Little legs

Yesterday evening, Jeet and I went per usual for our evening speedwalk. We've taken to doing this regularly now, as our post-victual exercise. Well, if truth be told, she sets an unrelenting pace, and I have to jog-walk-scamper beside her as we chatter away about the day's events. When I picture myself on the walk, I visualise a little cartoon character with little legs which are moving so fast they disappear into a whizzy blur.

Jeet calls our evening speedwalk the post-dinner digestive. I call it the stitch. But whatever. Potato, pot-ah-to.

On an unrelated note, I have finally found a store which stocks the size O-Petite. Hello, shopping! This is a god-sent miracle because: (a) stores almost never stock this size; and (b) when they do they're almost always sold out. So I rushed into the store yesterday and bought myself a couple pairs of trousers. Over-indulgence is an under-rated quality.

Estudiar Espagnol

Yesterday was my first Spanish lesson. It was like my first day at school again. I went at lunch time to buy a new notebook I could use, and labelled it with my name in the top right hand corner neatly just so. I was a bit nervous (What if I just don't get it? What if I don't make friends?! What if I'm the dumbest in the class?) as I made my way to the class that evening, and made sure to turn up bright and early like the enthusiastic young whippersnapper that I am.

But it turned out all my fears were unfounded - it was one of the best things I've done since I moved here! It is a small class, with only six other people, and I can tell straight away that we're going to have a great time together. All the othe students are enthusiastic and fun-loving and learning the language purely out of interest and passion - and by the end of the first hour we were all joking and laughing together like old bosom-buddies. Ahora ellos son mis amigos.

Yep. I thought you might be impressed with that dazzling display of linguistic aptitude.

They took a different tack in this class and started by teaching the past and future tenses right on the first day. I like that. I feel that I can communicate straight away, albeit in a broken, unintelligible manner that only I can understand.

Ricardo, one of the teachers, told me I was picking it up very quickly and that I apparently have a 'natural aptitude'. He is now obviously my favourite from the two teachers.

Just kidding. Would I be that shallow.

Cake update

P.S. - Fie on all the people who suggested I should buy a cake - I thought my homemade cake was a great success. So what if half of it is still lying uneaten in the fridge now, three days after the party. Far be it from me to take offence (sniff). I enjoyed baking it, and it actually rose (phew!), and my brother had something to cut at his party. That's what counts, right?

Right?

Besides, the fact that only half is lying uneaten means that half of it was eaten, and I'm an obstinately glass-half-full sort of person.

Just like the old days

Back when we were roommates in boarding school, Burr, Nish and I sometimes indulged in a dressing-up frenzy for no reason at all other than the joy of dressing up. We'd throw all our formal clothes together in common pile, and then spend the entire evening taking turns dressing in various combinations of the tops, skirts and dresses. We'd fuss over what shoes went with each of our outfits, do each others' make-up, and style eachothers' hair. And then, narcissistic and smug as we were in those days, we'd pretend we were models and do little catwalk struts and pirouettes, and take pictures of eachother in simulated photo shoots. I have fond memories of those occasional evenings, of the girlie chats and constant banter, and most of all, the wild, hysterical laughter.

Yesterday, I had a chance to relive those girlie moments. Jeet, Mannipenny and I were getting ready to go out to meet friends in a bar in the city. "Guys!" I wailed, staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, "My hair's looking awful, it's all frizzy!" Mannipenny rushed into the bathroom looking ready for emergency. For the last ten minutes, she had been switching back and forth between two tops that were now lying abandoned on the bed, and appraising herself critically in each outfit.

"Here, I'll fix it for you," she assured me, pulling out her hairdryer, a couple of hairsprays and a straightening iron. "All it takes is a bit of this and that, and we'll have it looking all glossy and sleek in five minutes.
"So," she said, as she gathered wisps of my hair and started straightening them with the iron, "What's the verdict? Orange top or the the brown one?"

Just then Jeet burst into the room. "Guys, I'm in panic! What do I do with my hair?! And what about this belt, does it go? I mean, it goes with my top, but with these shoes??!"

"Leave your hair curly," Mannipenny and I chimed in unison. "And the belt does go with the shoes," I added. "It looks good."

We were like a mutual reassurance committee, supporting eachother and buoying eachothers' spirits. A few minutes later we were all heading out the door, our makeup-hair-bags-shoes-clothes all having gone through multiple levels of scrutiny and amendment. It had been an evening of sororal bonding. The party was fun, but the getting ready was much better.

