Night Watch by Terry Pratchett

Night Watch
by Terry Pratchett

This is by far the darkest I've read of Pratchett's Discworld series. While his characteristic humor and elegant style is very much present, the plot and social commentary dwell on the dark side of human nature. In that sense, this was one of the tougher books to read after getting used to Pratchett's form, but highly satisfying.

Close on the heels of Thief of Time by Pratchett, reading Night Watch was a stark contrast. I enjoyed the characterization of Lu Tse, the little sweeper monk whose talents are such a legend that acolytes learn the Rule No.1 early on: Do not act incautiously when confronting a little bald wrinkly smiling man; and the whole concept of storing and re-purposing Time as needed was interesting but the book itself was not entirely appealing to my unrestrained passion for Pratchett's writing... But, that has to be its own post one of these days...

Back to Night Watch: Hot in pursuit of notoriously evil Carcer, Commander Vimes finds himself transported back 30 years, and what's more, Carcer is back there as well.

Now, Vimes has been an all-time favorite character of mine in the Discworld series, ever since I first encountered him in the side-splittingly clever Guards!Guards!. Commander Vimes encounters early Vetinari and other members of the current Watch in this story. Being quite a character, we get to see his wet-behind-the-ears young self commingling with his seasoned quick-on-his-feet-and-hard-to-fool copper self, thanks to time travel set off by magical storm and some meddlesome History Monks.

Events unfold where Pratchett manages to present complex ideas regarding Time, Sequence of Events in History, and Parallel Dimensions that I was easily held captive. The story progresses rapidly never dwelling on the incidental issues of rip in the Time continuum that could potentially result in irrevocable side-effects altering History and rewriting the Future.

There is Time Travel, and there is Pratchett's take on Time Travel; and for me, the latter is brilliantly innovative and convincingly coherent compared to the run-of-the-mill treatment of the former seen in pulp sci-fi.

This book is on my Re-Read List for sure.

Little drops of ... coffee

As soon as I learnt that Oggie was on his way, I switched to decaf again. Yes, again, because I had switched to decaf when I was expecting Ana, and promptly after I weaned her, I found out old habits die hard.

It was a bit of a struggle, naturally, for about a week - headaches and moodswings, partly due to pregnancy and partly due to caffeine withdrawal.

Even with decaf, I limited myself to three cups, third cup no later than 3 p.m. And, when I say three cups, it is a 6oz tea cup, not the 12oz gigantic mug that passed for coffee cups in my pre-mommy days.

And when I was nursing Oggie, I cut it down to two cups of decaf coffee, a lot of herbal tea (fennel and mint mostly), and some green tea. And, chai brewed with black tea, ginger, cardamom and cloves was a special treat.

Any incidental coffee I managed to imbibe had to be decaf, preferably done the Swiss Water way, not the chemical solvent way.

No, I never cared for any of the cola drinks, or any carbonated drinks , so, Pepsi and Coca-Cola and Mountain Dew and such have no influence over me, thankfully...

And, for the last several months, I've taken to drinking green tea, with a dash of pekoe black tea for color and body, stirred in with soy milk, in the mornings. And my last cup of caffeinated beverage for the day is taken no later than 2 p.m.

Coffee is down to nil. And, I don't miss it. Much. The wonderful dark deep Stumptown Roast brewed at my office still tempts me, but, aroma is all I drink in... and, every once in a while, I brew a small pot of decaf for myself much to the head-shaking of my colleagues...

Now, this is such an insignificant piece of trivia (as if there is any other kind) that doesn't warrant its own post, but, in the larger scheme of things, having been a coffee addict right from teenage till about four years ago when Ana was born, especially swimming in it in my grad school days, this is a place I thought I could never reach. Not just giving it up temporarily, but, knowing that I don't need it, don't crave it, don't miss it and knowing that I have developed a certain distaste for it that deters relapsing...

I know I have not given up caffeine entirely, but, to have the control - the ability to bridle the hankering and sever the dependency - is very promising... especially at this particular juncture for me, when I am consciously trying to quell the fire-breathing, red-and-black-robed, storm-clouds-over-head, lightning-bolts-from-finger-tips monster in me that inexcusably and unpredictably rears its ugly head and bellows at the wee little four-year-old for simply being a willful and energetic four-year-old.

Little drops of water,
little grains of sand,
make the mighty ocean
and the beauteous land.

-Julia Carney, 1845

Thirukkural

Ages 8 to 12 were incredibly enriching in its own way for me, now that I have the wisdom to appreciate it.

Among the many things that began to shape my thinking and interests, one stands out distinctly: Thirukkural by Thiruvalluvar.

Thirukkural is a Tamil (I prefer Thamizh to Tamil, but, I can compromise a bit) composition by sage Valluvar (aka Thiruvalluvar, prefix 'Thiru' signifies utmost respect) that is probably familiar to kids of my generation and earlier who were fortunate enough to have to learn a second (Thamizh), third (Hindi), and optionally a fourth language (Sanskrit) besides English, which was the first language in my school.

Thirukkural comprises of 1330 couplets, organized into 133 topics with 10 couplets per topic. The 133 topics themselves are categorized into Arathu Paal (good life), Porut Paal (wealth), and Kaamathu Paal (desires). Each couplet is a cryptic message so profound that it can leave you awe-struck when revealed especially due to its crystallized simplicity.

Anyway, more about it later...

What comes to mind now is this fragmented piece of rarefied memory jogged by a book I found in my library downstairs that I had tucked away on the bottom shelf...

It so happened that every year, a local organization used to run a Thirukkural Competition for school kids, usually administered in small groups at various venues about town. Kids prepare in advance, learning a limited number of couplets on pre-selected topics, not just to recite the couplet backwards and forwards, but also to explain the meaning as best as they can.

My Thamizh teacher used to insist I participate each year, not sure why... however, my suspicious mind cannot help but speculate that my mom being a fellow teacher in the same school might have had something to do with it.

The poor hapless souls would be coached exclusively and intensively by our teacher. Quizzed, grilled and then made to recite the kurals (couplets) never-endingly so much so that our heads rang with nothing else for the few days before the competition. I still never felt well-prepared.

I remember at eight or nine learning the couplet that goes:
Thupparkku Thuppaya Thuppaaki Thupparkku Thuppaya Thoo-u Mazhai.

Which, to my uninitiated young mind seemed like gibberish with a lot of spitting :) (See, thuppu in Thamizh, at that time, only meant 'spit' for me, and a little later, it also meant a 'clue' but in the kural above it has a whole wonderful meaning)

Udukkai izhandavan kai polay ange idukkan kalaivathaam natpu: Just as the hand rushes involuntarily to protect one's honor in case of accidental state of undress, so does a friend come to his friend's aid without being asked.

Innaa seithaarai orutthal avar naana nannayam seithu vidal: This is a classic way of saying the best revenge is to offer kindness - if somebody harms you, return the favor by being excessively good to them that they are shamed.

Theeyinal sutta punn ullaarum aarathe naavinal sutta vadu: Another classic version that points out the exact opposite of "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words can never hurt me" - A burn injury will heal but the injury inflicted via cruel words cannot heal.

Moppakkuzhayum anicham muganthirinthu nokkakkuzhayum virunthu: Anicham flower wilts only when smelled, but a misplaced frown is enough to wilt a guest.

Now, I could write a whole little booklet with my favorite kurals that I remember to this day, and I hope I get to do it... but, I am digressing...

One particular competition when I was in fourth grade is etched in my memory: It was held on a second Saturday, which is usually a school holiday (other Saturdays of the month were "half working days" as they were called).

Anyway, after all the preparation and psyching myself up, I promptly fell ill with some sort of sore throat and low grade fever. I was terribly knotted up on the inside: on the one hand, my teachers were expecting me there and would be disappointed if I didn't go, and I have prepared hard for it, but on the other hand, being so darn sick, I probably will be so miserable that I won't do well anyway...

Finally, my dad promised me my favorite butter biscuit and onion bun fresh from our neighborhood bakery on the way home if I went with him to the venue, even if I didn't feel like participating. So, he put me in his bicycle and we arrived a little early. One by one about twenty-five kids filed in hanging on to their mom's sari or dad's pant-legs.

Perhaps it was the anticipation, or perhaps it was the combined adrenalin pumping in that room, I slowly began to perk up; and when they called my name, I went up to the stage and faced the panel of judges and gave it a shot.

I didn't wow anybody that day, understandably.

However, I ended up with what used to be called a "Consolation Prize", which is essentially a prize given when there is a tie for the 3rd position and they can't give two third places :)

This little green book in the picture was the consolation prize I got that day - a little Thirukkural book!

I still treasure it even though I won a few more since then, before I gave up participating at age twelve, at the cusp of puberty, when I became so chronically self-conscious that it hampered my other artistic pursuits as well... (more about it another day)

And I can still taste the fresh warm bun straight from the oven and the melt-in-the-mouth butter biscuit my dad bought me on the way home as promised.

The First Principle

A Zen master, Shou-shan, was asked by a disciple, "According to the scriptures, all beings possess the Buddha-nature; why is it that they do not know it?"

Shou-shan replied, "They know!"



Shou-shan said, "They know! But they are avoiding it."


It is not a question of how to know the truth. The truth is here; you are part of it. The truth is now; there is no need to go anywhere.


Says that old rascal Bodhidharma: "All know the way, few walk it, and the ones who don't cry regularly, 'Show me the way! Where is the way? Give me a map! Which way is it?'"


Life is the way, experience is the way. To be alive is the way; to be conscious is the way. You are alive; you are conscious.


Truth cannot be handed down by somebody else; it is not borrowed, it is not an inference. It is an experience.

--excerpts from Zen, its history and teachings

Why we make mistakes

Why We Make Mistakes: How we look without seeing, forget things in seconds, and are all pretty sure we are way above average.

by Joseph T. Hallinan

Pulitzer prize winner and former writer for Wall Street Journal, Hallinan, has presented an interesting account of the short-comings of the human mind in Why We Make Mistakes through several real-life examples that run the gamut from mundane to worrisome to horrifying.

This book falls in the same genre as Blink by Gladwell, where the author shows us how our brain function has evolved to help us abstract well enough to function efficiently in daily life, yet, the same process leaves us blind to some all-important details that can become critical and even life-threatening in special circumstances. He draws from the fields of psychology and neuroscience to help understand the flawed design of human mind when it comes to information processing - how our superb patter-recognition skills that help us move through this world easily also makes us error-prone simply because we have learnt to overlook details.

I chuckled when I read:

...Men, as a rule, tend to be more overconfident than women are, and this difference explains much about the kinds of mistakes men and women make.

Men tend to overestimate their intelligence - and attractiveness.

However, while the topic is fascinating and the author has extensive research and anecdotes to make this an interesting read, I did not find it exceptionally noteworthy in any way. This is probably not a reflection on the author, but just based on the way the ideas were organized and presented in the book... nothing profound or really eye-opening, but, certainly something to note and be aware of.

Nada Brahma by Joachim-Ernst Berendt

World Is Sound: Nada Brahma
Music and the Landscape of Consciousness
by Joachim-Ernst Berendt

As an aspiring physicist in my previous life as a single, diligent, fanciful grad student a decade ago, partial to non-fiction of the more interesting kind, I read this book for the first time. It left me with mixed feelings as I noted in my journal then. After a decade, re-reading it from my small but inspiring collection of books, I haven't changed my mind much about it.

Berendt, a renowned jazz theorist/musician from Germany, stated: In reality, we and the Universe are vibration and the sound that comes into our brain stimulates not only the brain but also the entire immune system. The auditory nerve has three times more connections to the brain than vision does, as well as connections to the thymus gland and the immune system. It also has direct connections to every organ in the body, and the sound transmitted through the auditory nerve, particularly if it is synchronous, can heal the body.

It is the title of this book that tempted me to give it a try. Berendt has an interesting thesis in this book, merging mathematics and music, drawing parallels between cosmic rhythms and sound vibrations, to state that World is Sound - i.e., Nada Brahma.

Vedic literature recognizes the concept of Nada Brahma. Brahman, the essence or potent power of the cosmos (English is truly inadequate to express these ideas), should not be a new concept to the people from the Indian subcontinent at least. Aham Brahmasmi ("I am the Brahman") is a chant that most boys are taught at the time of initiation into their spiritual existence. If Brahman is understood to be the central, or, primal force not much unlike man's inner consciousness, then Nada Brahma simply states that Nada, Sound, or, Music is that Brahman!

I subscribe to this school of thought freely and emphatically. Bheejaksharam or Pranava mantram or Omkaram as it is referred to in Sanskrit, is recognized as the primal vibration that existed before creation and the only sound that will pervade the cosmos after the great destruction(pralayam). There is no denying the power of the right vibrations to stir the depths of your soul and lift your consciousness. Music, certain kind of music at least, has the power to move us to tears. The resultant resonance is proof enough that Berendt has a great point.

Berendt's extensive research is very impressive. Particularly, the sections about Zen mondos, Japanese Koans and Indian mantras, Kepler's thesis and harmony of the planetary motion.

But the spin out in this book tries to over-generalize the concept and comes out sounding like one of those 60's New Age ideas that seemed fashionable despite its subjectivism. Although I have a lot of respect for Berendt's hypothesis, I could not see the depth and strength of his thesis. But, I would gladly recommend this book for the musically-inclined-philosopher type who likes to see the harmony in Nature and longs for a Unified central theme to our existence here on Earth.

untying the constant knot in my stomach

I admit that I saw myself as a striving perfectionist, being proud of it as if it were a virtue so noble and lofty that not all can live up to it. I am glad I am growing out of it.

Perfectionism is not perfect - it can often serve as a valuable lens through which to understand a variety of seemingly unrelated mental difficulties, from depression to compulsive behavior to addiction, apparently, according to this NYT article. Wha..? What? I had asked myself the first time I encountered this school of thought.

But, being good at a few things is not the problem, it is when one tries to be good at everything one does that it becomes a problem:

"It's natural for people to want to be perfect in a few things, say in their job — being a good editor or surgeon depends on not making mistakes," said Gordon L. Flett, a psychology professor at York University and an author of many of the studies. "It's when it generalizes to other areas of life, home life, appearance, hobbies, that you begin to see real problems."

Based on the following classification, I am the classic Type One mentioned here:

Some researchers divide perfectionists into three types, based on answers to standardized questionnaires:

1. Self-oriented strivers who struggle to live up to their high standards and appear to be at risk of self-critical depression;
2. outwardly focused zealots who expect perfection from others, often ruining relationships;
3. and those desperate to live up to an ideal they’re convinced others expect of them, a risk factor for suicidal thinking and eating disorders.

I never thought twice about it as long as I was single, a student, a free-spirit, doing what I wanted, and doing it as well as I can. I was too absorbed to notice the constant knot I had in my stomach those days.

And then, marriage and motherhood happened. Things seemed to start going out of control somehow. I broke down completely triggered by post-partum blues when my infant baby girl watched uncomprehendingly. Shocked that motherhood didn't come effortlessly as I had thought, and overwhelmed at having to work full-time outside of home without much societal/environmental support, I unhinged and came apart easily.

Adding to it was my personal experience with fellow females I encountered in my life: for some reason, the women I came across after my student life were constantly judging and trying to one-up each other, there was no sense of sorority. And once I became a mom, it got worse. My fears about joining Mother's groups and such seemed validated time and time again - be it subtle criticisms of mothering choices, or even the eternal debate about stay-at-home vs. work-outside-home mothers, I came to realize I was alone if I had to remain sane and do it the best way I can.

Dealing with my own insecurities and irrepressible ego, it began to slowly dawn on me that in this wonderful journey, we can expect a lot from others and be disappointed, or expect a lot from oneself and get wound up... -OR- take what each day has to offer, grateful to be alive and surrounded by loved ones. Eventually, adulation and achievement are fickle and subjective.

Antara Shaucham (inner cleanliness) is just as important as Bahya Shaucham (outer cleanliness). Just as my personal likes and dislikes leads to desires and prejudices in the outside world, it also manages to create self-criticism, guilt and self-condemnation if allowed to reign unchecked.

Freeing the mind of envy, pride, fear, guilt and such negative energies that enervate is the first step towards untying this knot I managed to create in my stomach... and I am light-years away from putting it to practice in any consistent manner.

Not a Museum, just a Home...

Clumps of white shaving foam dotted with freshly trimmed mustache and beard, and chunks of spent toothpaste clinging desperately to the sink refusing to be washed down to the sewer; long strands of scraggly dark hair swirling about on the bathroom floor after a rushed morning brushing; hand soap, lotion and toothpaste tubes desperately longing for their partner to keep them from oozing out unchecked; overflowing laundry hamper spilling on to the floor....

Spoons laying about the floor - dropped by frustrated infant learning to self-feed or left carelessly after stirring or shoveling something; crumbs of crackers dashed to the ground by wobbling infant losing his balance frequently or his sister wrestling the said cracker out of his pincer grip; half-eaten bowls of breakfast oatmeal and unfinished coffee mugs on the dining table; minuscule sink jam-packed with just a recently used teapot and a little omelette pan; glass, plastic and paper piling in the nook to be sorted and recycled; little fluffs of kitty hair gathering on the carpet now that it is getting warmer and they are shedding...

Cushions piled all over the living room and fireplace attempting to pad the wobbly infant's fall; a wooden block here, a dinosaur head there, a Tinker Bell shoe here, a squishy ball there... toys strewn about everywhere because anytime you try to put it away you hear But I am playing with it Amma! Don't put it away yet...

Niggly enough things to encounter after a long day at work, but colossal enough to tax my tolerance nonetheless.

And then, I glance at my little wall of inspirational quotes in the kitchen to find something that speaks straight to me: My house is clean enough to be healthy, and messy enough to be happy.

Two ordinary moms...

Two ladies come to mind from my childhood when I think about enterprising and hard-working single moms who just kept at it and made their lives better, especially for their children.

I was about six or seven years old when my mom, a superb cook and multi-tasker, told us that Saraswathi maami* would come in every evening, make chapathis and dal and such for us, and watch me for a bit till my mom can come home. Now, I did not like this arrangement much. I was not happy about somebody else in my mom's kitchen. However, with gentle demeanor and lots of Rosemilk, Saraswathi maami patiently won my trust so much so that I would long for her relaxing ritual of oiling my long hair and braiding it every evening while she told me stories from mythology. I would venture by her side and watch closely as she puffed up the chapathis over kerosine stove flame. I would get cross with her when she admonished me for not behaving ladylike at times. I didn't know much about her, except that she was widowed, with a few kids of various school-going ages. Not old enough to fathom her tragedy or her struggle, I went about my young life, slightly mad at my mother. Little did I know that she welcomed the income from making us chapathis to help raise her family. One fine day she stopped making chapathis for us, we moved, and that was that.

During my high school years, my mom introduced Jayanthi* into our kitchen and lives. Jayanthi had a tiny toddler and her husband was diagnosed with a rare heart condition that left him almost bed-ridden at that time. She had joined as a new lab assistant in the school that my mom was teaching at that time. She didn't get a chance to finish college but was quite good with assembling chemicals and preparing the lab for the children's guided experiments. To be honest, Jayanthi was an awful cook. But, she was very sincere about her tasks. Over time, I began to respect her simplicity and guilelessness. She kept at it, quietly working away at school, and our house on and off. Meanwhile, I went away to pursue my own stuff and years rolled by with my mom filling me in about the little toddler getting to be in middle school and finally in high school. And, the last time I visited India, this very same shy young lad was eager to befriend little baby Ana. He is now in college, with help from a lot of people who probably never met him on a daily basis but took that extra effort to find Jayanthi odd-jobs to do so she can raise her child with dignity and strength.

This Mother's Day, I wanted to dedicate a post to these two ordinary moms, who have shown extraordinary strength and courage to get out of the little holes that Life dumped them in and managed to keep their chin up and their spirits high while giving their children all they can, no fuss, no muss.

*Names have been modified, respecting their privacy.

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

The White Tiger
by Aravind Adiga

I was quite impressed by the Booker prize winning debut novel, The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga.

"If we were in India now, there would be servants standing in the corners of this room and I wouldn't notice them. That is what my society is like, that is what the divide is like.", says Adiga in an interview.

The novel portrays the brutally realistic, very-much-in-existence but easily-ignored side of India through the experiences of the narrator (whose voice, Adiga warns, should not be taken as his own).

Balram Halwai, who comes from the Darkness - i.e., the poor India, has seen a way out, even if it is probably morally and ethically disputable. Balram comes to the conclusion that he can either be eaten or be the eater. He chooses the latter. His successful attempt to flee the rooster coop as he calls it - a cage in which people tend to accept the indignities and believe they deserve nothing better and therefore never flee even if the cage is left open and unguarded - is what the novel unfolds.

It is cleverly written as a series of narrative episodes to Chinese Premier, Wen Jiabao, in which Balram presumes to explain the mechanics of becoming a successful entrepreneur (hustler) in modern India by navigating the muddy waters of politics, caste hierarchy and class divide.

"A handful of men in this country have trained the remaining 99.9% - as strong, as talented, as intelligent in every way - to exist in perpetual servitude."

Why did Adiga make Balram a chauffeur? "Because of the whole active-passive thing. The chauffeur is the servant but he is, at least while he's driving, in charge, so the whole relationship is subverted."

The outcry over this unglamorous presentation of corruption, bribery, servitude, cultural imperialism, the unbridgeable gap between the haves and the have-nots, and above-the-law rich who crush the poor without a second thought is to be expected. However, every once in a while, it is imperative to tell the tale of the poor India without derision or disdain. It is what it is, and glossing over it while presenting the 5-odd percent of the upper middle class who manage to shine overseas is not going to make it go away. In fact, bringing it to light is what could make it go away - when it awakens the sleeping White Tiger to break free...

Balram confesses to murdering his master Mr.Ashok, perhaps not for the reasons he tries to set up for the readers, but nevertheless, this crime as well as the crime of stealing his murdered master's money is what he sees as his salvation from the Darkness, his only hope to break out of servitude and get to the other side of the fence.

