenade was relatively deserted, so I started singing out loud. There's nothing to beat singing out loud in public. Stereophonics was the flaveur du jour, so I sang to myself about handbags and gladrags and having a nice day.
Just as I was entering the final chorus of my tuneless rendition, I swallowed a fly. It just flew right into my mouth.
Stop. Gulp.
It reminded me of the time I once mistakenly swallowed a fly when I was young. Well, many years ago, but not young enough to blame the ignorance of childhood. It was early on a hot, sultry summer morning in India, and I was still dozing through the last remnants of sleep, when an incessant buzzing forced me to struggle awake. I opened an irritated eye to find a fly buzzing langourously in front of my face. Through the torpor of heat and sleep, I could not summon the energy to lift my arm and swat it away. Instead I decided to blow it away with a huff and a puff. Yes, we aren't always rational creatures, you know. I drew in a deep lungful of air so I could blow the fly away. I guess I drew in too deeply.
All of a sudden, the fly was gone. A quick internal check revealed that yes - I'd swallowed it! I jumped out of bed with a cough and a splutter, attempting in any possible way to get it out. But ultimately, I had to admit defeat and resorted to downing a large glass of water and washing it down.
This time, the episode was a lot less dramatic. I acted like a hardened fly-swallower. Just a gulp, a little panic, and an immediate stop to the singing.
Thank god for the stomach juices.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Mental maps
AP and I once spoke of mental maps. I'm sure everyone knows the concept, but refers to it with different terms.
It's the idea that experiences and influences start making imprints on our minds right from our earliest developmental years. Partly genetic, partly cultivated. And gradually, over time, they accumulate in our minds, creating mental maps which determine our personalities, our tastes and preferencese, the kind of people we're drawn towards.
When we were talking about this all those years ago, AP and I had just read an article theorising that mental maps are fully formed by the time the child is 10. But now the more I think about it, the more I feel that our mental maps keep evolving and developing. With each new experience, each new adventure, the map shifts slightly. Over time, a river appears where there was an ocean, and a mountain where there was valley. Gradually, the landscape shifts and evolves and grows and matures.
With so much changing in my life around me, I find that more marked now than ever. Every once in a while, I have to pause and check in with myself, take stock of where I was, where I am, and where I'm going. And sometimes, my maps change so rapidly I feel like I'm caught in swirling waters, losing track of who I am. As though I don't really know myself anymore. With everything changing the way it is, how can I blame myself?
And how can I blame others, if they don't know me anymore either?
It's the idea that experiences and influences start making imprints on our minds right from our earliest developmental years. Partly genetic, partly cultivated. And gradually, over time, they accumulate in our minds, creating mental maps which determine our personalities, our tastes and preferencese, the kind of people we're drawn towards.
When we were talking about this all those years ago, AP and I had just read an article theorising that mental maps are fully formed by the time the child is 10. But now the more I think about it, the more I feel that our mental maps keep evolving and developing. With each new experience, each new adventure, the map shifts slightly. Over time, a river appears where there was an ocean, and a mountain where there was valley. Gradually, the landscape shifts and evolves and grows and matures.
With so much changing in my life around me, I find that more marked now than ever. Every once in a while, I have to pause and check in with myself, take stock of where I was, where I am, and where I'm going. And sometimes, my maps change so rapidly I feel like I'm caught in swirling waters, losing track of who I am. As though I don't really know myself anymore. With everything changing the way it is, how can I blame myself?
And how can I blame others, if they don't know me anymore either?
If you need me, I'm hiding under my desk
The building I'm working in has a warped security system. Rather than a guard who checks your ID when you enter (as most other places have), there is a video camera. Everyone who enters has to stand in front of it and announce their name.
I used to get nervous in front of it the first few days. Just the concept of talking into a camera, you know. But thankfully I've gotten over that now.
The system is warped, and its security provision is dubious. For one, if I'd intended to sabotage the building, I could say any name in the world and no one would know. I've toyed with the idea of saying Ficali McPipe. But of course I'm not going to. Who would do something so ridic?!
Today as I entered the building, I got caught up in a moment of childish impetuosity and pulled a face at the camera. I pulled a face at the camera. Like with my tongue out and eyes crossed and all. GAWD. What is wrong with me. Have I no motor control? Have I know impulse control?