I'll miss Mannipenny when she leaves to go back to Indiana next week.

Miracle bar

On a totally different note, I've noticed that they've started to stock SlimFast Chocolate Peanut Butter Nougat Fat Free Health Bars in the work cafeteria.

How can a manufacturer actually call a bar that and still maintain credibility. I've also noticed lots of people eating them (inc. me) so apparently they can.

But now I've eaten one and my teeth hurt, so I'm not falling for that line again.

Sharing

Yesterday Shanks and I went out to grab a quick bite to eat before watching the Wedding Crashers (which, by the way, is a riotous laugh, but that's another story).

At the end of the meal, the waitress gave us each two mints. In the process of greedily lunging over for mine, I dropped one of them on the floor. I must have looked crestfallen, because Shanks offered me one of his.

"Why?!" I asked, knowing I was the one to blame.

"Well," he responded, "it's nicer to be left with just one because you've given the other away, rather than because you dropped it on the floor."

Hmm. I like that. I'm going to park that thought in my mind and mull over it for the next few days, periodically opening the lid of its box to pick it up, gently turn it around, and examine it carefully from all sides.

Baking cakes

I'm baking a cake tomorrow for my brother's birthday. Its a delicious-sounding recipe that JC lent me - chocolate cake with rum coffee sauce. Yummm. I'm very excited about baking again. I used to bake a lot when I was in high school, but haven't really dappled in it much since.

Back in boarding school, my two roommates and I used to run a bakery together. We loved baking and used to spend a lot of time doing it, and eventually got pretty good. The other students used to place orders with us for birthdays, anniversaries (back in highschool couples even celebrated one-month anniversaries) and other special occasions - and we were happy to oblige. Brownies, German chocolate cake, lemon cake, Swedish sunshine cake (with nuts and stuff), apple pie, key lime pie, it was a whole world of wonder. I remember making the little network of twisted strips across the top of the apple pie. I remember being the one, on two occasions, to forget the cake in the oven until it was reduced to a cinder (thankfully, there were no fire alarms to bring attention to it).

When converted, we used to make an operating profit of approximately 20 cents per cake. And sometimes (like when I burned mine), we even made a loss. But it was our business, and we loved it.

And now it's been so long since I baked. I wonder if I still have the touch. I used to think then our cakes turned out well because we just had so much fun baking together, laughing and joking as we waited for them to bake, late into the evening. I'm a bit nervous this time. I guess, with all those memories, I have high expectations of myself, and don't want to fall short. So I'm squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists and holding my breath and crossing my fingers and hoping it won't fail. Especially not for a party. And especially not for my brother's birthday.

But at the end of the day, if the cake's a chocolate cake and it doesn't rise, it can always masquerade as brownies. So chin up, and on we march!

Non-weddings

I've been thinking a lot about non-weddings (weddings without the legal, religious or traditional requirements) recently. Before this summer I didn't know what a non-wedding was, and now I know of three couples having them. From that, I'd infer they are apparently a growing trend. So what's the point? My brother, ever the rationalist, said "but if they don't get married they don't get the tax breaks!". Point.

But the flip side of that is exactly the reason behind a non-wedding in the first place. In America, couples are only eligible for tax breaks if they're legally married, and legal marriage only recognises male-female relationships. So how is that fair to the homosexual community?

So a non-wedding is about standing up and making the point: "If the law doesn't recognise all people equally, then I don't want a legal marriage." It's about saying, "marriage is a social construct and until society recognises equality and diversity, I want no part in it." It's a bold statement and a brave stance. And if it weren't for people willing to take the plunge and stand up for their beliefs, society would never change and progress. So I'm full of respect and awe for the non-weddingers.

And also a little bit embarrassed that despite my sideline pom-pom cheers, I haven't been able to stop myself from wanting a wedding for me.

Frozen Drinks on Summer Days

My friend Shanks is briefly visiting the city for a few days. He, Ilajna and I met in the evening at the Union Square park. It was a hot and sultry day, where even sitting still was too much of an activity. We headed to the bar in the middle of the park, bought ourselves some frozen margaritas, and sat sipping contently on the stone steps.

There was a man beside us sitting partly in shadow, partly in light, resulting in a strangely dappled appearance. Shanks and Ilajna engaged in a debate over whether one of his socks were pink and the other white (Shanks) or whether his socks just appeared different coloured because of the light illusion (Ilajna). There is much to be said for female practicality and logic.

All too soon

All of a sudden, all too soon, the weekend is over, and JC has gone. And the world seems a slightly lesser place for it.