In Balram, Adiga has created a character who is hard to like, yet not easy to dislike despite the many ungainly things he manages to do. There is always a tug-of-war between the servile Balram and the aggressively autarchic Balram who knows that if he doesn't stand up for himself, no one else will. Ever.

What impressed me was the keen observations peppered incidentally in the book - the village school master pocketing government grants and denying basic education, the unmanned hospitals where the poor wait for days for a doctor to show up, the abject poverty into which many are born with no opportunity to do any better... No, it is not romantic and it is not exaggerated. There are remote parts of India, North and South, where such things still go on unchecked.

Rohinton Mistry, Kiran Desai and other contemporary writers have sculpted this genre of exposing the dark side of poverty without sensationalism, contempt or ridicule. Adiga manages to do the same with his debut novel.

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri

Unaccustomed Earth
by Jhumpa Lahiri

Much like the Pulitzer-winning debut Interpreter of Maladies, Unaccustomed Earth is a collection of short stories mostly about upper middle class Bengali immigrants to America. The struggles to adapt while watching their offspring assimilate easily into the new culture seems to be a driving theme in most stories.

Interpreter of Maladies immediately threw me back to Arundati Roy's God of Small Things - astonishing level of detail, exploration of the full range of emotions in the immigrant situation, seemingly normal people put through the blender of life - are inspiring to read.

Now, what speaks to me about Lahiri's talent is her ability to become the characters and write without much inhibition. Most people find it easy to write about their own experiences, or spin off some fiction based on their personal experiences. I wonder how Ms.Lahiri manages to write with such clarity about the travails and triumphs of her deceptively simplistic characters.

The relationship dynamics, be it father/daughter, husband/wife, brother/sister, are probed and presented in sometimes-fascinating, sometimes-shocking ways, somehow managing to present complex emotions in an effortlessly simple way. For instance, early in the first story Ms. Lahiri writes, Ruma feared that her father would become a responsibility, an added demand, continuously present in a way she was no longer used to. It would mean an end to the family she'd created on her own: herself and Adam and Akash, and the second child that would come in January, conceived just before the move.

Iron hand in velvet glove, is what comes to mind when reading her subtle yet striking prose that doesn't resort to melodrama to tug at your heartstrings. The three interconnected stories at the end are powerful, establishing the author as a master of her genre. Despite the single theme in all her stories, each one is unique in showcasing humanity in a gentle and touching way.

However, I must admit, this is not my favorite genre, probably because it hits close to home and I am not ready to explore my own emotions given that my experience about a dozen years ago, while not identical to her characters, still feels raw and unprocessed, possibly unprocessable...

Eric, Feet of Clay by Pratchett

Eric by Terry Pratchett	Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett

No, these two books are not in sequence or in anyway related, except for the fact that they are set in Discworld and are written by one of my favorite authors.

Eric was laugh-out-loud funny in parts even if the story was fairly run-of-the-mill. But, the story had to be run-of-the-mill because it is a parody. What's not to like about the talking parrot Wossname?! Rincewind, as established early on, has this knack of staying alive despite all odds, and somehow, all things bad that can happen in a situation, happen to him. And, with Luggage, Pratchett has created a brilliant character out of a box. And Eric, while not Faust, is certainly remarkable in a snot-nosed precocious sort of way. While not packing punches as it could have parodying Faust, Eric is all in all a playful riot of entertainment.

Feet of Clay, on the other hand is the third detective mystery with Commander Vimes of the Night Watch and Captain Carrot and Angua and of course, introducing Cheery Littlebottom. It's about golems, let me leave it at that. The plot is well-weaved and well-presented, as always. Nothing spectacular about the criminal or the crime when Vimes finally solves it, but, isn't that how most good mystery novels end? In an effort to confound the reader, too many clues are either peppered liberally or intentionally withheld, so as to make the solution appear brilliant. This is a fairly easy read, not many laugh-out-loud moments, but certainly the usual reflections of ourselves and our limitations as humans, our theology and social hierarchy... A fairly typical early work of Pratchett, not terribly memorable or funny like Guards! Guards! which first attracted me to the Night Watch.

The Black Tower by P.D.James

The Black Tower
by Phyllis Dorothy James White

I've read about a dozen or so of P.D.James. About a decade ago. On a whim, I wanted to read a few again just for nostalgia, like reading Agatha Christie over and over even though I know what happens...

Adam Dalgliesh, aging yet athletic, sharp, with a keen sense of justice, makes a likable protagonist. BBC's production of Adam Dalgliesh mysteries are probably well-known, but, reading P.D.James is quite a different sort of pleasure altogether. Dry, wry wit, some incidental humor, fairly serious yet not fantastically outlandish plot, gradual development of characters over the pages, unlikely hero caught up in a web of deceit that he must unravel at the risk of his life... throw in some fairly pathetic supporting characters, a few murders and a colorful adversary, and you get a winning combination for a satisfying detective novel.

This is a macabre story, bordering on creepy, especially since it is set in a remote sanitarium with terminal invalids who feel desperate and hopeless about their lives; and, Adam keeps convincing himself that he is past his prime and is no longer suited for solving crime, as if suffering from borderline depression, and is just convalescing after being told that he was terminal, so he doesn't really actively investigate until too many coincidences and incongruities become impossible to ignore.

Three Cups of Tea

Three Cups of Tea
by Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin

I finally managed to borrow this wonderful book that was on my Reading List for almost a year.

Now that I have read it, I am awed and humbled by the perseverance and dedication of this human being to build a school in a tiny little village tucked away in the formidable Karakoram mountain range. And, the school was only the beginning.

Leading a spartan existence, working just long and hard enough to save up for his next climbing expedition, Greg Mortensen seemed the most unlikely ambassador to bring a ray of hope for a better life in the harsh, cold and forbidding part of the Himalayan Pakistan, where people are desperately poor in their day-to-day existence but brimming with patience and optimism for a single step forward.

When Mortensen gets exasperated about the delay in starting construction Haji Ali, the village chief says smiling, "...the people of Korphe have been here without a school for six hundred years. What is one more winter?"

Author Relin evokes the beauty and the power of this region through vivid descriptions of the formidable ice sheets and glaciers, mighty peaks daring the strongest of men to reconsider their resolve to summit the peaks, and the indefatigable zeal with which the Indus and Balti rivers pound the mighty rocks to have their way.

Greg Mortensen is shown as a human being, flaws and all, but what one walks away with is utmost respect for a mythical hero who prevails against all odds. From the ashes of a down-and-out climber living out of his car, failing to summit the terrible K2, rises this phenomenal giant who sets out to the godforsaken war-torn mountains of Pakistan to keep his promise to the people of Korphe, a remote village at the foot of K2, who nursed him back to health when he accidentally wandered into their village after losing his way following his unsuccessful attempt...

Mortensen's own apprehensions of bringing 'civilization' to this part of the world are explored in the book - building a bridge could open up this remote and sheltered area to unwanted external interference, the schools could potentially drive the men away from the village seeking better fortune elsewhere leaving their families behind, however, empowering the girls/women would certainly ensure that the future generations could hold their destiny in their own hands.

The author writes, "the Balti held the key to a kind of uncomplicated happiness that was disappearing in the developing world." This peaceful simplicity of life, taking the harsh daily struggles in their stride, seems to be the strength of the Balti people that attracts Mortenson to the villagers.

It is not easy to understand, let alone respect, the hospitality culture that is prevalent in the East. To give away something, even the choicest morsel of food to the guest, be it the last bit of food in the household, is considered a privilege and is given without expecting anything much in return.

Offering a scalding cup of butter tea to the restless and anxious Mortensen, Haji Ali explains, "The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family, and for our family, we are prepared to do anything, even die."

As the book notes, Sir Edmund Hillary built a number of schools in the Himalayan region, but, he was successful in his attempt to summit Mount Everest which afforded him a certain celebrity status that he could then leverage to raise the funds for his mission.

It is all the more compelling to read how Mortensen did it.

Perhaps his life in Tanzania with his missionary parents sowed the seeds for his efforts later in life. Perhaps being down, broken and beaten, allowed him a certain recklessness that charged him to embark on this tough task... whatever it is that led him to them, the Balti are probably glad this gentle giant angrezi wandered into their midst that day years ago...

Batik-style dyed child-size apron

I remember this gorgeous pale pink silk batik saree my mom had that seemed ethereal somehow, just beautiful. I loved the way she moved in it, draped elegantly. I used to find excuses to hold the flowing border of that saree, much to her annoyance. I think that's when my love for batik-style fabric prints germinated. That saree is threadbare, but, she gave it to me the last time she was here because I wouldn't let her condemn it to rag-dom like the fate of most of her other old sarees.

I have tried my hand at batik a few times but nothing spectacular to show for it. And, this project is not for show-casing it either. I just love the idea of applying wax to block the dye in some chosen pattern, then dyeing the fabric, especially the kind of fabric that absorbs color non-uniformly, and letting it dry to reveal the magic.

And when Ana's class teacher mentioned that she'd like a few aprons for her kids, I couldn't resist trying to make a couple rather than buying some generic ones from the store.



For this project, rather than any pattern, I simply wrote some words on the fabric with the liquid wax, knowing that kids will be using it for art work or other classroom activities in her Montessori school. Nothing earth-shattering or clever, but just something that is relevant and simple.

Items used: unbleached cotton canvas fabric, Tulip™ Wax Resist, Dylon™ permanent dye (Terracota)

Procedure is simple: apply the wax-resist, allow it to dry completely, then dye the fabric, then sew it into child-size apron

Sewing: I made it to fit Ana as most kids in her class are about her size and age. The neck piece as well as the waist string are sewed at one end and attached at the other by velcro, so students can easily put it on and take it off by themselves. I didn't want buttons or ties anywhere for little kids. The finish is just regular piping (bias-binding).

When we took it to her class, Ana got to show her teacher and her friends how to wear it (as she had tried it on several times at home).

In her Montessori classroom, kids do various activities like peeling-slicing-serving bananas, metal and wood polishing, art work with paints, washing their own dishes after lunch, nut cracking etc. - just lots of practical skills that also develops dexterity, hand-eye co-ordination, self-esteem and life skills, so, the two aprons will get used a lot, I hope.

I have done some tie-dyeing on and off and still enjoy dyeing fabric with natural dyes. My favorite of late happens to be woad. I guess a PBS show about woad plant and dye-extraction got me fascinated in the first place... and the fact that woad is sort of colorless like water and when the fabric absorbs the dye and gets exposed to air, it gets oxidized to reveal this gorgeous blue...

Maskerade by Terry Pratchett

It is no secret that I love Pratchett's Discworld books. Next to PG Wodehouse, Pratchett's writings blow me away. I always wonder if he just sits down and taps out those perfect sentences or if he writes like us mere mortals first and then goes back and polishes and hones it with his special gift till it shines... No matter. A perfect blend of humor/wit/keen observation/fluent expression... layers of meaning sometimes, and, fairly blunt at other times... the characters simply come into being and loom in the mind's eye without any visual aid...

It just saddens me to realize every time I read or re-read one of his books that there won't be many more as he is suffering from a form of Alzheimers that is quite rare and would prevent him from churning out such brilliant work.

Maskerade is another Discworld book with Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and the inimitable parodying that sets Pratchett apart. As the title might possibly suggest, this book parodies Phantom of the Opera. Yes, nothing is sacred when it comes to Pratchett's ideas, not even Opera.

Agnes (Perdita) Nitt, a witch from Lancre who refuses to accept it, is being pursued indirectly by the two great witches of Lancre (Granny and Nanny) to replace Magrat Garlick as the third witch needed to form the coven. But, Agnes runs off to join the Opera in Ankh-Morpork. And thus starts a series of events that bring Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg to the opera house to solve the mystery of the Ghost at the opera house.

Needless to say, the plot gets quite interesting with such uncommon new characters as Henry Slugg aka Enrico Basilica the world-renowned Tenor, Walter Plinge the odd-job man at the opera house who walks like a string puppet being manipulated by an amateur, and some old ones like Greebo the Cat and Nobby Nobs of The Watch.

The mystery of the opera Ghost is solved - in fact, revealed to be played by two people - one very unlikely and harmless, the other deranged and villainous. All's well that ends well, of course. Except for Agnes, who reluctantly joins the coven.

Artemis Fowl Series by Eoin Colfer

A while back I had started reading the Artemis Fowl books. The first three at first pass didn't really catch my fancy. But, really, it is young adult fantasy genre and were I a 10 year old boy I am sure I'd be simply blown away by the books.

However, I wanted to read the next three books in the series just to stay with it and see how it goes... and now that I have read them, I think they are not bad at all. I like Captain Holly Short, even though she is a fairy. Commander Root and Centaur Foaly are essential to a plot setting such as this. And, Artemis Fowl II, the kid genius with a deviant mind, the protagonist, grew on me over the series.

I liked the introduction and premise in the Artemis Fowl book One. I didn't like the second book The Arctic Incident - couldn't put a finger on it, but, it just didn't catch my fancy. However, the third book The Eternity Code was alright.

The Opal Deception, The Lost Colony, The Time Paradox are the next three. A few new characters were interesting in these books.

It is quite an easy read, nothing spectacular but not disappointing at all.

Knit: Baby Cardigan

I started this knit cardigan back in April 2008 when Oggie was one month old and my mom was here helping out. It took me a long time to finish, but, am glad I managed to finish it by Fall 2008. I had sized it for 9-12 months per the pattern I found on the web, and didn't want his first winter to go by before I managed to get it done.

It is a standard cardigan pattern I found at Lion Brand website, except, I faced my usual problem of picking up the sleeves and knitting to finish. So, I crocheted the sleeves, and finished the edges with crochet as well.

I used Red Heart worsted weight acrylic yarn which is fairly soft but plenty warm, and size 9 knitting needles. Plus stitch holders which comes in handy for dividing and working on parts of the sweater while other stitches are held safely till ready to be picked up and knit.

Instead of doing the back and fronts and piecing them together, I knitted from bottom hem to armholes, divided at the armhole and did the neck shaping on one front, then the back, then the other front. Then joined at the shoulders, and finished the sleeves and edge with single crochet.

Sewing: Artist Smock

Ana is home on winter break and has been doing a lot of arts and crafts activities as outdoor play is limited in this cold season. She was busy working on some watercolors one afternoon a few days ago - making a 'girl turtle' by painting a turtle picture purple and pink - which gave me some "free time" to sew this for her.

I was looking online for an easy pattern for an artist's smock, just a quick-sew pattern, just for fun. She is not a messy person in general, and she is extra careful when working with paints, but, it is nice to have a layer of protection just in case she gets carried away... even though most of the colors I let her use are washable.

And that's how I stumbled upon this creative pattern. I roughly measured Ana and made up my template for this cutesy little smock which crosses in the back and ties on the shoulders. This way, it is adjustable and can be used for another couple of years at least, if it lasts that long. Also, the pockets in the front make it easy to hold some napkins or paper towels to wipe up any paint-accidents, or to hold some extra brushes and art supplies if she decides to take her easel out into the backyard in summers.

I thought of using some scrap fleece I had as it resists water and other spills really well, but I decided to use polycotton fabric I had leftover from some project my mom did when she was here. Ideally, some pliable vinyl might be good, or some thick flannel for those extra messy hands... but, any cotton or cotton blend works just fine. As it was scrap fabric, I am not sure how much fabric is needed for a size 3T-5T smock like this one, but, I am guessing not more than one yard of standard 45" wide fabric.

I toyed with the idea of Velcro^™ on the shoulders, but, went with the ties as it gives me an opportunity to put it on for her...

...these days she is totally into picking her own clothes from her wardrobe and dressing herself without any help/interference from me and I miss dressing her up like a little doll and brushing her hair as I like it etc.

Can't believe she is only 3 but terribly independent already...

Sewing: Artist Tool belt

D rarely wears his tool belt when he works around the house, not unless he is up the ladder and doesn't want to get down each time, or call me to hand him his stuff... and, Ana is in a phase where she totally is enamored by her dad and wants to do everything he does, and wants to do everything with him.

So, D wanted to get Ana a nice little Artist Tool Belt, very much like his own tool belt, that she can wear and tote around her artist supplies, or whatever else she fancies. He looked around online and they seemed terribly expensive, so, he wondered if I could sew one for her.

Could I??!

I was looking for a simple project anyway, and had enough scrap from my other quilting and sewing projects that I could have sewn a half a dozen in less than a day! Well, not tooting or anything, but, it is a fun little project that can be done in under an hour if the kids keep themselves busy, or maybe in under two hours while watching them...

I measured Ana's waist and made it fit around her waist, with a tie in the back so it is adjustable as she grows. It has a few pockets of various widths, some of which are wide enough for her hands to go in, while others are narrow enough to hold a few brushes and crayons and rag cloth and such...

Winter is here!

Now, back East and Mid-West U.S. where I used to live, snow was no excuse to take the day off from work and stay home... not unless it was a terrible ice storm downing power lines and the crew unable to work fast enough to make things reasonably operable.

In the Pacific Northwest that I call home for over half dozen years now, snow is not an accepted way of life to be taken in stride while going about one's daily business - at least not in the Willamette Valley. And for the last almost 10 days, we've had quite a bit of snowfall, forcing people to stay indoors unless they absolutely have to step out for whatever reason...

Staying cozily indoors, I love gazing at Nature's artistry - the clumps of snow on the gray-brown branches, snow-tinged tall evergreens, tiny juncos and sparrows pecking at the bird food we managed to put out, even several inches of snow accumulated on the parked cars... images of my backyard and frontyard fill me with wonder and awe even at this jaded middle-age...

I feel a bit sad for the shop-keepers, the salespeople have to show up somehow and try to make a living... I didn't get to do much Xmas shopping this year as we decided to get presents only for the kids, and D helped out by buying just age+1 presents for each of the kids (counting Oggie's age as 1, even though he is not yet 1, of course).

D tried to take the bus to get some supplies as we were caught quite unprepared and didn't have chains ready for the cars... however, just thinking about the less-fortunate people struggling to stay warm this winter, let alone get enough nutrition, makes me shudder and send a silent prayer heavenwards...

Ana's school teacher taught her this beautiful song that she sings several times a day while carrying on with her activities, sometimes improvising on the tune and adding her own lyrics. It is set to the Frère Jacques tune (or, Are You Sleeping, as the kids know it here):

I am thankful
I am thankful
For these things
For these things
Breakfast, lunch and dinner
A nice warm place in winter
And songs to sing
And songs to sing

I can't thank her teacher enough for teaching her the song, and the meaning - what little a 3-year-old mind can comprehend, that is...

Knit: Baby Sweater and Hat Set

I liked the pattern for raglan sleeve baby sweater and wanted to try it. I am partial to crochet, but, I love the finish that knitting produces. Usually, I start my knit projects with super gung-ho and then somewhere around row 2 when I drop stitches accidentally, lose count, and try to improvise on the pattern, I get terribly frustrated and look for ways to take the short-cut and finish the project with my trusted crochet skills.

This sweater is no exception.

It is knit from the bottom up to armhole, then divided, and the neck shaping for the two fronts and the back are done. Then, the sleeves need to be picked up and knit. That has always been the challenging part for me - patience-wise as well as skill-wise. So, I ended up crocheting the sleeves which is so much easier for me.

The hat is a made-up pattern - sort of wanted the London Bobby look, even if the color is wrong, so, I just went along with what I thought might work. It looks like a conical hat, or maybe more like a pointy bell, but then again, I started to knit the hat and realized my pattern-making skills are not as good for knitting, so switched to crochet towards the end... explains the funny shape, doesn't it?

Anyway, I made this a while back when I was still expecting my little one, and now that I see it on him, it is not too bad... the hat looks sort of like a pixie or elf hat, and the sweater seems to keep him warm.

'Twixt the Cosmic Minutiae

One day, Sage Narada was wandering the worlds as usual and decided to stop by Vaikunta to pay respects to Lord Vishnu. Knowing Sage Narada, Vishnu promptly asks, "What is it this time, Narada? What great question do you want me to answer now?"

To which Narada blushingly replies, "But, my Lord, I just came to humbly submit myself before Thee... but, since you are in the mood to answer, I do have a simple question".

Vishnu beams purposefully, divining what's to follow.

Narada asks, "My Lord Narayana, who in all the worlds is your favorite devotee? Who is it that you easily and gladly bestow your favors on?"

Now, Sage Narada in Hindu mythology is not restricted by the space-time and freely travels the different worlds/dimensions, meeting various beings, singing and chanting his favorite Lord's name: Narayana (a.k.a Vishnu). He established the Bhakti Yoga and is considered an ardent and foremost devotee of Lord Vishnu. He spends almost all his time singing Narayana's praises. So, he naturally assumed the answer to be obvious: himself! Of course! And, he was breathless to hear Vishnu pronounce Narada as his favorite devotee.

Little did he know...

As soon as Narada blurted out the question, Vishnu said, I will reveal the answer, but, until I do, come with me and do what I ask of you.

And so, Narada willingly went along with Vishnu to a little farm on Earth, where a poor farmer was tilling his field and sweating honest sweat trying to keep his family happy. When Narada and Vishnu arrived (invisible to the farmer, of course), the farmer's wife was calling him for lunch.

So, the farmer joined his wife and kids under a shady tree, smiled reassuringly and got ready for his meal. Right before his meal, he invoked Narayana's name, thanking him for his family, and the food, and dutifully ascribing all the fruits of his labor to Vishnu himself. Then, they ate in relative silence, enjoying every mouthful of the old rice and watered down buttermilk, feeling blessed to be able to quench their hunger thusly. Then, he bid adieu to his family, and went back to work, not thinking about Narayana except once while tilling the soil hard - dedicating the work to Narayana and asking him to help his crops flourish this planting season.