Obviously, I'm in a bit of a panic now. I've realised that I don't quite know who watches the recordings. I hope to the high heavens that it's just general 'building security' and not someone who works in my company.
Because if anyone recognises me, I might run the risk of losing some credibility as the primary HR bod around here.
I used to get nervous in front of it the first few days. Just the concept of talking into a camera, you know. But thankfully I've gotten over that now.
The system is warped, and its security provision is dubious. For one, if I'd intended to sabotage the building, I could say any name in the world and no one would know. I've toyed with the idea of saying Ficali McPipe. But of course I'm not going to. Who would do something so ridic?!
Today as I entered the building, I got caught up in a moment of childish impetuosity and pulled a face at the camera. I pulled a face at the camera. Like with my tongue out and eyes crossed and all. GAWD. What is wrong with me. Have I no motor control? Have I know impulse control?
Obviously, I'm in a bit of a panic now. I've realised that I don't quite know who watches the recordings. I hope to the high heavens that it's just general 'building security' and not someone who works in my company.
Because if anyone recognises me, I might run the risk of losing some credibility as the primary HR bod around here.
Quick update on yesterday
I needn't have worried about coffee with Cilla - we had a wonderful time, and somehow a quick coffee extended to a few hours. And somehow coffee morphed into a sushi dinner. And somehow before we knew it the chat extended into a promise to meet next weekend at Brooklyn Heights to 'check out the view from Brooklyn Bridge'.
It was a lovely, lovely evening.
It was quite late by the time I got home, and the evening had finally started to cool down. So despite the hour I decided to go for my daily jog. Just like I'd wished, my mp3 player took me into the S singers. But instead of Sheryl Crow, there was Sarah Mclaughlin and Simon & Garfunkel. Not easy to jog to. Good lesson to be careful what one wishes for :)
It was a lovely, lovely evening.
It was quite late by the time I got home, and the evening had finally started to cool down. So despite the hour I decided to go for my daily jog. Just like I'd wished, my mp3 player took me into the S singers. But instead of Sheryl Crow, there was Sarah Mclaughlin and Simon & Garfunkel. Not easy to jog to. Good lesson to be careful what one wishes for :)
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I'm hoping for the S's
My mp3 player has a life of its own. Yesterday while I was on my walk, it wandered randomly into the R's. For some reason it's always shied away from them before. But suddenly, to my pleasant surprise, I was listening to long-lost favourites I hadn't heard in ages.
Radiohead. REM. Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Robbie Williams (I was laughed at for admitting this one).
Today I'm hoping we'll explore the S's. Maybe some Suzanne Vega or Sheryl Crow. But I'm not going to go in and choose the 'S'. No way. I want to be surprised with the S's.
This evening, Cilla and I are going to catch up over a coffee after work. We'll probably head down to Cafe Del'Artistes in the West Village, which has now become my regular neighbourhood cafe. As Inihtar pointed out, it's a great place to introspect, cogitate, and figure out the problem with men. I'm hoping we get lucky with some live jazz. That's usually a Thursday phenomenon, but sometimes if you're especially lucky they have impromptu mid-week sessions. Cilla and I have only become close recently, and the friendship is still in those tentative 'handle-with-care' stages, where even the minorest of cracks could cause a breakdown. I'm a bit nervous that we'll run out of conversation - what if neither of us can think of anything to say?!
But I'm hoping that won't happen. I'm usually pretty good at talking tripe to fill the space.
Radiohead. REM. Red Hot Chilli Peppers. Robbie Williams (I was laughed at for admitting this one).
Today I'm hoping we'll explore the S's. Maybe some Suzanne Vega or Sheryl Crow. But I'm not going to go in and choose the 'S'. No way. I want to be surprised with the S's.