Narada was puzzled. "Could this be my Lord's favorite devotee? How can that be?I am the one singing his name all the time... this farmer barely thought of my Lord twice this day and that too briefly... there can be no greater devotee than me, can there?" he thought...

...and Vishnu, reading his thoughts, smiled benevolently and placed a terra cota pot full of water on Narada's head and said, "My dear Narada, do not worry yourself. Balance this pot on your head and walk around this farm once, taking care not to spill even one drop of water. I will wait here for you to finish the round and then all will be revealed."

So, Narada respectfully balanced the pot on his head and started his walk around the farm concentrating fiercely on not letting even one drop of water from the pot hit the ground. He took his own sweet time while Vishnu waited patiently.

Finally, when Narada came back and triumphantly declared, "My Lord, I completed the task you gave me - very carefully I walked around and you will notice that not even one drop spilled."

Vishnu simply said, "In your walk around the farm how many times did you think of me? How many times did you invoke my name and dedicate the task of not spilling the water to me?"

Narada was dumbfounded. "But, my Lord, I was focused on the task, how could I think of you and sing your praises then?"

Vishnu explained, "Narada, while performing a simple menial task you were unable to think of me, however, this farmer, bowed down by weight of woe, balancing several burdens on his shoulders each day, manages to think of me, even if briefly! To me, such heartfelt devotion, despite being careworn and fulfilling his life's duties of being a father, a husband and a provider, is far superior than any other."

"Now do you understand?", Vishnu added with a meaningful smile.

Narada prostrated and thanked the Lord for opening his eyes to his own foolish pride.

Pardon my lengthy narration, but I wanted to compile and present this story as I have it in my head...

I read this story (or a version of it) in Amar Chitra Katha when I was 10 years old and it made such an indelible impression that I remember it even today, decades later.

This story has layers and shades of meaning that comes out each time I think about it. It can be a simple story with a moral, or a profound spiritual teaser, depending on how one wants to look at it.

Some of the philosophical discussions I have had with my dad involve the underlying moral in this story: Live your life as best as you can, and in the process of living a good life, if you can think of a higher purpose, if you can dedicate all your toils and fruits to this higher purpose, it is a life well-lived.

One of the first few Sanskrit slokas my dad taught me simply states that whatever I do via body, speech, mind, senses, intellect, soul or other innate tendencies, I dedicate it all to Lord Narayana.

Kayena vaacha, manasendriyairva, budhyatmanavah, prakruteh swabhavath, karomi yadhyad sakalam parasmai, Narayanayethi samarpayami

Now, the tricky part that begs to be asked is how about criminals - can't they just do what nasty deed they do and dedicate it to Narayana? Well, sure... that's where karma comes in...

Why am I rambling on here? Well, I've been sick, Ana has strep throat, and Oggie is having another bad week of teething. While tending to the kids, praying for their well-being, seeking strength for me so that I can provide them the comfort they need, I seem to always gravitate towards pondering on the Infinite... I am sure it will pass... but for now, I am grateful that my ruminations are far less pedestrian than usual...

who am I am?, why am I here?, what purpose am I serving?, am I happy?, am I raising happy kids?, am I bringing happiness to anybody's life at all?, what is happiness anyway?, is it ok not to be happy?, what is equanimity? why is it not easy to practice detached-attachment? ...

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer

As mentioned a while back, I decided to try Artemis Fowl series. Now that I have read the first 3 books in this series:

1. Artemis Fowl
2. Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident
3. Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code

I feel I must read the rest of them just to find out what happens in the end.

Well, it is Juvenile Fiction, oops, I mean, Young Adult Fantasy, so, I guess if I were in middle-school again, I might enjoy it more. Perhaps. Am not sure. I mean, I did read Enid Blyton and Hardy Boys back in middle school... No, don't get me wrong, the labeling of the genre is not the reason for this not-so-raving beginning here... Bartimaeus Trilogy was also Young Adult Fantasy and I loved that trilogy.

I am not exactly a big fantasy fan. I admit, I have read way too many Weiss-Hickman Dragonlance series, with a red ink pen in hand doing what the editor and proof-reader should have done before it went to print... however, I have immensely enjoyed JRR Tolkien and Robert E Howard, liked George RR Martin and Tad Williams... am a die-hard Terry Pratchett fan, and feel that Pratchett's Discworld series is not easy to simply classify as a fantasy series - they are brilliant parodies (or, "resonances") of our own world.

People who view fantasy as second rate or childish are usually people who don't read or understand it. I like to tell them that good fantasy is social commentary combined with good storytelling - Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, the Oz stories and so many others. Sure, the stories take place in an imaginary world. But those worlds mirror our own and tell us things about ourselves that need to be said and understood. I also like to tell them how often other forms of literature use fantasy as the bedrock of their own stories. Fantasy transcends its own form in wider scope than any other type of writing.
-- Terry Brooks

Back to Artmis Fowl: I liked the premise and the intro to characters in the first novel. I did not really enjoy Arctic Incident, the second book, but liked Eternity Code, the third one. I am just going to leave it at that. Not much of a "review", eh? Maybe after I've read the next 3 books in the series I might be able to be more specific...

It is really light reading - just what I am looking for right now. Life's a bit hectic and tough, not to mention stressful, as it is. So, till I can find my bearings and get a handle on things and figure out a way to strike a balance, I am glad I get to read a few pages each night before passing out for a couple of hours.

Sewing: PBJ Costume

What do you want to be for Halloween, Ana?
Peanut Butter Jelly!

Maybe you want to be a faerie, you think?
Nope. I think I want to be a Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich!

How about Tinker Bell? You like Tinker Bell, right? Maybe you can be Tinker Bell for Halloween?
No, Amma! I want to be Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich!

O-kay! Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich it is.

And, so, I bought some foam and fabric and made this costume for her. Am glad she didn't ask for anything too complicated... thankfully, this was a terribly simple one to make and I had a lot of fun making it.

D helped cut the foam into roughly standard bread slice shape, and I sewed the covering for the foam slices, going for the rustic bread look, making sure they are not terribly perfect (yeah, right!)

I went with off-white fleece fabric for bread slice even though we usually don't buy white bread, and got some brown fleece for the crust, just to give it some texture and depth. Plain cotton fabric would not have made the bread slices stand out as much as fleece.

Now, the peanut butter color was hard to find, - we love chunky peanut butter so I wanted to find some self-print fabric that sort of mimicked the texture...but, no luck. So I went with a tan brown cotton fabric. Ana wanted purple jelly as purple is her favorite color.

Simply sew on the shoulder straps and connect up the sides with strips of PB and J fabric and voilà!

The bonnet was the masterly touch, imho - I think the bonnet makes her costume come alive and drip with cuteness, don't you agree?!

Everybody in the neighborhood where Ana went trick-or-treating very easily identified her as Peanut Butter Jelly Sandwich, which felt very rewarding for a simple job well-done - not to brag or anything, really :)

As mentioned last year, I have mixed feelings about Halloween: I do not approve of the candy-binge, I do not like the spooky horror stuff, however, I do like the fact that kids can get very creative and design their costume and even perhaps make it themselves, or at least help make it when possible... I know I couldn't make Ana's costume last year and I ended up buying one after severely knotting my innards with moral anguish...

D was very enthusiastic about showing off her costume in the neighborhood and he took her trick-or-treating, promptly stashing away the candy-loot out-of-sight, while I stayed home with Oggie who was running a 101.5°F temperature due to nasty ear infection and so was terribly fussy and unhappy, poor baby!

We had fewer trick-or-treaters this year than last year, and I guess I was right about that invisible 'X' mark... And, to my surprise, instead of the traditional little loot basket or little bag, they all came with huge pillow cases as candy-sack...

Happy Deepavali 2008!

I know, I am a bit late in writing this post considering Deepavali was a week ago, but, better late than never...

Like last year, it was low-key this year, what with Oggie being sick with ear infection and bronchiolitis, and Ana not feeling too great either, I decided to light some lamps (pictured above), and make a traditional meal, plus a traditional Indian sweet.

Thanks to my mom, I have a small collection of Kerala-style and Tamil Nadu-style lamps that I love to light on special occasions. Deepavali being the Festival of Lights was a perfect opportunity to get them out and light them to my heart's content.

Being a curious little girl, Ana wanted to know what I was doing and I explained a bit about Deepavali to her, and she helped arrange the lamps before I added the wick and the oil to light them.

As always, I can't let any of the traditional Indian festivals go by these days without feeling terribly nostalgic, and remembering all the little details I never thought I registered in the first place... just like for X'mas here, Deepavali being Festival of Lights naturally had us lighting a ton of lamps both inside and outside the house - little tiny terracota lamps for outdoors and metal lamps for indoors... the big thing about Deepavali was fireworks - lots and lots of it - noisy and bright and colorful and fun.

I don't miss the fireworks much, but I do miss lighting a lot of lamps, making rangoli, wearing gorgeous clothes and exchanging visits and sweets with family/friends/neighbors...

Interesting Exercise

D sent me this and I thought I must share it here :)

Instructions: Read the following, then click on the link below. There are two identicial pictures that will appear on the screen. Almost 8,000 people were tested to see if they could identify the 3 differences in the two pictures, and only 19 were able to find all three. See how observant you are...

If you can find all 3, you're one of the very few who are able to do this! Good Luck!


http://members.home.nl/saen/Special/Zoeken.swf

Crochet: Baby Sleep Sack

Sleep sacks are a neat alternative to blankets in winter-time, especially for infants who are not too busy rolling around in their cribs, or trying to crawl around a lot within the confines of their bed.

I had sewed a few fleece sleep-sacks for Ana when she was little as I was paranoid about blankets accidentally suffocating her - especially when she started sleeping alone in her crib.

Now that Oggie is at a stage where he needs to sleep by himself in his crib, and likes to pull his blanket over his face somehow even if I wrap it around him to prevent that, I figured it is time to get a few sleep sacks ready for him for this winter.

This is a made-up sleep-sack pattern that I crocheted a while back for Oggie. Basically, it starts out as a sweater from neck down and then instead of stopping at sweater length, I extended it all the way down to accommodate a 32-inch long baby, with room to spare. Oggie is not yet 32 inches so am sure I can get enough mileage out of this till next winter.

The sleep sack opens at the bottom and down the front so it is easy to get on and off. It is held together with large buttons down the front and at the bottom, large enough that it cannot be easily swallowed by tiny mouths should they manage to rip it in their sleep.

As long as he doesn't roll around too much in it, I am sure it gives enough freedom of movement at bedtime. Also, the stitches are not too dense and so it seems quite airy and breathable. Naturally, he will be wearing his fleece winter jammies underneath so this sleep sack is only an extra layer...

Waiter Rant by The Waiter

Me: Just because it is on NYT Bestseller list doesn't mean it is a great book. There are many brilliant books that never get on the NYY Bestseller list.
My alter ego: Yep. But, surely, many find it worth reading, or it won't be on NYT Bestseller - it sells, and that's what matters. Brilliant and Bestselling are mutually independent.

What prompted this terribly blasé conversation with the self was this book I just finished reading: Waiter Rant by The Waiter.

Why was I curious about this book?
Well, last year I came across waiterrant.net and enjoyed a few posts by The Waiter, where he narrates his experience with customers, his philosophical musings, his rants. And when I found out that he is another one of those bloggers who got elevated to temporary stardom with his book (many food bloggers seem to enjoy this affliction of fame through book deals) I naturally wanted to see what it was all about.

Did I enjoy this book?
Yes, terribly so.
Did I think it was brilliant?
'Fraid not.
Do I think it needs to be brilliant?
No, not at all, not for the genre, not for the subject.
Do I think it is worth reading?
Sure, why not... Take it along on a long flight, especially if you are not in the food service industry. It can be entertaining and illuminating. It could make you think twice about eating out, and about calculating the measly 10% tip.
What did I like best about this book?
The honesty. The descriptions and observations, not just about the waiter life, but about human behavior in general. Despite the title, it is not a rant.
What did I not like about this book?
See the last statement of this post :)

What is it about?
It is a memoir of sorts. It attempts to educate the average restaurant-going public about the issues in the restaurant business like bad management, illegal immigrant labor, ideal and not-so-ideal customers, as well as the struggles of a waiter's life living on indeterminate and unpredictable income which heavily relies on the whims of the consumer.

The Waiter has been anonymously chronicling his experience in his blog for a while. The book reads like a collection of his posts, with a good effort to maintain continuity and interest, narrating his life experiences in an easy-read style, like a cohorent story. Anecdotes about his college life, his stint in medical service industry, and his entrance into food service industry seem honest and prosaic enough to be true.

It is well-written for a first book by a non-literary writer. I am not a book-snob. I do recognize and appreciate brilliant writing and aspire to be like those geniuses. I would expect a brilliant Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri who specializes in Literature. The Waiter admits he is a novice writer; and most good writers have to start somewhere and churn out textbook-style prose before they find their niche and personal style. That's why I believe a good editor is invaluable for the debut work. In that sense, this book has the required elements - it is funny, entertaining, cynical yet not irritatingly so, and reads like a story where we can follow the life of the protagonist with some interest. The unfeigned sincerity in certain chapters is admirable.

One observation that I found interesting: waiters in Oregon are paid the minimum wage by law and are not relying heavily on tips to stay out of poverty, unlike in NYC where they are paid less than half the minimum wage, which makes the 20% tip precious. Yay! Another reason I love Portland, OR!

That said, I found it a little grating to read exotic words - like remediated, trichotillomaniac, eremitical - where an equivalent simple one would have sufficed in context.

Summer Books

Between an infant and a 3-yr old, Time has become terribly precious and it seems like a good idea to catch up on sleep with what little time can "spare".

Fortunately, unless I am drop-dead exhausted where I lean against the kitchen countertop and fall asleep in the middle of making a meal (it has happened!), or lay my head on the dining table thinking I'll just close my eyes for a minute or two while my tea is brewing and wake up after 10 minutes, I have developed this habit of reading at least a page or two in bed before sleep takes over or Oggie screams for attention.

So, even though it is slow, I do manage to get some books read. Over the last few months I've read a few new ones as well as re-read a few old favorites...

Interesting Times, The Fifth Elephant, The Bromeliad Trilogy and Sourcery - all by my favorite Terry Pratchett were just alright, nothing spectacular like Small Gods or Wyrd Sisters/Witches Abroad or Mort.

I have always been partial to non-fiction, but over the last few years since Ana came in our midst I've enjoyed fiction a lot. One of the non-fiction I enjoyed a while back was The Creative Habit by Twyla Tharp.

I am hoping to take it easy over the next few months and try to read Artemis Fowl series by Eoin Colfer. A while back, Eoin Colfer (Eoin sounds like Owen, Irish) gave a talk at The Baghdad Theater. It was a coin-toss and D won, so he got to go to the talk while I stayed home with the kids. The talk apparently was a bit about himself and his interests and mostly about his latest book Time Paradox... anyway, Artemis Fowl series seems like the Harry Potter series aimed at young adult, but, that hasn't stopped me from thoroughly enjoying The Bartimeus Trilogy, and, besides, I am just not ready for the more "serious" fiction - the kind that is brilliant and outstanding and can take your breath away with its poignancy and pith. Such luxuries just have to wait till Oggie starts preschool...

Tanjore Art: Aalilai Krishnan

Until recently, this adorable Aalilai Krishnan art work was hanging in my parents' home in India, and I had forgotten all about it. This trip, when they came to help out with Oggie's birth, they decided to bring it for my home here. This art work depicts Krishna as a baby, sucking on his toe, floating on a Banyan Tree leaf.

This is a potent representation of Vishnu, the manifest Preserver of the Universe, floating on the water after the deluge that destroyed the corrupt and decomposing old Universe, free to create a pleasant new Universe. I am not sure of the entire mythological significance of His baby form, and the reason for His toe-sucking. But, this representation of Krishna has always been my most favorite among the depictions of Baby Krishna.

Krishna as Partha Sarathy, the charioteer for Arjuna, is another of my favorite representations of adult Krishna, especially when he assumes Vishva Roopam while delivering what we now know as Bhagavadh Geetha.

I learnt Tanjore Art, as it is called, from a master when I was in Chennai. I love the gold foil and stones, but, more importantly I love the style of rendition of the Gods in this art form.

When my master asked me if I wanted to do the traditional Ganesha for my first independent work, I hesitated... I was eyeing the Aalilai Krishnan sample longingly. And that's what he guided me to finish - starting from preparing the board, to tracing the figure, to making the base outlines with the paste to adding gold foil and stones and finally painting the image.

I was terrified of ruining the laborious work by jerking my nervous hand when painting the eyebrows and mouth, and I remember appealing to my master to finish it for me.

When my mom decided to use it for the Krishna Janmashtami decorations a few days ago, I was quite touched. So far, it was just art work, despite the divine subject. But slowly it has begun to exert a mesmerizing influence on me, almost teasing me with images of this Baby Krishna getting up from the leaf and coming to me!

I have done a couple of small ones since - just elephants, not Gods - and am still not confident of taking on a large project. But, someday, when kids are older and I have a ton of patience, I hope to take it up again...

Sewing: Lilac Embroidered Frock

I cannot take credit for this gorgeous hand-embroidered, elegant and stylish frock. My mom made this for Ana. All I can do is dream about making one like this soon for Ana, and hope that my mom will have the patience to make something as awesome as this for me :)

My mom did teach me a few tricks and I have started experimenting with hand-embroidery - making little cushion covers for now. Maybe Ana's Christmas outfit this year will feature some hand-embroidery that I managed to do... we'll see...

Ana loves purple and this qualifies as purple in her book. She seems to have taken a fancy to this outfit. Now that Fall is around the corner, she may not have many more days left to show off this dress. Such a shame when she outgrows it - maybe I will repurpose this outfit to a cushion cover so as not to lose my mom's beautiful work.

Knit: Baby Sweater

I wanted to knit something with the little scraps of yarn that I didn't have the heart to throw away, especially considering how pricey yarns have become these days, even just acrylic baby yarn.

The pattern is sort of made-up - extrapolated from crochet pattern I usually use for sweaters. I am essentially a crocheter, knitting is only a secondary thing for me.

I didn't plan on using any color scheme, just joined the next color as one color got used up. It is done sort of like the kimono sweater that I love to crochet - starting at the back bottom, working the back, sleeves and neck and the fronts - except rather than overlapping fronts to make the kimono style, I left it like a cardigan. The whole sweater is done in simple garter stitch with a size 12 or so large needles. I sewed the seams and finished the edges with crochet.

It is the beginning of August, supposedly the middle of Summer, but it is pretty chilly here that I decided to put on this scrap-yarn sweater for the wee one so I can let him sit out in the patio and enjoy the backyard wildlife...

I made this over the Christmas/New Year Holiday season when I was in my third trimester, so overcome with nesting instinct that couldn't sit still. It is approximately 12-18 months size, so, it is a little big on my soon to be 5-month old, but, he wears it well I think :)

Sewing: Newborn Swaddlers

I came across this beautiful and clear instructions to make newborn swaddlers early this year and had made a few before my baby arrived in March.

I made three, of varying sizes, to get me through the first 3-4 weeks after birth when babies benefit from swaddling and are easier to handle.

With my first baby Ana, we tried making the Baby Burrito with receiving blankets, like the nurse showed at the hospital before sending us home, but, it never was tight enough and kept unraveling, threatening to drop the baby stuffed inside.

So, I was looking for a good way to swaddle and keep this new one compact and snug. And, the instructions in the link above was just perfect. I can't thank them enough for sharing it, free!

Of course, the first 6 to 8 weeks after delivery is a blur for me as I was suffering from back-to-back infections and the wee one was suffering from Reflux, fussing and throwing up a lot. So, photographing him, swaddled or not, was the last thing on my mind. But, Enid Paapaa, Ana's favorite Cabbage Patch doll/friend, agreed to model for me now so I can demonstrate how easy and how wonderful this design for swaddler is.

The features I liked in this design are: the little pocket inside, so I know baby cannot fall off the bottom easily; the velcro™ fasteners sewed perpendicular to each other where they overlap so that it can be adjusted to baby's size easily; the double layer of flannel which keeps them toasty warm and breathable.

I changed the size of the oval a bit as I sort of knew I was expecting a fairly big baby, and decided to make a couple slightly bigger than each other so I can use it as the baby grows during the first 3-4 weeks.

With Ana, she didn't like her arms tucked in when swaddling; she would wriggle and writhe and try to pull them out and rest them over her head. Oggie, my wee one, was the same way - he didn't mind being swaddled tight with arms tucked inside for about the first 2 weeks, and then wanted to get his arms out and over his head while sleeping.

These swaddlers I made turned out very useful, but, around 4 weeks he outgrew the largest one I had made, and, by then, he seemed to prefer being bundled in fleece blanket which gave him more wiggle-room.

Shiva: My Mystic Love

I was teased a lot in my late-teens by a couple of close friends who knew about my obsession with all things Shiva, the Hindu God. It is no secret that I craved and sought anything I could read up about Him at that time. I lived not too far from Kapaleeshwarar temple in Madras at that time and couldn't wait to go to the temple as many evenings as my young school life would permit.

Now, I am not what typically passes for a religious fanatic. I respect and admire Hinduism and practice it willingly as a way of life. I am awed by the beauty of Sanskrit and am constantly trying to educate myself on both Hinduism as well as the language of the gods.

My first introduction to Shiva's tales (and other mythological tales) was through Amar Chitra Katha graphic books for children. I still have my old copy of ACK's Shiva Parvathi my dad gave me as a child - it is one of the books I packed with me when I came to the US for higher education 15 years ago. The art work was very typical in ACK books, not entirely to my liking, but, quite evocative and easily filling the young minds with suitably awe-inspiring images.

Anyway, years later, still in the path of Self Realization, and hopelessly lost, I decided to read my favorite tales but from a slightly more comprehensive and intellectual point of view. That's how I came to read Shiva: The Wild God of Power and Ecstasy by Wolf Dieter Storl.