This evening, Cilla and I are going to catch up over a coffee after work. We'll probably head down to Cafe Del'Artistes in the West Village, which has now become my regular neighbourhood cafe. As Inihtar pointed out, it's a great place to introspect, cogitate, and figure out the problem with men. I'm hoping we get lucky with some live jazz. That's usually a Thursday phenomenon, but sometimes if you're especially lucky they have impromptu mid-week sessions. Cilla and I have only become close recently, and the friendship is still in those tentative 'handle-with-care' stages, where even the minorest of cracks could cause a breakdown. I'm a bit nervous that we'll run out of conversation - what if neither of us can think of anything to say?!
But I'm hoping that won't happen. I'm usually pretty good at talking tripe to fill the space.
Monday, September 12, 2005
Tip of the Day
It is a great idea to balance precariously on one foot in a public bathroom while using the other to pull the flush.
It is NOT a great idea to attempt this when wearing hard-to-balance-in high heels, especially when the floor is wet or slippery.
Not that anything untoward has happened to me, oh no. I was just thinking, that's all.
It is NOT a great idea to attempt this when wearing hard-to-balance-in high heels, especially when the floor is wet or slippery.
Not that anything untoward has happened to me, oh no. I was just thinking, that's all.
What is this crazy world coming to
"WAIT!!!" Jenn screeched as I started drying my hands.
"Don't you know you should NEVER use the dryers in public bathrooms??"
Pardon?
"They're full of germs. They collect the germs from all over the bathroom air and blast a concentrated version onto your hands. Is that what you want? Germy hands?"
Oh.
I'm not quite sure I buy into the theory. But now that the thought's been planted in my head, I can't use the machines with any peace of mind. Do air-handdryers really suck in the germ-contaminated air and blast a concentrated version of it on your hands? Wouldn't the hand-dryer-scientists have come up with a better design? I've always been pro-air-handdrying because the other way (paper towels) causes too much paper wastage. So now this revelation has put me in a bit of a quandary really. Germy hands or depleted rainforests? Which is the lesser of the two evils?
But I was not to be outdone by Jenn. Later, as she and I were mailing some letters, "Wait," I pointed out.
"I don't think you're supposed to lick the glue on envelopes. I read somewhere that sometimes insects lay their eggs in the glue, and this can get into your tongue if you get a papercut."
She gawked at me.
(Now I'd like to clarify for all your information that yes, I have read this somewhere credible, I wasn't just saying it in retaliation.)
She quickly put down the envelope, tip of the tongue still stuck out of her mouth.
Oh.
I don't know how much stock one is meant to hold in these things. Probably none at all, otherwise our lives would be running away with us. But the problem is, once someone's planted the nagging thought in your mind, it is so difficult to forget it. Oh, to go back to a non-neurotic life again.
"Don't you know you should NEVER use the dryers in public bathrooms??"
Pardon?
"They're full of germs. They collect the germs from all over the bathroom air and blast a concentrated version onto your hands. Is that what you want? Germy hands?"
Oh.
I'm not quite sure I buy into the theory. But now that the thought's been planted in my head, I can't use the machines with any peace of mind. Do air-handdryers really suck in the germ-contaminated air and blast a concentrated version of it on your hands? Wouldn't the hand-dryer-scientists have come up with a better design? I've always been pro-air-handdrying because the other way (paper towels) causes too much paper wastage. So now this revelation has put me in a bit of a quandary really. Germy hands or depleted rainforests? Which is the lesser of the two evils?
But I was not to be outdone by Jenn. Later, as she and I were mailing some letters, "Wait," I pointed out.
"I don't think you're supposed to lick the glue on envelopes. I read somewhere that sometimes insects lay their eggs in the glue, and this can get into your tongue if you get a papercut."
She gawked at me.
(Now I'd like to clarify for all your information that yes, I have read this somewhere credible, I wasn't just saying it in retaliation.)
She quickly put down the envelope, tip of the tongue still stuck out of her mouth.
Oh.
I don't know how much stock one is meant to hold in these things. Probably none at all, otherwise our lives would be running away with us. But the problem is, once someone's planted the nagging thought in your mind, it is so difficult to forget it. Oh, to go back to a non-neurotic life again.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Family day out
With the mater and pater visiting this weekend, Rohinton, Jeet and I were keen to squeeze in a weekend full of activity.
Do parents ever sleep?
It was 2.00 am by the time I wished Mum and Dad a sleepy gnite to and headed off to bed.