This is a well-researched book, even if by a non-Indian, and it doesn't attempt to ridicule or overly glorify Hindu mythology. The comparisons with various mythologies like Nordic, Greek and Roman, and even Zoroastrian and Celtic mythologies seems interesting.

However, for someone who grew up with an ardent love for all things Shiva, the similarities drawn between Shiva and gods of other cultures, and even going so far as to establish a proto-Shiva from which our image of Shiva came about seems a bit disturbing, even if the author's research has merit.



I never tire of reading my favorite tales of mythology. I love the idea that Vishnu slumbers on his snake bed of AdiSesha for the life of a universe, and when he wakes up, out of his navel comes a new Brahma, the Creator, sitting on a lovely lotus; Brahma's day is spent in creating all the life forms and letting the world evolve through the yugas (units of years/eons); at the end of each day in Brahma's life, when he sleeps, the world dissolves, only to be re-created again when he wakes up the next day; this way, Brahma carries on for a 100 years.

But, one day of Brahma's life lasts 4,320,000 human years!

This cycle goes on infinitely, with Brahma creating the virtual world we perceive and live as our realities, until everything collapses into Nothingness.

Anyway, this post is not about all the wonderful ponderings of sages from Vedic times, or even about the validity/absurdity of such ponderings. One chooses to believe what one wants, willingly setting aside the constraining and limiting logic enforced by our intellect.

This post was just to record two recent books I read on Shiva and was transported for the duration to a magical world (some might call it a simple fantasy world, but I choose to disagree) where logic and reasoning is pointless as long as one is willing to meditate on the glory of our existence.

One can certainly go about life without belief in God or anything mystical, and there is nothing wrong with that. I agree that belief in God is not a pre-requisite to leading a good life.

But, I love deep mysticism. I ponder on why we are here, who we are and what happens to us as we pass out of this world... and Hindu mythology that I grew up with gives me the ethereal images that kindle my passion for Self-Realization, to become one with the Universe and its Creator - for, the Universe cannot exist independent of its Creator, however we choose to conceive the Creator in our minds.

Moving on, I mentioned two books I read recently, one of which being Storl's book on Shiva. The other fascinated me with its bold and innovative style of graphics and story-telling, more along the lines of comic books or graphic novels aimed at adult audience: The Book of Shiva by Deepak Chopra, edited by Virgin Comics.

This graphic book tells short stories graphically of Shiva, Kali, Uma, Indra, and Ganesha, not as complete tales of mythology, but as a means of understanding our own existence. The perspective is sometimes that of an equitable narrator, and sometimes that of the Gods themselves. The stories don't make complete sense in terms of having a beginning, some adventure, and an end. In fact, knowing the subject, there can be no beginning or end for such a tale, so, the book attempts to evoke a sense of understanding through powerful graphics and crisp and concise writing.

However, I do love to read the story of Sati and Shiva, Shiva receiving Ganga on his head, Meenakshi-Sundareswarar's wedding, Shiva marrying Parvati, the story of how Parvati created Ganesha from her skin and dirt, how Shiva inadvertently cloned Karttikeya to battle Tarakasura, how Shiva burnt Kama the God of Love to ashes, how Shiva drank the halahala poison to get his blue neck... it is endless, I mean, they are all intertwined and I haven't even touched on Vishnu and Shiva together.

And now, I love telling all these stories to Ana. So far, she loves Hanuman and Krishna stories I have told her. I have just started Shiva and Parvati tales for her. To continue the tradition, I started with Amar Chitra Katha books for her.

At first I was a bit apprehensive about letting Ana look at the artwork in the powerfully visual book authored by Deepak Chopra. But, Ana took to it easily and wanted me to tell her all about Kali! I, of course, watered it down and 'babied' it a bit for her and tried not to dwell on the gory images except to express how angry Kali devours evil monsters and finally calms down and becomes Uma, the loving all-mother at the request of Shiva.

Well, there it is: The Book of Shiva by Deepak Chopra and Shiva: The Wild God of Power and Ecstasy by Wolf Dieter Storl, two books that temporarily slaked my spiritual thirst.

Crochet: Poppy Flower Afghan

This is one of my favorite afghans I made 5 years ago. I saw the pattern on the web for poppy flower granny squares. And I sort of extrapolated the squares and changed the gauge to make large squares and joined them together to make this afghan.

Being my favorite, it stays safely in the linen closet and rarely sees light of day, but, I thought it would be nice to air it out once in a while and took it out a few days ago...

Moist von Lipwig

I am grateful that I am able to read a few pages at a time of my chosen fiction each day to keep my mind from atrophying... baby-talk and toddler-talk are not easy habits to kick when one has a 3-yr-old and an infant... being a little sleep-deprived and operating on very little energy and patience, I find it a bit therapeutic to think about things other than poop and diaper rash and potty training :)

Anyway, I recently read two Terry Pratchett books back to back and wanted to write about them before I forget: Making Money , which is the sequel to Going Postal, relating the story of one of the brilliant characters T.P., has sketched out so far - viz., Moist von Lipwig.

Although loosely part of the Discworld series, these two are fairly stand-alone books that can be read without missing out on any intimate details of the fabulous fantasy series which... but wait, calling it a simple fantasy series doesn't do it justice really - the discworld books are brilliant parodies (or, "resonances") of anything and everything Pratchett fancies - from deep and profound themes to light and fanciful subjects.

Moist von Lipwig is the consummate confidence man - smooth, amiable, restrained enough not to let greed rip his mask out, and rather kind-hearted in his own odd way.

I got introduced to Moist von Lipwig in Going Postal. No, that is his real name, not one of his aliases as con-man, which makes perfect sense - I mean, would I remember Adam Spangler or Moist von Lipwig if he casually introduced himself to a gullible me he is trying to rip off?

Vetinari, the self-declared tyrant, patrician of the colorful city of Ankh-Morpork, seeing some potential in Moist that he can exploit, strong-arms Moist into going straight for a while at least and assigns him the almost impossible task of straightening out the Ankh-Morpork Post Office in Going Postal.

Adora Belle is another wonderful character in this series, who happens to be the woman Moist fancies, quite naturally - she is strong, independent, and quite an activist rescuing and emancipating golems all over.

Going Postal revealed Moist's character beautifully - he is just a bit lucky it would seem, but, then again, what is Luck if not the arrangement of right circumstances to achieve one's end? Moist manges to single-handedly turn around the decaying Ankh-Morpork post office through a series of bluffs and cons that pay off all too well. The description of the "clacks" system of sending messages - like telegraph, like the modern-day Internet - was absorbing and eye-opening about pioneer spirit and advancement of the technology-of-the-times, and how some visionaries, through sheer brilliance or luck, manage to bring it to every man.

Having successfully introduced stamps for the post office which become immensely popular and get elevated to a collector's item, and having tuned the Post Office to clock-work efficiency, Moist begins to feel bored and useless as he is no longer thinking on his feet trying to stay a step ahead of his detractors. That's where Vetinari comes in and throws a new challenge, making Moist the chairman of a major bank of Ankh-Morpork - rather, the owner of the chairman who happens to be a dog... and that's what Making Money is all about.

Moist is now faced with the challenge of cleaning up a major bank in his adopted city, only, he has no background in finance, and has never been part of Old Money to control the city's economics. Yet again, Moist rises to the challenge and this time introduces "paper currency", just like he introduced "stamps" in Going Postal, and tries to get people to think away from the gold reserves.

The intricate plot and clever satire are too hard for me to do any justice here in my review. Suffice it to say that it was very rewarding to read two wonderful books which at the surface may seem to address banal themes based on the sketch I've made above, but, which are certainly as profound and thought-provoking, not to mention chuckle-along- all-the-way funny and chaotic, as say Monstrous Regimen or Small Gods.

Happy Mother's Day!

My dear Amma,

As you dropped me off at Amerimna Nursery School that was just down the street, I would panic that you wouldn't come back for me... but, you always came and took me back home.

I am not sure why though... had you known what an angry teenager I would turn out to be, I am sure the thought would have crossed your mind to just leave me there and not look back... Nah! You are far too kind and loving to even think that...

When you were brushing me with Neem leaves and reading to me about Jean Valjean during my bout of Chicken Pox, my 12-year-old mind could not have fathomed the struggles you were undergoing to bring us up (with Appa's help, of course) - full time teaching, housework, evening classes to earn your M.Sc., then your M.Ed., - studying, grading, staying late for drama practice and extra-curricular activities for your class children, sometimes staying extra late to help some kids prepare for the Board Exams...

Reluctantly accompanying you on Navarathri and Deepavali shopping sprees, enthusiastically arranging the Bommai Kolu every year, responsibly chopping vegetables and acting as your sous chef right from age 7 or 8, eagerly assisting you in various crafts and sewing projects... I have always tried to impress you hoping you'd like me better than your school kids...

I have always had to share you with a zillion other kids and I feared I was not as important to you... now I know better!

Amma, I have nothing much to say this Mother's Day that I haven't already told you... your prayers and blessings are the only reason I am alive and living my life today as best as I can. Thank You!!

crochet: infant sweater and hat set

I went yarn shopping with Ana and hovered near the Bernat Softee yarns that were on sale. On a whim, I asked Ana to pick a color to make a sweater for her baby brother and she picked this seen here :)

It took me little pockets of time - say about 20 minutes a day - for about 3 weeks to finish this sweater and hat set... it was tough choosing between catching up on sleep and crocheting, but, I was a bit driven this time: I wanted to make a baby sweater for my wee little 5 week-old boy.

My preferred pattern is to start crocheting the fronts and back and go around till armhole; then divide the work there to finish left front, back, and right front, shaping the neck as I go; then pick up at the armhole and finish the sleeves.

Usually, I prefer to make the sweaters bigger as babies grow fast and won't need it till their first real winter, but, since the wee one was handy, and since it is bloody cold here now in Spring, I just measured and tailored it to fit him now. I can always make more as he grows (assuming I have the patience and time).

crochet: infant sweater set

This is for a friend of mine whom I am yet to meet!

Yep, I have a pen pal who took the big step from just reading my blog posts to actually writing to me in her own sweet way...

She is expecting her little one anytime now and I am glad to have been able to send this crochet sweater, hat, booties set to her with my prayers and wishes...

Good Luck, C! Hope to meet you sometime soon.

I am a Big Sister Now!!

Hello All,

You may not know me, but, Amma does mention me on and off in this miscellaneous blog of hers... I am her little darling baby girl Ana. I finally hi-jacked the laptop from Appa and decided to share the news as Amma is too sick to get around to it.

If you were wondering why Amma has not posted much here fo a long time and has dropped out of circulation for a while, it is because: I AM A BIG SISTER NOW!!

Yep!! I have a little baby brother who is 2 weeks old. Amma's tummy was getting bigger and bigger and she told me there was a baby growing inside. I did not believe her, of course, until we all went to the hospital and I saw Amma with the little baby that her doctor helped get out of her tummy!!

Appa is overwhelmed and has agreed to help me write a few posts till Amma feels better. See, she has high fever and some sort of infection and has been advised bed rest for a few weeks. I am trying to be a good girl meanwhile, and help Amma change the diaper for the baby and such.

I am showing signs of jealousy, I can't help it, but, I will let Amma write all about such things when she is well and good.

The Book of Secrets by M.G.Vassanji

The Book of Secrets
by M.G. Vassanji

"You taught history, sir. Can you write it?"

asks Feroz, a former student of Mr.Fernandez, producing a recently discovered possession, a book of secrets, a diary, that he claims to have found in a dark backroom of his inherited store.

And that is how the retired Dar-es-Salaam teacher, Mr.Pius Fernandez, comes to read about Alfred Corbin, an Assistant District Commissioner (ADC) arriving in a fictitious settlement, Kikono, of the Mombasa Province in British East Africa, which ran adjacent to the German East Africa, sometime around 1913.

Mr.Fernandez goes about his research in as methodical a way as old and oft-lost records would allow. He gets caught up in the pathos surrounding the lives of Pipa and his mysterious bride Miriamu, as he tries to reconstruct the events based on the entries in Corbin's diary.

The book doesn't just weave a beautiful yarn around forbidden love, elements of tribal magic and the Western ideals brought to Colonial Africa. The onset of World War II and its implications on the communities and settlements of Indians in East Africa, as well as the harsh truths about the plight of the colonies during the period of decline of the British Empire is explored along the way.

The tenacity to migrate and settle in a strange land, yet preserve one's identity and one's cultural tenets while growing the community, is a central theme in this book. The perseverance of the Arab and Indian settlers who, not much unlike the local flora baobab, manage to put down roots and thrive in a fairly challenging environment is conveyed beautifully through Vassanji's writings.

We learn enough about the three main characters - viz., Corbin, Pipa, Mr.Fernandez - but, the political climate, the feelings of displacements and struggles for adjustments by the immigrants, the disturbing sense of worthlessness of the natives projected in the wake of Western colonization form the emotionally-charging and quite thought-provoking backdrop for this book.

This is my first introduction to Vassanji's writing and, all in all, an interesting read. Vassanji's style of story telling is captivating and complex. I am not sure I gelled with the book much, to be honest. But, it certainly is a beautiful piece of writing and I am looking forward to reading more of Vassanji's works.

sewing: toddler quilt set

This is a quilt I had made for Ana last year but realized I hadn't posted it here so far. It is a simple block quilt, with matching block-quilted pillow case.

The fabric is 100% cotton and was on sale - $1/yard - and I liked the colors, so, I decided to make a simple block-pieced quilt. Nothing fancy.

Ana seems to have taken a fancy to it recently, only, I suspect, it is due to her latest attraction to all things ladybug :)

Happy Valentine's Day!

Ana is safely tucked in for the night. The dishes are put away. The mechanical daily chores are done. For the most part, at least.

While I sit here challenging myself to stay awake to greet you when you get home late tonight, after a hard day's work, I accept wholeheartedly that neither of us is a saint - that would be too boring; we are fully human, flaws and all... and that's just fine.

I know, D, that we sort of scoff at made-up holidays and we certainly unequivocally agreed Valentine's Day qualifies as one of those.

Not because we lack the ability to appreciate Love, but because we feel that every day, every occasion should be a reason to show how much we care, in whatever simple way we can - not necessarily with candies and roses, but with whatever seems to appeal to us at the moment...

However, in the spirit of affirming my capacity to love, I wanted to steal this opportunity today to declare my feelings...

With due thanks to Robert Browning, I invite you:

Grow old along with me,
the best is yet to be.

Mad Magazine's Presidential Lampoons (NYT)

Image Source: New York Times Business Slideshows

Source: Mad Magazine's Presidential Lampoons (NYT) slideshow.

The slideshow probably will not be accessible after it becomes part of the New York Times archive. (I did add it to del.ico.us for my reference...)

However, I thought I'd try to post the slideshow link here anyway, for quick reference :)

Transmission by Hari Kunzru

Transmission (2004)
by Hari Kunzru

Transmission is the second novel from the much-lauded young British author of The Impressionist, Hari Kunzru.

The book started off with a certain brilliance and wit that instantly drew me in and had me hooked.

The central character, Arjun Mehta, is from India. However, the story is not entirely set in India. In fact, it is not entirely set in any one place: it spans the globe - just like the title suggests - Transmission - spreads around the world.

Three plot lines are introduced in the first part of the book which we know (and expect) would somehow meet and mingle to a climactic end.

Arjun Mehta, a fairly introverted and nerdy young lad from India, manages to land a software job in the good old Silicon Valley, USA. Arriving full of dreams in this land of plenty, he finds that things are not quite as he had pictured. He is trapped in a binding, slave-trade-like contract which leaves him unemployed most of the time, sharing quarters with a few other Indians like himself, and barely receiving any wages worth writing/calling home about.

Guy Swift is a self-made millionaire (in paper at least) who is terribly plastic, indeterminate, and borderline self-destructive. His New-Age-ish company Tomorrow* manages to be funded by enterprising venture capitalists for a while, when his novel ideas seem like the Next Big Revolution in Marketing. A few awards and contracts later, Guy Swift manages to snag himself a posh living quarters in London and a spiffy girlfriend Gabriella. Of course, everything about Guy clearly points towards a spiraling collapse.

Leela Zahir is a much-adored young Bollywood starlet, complete with a pushy stage-mother living her own dreams through her daughter, who is discovering a budding disillusionment regarding her life in general. Sure she can emote and dance, but, can she retain her sanity?

The narration surrounding Arjun Mehta and the formulaic Bollywood movies in the first half of the book is incredibly entertaining and snappy, although it could be lost on a non-eclectic reader. Slowly, the book turns dark for a while, transforming Arjun and Guy into desperate men who act out, in their own ways, rather outrageously.

The second half of the book unfolds a chaotic turn of events at which point the book takes on a whimsical and exaggerated life of its own, pulling the reluctant reader along with that metaphorical carrot-stick that promises to tie it all together in the end.

Arjun's elusiveness despite being FBI's Most Wanted for unleashing the Leela virus, the complicated identity crisis Guy is put through as a result of Operation Atomium of the European border security, the unlikely tenuous bond between Gabriella and Leela that conveniently facilitates Leela's fanciful escape are all a bit too propitious and flamboyant to mesh with the story line thus far.

As a result, the ending is a bit too tidy, a bit too abrupt and unconvincing.

What I liked:

1. Delightful style of writing: descriptions of Arjun Mehta's family, of Bollywood power dynamics, of Arjun's life in the US are all spot-on; the inanity of Tomorrow*'s ideology is almost comical; the little tidbits about auxiliary characters are uproarious
2. Witty and insightful in parts: passages surrounding modern corporate culture, Arjun's tendency to seamlessly blend Bollywood scenarios with his personal life by conveniently ignoring the fictional aspect of the movies, the IT work ethic/culture are all presented with startling acumen and satire.

What I did not like:

1. A bit disjointed: some of the characters were built up meticulously but didn't seem to matter to the plot line much in the end (like Rajiv Rana, Yves, Chris, even Gaby); some of the events seem to serve no purpose, not even that of building character in the character
2. The Ending: it seemed like an easy way out; it seemed a bit too bizarre and forced; unsatisfactory

Bottomline: A creamy, charming work of fiction that could be a fun read on a long international flight with boring in-house entertainment.

Of course, my mood affects the choice of books I read - sometimes I gravitate towards heart-rending pathos, sometimes I just want simple fantasy; sometimes I cannot stay away from esoteric non-fiction, sometimes I crave for rollicking fiction...

I try not to restrict myself to a particular genre. In general, however, I have always been partial to non-fiction, and have always stayed away from fluffy romantic fiction.

I have just tasted but a drop of the ocean, picking and choosing the books I get to read in the limited time I can spare for this luxury, so, it is possible that I end up missing a few good ones...

Excerpts from Transmission:

Describing Arjun's mom:

As an Indian mother, Mrs.Mehta's prime directive was to ensure that her firstborn son was never more than ten feet away from a source of clean clothes, second helpings and moral guidance. She expected to have to release her child eventually, but only into the hands of another woman, whose family tree had been thoroughly vetted and whose housekeeping could be easily monitored from the vantage point of a chair in the living room of Eighteen Gleneagle House, into which the girl would naturally move.

Describing scenes from Arjun's favorite Hindi movie (Dilip and Aparna are the lead roles in the movie):

Despite Dilip's attempts to impress Aparna by riding a horse very fast, standing on his hands and boxing the ears of a group of eve-teasers in the marketplace, she remains unmoved, singing to him that the man who wins her heart should have more than a distinguished nose, flat abs and a happy-go-lucky manner; he should command the respect of his fellow citizens and hold down a high-paying job in commerce or industry.
...
Dilip discovers that a childhood of haggling in the Jalandhar market has given him an aptitude for finance, and in no time at all he is vastly wealthy.
...
Aparna sings to him of her undying love... they go walking by the Thames, on the white cliffs of Dover, on the battlements of Windsor Castle and briefly in the Swiss Alps, wearing a variety of outfits and describing the life they will lead together once they are united in marriage.
...
In a fantasy sequence, the action switches to Punjab, and Aparna (whose modern London clothes have been swapped for traditional wet sari) sings that Dilip has won her heart through bravery, decisiveness and diversified investment portfolio.

Describing Arjun's musings while in California:

The idea of American poverty, especially a poverty that did not exclude cars, refrigerators, cable TV or obesity, was a new and disturbing paradox, a hint that something ungovernable and threatening lurked beneath the reflective surface of California.

Rick Emerson stopped by the other day...

Rick who? you ask...

Well, D apparently listens to a local radio show hosted by Rick Emerson. I have listened to the show on and off. To me, this show is sort of the radio equivalent of Seinfeld, only not quite as funny or brilliant.

Sorry, Rick, I do like your show, but, even you'd be the first to admit, your show just makes it a point to not talk about anything profound or serious, right?!

It is nevertheless quite entertaining. A lot of pop culture is discussed, many tidbits of inconsequential news are tossed around, very easy going, very relaxing at times, I must admit. Rick has the gift of the gab - he can rant endlessly about something that even he probably doesn't care about!

D and I, before we welcomed our little Ana, have gone to a couple of the annual Rick Emerson "parties" - sort of a gathering of fans of the show, with Rick hosting and participating genially and thanking the fans for making his show stay on the air for as long as it has etc. - one of it was at Spirit Mountain Casino, a night I would remember pretty well for reasons I cannot go into here...

Anyway, apparently, D was one of the select group of listeners that were targeted for this "surprise" - of Rick showing up at our doors personally to say "Thank You!", and handing us a pair of movie passes.

Unfortunately for D, he was working late that day, so he missed the visit. And, I was already in my jammies, trying to get Ana to finish her dinner and get her ready for bed when Rick stopped by.

Rick was incredibly polite, charming, and gracious for the 10 minutes he visited with us, along with Terry. Knowing D would not believe me, I took a picture of Rick in our living room - making sure the picture doesn't look like it has been Photoshop-ped.