"Don't wake me up till 10, okay?"
It felt like I'd barely closed my eyes when already Mum was shaking me awake.
"So, tell me all about Germany! What was it like?!" She was very chirpy for first thing in the morning. A quick glance at my watch convinced me of my fear - yes, it was only 7 am.
But through my sleep-tousled hair and half-closed eyes and somnolent hazy fog, I could feel myself smile. It was just lovely to wake up to Mum again.
Brunch
Saturday started with brunch at our local creperie.
"Could we get two crepes with chicken, spinach, tomato and onion please?" That was my Dad and Mum.
"I'll have the same please, but with some Swiss cheese as well, but only a little."
"I'll have the same please, but without the chicken and the cheese, and with some basil instead."
"Same for me too, but in an omelette instead of a crepe, and only egg-whites please."
The waiter stared at us incredulously. You're kidding, right, his eyes seemed to say as he furiously scribbled down the order. The page was full of cancellations as he tried to record our various permutations and combinations.
Then a sigh of resignation.
"Okay, and to drink?"
Chai tea latte with soya milk, small. Latte with soya milk, medium. Latte with normal milk, medium. Iced latte, medium. Normal filter coffee, small.
We are a complicated family to feed, I realised.
The vineyards
Later in the day we drove to a couple of vineyards in New Jersey for an afternoon of wine-tasting. The sun was slowly starting its descent as we reached the vineyard, and the thought of crisp white wine was appealing. After much menu-perusing and debate, we settled on a Vidal 2004 for the first taste.
"Mmmmm," said Jeet, as she swirled, sniffed and tasted her wine. "This is a delicious full-bodied wine. Dry, and yet just a hint of sweetness. With a flavour of oak with cherries and apples."
We all gaped at her.
"Okay fine, I read it in the guide," she admitted.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and we sat out on the wooden porch, sipping wine and snacking on a picnic lunch. The sun had almost set as we got up to leave.
"Hang on a sec, guys, I need to pee," I said, as I headed toward the restrooms. Except to my consternation I found that the shop had closed at 5 and everything was locked. There was no staff in attendance.
"Oh no! Guys, what am I going to do, I HAVE to go NOW!"
I can be melodramatic when I have to pee.
"I guess you could go in the vineyard." That, predictably, was Rohinton.
Snigger, snigger.
Dear readers - well I'm not going to go into the rest of the story. But I must entreat you, please don't buy wine from Pleasantville Vineyard, NJ, for the next year.
Do parents ever sleep?
It was 2.00 am by the time I wished Mum and Dad a sleepy gnite to and headed off to bed.
"Don't wake me up till 10, okay?"
It felt like I'd barely closed my eyes when already Mum was shaking me awake.
"So, tell me all about Germany! What was it like?!" She was very chirpy for first thing in the morning. A quick glance at my watch convinced me of my fear - yes, it was only 7 am.
But through my sleep-tousled hair and half-closed eyes and somnolent hazy fog, I could feel myself smile. It was just lovely to wake up to Mum again.
Brunch
Saturday started with brunch at our local creperie.
"Could we get two crepes with chicken, spinach, tomato and onion please?" That was my Dad and Mum.
"I'll have the same please, but with some Swiss cheese as well, but only a little."
"I'll have the same please, but without the chicken and the cheese, and with some basil instead."
"Same for me too, but in an omelette instead of a crepe, and only egg-whites please."
The waiter stared at us incredulously. You're kidding, right, his eyes seemed to say as he furiously scribbled down the order. The page was full of cancellations as he tried to record our various permutations and combinations.
Then a sigh of resignation.
"Okay, and to drink?"
Chai tea latte with soya milk, small. Latte with soya milk, medium. Latte with normal milk, medium. Iced latte, medium. Normal filter coffee, small.
We are a complicated family to feed, I realised.
The vineyards
Later in the day we drove to a couple of vineyards in New Jersey for an afternoon of wine-tasting. The sun was slowly starting its descent as we reached the vineyard, and the thought of crisp white wine was appealing. After much menu-perusing and debate, we settled on a Vidal 2004 for the first taste.