Unfortunately, in my eagerness to prove it to D, I put myself in the picture next to Rick letting Terry take the picture - and, since I look horribly goofy in my pink jammies, I am unable to bring myself to share the photo here.

You'll just have to take my word for it :)

Double Dipping

I was grossed out by George's double dipping about 14-15 years ago when I first saw it in a Seinfeld episode. I know... I know... Not that I am a germaphobic, but, I did agree with Timmy that it's like licking the dip directly... and, it was nice to read that a simple study was done which suggests that I might have a point: Dip Once or Dip Twice?

crochet: baby afghan, koala, hat and booties

This is the only picture I have of the stuff I eagerly crocheted for my nephew when he was born.

He is an energetic five year old now, getting ready for school...

Despite the fuzziness, I decided to record it here as it was one of my early attempts at making crochet stuffed toys. I've made a few since then, but, this Koala is still my favorite as it was my first.

The baby afghan is made up of simple granny squares. The lilac-looking color on the afghan, if I remember right, is actually more of a periwinkle blue, which is one of my favorite colors. I was hesitant about the orange in the afghan for a boy and ran it by D who assured me that it was fine, as long as it is not pink or purple all other colors are fair game for boys :)

The hat and booties are my usual simple pattern, found on the web. (Koala is wearing the hat in the picture).

The Koala stuffed toy was, of course, a pattern I found in my first Learn To Crochet book. It is stuffed with the standard acrylic polyfill that seems to be recommended for kids' toys.

Small Gods by Terry Pratchett

If a religion founded on a god is flourishing, but no one believes in the god himself/herself, does the god still exist?

Terry Pratchett, in his characteristic satirical and witty narration, tackles the tough subject of Religion and Faith in this fantastic book, Small Gods, a Discworld novel.

Rather than resorting to plain caricature or mean-spirited mockery, the book manages to distinguish between Belief in God in an elemental/primordial sense versus the Ritualistic Institution of Organized Religion which manages to perpetuate the belief in god as a by-product through dubious practices.

The concept may not be terribly novel: Gods exist as a result of people believing in them ardently. Take away the belief and the gods diminish to nothingness.

But, the handling of this idea is quite refreshing and entertaining in this book. All the more so as it does not seek to undermine any particular popular religion practiced in today's world, but, tries to highlight the human tendency to glorify the superficial while ignoring the basic tenet at the core of any such popular belief system.

And what about the gods themselves? Are they above reproach? Not at all... Pratchett proposes that gods, once ensconced as legitimate and powerful beings, fail to notice the humans who elevated them to the exalted position they luxuriate in, thereby asking to be ignored and forgotten.

The story opens in Omnia, where the chief god Om was the all-powerful presiding deity once upon a time. Now denigrated to a pathetic existence in the lowly form of a tortoise, Om desperately tries to communicate telepathically with his true believer(s) so he can regain his lost glory.

However, the sole true believer who can hear him happens to be a simple lad Brutha, tending a melon patch as a novice monk at the Omnian church.

Om is desperate to escape the fate of the small gods who are doomed to wander in the deserted wastelands with no believers to shape them into divine existence.

Through his association with Brutha, Om learns. Yes, a god, a supposedly all-powerful god, learns fast while facing physical danger and the possibility of losing his sole believer, Brutha. Om, the god, learns to think like a human and feel like a human, realizing how tenuous his position is with Brutha gradually losing the unshakable belief in Om's benevolence and justice. Om, reduced to the helpless form of a tortoise, learns that human worshipers are not worthless pawns on his chessboard to be toyed with and tossed around, for if he did, he'll soon have nobody to toy with.

Torn between the expectations of the zealous and authoritarian Deacon Vorbis and the revelation by his god Om that he did not originate any of the commandments that Omnian church rules by today, Brutha slowly but surely develops a deeper understanding about his religion and his faith which helps him eventually stand up for his beliefs, against Vorbis, and even stand up to his god Om.

My favorite parts in this book involve the Ephebians: right from the barroom brawl of the Ephebian philosophers over the nature of truth to the pithy statement of Didactylos about Urn's steam machine built to attack evil-doers, except it becomes fuzzy trying to decide who really are the evil-doers: "Hah! He's learning! Everything works both ways!".

Some quotes that absolutely caught my fancy:

In the rain-forests of Brutha's subconscious the butterfly of doubt emerged and flapped an experimental wing, all unaware of what chaos theory has to say about this sort of thing...

---

Describing the Deacon's quarters:

The room was as severe as anything in the novice's quarters although it had, perhaps, a more opulent severity; it wasn't the forced bareness of poverty, but the starkness of intent.

---

An exchange between Om and Brutha, where Om alludes to Lord Krishna of the Hindu mythology:

"There is no other god but you. You told (prophet) Ossary that."

"Well. You know. I exaggerated a bit. But they're not that good. There's one of 'em that sits around playing a flute most of the time and chasing milkmaids. I don't call that very divine..."

---

An exchange between philosophers in Ephebe:

"I'm telling you, listen, a finite intellect, right, cannot by means of comparison reach the absolute truth of things, because being by nature indivisible, truth excludes the concepts of 'more' or 'less' so that nothing but truth itself can be the exact measure of truth. You bastards," he said.

Someone from inside the building said, "Oh yeah? Sez you."

---

Another exchange between Om and Brutha:

"... Take it from me, whenever you see a bugger puttering around talking about truth and beauty and the best way of attacking Ethics, you can bet your sandals it's because dozens of other poor buggers are doing all the real work around the place while those fellows are living like&mdash"
"— gods?" said Brutha.
There was a terrible silence.

crochet: granny square daisy afghan

This crochet granny square daisy afghan is about 5 years old. Back in the days when I was unemployed and started crocheting, I was eager to learn and had more patience and dedication to finish good-sized afghans. I think I crocheted about half a dozen afghans and gave them away to friends and family - wish I had taken pictures of them so I could post them here...

This is a free pattern I found on the web for simple daisy centered granny square. Basically, make as many squares as you want and join them together to form a large afghan...

I made this almost queen-size. The photo shows it spread on top a queen-sized bed, but, this being one of my favorite works to-date, it barely sees the light of day... I usually stow it away safely in the cupboard as I am sure my kitties or little Ana would certainly wrangle with it and try to unravel it somehow :)

Carpe Jugulum by Terry Pratchett

Carpe Jugulum, while being the darkest novel of Terry Pratchett's I've read to-date, is still an incredibly clever, witty and funny novel, making for an enormously satisfying fast-paced read, with tension mounting progressively to an almost unbearable climax.

King Verence of Lancre, carried away by modernization and democratization, invites the neighboring Uberwald's undead, the Magpyrs, into Lancre to celebrate the birth of his daughter. But once ensconced within the castle, Magpyrs the vampires (or, vampyres, as they like it) while seemingly genial and refined gradually unleash their bloodlust and their will to dominate in a vengeful and barbaric fashion.

The plot at the outset might seem similar to Lords and Ladies, in which elves tried to take over Lancre. However, in Lords and Ladies, the inherent nature of the elves was starkly different from the popular folkloric conception of them as fair and benevolent. Whereas, in Carpe Jugulum, the vampires have carefully and deliberately adapted themselves into seemingly genial creatures who relish garlic, tolerate holy water, venture out into the sun and defy the popular conventional wisdom that instructs how to keep them at bay.

Aside: As a former physics student, it is no surprise that one of my favorite quotes from Lords and Ladies is the one about Schrödinger's cat, adapted to describe Greebo, Nanny Ogg's feline menace:

In fact, the mere act of opening the box will determine the state of the cat, although in this case there were three determinate states the cat could be in: these being Alive, Dead, and Bloody Furious.

Lancre is home to some of my favorite characters of the Discworld - particularly the trio of witches I got introduced to in Wyrd Sisters - viz., Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg and (Queen) Magrat.

The book also introduces Igor, the Magpyrs' family servant, who happens to speak with a hilariously heavy lisp and loves tradition, right down to the tradition of a lowly servant being treated as, well, a lowly servant. I later encountered Igors in Monstrous Regiment. Igor is one of the best characters in this book: not only is he made up of assorted body parts from other people, he is also good at sewing available body parts onto others in need, including his patchwork dog Scraps.

And, to tie up with another of his brilliant book, Small Gods, Pratchett also introduces a felicitous character - a priest of Om - through whom, it appears, Pratchett cleverly questions religious indoctrination and gives credence to Faith in its simple and unadulterated form.

In his inimitable style, Pratchett peppers the book with his take on the relationships between faith, religion, and morality through his characters, especially through the interactions between Granny and the Omnian Priest:

"It's not as simple as that. It's not a black and white issue. There are so many shades of gray. . . ."

"There's no grays, only white that's got grubby. I'm surprised you don't know that. And sin, young man, is when you treat people as things. Including yourself. That's what sin is."

"It's a lot more complicated than that—"

"No. It ain't. When people say things are a lot more complicated than that, they means they're getting worried that they won't like the truth. People as things, that's where it starts."

A tenuous and incidental alliance between Granny Weatherwax and the Omnian priest, along with a little nudge from Igor, plus resourceful and timely interventions by Nanny Ogg, Magrat and Agnes Nitt (aka Perdita) seem to be the prescription to cure Lancre of the foul Magpyrs' infection.

Granny Weatherwax, easily a formidale witch in her own right, is now faced with an even more formidable enemy and finds out that she has to just go for the throat, borrowing the vampyres' motto: Carpe Jugulum.

Monstrous Regiment by Terry Pratchett

I was quite saddened by the news of his illness, but, being a fan of Terry Pratchett's writing, I think he will stay on forever, no doubt.

In Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett tackles the thorny subject of War from its glorified magnificence to its spurious effectuality. He also weaves in controversial themes like women in the military, religion and faith, and even manages to jab pointedly at the pitfalls of oppressive bureaucracy.

As with most of his books, it is filled with satire and smart social commentary dispersed through the many interesting characters and a simple plot line.

This is a good stand-alone book in the Discworld series, with brand-new characters who briefly interact with Discworld staples like Captain Vimes of the Watch and his quirky underlings, but they don't affect the plot - they seem to be thrown in probably to humor long-time readers looking for familiar faces.

Polly Perks, being of the female persuasion by quirk of fate, is not allowed to own property. But she loves the inn that her family runs and would like to keep running it when her father passes away. However, the inn technically can only go to her brother, who has gone and enlisted in the army and hasn't been heard from, potentially making his claim to the inn forfeit. So, Polly decides to join the army in search of her brother, only, women cannot join the army. So, she lops off her lovely long hair and, not being physically well-endowed, manages to pass herself off as a lad much to her chagrin, and gets recruited easily... and so the story starts.

Once enlisted, she finds herself with a band of assorted new recruits who don't quite seem what they claim to be. Polly, her seven compatriots, under their commanding officers Lieutenant Blouse and Sergeant Jackrum, march on and do what needs to be done with no training except their common sense to keep themselves alive, even if it meant making sure the enemy doesn't stay alive to come after them.

The excuses for the battle by warmongering bureaucratic administration turn fuzzy and fade away, yet the battle wages on. Brutal casualties that can never be justified become an uncomfortable yet accepted reality. Propaganda and misinformation abound. Polly and her troop encounter it all, anxious to find the truth, to have some answers, to get some resolution, to get a direction, to see the end, such as it may be.

The events progress to an absurd and unbelievable state towards the end of the book when we, the readers, are probably tempted to take on a casual attitude reserved for works of fiction that try to handle a serious subject. However, as the characters in Discworld demonstrate how it is possible to go too far, we realize that the author is preparing to reveal the absurdity of our own actions in real life, serving as a potential warning to step back and take a better look at our own world.

Pratchett's keen observations and clever writing reveals a lot about our own reality through the adventures of the Discworld's citizens. However, he offers no tidy "all is well that ends well" conclusion to this book. Which is just as well, as there is none, and anything warm and fuzzy would dilute the strength of this work. Despite his characteristic humor, there is no denying the seriousness of this book.

The British edition had a far more interesting cover than the American edition cover pictured at the top of this post.

There were quite a few editorial/typographical errors in my copy of the book that seemed to indicate that it was probably thrown into the market earlier than intended. No matter. The errors were minor and didn't stand in the way of appreciating the book.

A bit of trivia I read indicated that the title for this book came from a 16th century misogynist pamphlet written by John Knox, arguing (based on religion) that women should not be in positions of authority, including the military.

Crochet: Toddler Girlie Sweater and Hat Set

Ana happens to love purples these days for some reason. Be it gummy bear or any fruit snack, she picks the purple ones first. So, it was no surprise that when we went yarn-shopping, Ana pointed to this lovely lilac/lavender and said "Amma make sweater for Ana", just like that! And when I reminded her to ask nicely, I couldn't resist her sweet "Amma make sweater for Ana, please?" So here it is.

This pattern is original. I made it up as I went along and had a lot of fun just experimenting and being creative. It is worked yoke to hem, in one piece, and then sleeves are picked up at armhole and worked through.

The yoke is an extrapolation of the style I use for baby sacques - just sized it to fit Ana, approximately toddler 3T. At the end of the yoke I started shaping the bust to waist, allowing for some eyelets to string a sash through. Then, started increasing into a simple ruffle pattern down to hemline. A simple picot edging all around seemed like a good idea as well.

Now, the sleeves was fun too: I picked up at the armhole where the yoke left off and worked in rounds decreasing a bit gradually to elbows and increasing it again to flare a bit at the wrist to have the sort of girlie bell-shaped sleeves.

Ana wanted pockets, so, I added it on in the end. And, I had enough yarn leftover to make a matching hat. I couldn't resist adding the pink picot edging and the flower detail, of course :)

Now, I am not good at writing down precise patterns for crocheting, so, I don't think I will ever get this pattern printed/published. And, the next time I make it, I will perhaps not be able to replicate it to exact detail, but, that's OK.

Playing around with general shaping and tailoring it to fit Ana was the most fun part of this crochet project anyway :)

All in all, a fun original project.

Kitty Catnip Pillows

Ana wasn't the only one Santa thought was nice in our household this χ'mas. The kitties got their favorite thing too: little catnip pillows!

I sewed little pillows for the two spoilt little brats, filled with some usual polyfill, except the polyfill is peppered with a whopping amount of potent catnip.

Judging by how attached the kitties are to their little pillows, looks like they are quite happy with their χ'mas present :)

knit: toddler yoke sweater

After a long time, I took up knitting again and made this sweater. For Ana. As a Christmas present. And, I was quite pleased with the result.

To be honest, I fancy myself a crocheter, not really a knitter. But, I saw a picture of a sweater my friend R's mom had knit for R's baby girl - I call it the "teal sweater" - which was gorgeous and cute. I was inspired. I *had* to knit something like that for Ana.

After some quick search, I found this adorable pattern at yarntootin', which goes by the name of "Five Hour Baby Sweater" - supposedly referring to the time it takes to complete this sweater! There are several versions of this on the web, but, of the few I browsed through, this PDF pattern at yarntootin' was the easiest to read and comprehend, so, I stuck with it.

Of course, the sweater took me about 11 hours total, working in snatches as and when time permitted. The pattern is worked yoke-down - took me 3 hours for the yoke, 1½ hour each for the sleeves, and about 4 hours for the body.

I sort of cheated, well, more like extrapolated really, in the sense that I used a pair of Size 11 (US) needles, and Worsted weight acrylic yarn which made the knit fabric grow pretty fast. Smaller size needles with finer yarn would have taken me twice as much time to finish...

Solid colors work best for this pattern, in my opinion. I had ball of pink yarn handy, leftover from another crochet project and decided to work with it.

I did make a few mistakes which I managed to cover up fairly well - unless one takes a closer look, inspecting for flaws... besides, I think such minor flaws just add to the uniqueness and charm of a handmade gift ;)

Sweaters can be knit or crocheted in several generic ways. Some of my experience has been with just these three:

• one piece from yoke to hem, with minimal seam-sewing - perhaps just the sleeve seams
• from hem to neck, working in one piece in the round for fronts and back, and then dividing the work at armhole and working the sleeves, fronts and back as needed - again minimal seam-sewing, with probably just the shoulder seams if sleeves are worked in the round
• working in pieces, getting the back, right front, left front, and two sleeves done separately and sew them all together

Ana seems to love it. She happened to be with me when I was shopping for buttons for this sweater and I let her choose - sort of - I gave her a choice between these pink flower buttons and hot pink heart buttons... I think she picked the right one for this sweater :)

Merry Christmas 2007!

Santa stopped by again this year and he thought we were nice. Ana had a great day.


It was nice to have some snowfall, mild and just enough to not be a bother.

It has been an exhausting Christmas day, visiting family and exchanging wishes... it is back to work tomorrow. After all the build up, it just feels like things are winding down, forcing me to gear up for the New Year.

Season's Greetings!

Reflections

The minimal and affordable holiday shopping especially for the wee ones is done. A few handmade cards have been sent to loved ones who have dropped under the radar. The modest Douglas Fir tree is up, decked and lit. Now what?

The demure and awkward 12-year-old sporting two long greasy fall-below-the-derriere braids redolent with coconut oil, mildly exuding a potently fragrant Vicco™ Turmeric Ayurvedic cream and Pond's™ Dreamflower talc, prostrating before her parents every morning after bath seeking their blessings with unswerving sincerity, thirsting spiritual knowledge, piously walking the straight and narrow path of instilled goodness believing strongly in idealism, has faded into the background gracefully, morphing into a fairly urbane, pragmatic and realistic woman, wife, mother, still embracing spiritual fulfillment as life's design, striving to be her best and do her best without worrying about what others think of her...

Years ago, sitting on a lone rock on the Himalayas, near the Siddhabari camp, reflecting on what to expect from life and what to seek in life, was a very angry and confused teenager. She was not sure what made her angry, she just knew she was irritable and not pleasant to be around. She did not know what to do about it. So she did nothing. Oh, she did learn a little about the Upanishads and knew portions of The Bhagavadh Gita by-heart, replete with meaning and spiritual guidance. She just didn't know how that applied to her dreams of growing up to be successful. She didn't quite know what success really meant either.

Slowly, she started realizing that Life is just a journey: We can scramble all we want trying to do the best we can for ourselves, our near-and-dear, and our progeny. We can stomp through the world making our mark, such as it may be... or, tread ever-so-lightly knowing we are just passing through. We can get caught up in the materialistic necessities and lose sight of our purpose, whatever that may be. We can perform our duties as daughters, mothers, sisters, wives and still feel unfulfilled...

But, she is here now, less agitated, less volatile, perhaps placid and in harmony with where life has placed her, taking stock of life, making sure she recognizes and appreciates all the small blessings, looking forward to being a more giving and caring person, hoping to make a positive difference in others' lives, however small...

Dare to Care

[ this post written for DMC]



At the risk of appearing to be an irrational chicken, let me continue with the post...

Some evenings when I am driving home and not taking the bus, I pass this particular traffic signal. Sometimes the light is red and I stop as required. And right at the same corner spot I see an elderly gentleman looking defeated and hopeless, yet, standing there in his inadequate jacket that barely shields him against the winter winds and the icy rains, holding up a tattered and soggy sign with barely legible letters: VETERAN. HOMELESS. HELP.

I have not had the courage to approach this homeless elderly veteran so far and extend some form of personal hand by way of conversation and aid. I simply pass by sending a silent prayer skywards. I have this irrational fear that he would take it the wrong way, scoff or outright yell at me for trying to give him what I can afford and offer at that time. Very Silly. I agree.

So far, we have been doing what little we can by way of charity in what can be construed as a fairly detached and anonymous way. It is easy to send a check to my parents who visit their local charities in Chennai, India (Udavum Karangal, or Vishranthi or any number of such charities in their city) on special days and dispense much-needed items there.

It is easy enough to pick a charity (local/nationwide/international) and send what we can - handmade crochet items, blankets, clothes, coats or even just a check. Dropping off non-perishables at Oregon Food Bank (OFB) collection points, and giving away old coats and blankets to Portland Rescue Mission (PRM) has been easy enough.

All very normal and behind the scenes. But, not hands-on. Fairly impersonal.

But browsing the items from PRM's Wish List for dropping off at their office had me exploring their website for the first time. And, something in PRM's website struck a cord in me - a practical suggestion: have a nutritious granola bar or something handy, attach a couple of TriMet bus tickets to the bar, add a coupon with meal times and directions to PRM, approach with a smile and offer "Would you like this bar of snack?".

I still haven't mustered up the courage to approach this gent. It is less painful to watch for the light to turn green and step on the accelerator. But, I do have a few granola bars, Trimet tickets and PRM's coupons handy in my purse. Perhaps I will finally have the courage to roll down my window and extend a granola-bar-laden hand his way, praying that he will accept it...

A Cat, A Man and Two Women

A Cat, A Man and Two Women
by
Junichiro Tanizaki

Regarded highly among modern Japanese writers of 20th century, Tanizaki was a recent find for me. I have only read two of his books so far and they are, of course, translated in English.

This book is a collection of 3 pieces - a novella (title of the book), and two other little pieces - The Little Kingdom and Professor Rado.

I haven't read enough Tanizaki to know how this book differs from his usual style and themes, but, it was an interesting and quite entertaining read nonetheless, especially the title story. The Little Kingdom was sort of a simple power struggle between teacher and pupil, and Professor Rado was about this seemingly reputable professor with some dark secrets.

The title story/novella is about a typical sort-of jelly-spined man, Shozo, caught between a scorned ex-wife and a wily new one, both quite adept at manipulating him in their own ways, not to mention the Mother, who probably raised him to be this inadvertent weakling.

The story is really simple but the way it unfolds and grips the reader is hard to describe. What comes to mind for me is this: imagine a small black ink bottle filled with black ink; now, imagine you have slowly put this open ink bottle in a glass jar of crystal clear plain water; the way the ink diffuses and spreads and engulfs the clear water is how I felt when the story unfolded and revealed the depths of each of the characters and gripped me, despite maintaining a light-hearted tone.

The clever study of human nature and behavior combined with the wry sense of humor in the narration was wonderful to read. It is one thing to explicitly state that the characters have such and such characteristics, and it is another to let the reader come to that conclusion as the story unfolds. This relies on the build up and the narration which is done very well in this novella. Not only about the human characters, but, the Cat plays a good role in this story and cat lovers (like myself) can easily appreciate Shozo's relationship with his cat.

Of course, there is no closure to the stories. Ending is abrupt, without much explanation.

I am looking forward to reading some of Tanizaki's other well-known works which apparently can be perverse and macabre...

crochet: hat and scarf

This pink-and-lilac hat and scarf set is for a cute little 4-yr old girl who happens to be the precious little daughter of my friend from high school days.

I liked the crochet stitch on the scarf, I liked the texture and beauty it projected. I have a small crochet book of textured stitches like bobbles, popcorn, seed stitch and so forth... and I picked a stitch from this book which appears complex but is in fact quite simple to do.

The hat has a bit of stretch built into it so it can be used for a few years as the child grows. I added some ribbing to the hat edge as well. The hat pattern is sort of made-up in the sense that I have worked on several hat patterns and I just combined a few ideas from a couple of free patterns I had come across.

Now, hats can be either made from crown to the forehead edge, or the other way. Some of the baby hats I prefer to start at the crown and increase in rounds till I feel it might fit an infant's head. But for little girls and adults, I try to start with a ribbing at the forehead edge and work up to the crown.

"How do I act so well?"

A while back D and I watched a few seasons of the britcom The Office (upon which the Steve Carell's US show The Office is based) - ordered it from Netflix and saw it on and off over a few months... It was alright. I was not terribly smitten with it, but then I don't watch the US Series of The Office much either... just not a big TV sitcom fan, I guess...

Anyway, I do like Ricky Gervais and so was quite interested in seeing more of his other britcom series Extras. Since we don't have cable or satellite or any extras, naturally we queued it up on Netflix and waited for the DVD to arrive for our home-viewing.

Now, I am a big Lord of the Rings fan - the books first, and now the Jackson's movie trilogy. The special edition DVD set was a great gift D gave us. I watch it on and off when I am sick and want to relax on a weekend...

I am sure Sir Ian McKellan who plays Gandalf in the LOTR movie needs no introduction. I have seen him in a few different roles including in X-men. He made an appearance in one of the episodes of Extras that was incredibly funny to me (in context). It probably is not that funny out of context, but wanted to post it here so I can easily find it when I want.

Wish List

D, the incurable romantic that he is, sent me this :)

When D and I got married, we decided to start an on-going "Wish List" of sorts - one for each of us, stuck to the side of the fridge for easy look-up.

We have always been on a budget, and while D is very open and relaxed about receiving gifts, I am not. I feel I have to somehow justify why I deserve a gift and even then, it cannot be clothing or accessories as I have very specific tastes.

Oh, and no jewelry either.

And, it has to be something that will be durable, will have lasting value, will not compromise my principles, will not make a huge dent in our budget...

Whereas D is okay with receiving socks and undies and bathrobe and slippers, I am not. I think I can buy my own socks and undies, thank you very much.

Anyway, so, the Wish List has been our way of keeping up the element of surprise while giving each other what we really want. And be it Christmas or birthday or anniversary, we just pick an item off this list and get it for the other. Within reason. As long as it fits our budget, that is.

For instance, our first Christmas together half-a-dozen years ago, I had about half-a-dozen items in my Wish List exclusively for sharing with D, one of them being a baby of our own... now I know, it is not that easy, but, at least it gave him the idea... plus, I had a snazzy camcorder on the list, which still remains on the list unfulfilled to this day...

And, D's list that year had Banjo lessons as one of the items and so I bought him 6-week banjo lessons for Christmas - simple as that - no fuss, no worrying about whether he'll like it - and he got to choose the venue/instructor as well.

As time goes by, we cross out the ones we have exchanged with each other (or no longer fancy/need), and add new ones...

The old Wish List paper on the side of the fridge fell apart so I meticulously transferred the remaining items on the list to a family notebook.

Now this family notebook has the Home-Improvement list on one side - viz., a list of household projects - things we need to fix up the house, plus things we need to make it look nice.

The fix up the house part is easy enough: upgrade main bath, fix energy-efficient patio doors, repair the deck, redo the kitchen and so on... which we can get to as budget permits.

The make it look nice part encompasses the frills like furniture, window treatments, area rugs, art work and such. I know we'll never get to it soon enough...

The other side of this family notebook is the growing Wish List - a 2-column template, page-by-page. Right now it is only 2 pages long with about a dozen items each. Nothing frivolous, nothing extravagant, nothing lofty... just things we would need/want but would not just go out and get it as we are on a budget.

Am sure once Ana learns about Wish Lists, we will expand this to include her.

I share this Wish List with my brother and parents who always insists on getting us a Christmas present - but unfortunately for me, never share their Wish List claiming 'Oh, we don't follow that system'!

Last year my Wish List had a Stand Mixer. It hasn't been crossed out yet, so, it appears that I still would like one, especially since I love to cook... looks like D sent me this product pictured above to see if I'd be interested :)

This year, however, I am blurring the lines between my Wish List and the Home-Improvement list: I would like a proper bedroom which can act as a relaxing sanctuary for me instead of the perfunctory sleeping quarters it has been so far. To that end, I have added just a few items to my Wish List which will help create this much-needed minimalistic Zen-like abode... I think D has been given plenty of hints... not sure if he will take the hint, though.

Runcible Bonds

The elegant bamboo Sushi set and accessories strategically lie on the dining table next to the select CDs spread out label side up daring me to pick one over the other, while the beautiful printed paper with a short story written just for me sits elegantly next to the CDs… items thoughtfully chosen and sent with so much care for my birthday by my dear friend R.

Now that Ana is safely tucked in for the night, I am checking back the tears M S Subbulakshmi evokes with her divine music, re-reading the piece R penned especially for me to jog my sense of self-worth through her story...

My mind is racing with images of our Indy days together as room-mates and as friends — trips to Aveda salon for which we saved up over months, expeditions to eclectic Bloomington, IN, ransacking the local music and book stores for rock bottom deals, stints at the step aerobics classes in the University gym, devouring Queen of Sheba's injeras and mesir wat like there is no tomorrow, dabbling in Tarot cards with tensed anticipation, braving the biting bitter winds and knee-deep snow walking to the downtown Circle Center mall to try out Bobbi Brown foundation and the Banana Republic jeans on sale...

...and then, my mind turns to the darker days, when I felt alone, when I felt I didn't belong, when I sensed a growing anxiety for my self-worth, when I mistakenly perceived that she has outgrown our friendship, when I felt compelled to distance myself from my dear friend with whom I could discuss MS Subbulakshmi and John Coltrane, Mozart and Marcy Playground, Raja Ravi Varma and Salvador Dali, PG Wodehouse and Arundati Roy, Vedic Philosophy and Existentialism with effortless ease...

“Your turn now, Sheela. Ready? Clear your mind of negativities. Focus on what you want to change in your life. Concentrate on the Infinite. Here we go…”
…
“What’s wrong, Auntie? What are you reading in the hexagrams? I-Ching doesn’t do anything bad, right?”
“There is a big change, a transition, for the good… you will embark on it soon, Sheela. Pursue it with sincerity. Don’t doubt your worth.”
“OK, Auntie… what sort of change?”
“I can’t tell you much more now.”

“Can we do the tarot cards now, Auntie?”
Auntie willingly obliges; and with the chosen cards spread in a Celtic Cross she starts reading…
“You will fall in love and get married, you will not find your soul-mate in the matches your parents are seeking to set up for you.”
“Oh Auntie! Come on! That is true of every girl here… you are just playing with our dreams”
“No, Sheela. R here just had hers read, and she can tell you that her cards strongly indicate an arranged match. That is how she will meet her soul-mate.”
“Aww... nevermind Auntie, stop teasing us. How about my career and studies?”
“You will move away, you do have a big change coming your way… meet it and embrace it, don’t fight it.”

A few months after the semi-serious dabbling in mystic arts, circumstances arrange themselves to send me away in pursuit of a new path. I meet D there and fall in love. And, R stays behind and meets her soul-mate through an arranged match her parents had set up for her. That was over a decade ago. Coincidence? Prophetic? I know not.

Far away from home, full of dreams of making it on our own, torn between achieving academic excellence and living a well-rounded life, taking what little we can get and squeezing every cent we earned, we huddled tightly when overwhelmed, soothing each other out of self-inflicted fears…

I sag into the cushions of nostalgic comfort heaving a pregnant sigh with a renewed realization that if I am surviving without any significant new friendships these days, it is because I derive such strength from the ones I have already... foreign student life fifteen years ago was a gift from the heavens for a few us, forging a close-knit surrogate family of laughing, arguing, sharing, struggling members from all around the globe.

Every time I read the Owl and the Pussycat to Ana these days I quietly suppress a smile remembering the jaunts in Bloomington, IN, with R - they dined on mince and slices of quince, which they ate with a runcible spoon. For, you see, it is a private joke: R and I adored this charming little coffee shop called the Runcible Spoon in Bloomington, IN, and prided ourselves on our catholic yet refined tastes. Ah, the arrogance of youth!

I suppress a surging delight remembering and beaming, savoring and smiling, reeling and reveling at our lives back then.

Hugging the throw tighter around me, I can't help but regret that things were not quite the same as we went our separate ways, when I decided to pursue another degree. The grad student life in the late 1990s seemed to have acquired an attitude quite selfish and self-serving. The new crop of immigrant students didn’t seem to want to adapt and evolve. They seemed to revel in their indigenity, defying integration and acculturation. I felt cheated somehow.

Rrring.. Rrrring…
“Hello?” I reluctantly question the phone
“Sheelarrr?”
“Oh my God! Is it really you?!”
“I am so glad I finally found you and connected… How are you?”
“Umm… unemployed, bankrupt. But, nevermind me. What’s up with you?”
“Well… I was debating calling you… I have a bit of a news…”
As she gently and valiantly told me about her health crisis and survival, I was shamed out of my self-imposed misery.

I did not sleep well for days knowing what she was going through. Neither did I have the courage to pick up the phone and cheer her up. I was afraid to connect and bawl for 20 minutes knowing that is the last thing she wants to hear. I felt paralyzed - there was nothing I could say to take away her pain and suffering, nothing I could do to be of help… So, I fell into a seemingly callous unresponsiveness.

D and I are glad to introduce our baby girl ANA…

S and I are happy to announce the birth of our daughter TLS…

Resisting the urge to prolong my mental flagellations, I shake myself into the Present, glad that we are now reunited in Motherhood, welcoming the much-awaited new dimension to our multi-faceted lives, reconnecting with comfortable strength.

As the sublime voice of M S Subbulakshmi envelops and soothes my remembered anxiety, I recall R’s note about how hard it is to pen a friendship down… somehow we dropped out of touch over the years letting our memories fade, making new ones with our respective soul-mates, but providentially have come into each others’ lives again only to find that Time had stood still in the interim and memories were just shrouded temporarily, not lost, still strong.

******************

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, R!

******************

Crochet: Irish hooded capelet for Toddler

I was quite excited about making a simple scarf for my friend R's birthday, and as I picked out the color, I decided to get some extra skeins to make a matching toddler hooded capelet/poncho for her little girl so mama and baby can walk around all chic and coordinated :)

And from what I gather, the intended little recipient happens to like it and so do her parents! Now all I have to do is wait for the photos of the adorable little tot modeling this little creation.

The crochet poncho pattern is sort of made up - I looked at some of the free poncho projects on Lion Brand website and other free pattern sites and gleaned a general idea for shaping... I didn't want it too triangular and pointy, I wanted softer wavy edges, and no fringes either - they get caught in everything - plus, I wanted it to have a deep yet fashionable cowl.

This capelet/poncho is being modeled by little Miss Polly Pees-a-lot, Ana's latest friend - a gift from her Nana.

And, no, I did not name her. Since Enid paapaa and Olga paapaa were named by me and Ana, we let D come up with a suitable name for the new doll. We got what we asked for!


Meet Miss Polly Pees-a-lot...

Crochet: Toddler (boy) sweater

My interest, stamina, and thrill in my crochet projects seem to be inversely proportional to the size and complexity of the project. Smaller and easier baby projects get done in frenzied pace, while the others just sit around...

Now, an advice I read about staying organized recommended not starting a new project until the old one is finished and put away. Ha! If I followed that, I wouldn't have gotten past my first learning project :)

I have about 3 afghan projects of varying sizes, all stuck in various states of progress. Am not sure when I will complete them. Crocheting baby stuff has always been my favorite - they get done fast, and usually just imagining the wee ones wrapped in something handmade is motivation enough for me to finish it as quickly as I can...

I have knitted on and off, but, to-date crochet seems to be my favorite - it flows easily, comes more naturally, and most of all, it relaxes me!

Knitting on the other hand, so far at least, has been a little bit more stressful than it needs to be - I drop stitches without knowing how to recover, I get stressed about shaping... part of it could be practice and muscle-memory - and learning to read and understand pattern instructions... somehow, I have convinced myself that knitting is inherently harder than crochet.

But, with crochet, over the last 6-7 years I have learnt to cover up mistakes and extrapolate patterns and even make up patterns based on what I want the end product to look like. That somehow seems more satisfying to me... and in the time it takes for me to finish a knit toddler sweater, I can easily whip up three crochet toddler sweaters - no, not tooting my horn - just that, knitting takes a lot longer while crochet seems effortless to me. This probably explains why knitters treat crocheters as lowly second-class citizens - they probably think crocheting is an inferior craft, hence easy:)

Anyway, enough of the rambling... over the last several weeks - say from early October, I have been crocheting one small project after another. Usually, since D is home late at least 3 times a week (mostly close to 10 p.m), I get Ana in bed by 8 p.m and from 8-9 or so at nights I work on my crochet stuff... plus, weekends, if Ana manages to keep herself busy, I make some progress as well. Since I find it relaxing and am not too keen on finishing by any deadline, they seem to get done somehow, a few rows at a time...

The toddler sweater here is for my little nephew who is about 18 months old. I just eyeballed and made it a little larger for Ana, my 2½ year old, so am fairly confident this will fit my nephew easily with room to spare - plus, he can grow into it. It feels like such a wasted effort if I make sweaters the right size 'coz after a few months of wear, children outgrow it!

The pattern is based on Caron's Tweed Baby Jacket. I would have liked to add pockets, but, D suggested it might take away from the beauty of the stitches and make the jacket look too busy... I think he is right. He always advocates the KISS policy (Keep It Simple, Stupid/Sweetie)...

I love to crochet stuff for baby girls as I can add a lot of color and flowers and ruffles and such. I made this toddler boy sweater a little staid and sober. I was tempted to add some appliqué and maybe some embellishments, but, I took D's advice and left it simple and plain.

crochet: infant sweater set

One of my friends (who was also my former colleague) is expecting a baby, due in first week of January 2008. I wanted to crochet a baby layette set for her. Now, she is expecting a boy, and am sure she'll be flooded with all things blue, with maybe some green and yellow, all pastels, cute and sweet. I wanted to make something in a different color for the baby.

I could not settle on a color easily, but, since she is from China originally, and since red and gold is considered auspicious, I decided to go with that color scheme.

The sweater pattern is a slight modification of Julie's pattern which I love. And, I sort of made up the booties pattern based on other booties patterns I came across. The hat pattern is an adaptation of a free pattern found on Lion Brand website.

I was quite excited when I finished it last week and wrapped it up to give it to her before the thanksgiving break... and I was incredibly thrilled when she said she really loved it! (I know... I know... like she is going to say to my face that it is hideous!)

Anyway, I can't wait for a picture of the new baby in this sweater set.
p.s: Now, dear R, if you are reading this, you know you owe me a picture of TLS in her little sweater set :)

Donate at FreeRice

arbalest, baobab, caries, copacetic, coriaceous, lapidary, sinistral, taboret...

What do these words have in common?

Well, they all managed to remain undiscovered by me until today.

I came across FreeRice.com via one of the monthly e-newsletters I subscribe to.

I went there out of curiosity and stayed there for a while, addicted. It is a vocabulary test you can play for as long as you want, and with each correct answer, you end up donating rice grains for U.N World Food Program.

There are fifty levels. Every time you get three words correct in a row, you go up a level. And, you drop down a level if you get them wrong. Apparently it is rare for players to cross level 48.

I had to quit at level 42 in about 10 minutes of play (I was playing during my lunch time at work and it didn't feel right, tut-tut indeed), after donating only about 1980 grains of rice, vowing to keep revisiting as often as I can, as 1980 grains of rice seems too little to feed even one child for one day...

One might wonder why set up this game at all, why not give the rice away.. Reading their FAQ was quite interesting.

If FreeRice has the rice to give, why not give it all away right now?

FreeRice is not sitting on a pile of rice―you are earning it 10 grains at a time. Here is how it works. When you play the game, advertisements appear on the bottom of your screen. The money generated by these advertisements is then used to buy the rice. So by playing, you generate the money that pays for the rice donated to hungry people.

a cookbook and a cooking pot

Just a few days ago, another year went by.

'Sright.

And to commemorate the event, Ana gave me a snot-suffused kiss, a knee-the-belly-pull-the-hair kind of hug clambering up sweetly on my sofa-ed self, and a treasured card with her chicken scratchings.

As if it wasn't enough that I wasn't expecting any fanfare, D threw me off my balance by starting off the day *forgetting* to wish me (apparently deliberately, ya-huh!) when I had to resort to gentle reminder by way of looks like <insert celebrity name here> is celebrating their birthday TOO today.

And, we got into the usual eternal rush that most workday mornings present, deciding to postpone any niceties till evening. Boy was I feeling giddy when D and Ana decided to sing impromptu in the car on our ride to work that morning, "Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to you..."

D didn't work late that day. He came home on time for dinner, which, I must mention, was made by me. Yes, me, the birthday girl, who could have been swept off her feet to a nice restaurant, but instead fell hopelessly for the much-(ab)used spiel, "Baby and I love your food, you make much better stuff than they can serve at any restaurant, besides, you would not have liked any place I chose... I would love to cook for you but you don't seem to enjoy it much..."

All very sweet, and designed to sound flattering, but, quite true.

Frowns and potential shunning by neo-feminists not-withstanding, I was thrilled to receive D's gifts pictured above: Best of ATK recipes book, plus a perfect 3qt pot I had been wanting for a long time, but, never found the right look/quality/price until I pointed this particular one out to D at IKEA.

Of course, he promptly said, "we don't need another pot" and that was that on that day.

The highlight of the day was to read the inscription D penned in the Best of ATK cookbook: I am sure their "Best" is no match for yours !!

Knowing him, I have no doubt he meant it. Coming from a guy whose gushing remark would be a sincere "Very Nice" twice as opposed to the perfunctory "nice" once, I'll take this as a lavish compliment.

Anyway, another year has rolled by and all I can show for it is my saner self. Not necessarily wiser self, but definitely a mellow self still learning the intricacies of being a mom...

domestic communication

D, as we all know, measures once, measures twice, utters none.

While he gives his best impression of a lump of clay if you meet him in a social setting he didn't initiate or willingly enter, a few beers later you can hardly stop his profound articulation.

Don't get me wrong, he is incredibly sharp-witted and smart, just never wants to exercise that side of himself much unless he believes it is warranted.

However, domestic communication has reached a nice new comfort level thanks to his chronic minimalistic approach.

Me: (rattling pots and pans a little for effect) Why do I always have to do the dishes? Cooks shouldn't have to clean up. In fact didn't we agree on that house rule when we got married? How come you won't help out?
D: (acting all hurt) That's not true, I do the dishes too, you know.
Me: Y-ha. Every 20 times I do the dishes, you unload the dishwasher once.
D: Thank you!
Me: ????? huh? what for? it's the truth!
D: Right, glad you agreed. Not true that you *always* do it.
Me: (rolling eyes, throwing up hands in the air, shaking the head - and doing it all with much-practiced ease)

To be totally fair, I admit, words fail me at times. I blame it on age.

Me: darn! (with an imaginary knife in one hand, buttering an imaginary toast on the other) where's the thing?
D: Peeler? look in the other drawer.

Yep, somehow, over the years, my gestured things have gotten the correct response over 90% of the time in the first round. Perhaps the props helped - like the pile of carrots, potatoes and the cutting cutting board...

sewing: cow jumped

This toddler fleece tops is very much like my other ones. I made the sleeves shorter just for fun - just 3/4 sleeves rather than full sleeves.

I like the long full sleeves better, but, this keeps the sleeves out of the way when Ana has her dinner, or is playing... else, I catch her screaming and trying to pull her sleeves up and out of the way...

Along the nursery rhymes theme, I went with Hey Diddle Diddle this time as Ana likes cows. The idea for these appliqués are not quite original... I've seen this in one of Ana's rebus-style nursery rhymes books and thought it was quite charming.

Also, one of the things on my to-do list last year was to make a quilt for Ana, with 8"x8" blocks, each block having one of these appliqués of her favorite nursery rhymes. Pretty ambitious.

Somehow, between a full time job, cooking, cleaning, keeping a toddler entertained and trying to stay on top of my reading and blogging, this dreamy project got put on the back-burner... and has no hope of getting resuscitated in the near future... unless my mom, or mum-in-law, or grandma want to help make it.