"Mmmmm," said Jeet, as she swirled, sniffed and tasted her wine. "This is a delicious full-bodied wine. Dry, and yet just a hint of sweetness. With a flavour of oak with cherries and apples."
We all gaped at her.
"Okay fine, I read it in the guide," she admitted.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and we sat out on the wooden porch, sipping wine and snacking on a picnic lunch. The sun had almost set as we got up to leave.
"Hang on a sec, guys, I need to pee," I said, as I headed toward the restrooms. Except to my consternation I found that the shop had closed at 5 and everything was locked. There was no staff in attendance.
"Oh no! Guys, what am I going to do, I HAVE to go NOW!"
I can be melodramatic when I have to pee.
"I guess you could go in the vineyard." That, predictably, was Rohinton.
Snigger, snigger.
Dear readers - well I'm not going to go into the rest of the story. But I must entreat you, please don't buy wine from Pleasantville Vineyard, NJ, for the next year.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Slowly, but surely...
... I'm going to make this city my 'home'.
"I've now made two friends," I proudly announced to Milo M and Eddie D yesterday. They looked at me like I was crazy. Which is understandable, given that it's a bit of a wierd statement to make.
But the truth is, I am proud of it. Of course, I've met a ton of great people through work. People who are funny and witty and warm and - well, all the stuff you want in people really. But it's not very often that I feel that sense of sudden connection, that sense of wanting to make the transition from 'social buddy' to friend. And when I do, its a rare and sudden realization that there's an actual depth to the relationship - an intuitive connection and understanding that goes beyond just the fun. And I find myself thinking, even if I met this person somewhere else, and I didn't work with them, I'd still want them to be my friend.
So, I think, two friends in two months is pretty damn good.
"Am I one of the two?" Milo M wanted to know.
Which cracks me up. To admit to him that he was would mean admitting that there was only one other friend. Which suddenly didn't make the proud claim seem like such an accomplishment anymore.
But that's just the kind of stuff one can admit to friends, right.
"I've now made two friends," I proudly announced to Milo M and Eddie D yesterday. They looked at me like I was crazy. Which is understandable, given that it's a bit of a wierd statement to make.
But the truth is, I am proud of it. Of course, I've met a ton of great people through work. People who are funny and witty and warm and - well, all the stuff you want in people really. But it's not very often that I feel that sense of sudden connection, that sense of wanting to make the transition from 'social buddy' to friend. And when I do, its a rare and sudden realization that there's an actual depth to the relationship - an intuitive connection and understanding that goes beyond just the fun. And I find myself thinking, even if I met this person somewhere else, and I didn't work with them, I'd still want them to be my friend.
So, I think, two friends in two months is pretty damn good.
"Am I one of the two?" Milo M wanted to know.
Which cracks me up. To admit to him that he was would mean admitting that there was only one other friend. Which suddenly didn't make the proud claim seem like such an accomplishment anymore.
But that's just the kind of stuff one can admit to friends, right.
Cost of a night
Milo Minderbinder once started a blog entry: "Is a crazy night worth the cost?". What a great topic, I thought. But then he couldn't proceed to complete the post, I suppose that in itself being evidence of the answer.
So I'm going to plagiarise the unused title, lacking in creativity as I am at this moment.
This evening was a long and wild one. It started innocently enough with a work "Women's Event" at the Park, a bar near work. Park has a large outdoor garden in which we could enjoy the evening as it gradually cooled into the night. And there's nothing like socialising in the name of female emancipation ;)
It was also Milo M's birthday bash today, and he had sent me venue details earlier in the day. "You are sooooo coming," he had said. Now how can one turn down an invitation like that. So after the Women's event I found myself heading in a taxi towards the East Village, to the Aladdin's cave of a bar in which the party was held.
Shite, I don't know anyone there, I thought. But I needn't have worried. There were people in plenty from my previous work.
There is so much to be said about the party that simply can't be expressed. Like the way I was taken in and welcomed and incorporated and treated like one of the family. Especially the way I was treated like one of the family.
Like how, thanks to Eddie Dub, I learnt how to dance.
Like how, thanks to Sizzle, I got to watch some real smooth salsa.
Like how, thanks to Milo M and Eddie D, I got to speak in an Irish/Scottish/not-quite-sure accent in the taxi all the way back.