Amma, Mom, hint, hint, wink, wink, nudge, nudge ;)



"Let's go to JoAnnstores, Ana" so far has met with an enthusiastic response. Ana promptly puts on her shoes and coat and asks to get in the car :) She was quite excited when we went fleece-shopping at JoAnn stores last week. She had some helpful suggestions all along the lines of 'let's get everything in the store and take it home'... However, when I asked her to pick out a fleece print to make tops for her, she gravitated towards this cheery bright pink and green and yellow print. Fine with me. Looks great on her, methinks. Well, better on her than on me, I suppose :)

She now has enough fleece tops to go for a whole week without washing. yay!

sewing: black sheep fleece tops

While I am not necessarily a hoarder, I do look for sales at my favorite crafts, yarn and fabric stores to stock up on things I would use anyway. I am not too fond of paying full price, if I can help it :)

Not too long ago, JoAnn Stores had one of their periodic sales of Fleece, among other things. Thick, plush, soft and warm fleece is my preferred fabric for making winter tops for Ana. The solids were only 3.99$ a yard, and prints were 4.99$ a yard. Pretty darn good price, really. Especially since fleece comes in 60-inch width (compared to the usual 45-inch width of most other fabrics), a little bit goes a long way.

Since cold weather is here already, I decided to make a few fleece tops for Ana. It takes less than half a yard to make the tops - closer to 3/8ths of a yard, actually. So, not factoring in labor cost and other paraphernalia, this tops worked out to about 3$ or so, which is hard to beat.

Plus I get to customize it with my very own appliqué :)

Ana likes the pig appliqué in her lilac fleece tops, which stood for her favorite nursery rhyme at that time "This little piggy went to market...". She likes her animal patches in the red fleece tops as well, but I decided to go with the nursery rhyme theme again and made a black sheep appliqué for "Baa Baa Black Sheep..." for this green fleece tops.

Little Box of Dreams

There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, "Yes, I've got dreams, of course I've got dreams." Then they put the box away and bring it out once in awhile to look in it, and yep, they're still there.
—Erma Bombeck

So, this is how it feels to be hit by a sledgehammer!

I took a long honest look, and breathed a sigh of relief. My little box of dreams seems to have bottomed out and replenished itself over the years. The inventory actively has been exchanged and transubstantiated.

And then again, over time, the dreamer in me gave way to the realist in me. On and off they each make their appearance and transmogrify seamlessly to keep up the balance essential for my sanity.

Nobel Prize for Literature 2007

A year has passed by since I wrote about Orhan Pamuk, and now Doris Lessing has won the Nobel Prize for Literature this year.

While I did enjoy this post, and had a light-hearted discussion with D about who he would like to see win, or even nominated for this prize, I am sure it is an honor to be recognized for one's life work, not just the literary prowess.

As I had noted earlier:

After all, 'The Nobel Prize must never go to the book of the season. It exists to reward a life's work,' said poet and literary critic Eva Ström.

K-mart letter

This letter is probably plastered all over the Internet and been in circulation for a couple of years now... but, a colleague sent it to me recently; as it had not crossed my path until now, I figured I'd put it in the one place where I can get to it easily and point my friends to it without forwarding it as an email attachment all over the globe :)

Part of me thinks it is all made-up just for fun, because surely, it can't be true, right?!

Sorry, it is an image, so click on it to view full size... unless you have super duper vision...

Blink by Gladwell

Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking
by Malcolm Gladwell

Have you ever made instinctive decisions to find out that it was the right one, despite your careful analysis later on warning you that you might have gambled a bit on the wrong side?

Blink, by Malcolm Gladwell, hypothesizes that the instant or snap judgments we make without elaborate deliberations are often just as good or better than the decisions we arrive at after careful reasoning.

And, the book sets out to prove this across various scenarios ranging from art museums, emergency rooms, and psychology laboratories clinging on to what the author terms Rapid Cognition.

Rapid cognition represents a snap decision-making process that our minds are capable of without consciously worrying about how we arrive at those decisions in any logical way. It can often be faster and more reliable than what the logical part of the brain manages.

At the onset, Gladwell sets up the expectation for the reader:

1. to convince the reader that these snap judgments can be as good or better than reasoned conclusions
2. to discover where and when rapid cognition proves a poor strategy
3. to examine how the rapid cognition's results can be improved

Gladwell collects anecdotes, statistics, and some conjectures to persuasively convince the reader of these three tasks.

However, I came out of this book unconvinced.

Non-fiction books by renowned authorities in the field (ex: The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins) are a treat to read as they stimulate and satisfy. Some others, often by renowned journalists and columnists, (ex: World is Flat by Thomas Friedman) turn out to be pumped with hot air and very little substantiation.

As a renowned journalist for the New Yorker, Gladwell's Tipping Point was well-received. So, on a whim, I borrowed this from my library eager to assimilate a new theory. After all, I have always been interested in knowing more about the human decision-making process, especially what we call instant or instinctive decisions. However, the meandering and chatty style of this book made it difficult for me to keep up the enthusiasm.

It is a short book, about 250 pages, potentially an easy read. But, the ideas and examples presented were such that it constantly sparked the wait a minute, this cannot be right... attitude, urging me to readily conceive counter-examples and pick out a weakness in the argument.

Early in the book, there is an example of psychologists analyzing a mere 15-minute video of married couples engaged in a casual conversation and predicting (to about 95% accuracy) whether the couple will remain married after 15 years. I honestly could not help roll my eyes at the naivety. The terms "happy" and "married" are not well qualified and a happy marriage can have its down days, and not all unhappy marriages end in a divorce.

Another example where perfect strangers are sent into dorm rooms of unsuspecting college students and asked to draw up snap judgments about the occupant's characteristics seems oversimplified as well. You can drop in on my house unexpectedly and conclude that I am lackadaisical wastrel with poor hygiene. And you would be so terribly wrong. You just caught me on my migraine day...

The example about Cook County Hospital's ED chief revolutionizing the diagnosis of ER patients with chest pain would have made an interesting read if the author had gotten to the point without rambling on as he did.

However, the book starts with a lot of promise with the episode surrounding the authenticity of a particular statue: One set of experts do a thorough analysis, subject the statue to rigorous tests, and conclude that it is a genuine piece. However, a second set of experts just look at it and instinctively believe it to be a forgery. And the second group is right! So, what happened? Why did all the carefully accumulated evidence not throw the second group off? How did the second group know that it was a forgery by just looking?

Thin-slicing is the term used over and over in this book, where we subconsciously and possibly ruthlessly prune information to the point where our decision-making is not overwhelmed or even paralyzed by information overload.

I do believe in the theory that our brains are constantly processing information and what we call instinct sometimes is carefully cultivated set of decisions based on centuries of accumulated knowledge programmed into us for our survival.

Bottom Line: It is not a terrible read, but, didn't leave me awed or even fully convinced.

hwyl gardd 2

Garden 2007

Summer gardens are always fun. We did most of the planting in late Spring for the Summer garden. We sectioned off a portion of our backyard for vegetable gardening.

Usually, unless it is something exotic and needs special care, we just get seedlings from local nurseries. As to tips for growing, it is not easy to jot down here - each year/season is different.

One thing that helped when we first started the backyard garden a few years ago is to have the soil tested. There was a free soil testing organized by the county, I think, and we took a sample and got it analyzed and followed the recommendation of the experts there - mainly pH was too low and we put some lime to add some alkalinity to help neutralize, and they recommended adding bone meal as needed as it contains some nitrogen and a lot of phosphorous as well as calcium.

Since then we didn't do much to the soil... except common things like rotate the plants each year, plant peas in Spring so it prepares the bed for summer garden by fixing nitrogen, enrich soil with organic compost etc. Composting has been easy as we got this Earth Machine for home composting ($35) as soon as we moved into this house and have been throwing our organic waste in there pretty much daily.

This year, we went to local nurseries and got some seedling where appropriate - like eggplant, some varieties of tomatoes, raspberries, strawberries, grape vines, greens, and chilies. A few varieties of tomatoes, okra were germinated at home. And, of course, corn and sunflowers - we just threw the seeds on the ground and they sprouted fine.

Basically, just talking to the experts at the nursery, sprinkling water as needed, adding compost from home-composting, and weeding is all we did. No pesticides, no fertilizers. We read up a bit on the web to see what common bugs affect the plants we have. If needed, we were prepared to get some praying mantis or other bugs to keep the plant invaders in check, but, we didn't need to this year, just like last year.

Most of the plants did well. The Okra didn't. We just a handful from 4 plants. I think it never got warm enough for the okra to thrive.

Some recipes made with the Summer garden bounty:
Eggplant: Sautéed Eggplant, Ennai Kathrikkai, Thai Red Curry, Godhsu, Eggplant Rasavangi

Greens: Ethiopian Meal, Creamy Chards Soup, Chards Masiyal

Potatoes: Potatoes Lyonnaise, Swiss Rösti

Summer Squash: Summer Squash and Eggplant dish

Raspberries: Raspberry Chipotle Chicken

Tomatoes: I ended up canning most of the tomatoes as sauces, stewed whole, thokku and salsa; made some tomato rice, green tomato koottu, and stuffed tomatoes, plus of course, used tomatoes in many of my recipes as one of the ingredients...

Herbs: Some perennials like Rosemary, Lavender, Mint have been around from last year, and we planted some cilantro, oregano, basil, fennel and chives and they all did well, thankfully.

It is getting chilly already, so we dug out most of the plants. Tomatoes are still fruiting, so we have left it on for a few more weeks. Brussel Sprouts is just getting ready, so, in about a few weeks we might be able to harvest it as well.

We finally laid a major portion of the summer garden to rest. It was not easy to say good-bye, but, we are not planning on any winter gardening as we are not set up for any sort of greenhouse arrangement.

The few indoor plants we have are well out of the kitties' and baby's reach, so they are surviving fine. But, to grow any more indoor vegetables and herbs this winter would have to remain a dream. Even if we can teach our baby to stay off, the kitties stay home when we are gone for the day and end up messing with the plants, even if out of curiosity or by accident...

So, dear garden, Au Revoir!

Smaller Portions, anyone?

So, I see this huge board with most drinks starting at close to 3$ for 12oz size at the coffee shops, but I just want a simple small coffee, right? I see this little item at the bottom saying Kids' Drinks 8 oz for $1.10 but doesn't list what drinks will be served as Kids' Drinks.

So, I ask the barista for an 8 oz chai or coffee, whichever they can serve in small portion and hand her my 12oz travel mug... I expect to pay $1.50 or thereabouts and get 8oz or less...

The barista fills it to the brim with chai and charges me $2.55, which is the price for a 12 oz chai. Now, I clearly did not want a 12 oz chai - and I told her I wanted their Kid Size portion 8 oz or less, as I don't need the TALL size...

I was not trying to be difficult... and am sure the barista has her side of the story which she is blogging about right now... but, I was seriously getting sick of large portions and refusal to serve smaller portions appropriately priced! I mean, she said she can dump some out and hand me approximately 8 oz., but it'll still cost me the 12 oz price as they don't serve 8 oz chai...

When I said I was disappointed and was hoping they can serve smaller portions appropriately priced, the barista said, in a condescendingly charitable tone, accompanied by a dismissive wave of her hand, that I could have that drink for free and not pay for it!

Now, I am not a cheapskate and I told her if my drink is made and it rings up as $2.55, I'll pay for it. But, I wanted to express my discontent over refusal to serve smaller portions in the hope that many more are like me and will voice their request for smaller portions as well, and hopefully, it will fall on the giant's ears and eventually things will change towards reasonable portion sizes.

D having worked pizza delivery jobs and such, I know how much we relied on tips those days, and as a result, I have always considered myself a moderately generous tipper. I don't scrimp on 15%-20% for service - I know my hair stylist appreciates it.

But, I do begrudge that extra $1+ for that chai - I feel overcharged. This was at Starbucks® by the way... and Seattle's Best nearby is not any better.

Now, I don't have to go to Starbucks® or any such shop that doesn't cater to my smaller-portion needs. I agree...

But the resentment towards Starbucks® in particular started with a very specific incident which to this day I cannot reminisce without getting upset:

About 4 years ago, on a lazy weekend, I found this Starbucks® coupon in the newspaper which said Free 12 oz Drink with this coupon. Limit One Per Person Per Visit.

Perfect, I thought. And walked over to the Starbucks® near my house and got myself one. Then, later that day D found another coupon in an abandoned newspaper in the bus. So, I went with him to the same store. I stood in line to order as D was going to share the drink with me and suggested I choose what I wanted.

Now, get this: The barista for some reason, remembered me from earlier that day and refused to serve me the free drink!!!

Yep! Even though the coupon never said anything like Don't Serve The Same Person Twice Ever... but, simply Limit One Per Person Per Visit.

The only reason I think she remembered me was because I looked different from the generic customers she meets daily. I am not sure if she remembered me because of my ethnicity or my charming stunning good looks...

But, she refused. I asked to speak to her Manager. D saw this commotion and as he was nearby, came to my side and let me walk away to calm down and said the coupon was his and he was letting his wife choose a drink, and asked what the problem was. The barista tried to explain that I already got a free drink earlier in the day. D showed her the coupon and calmly explained to her what One Coupon Per Person Per Visit meant, got his drink, and walked away.

I was fuming. I was appalled. I was livid.

True, it was a free drink which I can easily forgo. That wasn't the issue. But it was the fact that the barista addressed me with such contempt and acted as if I was a deadbeat destitute moocher that completely unnerved me.

Anyway, after that incident, I swore off Starbucks® for a long time, until D convinced me that it was probably that one store where the barista was not very polite and so, I occasionally started feeding Starbucks®'s profits.

And, after trying out a few Starbucks® around town, I knew I was not happy with their service. But, this latest incident where the barista snootily said she would dump some out if I wanted an 8oz drink was the last straw.

I've been wondering... Since when did 12 oz become the minimum size for a coffee/chai? And who made it so?

Now, not all coffee shops say TALL is the new SHORT.

I like The Fresh Pot, Stumptown, even Peet's and a few others in my neighborhood... they serve 8 oz doses usually, and are willing to serve even smaller amounts in "normal-sized" porcelain cups, if enjoying the beverage in-house, for reasonable price of $1 or $1.25 at the most.

Many days I carry my own travel mug, and I prefer about 6 oz at the most, so, I settle for 8 oz portions at nominal price. I don't want to waste paper/styrofoam cups, and just because my travel mug is about 12 oz big, doesn't mean I want it filled up every time I buy a coffee or chai.

Many of my colleagues spend up to 8$ on an average in coffee drinks per day. Plus, they buy take-away lunches, which, in downtown where I work, on an average costs 5$-7$. So, on an average, many of my colleagues spend $15 a day which to me seems frivolous. Now, if one has that kind of money to throw around, wouldn't one feel like donating to their favorite charitable cause?

Am I the only one mad about this? I don't think I am over-reacting... I know some of these arrogant coffee shops survive because select customers have elevated it to an elite and cult status.

I have found a few local coffee shops near my office which seem reasonable, and coffee is pretty good, and service is quite courteous. Considering that I am not a coffee addict and I buy at the most TWO 8oz coffees per week, I guess I am a minority asking for smaller serving portions. Now, if my office would let me use my own coffee machine, I'd be more than happy to brew a pot of exquisite coffee and share with colleagues at my expense...

I don't eat out much, so, am not sure about portion sizes for food. But, I did watch Supersize Me, the movie, a few years back, and it seemed to suggest that fast foods do supersize, and we need better portion control...

Anyway, I do have a choice: I can make my own drinks and food. Nobody is twisting my arm to buy large portions at exorbitant prices. But, as a nation, as a culture, as responsible adults, I think this issue of portion-sizing warrants some rethinking...

Broke my heart!

My cousin S sent me these pictures and it broke my heart... I was too sad to compose something pithy and emphatic, so, I will just jot down a bit of background information to put the pictures in context.

One of the happy festivals celebrated in India is called Vinayaka Chathurthy (Ganesha Chathurthi) where the idea is to contemplate on the Divine Preceptor Ganesha, and start new tasks appealing to His grace to help overcome obstacles in the path of righteous success. And, enjoy special feast. We celebrated it at home in a quiet way this year, just a couple of days ago.

Symbolically, a small plain clay icon is made (usually about 6-12 inches) and then immersed in a nearby body of water where the clay icon dissolves without leaving much negative impact to the environment. This has been an optional part of the festival.

But, apparently, this has become the primary focus over the last several years where larger and larger idols are made out of non-bio-degradable materials, leading to rivalry among neighborhood communities to out-do each other in the pomp and splendor...

Today, the Ganesh Festival is not only a popular festival - it has become a very critical and important economic activity for Maharashtra. Many artists, industries, and businesses survive on this mega-event. Ganesh Festival also provides a stage for budding artists to present their art to the public.-- Wikipedia

However, after the festivities, the idols are just discarded as trash and that is what makes these pictures heartrending for me... the pictures are apparently taken at Mumbai beach.

Concerned citizens are doing their best to create awareness, appeal to the fellow celebrators, and get this back under some control... but, hope it is soon enough.
While I admire the artistry, the careless disregard for sanctity of the festival (and environment) that these pictures present made it distressing for me...

Children of Húrin

Children of Húrin
by JRR Tolkien,
edited by Christopher Tolkien.

I finally got my hands on John Ronald Reuel Tolkien's Children of Húrin from the library and read it without further delay.

A big fan of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit books which I read years before Peter Jackson's LOTR movie trilogy came out, I was clearly awed by the stories of Middle Earth and Men and Elves... So much so that I even read The Silmarillion, which was quite complex for me, honestly, to get a complete picture of this fascinating world.

Agreed, the style of writing can get tedious for non-literary types, but, the world he created was amazing, not to mention the language(s) he created for these worlds. D even wrote a Qenya(Tengwar) transliterator of sorts (I helped) that found its way into Dan Smith's Tengwar Hall of Fame several years ago :-)

Put together by his son and literary executor Christopher Tolkien, Children of Húrin is a collection of early writings which were abandoned/unfinished by JRR Tolkien.

The story is set about 6000 years before the Lord of the Rings saga unfolds. Sauron is just an evil henchman of Morgoth, the original Dark Lord. And Hobbits don't exist yet.

Pieces of this book has been published before, but, this book attempts to collect it into a continuous narrative.

Christopher Tolkien explains that he did not "invent" anything for this publication and simply collected his father's works as-is, making editorial decisions as needed, keeping it to a minimum, and trying not to bridge any gaps or explain any inconsistencies. Instead, he provides genealogies, pronunciation guide, simple maps, and information on background and history of the Middle Earth, plus an index of names at the end of the book, which I always find interesting. Noted artist Alan Lee provides color plates and line drawings.

Inspired by the Norse tale of Sigurd and Fafnir, Tolkien first wrote a story about a dragon in 1899, at the age of 7. At school he discovered the Kalevala, a Finnish epic poem, and by 1914 was trying to turn the tale of Kullervo into "a short story somewhat on the lines of Morris’s romances". By 1919 he had combined these elements in what became the tale of Túrin Turambar, the embittered hero who slays the dragon Glaurung, but whose triumph is instantly shattered by the suicide of his wife, now revealed as his lost sister Niënor, whom he joins in death.

Children of Húrin, the book, was not very satisfying for me, as expected. I wanted more! But, the tale is so tragic and filled with impetuous and imprudent acts by the characters which defy reason that it made me wonder if they didn't deserve the fate they got.

Túrin, rash and reckless, not given to heeding counsel, turns an outlaw out of pride rather than graciously accepting the good that people offer his way... And, so is Morwen, his mother and Niënor, his sister, who, though not built to handle the treacherous quest they embark on, defy counsel and flee safety in search of Túrin.

But, it was all due to Morgoth's curse. Not that that makes it better, but, at least, it gives a dimension to Morgoth's depravity.

However, whereas I reveled in the serendipitous adventures of Frodo, I could not suffer the darkness that engulfs Túrin, the son of Húrin, in this tale.

Moreover, the chapter titles left little to the imagination. For example, when I saw the chapter titled Death of Turin, I didn't have to read the next few pages to get ahead with the story, except to find out how he died...

The precise and formal style of Children of Húrin had me re-reading some passages to make sure I got it right. That just shows my unfamiliarity with Anglo-Saxon verse form (aka "ancient English alliterative metre", as I later found out) and Tolkien's special gift.

All in all a good read, but, i wish there was more, I wish Tolkien had a chance to wrap it all up and present the whole and complete world...

Vying Flying

I couldn't resist, I had to dedicate a post for something I got in the email that my cousin S sent me a few days ago.

A little history: India has several budding flight operators for domestic travel and they are quite aggressive about capturing the loyalty of their customers.

I have flown Go Air and found my experience quite pleasant. The staff were very courteous, well-mannered, well-dressed, and some of the male flight attendants were even pretty darned good looking ;-)

I can't say much for Indian Airlines or Jet Airways. In my personal experience, the staff seemed pretty angry and unhappy, didn't seem to want to help much, and the aircrafts themselves were rickety and untidy.

Now, while the airlines have sprouted like weed, the airports have not expanded suitably to handle the traffic, so, there was a mad rush around boarding time, impossibly unclear announcements, and frequent delays.

Disclaimer: This is entirely just my experience so far, and am sure I will get to do a post next year when I visit again and find things vastly improved and wonderfully jolly.

Anyway, being tight on time as both D and I get only a total of 15 business days off as vacation, provided we don't squander it on sickness or other emergencies, when we visit India, it has become extremely convenient to fly to most places we needed to go. While I am nostalgic and partial to trains, we simply couldn't afford the time.

Packing Jaipur, Agra, Delhi, Goa, Vizag, Hyderabad, Coimbatore and Chennai in a 15 day visit indeed gets tedious making us long for a real vacation when we come back from this vacation.

Well, more later... for now, with the little history lesson, I am sure the following pictures of billboards (at a busy intersection in Mumbai, apparently) might bring a tiny smile to the dear reader interested in Marketing Strategies :-)

Let's start with Jet Air:



To which Kingfisher Airlines added:



And, Go Air responded:


While Indian Railways reminded:


Now, am not so sure the Busline message at the very top was not Photoshop-ed in...

I didn't get a chance to resize the pictures to be easy enough to read, but, I think the messages are clear enough ;-)

Shivji bihane chale

Nah, I am not going to make this all about embedding youtube videos here...