And now that I'm safely home, and it's almost the morning after the night before, I find myself wondering, is a crazy night worth the cost?
Yes. Always. Especially for a friend's birthday.
Especially when it's still the night and you don't yet know the cost.
So I'm going to plagiarise the unused title, lacking in creativity as I am at this moment.
This evening was a long and wild one. It started innocently enough with a work "Women's Event" at the Park, a bar near work. Park has a large outdoor garden in which we could enjoy the evening as it gradually cooled into the night. And there's nothing like socialising in the name of female emancipation ;)
It was also Milo M's birthday bash today, and he had sent me venue details earlier in the day. "You are sooooo coming," he had said. Now how can one turn down an invitation like that. So after the Women's event I found myself heading in a taxi towards the East Village, to the Aladdin's cave of a bar in which the party was held.
Shite, I don't know anyone there, I thought. But I needn't have worried. There were people in plenty from my previous work.
There is so much to be said about the party that simply can't be expressed. Like the way I was taken in and welcomed and incorporated and treated like one of the family. Especially the way I was treated like one of the family.
Like how, thanks to Eddie Dub, I learnt how to dance.
Like how, thanks to Sizzle, I got to watch some real smooth salsa.
Like how, thanks to Milo M and Eddie D, I got to speak in an Irish/Scottish/not-quite-sure accent in the taxi all the way back.
And now that I'm safely home, and it's almost the morning after the night before, I find myself wondering, is a crazy night worth the cost?
Yes. Always. Especially for a friend's birthday.
Especially when it's still the night and you don't yet know the cost.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Coldplay
Milo's a lucky chap to be able to, at the last minute, fortuitously secure tickets for the Coldplay concert this evening. I'm a lucky lass for being Milo's friend.
So by chance rather than design, without even having tried, I've ended up being able to go to the much coveted Coldplay concert this evening. I can't believe my luck! I listened to their music for a while yesterday, just to build up the mood, you know. Now all I have to do is put on my Rock Chick Face and I'm set :)
"Guess what guess what guess what," I told Ilajna yesterday. "I got tickets to the Coldplay concert!"
"Guess what," she replied, "me too!!!"
Boy. This is going to be a pahtay.
So by chance rather than design, without even having tried, I've ended up being able to go to the much coveted Coldplay concert this evening. I can't believe my luck! I listened to their music for a while yesterday, just to build up the mood, you know. Now all I have to do is put on my Rock Chick Face and I'm set :)
"Guess what guess what guess what," I told Ilajna yesterday. "I got tickets to the Coldplay concert!"
"Guess what," she replied, "me too!!!"
Boy. This is going to be a pahtay.
Monday, September 05, 2005
To Mainz
I squinted into the sunlight as I stepped out of the train at Mainz. I was exhausted - it had been a long journey - flight, flight, busride, trainride, and I was about ready to reach my destination. I cast around for the "Informationen" sign, my designated meeting point with JC. I couldn't find it at first, but it didn't worry me: I'm exactly the kind of exasperating tourist who is unfazed by accosting passers-by for help, and the Germans had proved to be warm and welcoming hosts. I had a chance to use my pidgen German: "Woher ist der Informationen, bitte?" and was soon pointed in the direction of the "i".
I wandered in the general direction, and suddenly heard shouts of "There she is!". Before I had a chance to gather my bearings, JC and his brother were upon me, with a hug, hug, how-are-you, good-to-see-you-again, how-was-the-flight. And I was bundled into the car towards the hotel.
I wandered in the general direction, and suddenly heard shouts of "There she is!". Before I had a chance to gather my bearings, JC and his brother were upon me, with a hug, hug, how-are-you, good-to-see-you-again, how-was-the-flight. And I was bundled into the car towards the hotel.
Meeting the family
I was nervous about meeting all of JC's family. I'd met them all before, of course, but this was the first time I'd be spending an entire weekend with them in close quarters. On Jeet's wise counsel, I'd fortified myself with a box of Guy Lian to bribe a warm welcome for myself. If with no one else, chocolates are an infallible ploy with JC's brother.
But I needn't have worried. On arriving at the hotel I was immediately greeted with four beaming faces and a cacophany of "You must be tired!", "Come in and sit down!", "Good t0 see you again!"
"Have a grape," his Grandma said. I smiled. What a typically idiosyncratic grandparent welcome.
There was a series of cheek-kissing mwah-mwahs, and I was glad I had practised just before my trip to Europe.
We spent the first afternoon exploring Mainz, which is a beautiful town with a pedestrianised 'old town' centre, scattered with historic cathedrals and churches situated in picturesque winding stone-paved lanes.
I was surprised by how economic the food could be. At one point I approached a fruit stall we were passing, "Can I have an apple please?" I asked.
"Minimum one Kilo," I was informed.
"Oh!" A kilo of apples is a lot.
"But 1 kilo for only 1 euro," the shopkeeper said.
"Oh!"
So suddenly we found ourselves laden with a bagful of fruit, which were familiar, and yet not quite. There was something that looked like a hybrid of plum and grape. And another one which looked like half-peach, half-apricot. Yet another was a grape-sized orange. At first we eyed the fruit suspiciously, then bit into them hungrily, looking at each other with surprised delight.
But I needn't have worried. On arriving at the hotel I was immediately greeted with four beaming faces and a cacophany of "You must be tired!", "Come in and sit down!", "Good t0 see you again!"
"Have a grape," his Grandma said. I smiled. What a typically idiosyncratic grandparent welcome.
There was a series of cheek-kissing mwah-mwahs, and I was glad I had practised just before my trip to Europe.
We spent the first afternoon exploring Mainz, which is a beautiful town with a pedestrianised 'old town' centre, scattered with historic cathedrals and churches situated in picturesque winding stone-paved lanes.
I was surprised by how economic the food could be. At one point I approached a fruit stall we were passing, "Can I have an apple please?" I asked.
"Minimum one Kilo," I was informed.
"Oh!" A kilo of apples is a lot.
"But 1 kilo for only 1 euro," the shopkeeper said.
"Oh!"
So suddenly we found ourselves laden with a bagful of fruit, which were familiar, and yet not quite. There was something that looked like a hybrid of plum and grape. And another one which looked like half-peach, half-apricot. Yet another was a grape-sized orange. At first we eyed the fruit suspiciously, then bit into them hungrily, looking at each other with surprised delight.
The Wedding
The evening before the wedding was pleasantly spent, first with drinks in an outdoor bar, then the wedding rehearsal ("Do I stand on the left or the right?" the father asked the bride hesitantly), and a hearty rehearsal dinner with the groom's family.
The groom's mother was a professor in Maths and Statistics doing seminal research in multi-dimensional vector diagrams used by Microsoft. I wouldn't have known a thing about this except that Akshay had just taught me about the very same when I was in Toronto earlier this year. So I was able to enter into a reasonably informed discussion on the subject. Somehow I came out of the conversation seeming reasonably intelligent. What a fluke, really.
The wedding day began early, with a flurry of panic and dresses and makeup and hairpins and perfumes. The bride was the calmest from everyone: "I think I might be getting a bit nervous now," she finally admitted, only at the very end. The stone chapel was beautifully situated in an intimate rose garden, adjacent to a large stone courtyard with a fountain in the middle. The air was still fresh with the scent of dew and early sunshine. The couple, of course, looked radiant.
The groom's mother was a professor in Maths and Statistics doing seminal research in multi-dimensional vector diagrams used by Microsoft. I wouldn't have known a thing about this except that Akshay had just taught me about the very same when I was in Toronto earlier this year. So I was able to enter into a reasonably informed discussion on the subject. Somehow I came out of the conversation seeming reasonably intelligent. What a fluke, really.
The wedding day began early, with a flurry of panic and dresses and makeup and hairpins and perfumes. The bride was the calmest from everyone: "I think I might be getting a bit nervous now," she finally admitted, only at the very end. The stone chapel was beautifully situated in an intimate rose garden, adjacent to a large stone courtyard with a fountain in the middle. The air was still fresh with the scent of dew and early sunshine. The couple, of course, looked radiant.
The church ceremony was followed by a leisurely and elegant lunch in a nearby sprawling winery. The restaurant overlooked acres of hillside vineyards, lit by the the bright sunshine and blue skies, with the Rhein sparkling in the distance. From every angle, the views were simply breathtaking.
Late in the afternoon, the celebrations moved onto a sunset cruise along the Rhein, which flows serenely between the hillside castles and vineyards of the German Rheinland. As we sailed past a little island in the middle of the river, the Best Man recounted the myth of the haunting mermaids who used to sing enticingly on the island, luring sailors off their charted course, and the legend of how they had been overcome by Ulysses. JC's Grandma was particularly delighted by the tale and began retelling an additionally dramatised version to several other guests. I was awed by her sharp mind and vitality.
The evening culminated in a cocktail bar back in the town centre, where the guests got to spend the last bit of quality time with each other and with the married couple. Food and drink flowed in plentiful throughout the day, giving us several occasions to shout "Prost!" to toast P&P.
Early the next morning, JC, his brother and I made a mad dash for the train station, almost missing the train on account of the absolute German punctuality. We each sat silent in the train bleary eyed and hiccuping with sleep, as the whirlwind activities of the previous day finally had time to sink in.
Frankfurt airport was a bittersweet moment, looking forward to London but having to leave JC. We shared a long, tight hug. JC is about to embark on a new life in the Hague, and we shared the anticipation of his new adventure.
London
Macklaine and Pangli picked me up at Heathrow. I landed in Terminal 1. I had mistakenly told him I would be coming into Terminal 2. He had mistakenly remembered Terminal 3. In fact, it was a miracle that we found each other at all. But it wasn't long before I was safely ensconced in their car, weaving in London traffic through the familiar sights of Knightsbridge, Marylebone and St. Pancras. I had an oddly unsettling feeling of homecoming, and felt sad to remind myself it wasn't 'home' anymore.
The first thing we did was go to lunch to Nando's. It was where Macklaine and I have always eaten, and suffered through many an eye-wateringly spicy meal that we would down gingerly. I ordered the 'mild', but Macklaine had the 'extra hot'. "You're mad," I warned him. But he impressed me by finishing it anyway.
Later in the evening we went out for dinner with Shab and Stu. The conversation was inanely familiar, as if I'd never been gone.
"Guess what I did last weekend," Stu recounted happily. "I spent the weekend in Paris with Rob. It was lovely but we couldn't get our heads around all the French food names, so we just ended up eating pizza everywhere." He giggled. Shab and I rolled our eyes.
"I'm back to school tomorrow," Shab groaned. "But soon I'm going to get out of teaching and start something else," she added resolutely.
"Guess what someone told me at the wedding I went to last weekend," Macklaine said impishly, and we all leaned closer to hear what promised to be a juicy anecdote.
It was an evening of smiles and giggles and empathy and bonding, and I was sorry when it eventually drew to a close. Shab gave me a tight hug as we said goodbye. "Now I'll have to get used to missing you all over again," she said. That was exactly how I felt too. I could feel a lump building in my throat as we all headed home.
The first thing we did was go to lunch to Nando's. It was where Macklaine and I have always eaten, and suffered through many an eye-wateringly spicy meal that we would down gingerly. I ordered the 'mild', but Macklaine had the 'extra hot'. "You're mad," I warned him. But he impressed me by finishing it anyway.
Later in the evening we went out for dinner with Shab and Stu. The conversation was inanely familiar, as if I'd never been gone.
"Guess what I did last weekend," Stu recounted happily. "I spent the weekend in Paris with Rob. It was lovely but we couldn't get our heads around all the French food names, so we just ended up eating pizza everywhere." He giggled. Shab and I rolled our eyes.
"I'm back to school tomorrow," Shab groaned. "But soon I'm going to get out of teaching and start something else," she added resolutely.
"Guess what someone told me at the wedding I went to last weekend," Macklaine said impishly, and we all leaned closer to hear what promised to be a juicy anecdote.
It was an evening of smiles and giggles and empathy and bonding, and I was sorry when it eventually drew to a close. Shab gave me a tight hug as we said goodbye. "Now I'll have to get used to missing you all over again," she said. That was exactly how I felt too. I could feel a lump building in my throat as we all headed home.
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