But, not too long ago I had mentioned that this song from Munimji (an old Hindi movie, 1955, I believe) was my favorite video to watch over and over [just like I couldn't get enough of White & Nerdy] at one point in my life, and thought I must keep it handy here, in case I get the urge again to be obsessed by it...

The playful yet artful lyrics and dance, the folksy feel, the rollicking and roguish tempo the number presents are all just brilliant in my mind.

The caricature-like portrayal of Shiva is balanced beautifully by the actor, playing the part of Shiva, with his dance movements and his expressions...

What can I say? Some things just catch me at the right time and I am bowled over by them! Isn't that what Life is all about?!

White and Nerdy

I know I am almost a year late in mentioning this now, but better late than never, right?

Besides, I had forgotten about it for months until it came back into my view a few weeks ago... thereby, quite topical as far as the inane happenings of my life goes that I choose to record in this blog...

So: Quite by accident the other day I was drawn to the laptop screen by this very catchy song that D was playing from YouTube.

It was just too darned irresistible for me, so, I stopped to look over D's shoulder and ended up making him play it about a dozen times back-to-back!

Of course, it *had* to be Weird Al:-)

I had forgotten what original song this White&Nerdy was parodying... and D reminded me - it is apparently based off Chamillionaire's Ridin' (Dirty) - a song I had been blissfully unaware of until then.

Now, this video presentation of Weird Al Yankovic's parody was side-splitting-ly funny, at least for me.

Plus, I was filled with nostalgia staring at something that looked like Time-Independent Schrödinger equation as background for part of this song!!

-[(h²/2μ)∇² - e²/r]ψ(r) = Eψ(r)

Except, h is Planck's constant, whereas Schrödinger equation uses the reduced form h/2π or ħ.

[OK, no light bulb jokes, and no physicist jokes either - except maybe one: You might be a Physics student if... you pause a Weird Al parody video to read the equation in the background to see if it might be right!]

But, the part that has made me watch this over and over is the part where Donny Osmond dances along - it is unbelievably ROFLOL for me...

Now, the disturbing part is that I do have Stephen Hawking's books in my library, and love MC Escher's impossible reality graphics (who doesn't, right?!), D and I own the Star Wars trilogy and Monty Python VHS tapes (I know, we should get the DVDs soon), and I spent a lot of my grad student days watching Happy Days (and Dick van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore) on Nick at Nite, and Star Trek... D has even written a transliterator of sorts for Klingon (and Qenya)... D and I play Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, even Boggle for fun...

Well, most of the above are inevitable part of earning my Master's in Physics and then a Master's in Computer Science, so, I guess I can't be all that nerdy ;-)

Yes... I need to get out more, but, with a toddler and working full time, I take what decent laughter I can get :-)

crochet: hen candy dish

This is another one of those little projects I did when I was teaching myself crochet several years back. The pattern was given in one of the craft books I had borrowed from the library to teach myself some new stitches and shaping techniques.

I even made a couple of these hen candy dish and gave them away as gifts...

I know... the recipients were probably thinking hmm... what the heck is this grotesque thing and why do I get one?
while politely smiling and saying
WOW! Thank You! How Nice!
all the while seeking the perfect spot for displaying it in the lowest shelf at the corner of the garage:-)

Anyway, I think it is cute - it taught me a few nice stitches - the little nest on which she is sitting was fun to make as the loops are part of the stitch that makes up the nest pattern.

Two litre soda bottle's top and bottom form the actual candy dish and this crochet hen is a sort of cover over the plastic dish.

When Ana spied it, she wanted to fill them with her crayons and use it as her crayon holder, but, she also likes to pick at the nest and pull the loops. Since I like this piece, I decided not to let Ana have it just yet...

Witches Abroad

Following closely on Wyrd Sisters, the trio of witches - viz., Granny Weatherwax, Nanny Ogg, Magrat Garlick - are still about, this time they have to take on a Fairy Godmother - the "good" one at that!

Fairy Godmothers apparently are found in complementary pairs - a good and a bad one.

When one of the pair passes away, she appoints a suitable replacement to maintain balance before she leaves, to carry the wand, so-to-speak.

The plot is around this idea that Pratchett establishes in page 2 of the book:

Stories exist independent of their players.

Stories, great flapping ribbons of shaped space-time, have been blowing and uncoiling around the universe since the beginning of time. And they have evolved.
...
Stories etch grooves deep enough for people to follow in the same way that water follows certain paths down a mountainside. And every time fresh actors tread the path of the story, the groove runs deeper.

This is called the theory of narrative causality and it means that a story, once started, takes a shape.

With a page2-3 narration like that, how can you set the book down without reading till finish?!

The book is about fairy tales having a life of their own, and about a fairy godmother who likes it that way and wants to enforce Happy Endings even if it kills.

The Fairy Godmother pair in this case happen to be Desiderata and Lilith.

Desiderata is one of the compassionate ones who took fairy godmothering so seriously that they were afraid to do good for fear of doing harm and would constipate themselves with moral anguish before granting the wish of a single ant.

Lilith, her counterpart, on the other hand, had no such qualms.

Desiderata's time had come, so she appoints Magrat as her successor and just to make sure the green and wet hen Magrat has some help, Desiderata clearly states that Granny Weatherwax ought to stay away, knowing full well that if you tell Esme Weatherwax she's got to go somewhere, she won't go out of contrariness, so, tell her she's not to go and she'll run there over broken glass.

Drawing from multiple sources like classic literature, religion, mythology, pop culture, movies, fairy tales and even quantum physics, Pratchett parodies anything and everything in his inimitable style that masterfully combines deep insight with perfect comic timing.

While the primary take is on Cinderella (Emberella, in this case), Pratchett combines many popular stories weaving them in to take a life of their own.

Now, having seen Shrek the movie (2001) first before I read this book, the idea of fairy tales getting parodied was not entirely novel to me. But, the elements, the characters, and the twists that Pratchett presents in this book are unique and refreshing.

I do not want to give away the nice little bits and pieces of the story, so, I will wrap it up here with some excerpts that were simply marvelous for me to read:

...(people) started getting interested in the chaos itself - partly because it was a lot easier to be an expert on chaos, but mostly because it made really good patterns that you could put on a t-shirt.

And instead of getting on with proper science^* scientists suddenly went around saying how impossible it was to know anything, and that there wasn't really anything you could call reality to know anything about, and how all this was tremendously exciting, and incidentally did you know there were all these little universes all over the place but no one can see them because they are all curved in on themselves?

^* Like finding that bloody butterfly whose flapping wings cause all these storms we've been having lately and getting it to stop.

The point was that a good German cook could more or less take the squeezings of a handful of mud, a few dead leaves and a pinch or two of some unpronounceable herbs and produce a meal to make a gourmet burst into tears of gratitude and swear to be a better person for the rest of their entire life if they could just have one more plateful.

Occasionally a few bubbles would eructate to the surface like the ghosts of beans on bath night.

Character development of Greebo, the cat, is incredibly clever and creative, and some of the descriptions of Greebo are simply hilarious:

Greebo broadcast a kind of greasy diabolic sexuality in the megawatt range.

Underneath the table Greebo dozed on his back with his legs in the air. Occasionally he twitched as he fought wolves in his sleep.

soap box derby 2007

This last Saturday morning was packed with fun. We went to the local Soap Box Derby.

What is it, you ask?

Once a year a brave group of racers convene on the daunting slopes of Mt.Tabor to test their metal and their mettle.

Ana had fun just looking at the home-made cars, and assembled audience (which included many kids), as well as looking at all the dogs walking by with their human friends, plus, all these funny looking cars either zooming or crawling by every now and then...

We went there a little early, checked out the creative/sleek/clunky cars first (they were giving out free vitamin water!), and then walked along the course to find a nice spot to sit down and enjoy the show.

It was a mini picnic as I had packed some light snack for Ana, and she simply loved the open air and the people.

I didn't stay to see who won - it was best (or average?) of three rounds and we stayed for one full round completed by each entrant. By then, Ana was getting restless and wanted to move around, but, it was preferable to stay off the course, so, we just decided to leave.

She seemed to want to jump up from our spot on the wayside - about 2 feet from the course/road, and try to follow the vehicle!

There were all kinds of interesting vehicles - a circus mobile, a sort of pope mobile, godzilla mobile, Noah's Ark and many more - some were racing down the track, others were barely moving despite desperate pedaling by the driver :-)

Wyrd Sisters

I am waiting for a few books I've placed on hold at my public library. Meanwhile, I enjoyed Mort very much. And Equal Rites before that. Still no sign of my books - my place is 125th out of 185 holds, 45th out of 88 holds and so on - so am not holding my breath or anything...

Following closely on Equal Rites, I wanted to read Wyrd Sisters and Witches Abroad (in that order)... the three form trilogy of sorts (if I don't count Lords and Ladies, that is).

Wyrd Sisters brings back Granny Weatherwax (introduced in Equal Rites), a clever and well-developed character in Terry Pratchett's Discworld books. Along with Nanny Ogg and Magrat Garlick, Granny Weatherwax roughly establishes a coven-of-sorts, forming the titular Wyrd Sisters.

Terry Pratchett parodies anything and everything, and blends myths, fairy tales and renowned literary works into an engaging plot. Not to mention his take on String Theory and Quantum Mechanics! As a Physics student, I found this masterly and charming.

Wyrd Sisters starts with the unmistakable reference to MacBeth: the three witches (Nanny Ogg, Magrat Garlick, Granny Weatherwax) have convened and a portentious voice asks, "When shall we meet again?", and gets the response "I can do next Tuesday".

Very typically Terry Pratchett, that.

Wyrd Sisters parodies a bit of Hamlet, a bit of King Lear as well, as far as I could keep up. The plot is not terribly convoluted, but, has enough twists and creative elements to keep it interesting till the end. Plus, each character is distinct, engrossing and elemental to the plot.

The king of Lancre is murdered and the throne usurped by this evil tyrant, who of course is driven by his dominating and power-crazy wife. While the murdered king of Lancre haunts his castle, his baby boy is carried away in the dead of the night and dumped unceremoniously on Granny Weatherwax's lap to do the needful.

Sounds familiar?

A-ha! but, you have to read this book with soft carpeting and cushions all around you so you don't hurt yourself when keeling over laughing. Terry Pratchett adds his inimitable touch to the story that even the most jaded reader has to sit up and take notice - even if briefly.

The three witches - young and new-age Magrat, matronly and drunken-sailor-like Nanny Ogg, and tall/sleek no-nonsense and powerful Granny Weatherwax - make for a very interesting coven of witches whose altercations and antics bring out their unique characters and the relationships.

Not to mention Greebo, the cat, who terrorizes anything and everything he comes across, even if they are 4 times his size, but is just a silly/sweet kitty to Nanny Ogg.

One of my favorite characters in this book is The Fool, a mandatory Shakespearean fixture at royal courts, except The Fool is surprisingly profound, astute, and naive at the same time. A wonderful character one has to read, unfold and discover.

All's Well That Ends Well, of course. The throne is restored to the (not-so) rightful heir, good triumphs over evil and what-not. But that is not all. Oh no, that is not all.

I enjoyed Witches Abroad much more than Wyrd Sisters, and am looking forward to recording my take on it soon...

Excerpts I'd like to come back and read here:
This is how Olwyn Vitoller treats Granny to a low bow:

The hat swerved and jerked through a series of complex arcs, ending up at the end of an arm which was now pointing in the direction of the sky. One of his legs, meanwhile, had wandered off behind him. The rest of his body sagged politely until his head was level with Granny's knees.

Magrat liked to be presentable as a witch, with her occult bangles, lined cloak, not to mention her face:

Magrat had used a lot of powder to make her face pale and interesting. It combined with the lavishly applied mascara to give the guard the impression that he was looking at two flies that had crashed into a sugar bowl. He found his fingers wanted to make a sign to ward off the evil eyeshadow.

Magrat and The Fool seem to have taken a liking for each other:

(Magrat) had been in deep conversation with the Fool, although it was the kind of conversation where both the parties spend a lot of time looking at their feet and picking at their fingernails. Ninety percent of true love is acute, ear-burning embarrassment.

It is almost impossible to convey the sudden passage of fifteen years and two months in words.

It's a lot easier in pictures, when you just use a calendar with lots of pages blowing off, or a clock with hands moving faster and faster until they blur, or trees bursting into blossom and fruiting in a matter of seconds...
Well, you know. Or the sun becomes a fiery streak across the sky, and days and nights flicker past jerkily like a bad zoetrope, and the fashions visible in the clothes shop across the road whip on and off faster than a lunchtime stripper with five pubs to do.

I'll take the root canal, please

D, as we all know, is a man of few words. Not because he has nothing to say. But, because he fancies himself a minimalist.

Don't get me wrong... he is the smartest, funniest, most creative guy I've known since grad school... Most of those days, under the influence of a beer or two, he was unstoppable with his commentaries on politics and science and policies and world peace and designing new submarines and such.

However, when completely sober and dry, with his mind sharp as a tack, brimming with grand thoughts, he prefers to let loose only about a few words an hour. I knew that side of him and accepted it as it outweighed all the other good qualities he has.

Well, turns out, that while I am at peace with this side of his nature, it does lead to some frustrating moments in daily life unless I learn to curb my curiosity or learn to play 20 Questions :-)

For instance, we were getting ready to go visit his dad - about an hour's drive away. We got in the car (this was before Baby arrived) and he pulled out of the driveway. Noting that we were not going in the general direction of the highway we needed to take, here is what ensued:

Me: Aren't we going to dad's?
D: Yes.
Me: I thought so. But why are we going this way instead of that?
D: I need to make a stop.
Me: Oh, for gas? the tank's full, looks like... are we stopping at a store?
D: Yes.
Me: Which store?
D: Freddie's maybe...
Me: Oh. What for?
D: To get something for my dad.
Me: Like what? Food? Gift?
D: I don't know yet.
Me: Oh. if we are going to shop around, I need to pick up a few things as well.
D: No. Let's do that later.
(By now we had pulled up at the parking lot of the store. We go in - he goes straight for the beer aisle while I just hang around the produce section by the checkout. He comes back with a few six packs of beer and I meet him at the checkout)
Me: Hm. We are taking beer for your dad?
D: Yes.
Me: Why didn't you tell me when I asked you?
D: I didn't know then.

And that's the truth. He was never snapping at me or acting irritable. He just gave the simplest most direct answers to my questions without volunteering any extra information!

That's the minimalist side of him that I am still learning to accept.

In my mind, as we are pulling out of the driveway, I would expect a, "We'll stop at Freddie's to get something for my dad and then head out" or something to that effect instead of having to play this 20 Questions, or simply accept the mystery and wait for it to resolve itself...

Moments such as these is when I want to scream, "I'll take the root canal, please"!

But, he doesn't do it to annoy me. He is that way with his parents too. My mum-in-law says he has been that way since a teenager.

When we need to discuss important things, he is generally very attentive, and gives his invaluable input. At those times, I am grateful for the concise and succinct way in which he puts his thoughts across in words.

On thinking a lot about this for about half-a-dozen years now, I realize that I wouldn't really want to try to change him (as if that were possible!). I mean, I would fight tooth-and-nail if he picks something about me that he wants to change. And, it is true that neither of us is perfect - we'd be boring if it were so - and in many ways that I care about, I truly believe D is a better human being than I am.

From what I gather, apparently the feeling is reciprocal, and I guess that's all that matters.

sewing: toddler summer ensemble

My dear friend R's little baby girl recently turned one and it was my pleasure to sew this simple, deliciously soft, cotton ensemble for the little one.

The bloomers and bonnet are absolutely darling on little baby girls, and I wanted to make a nice frock with frills. I did not use any pattern for this. I sort of eyeballed Ana who is two, and crossed my fingers and hoped the outfit turns out perfect for the birthday baby.

And, it did! Yup, got photos from R and little one looks absolutely darling in it! Of course, I can't put up her cute photo here as I haven't gotten permission from R yet

Here's the birthday baby doll in her dress! [Thanks, R!]

crochet: sweater-vest

I was sifting through some old photos and found this crochet vest that I had forgotten about.

Back in 2001-2002 period when I was working part-time jobs, and hadn't welcomed Ana yet, I had enough time to crochet to my heart's content.

This was mainly an extrapolated version of a baby layette pattern, except, I crochet happily about half way through and then decided to shape it a little more flatteringly (if that is possible), making up the pattern as I went.

It still fits me fine (just not as flatteringly as I had hoped) - a nice extra layer for the nippy Autumn weather, and, I have an excuse to wear pink now - it matches my baby girl's clothes ;-)

free blog publishing

Back in the day when I was living in San Francisco Bay Area, when Silicon Valley seemed like heaven and dotcom was booming, purely driven by curiosity with no real intention of keeping up blogging, I had signed up for a Blogger account - when it was still Pyra labs and not bought by Google...

I had nothing to complain as I wasn't really blogging, I was hosting the blogs on my own domain and kept it well-hidden.

Then, there was the big crash, I moved, was unemployed for a while, and was trying to find myself, so, blogging was the last thing on my mind...

Last year, I finally picked up some courage and decided to share my recipes on my blog - nothing fancy - wasn't even sure if anybody would care... but, many gracious visitors did and am grateful - it helped fuel my passion for cooking...

Now that my recipes blog Delectable Victuals has become my favorite place to spend a few evenings and weekends, I am beginning to feel the inadequacy of the current blog publishing tool.

I rather like the fact that there are cool tools readily available in other blog hosting and publishing services so I wouldn't have to reinvent the wheel and maintain my own publishing system on my server. Therefore, I thought about moving my blog over to say WordPress... they've made it pretty painless to import.

Mostly inertia, but, also, having developed a relationship with my blog pals and regular readers, it would be a pain to move my recipe blog over and have all the links change and have people update their bookmarks and such...

Also, Blogger has my loyalty so far - I don't have much to complain except the outtages on and off...

And summing up the pros and cons of WP and Blogger - just the free hosted blogs - I am leaning towards Blogger anyway...

While Blogger and WP are both equally good for the free hosted publishing, for customizing the look and feel, Blogger is better as I get to meddle with the raw HTML/CSS (WP does not give access to raw HTML/CSS for free as far as I gather).

But, as far as plug-ins go, cool tools/widgets etc are made for WP more than Blogger as WP is open source and easier to develop for...

However, Blogger allows free advertising on the *.blogspot.com free blogs, and as far as I gather WP does not.

WP has trackback, Blogger does not, not that that is a bad thing... So, for a site with minimum maintenance WP is better; for a site that is easily customizable in terms of look and feel Blogger is better, I think...

Plus, Blogger allows JavaScript, WP does not (as far as I know). However, WP lets you add "About" and such pages to the blog, and nav, built-in. Blogger does not have it built-in - but, Blogger is so flexible that one can create one's own nav bar with tabs to boot.

And, Blogger lets you have more than one blog in the same account - WP allows one blog per account as far as I know.

My vote at this point would be to stay on Blogger as I can meddle with customizing the look and feel - gives me greater flexibility...

WP would get my vote only because things are already done and packaged in a clean manner - one need not (cannot) mess with it much, and thereby makes it easy to maintain.

Bah! Who the heck cares! Am not even sure how long I am going to keep this blog up...

Molecular Gastronomy

Being a food enthusiast, how can I let this article pass by unmentioned?

The Father of Molecular Gastronomy Whips Up a New Formula

Hervé This (pronounced Tees/Tiss) formulated the delectable chocolat chantilly over a dozen years ago.

Following his Grandes Écoles diploma in physical chemistry, he apparently was intrigued by what he calls "cooking precisions" when

One night, he invited friends to dinner and made a cheese soufflé from a recipe that said to add the egg yolks two at a time. "Because I was a rational man," he says, "I decided to put in all of the yolks together. It was a failure."

He then started testing these "cooking precisions" — rules he gleaned from disparate sources like 19th- century cookbooks, old wives' tales, and the tricks of modern chefs — to see which ones held up (the skin on a suckling pig really does crackle more if you chop off its head right after roasting) and which didn't (a menstruating cook won't ruin mayonnaise).

The standard way to hard-boil eggs in Europe and America—10 minutes in boiling water—is not ideal, says This. The trouble, he notes clinically, is that 212 degrees Fahrenheit is far higher than the temperature at which the egg whites and the yolks coagulate. Egg whites are made up of protein and water (yolks contain fat as well). As eggs cook, their balled-up proteins uncoil into strands, and the strands bind together to form an intricate mesh that traps water. In essence, the proteins form a gel, a liquid dispersed in a solid. Boiling causes too many egg proteins to bind and form dense meshes, "so there is less sensation of water in the mouth," says This. Voilà: rubbery egg whites and sandy, grayish yolks.

Naturally, I started looking up more references as I was intrigued. Khymos was an interesting resource for me.

Earthships

front entrance: image courtesy CNET networks

Ever since I read this article on earthships a few days ago, I've been dreaming about living in something like it - to see what it's all about - to find out for myself that this is indeed sustainable and lives up to its claims... it ain't gonna happen anytime soon, i know, but what's the harm in dreaming, right?

Daniel Terdiman's Road Trip 2007 series of articles have been informative so far and this one about earthships made me want to dedicate a post here about it so I can look back and remember.

These are earthships, a form of entirely off-the-grid, fully sustainable houses that are made from natural and recycled materials, and which can provide a family with a steady, comfortable interior temperature regardless of how hot or cold it is outside.

side entrance: image courtesy CNET networks

Earthships currently exist in every U.S. state and in several other countries, but the Earthship World Community, about 15 miles northwest of Taos, N.M., is ground zero for this alternative form of dwelling.

Jacobsen then explained the six major points that define the earthship philosophy: thermal solar heating and cooling; building with natural and recycled materials; using electricity only from solar and wind; harvesting water from rain and snow; on-site sewage treatment and containment; and the last, and most recent development, producing food in the house itself.

The keys to the system's success are the south-facing windows and solar arrays; walls made from materials that store heat, such as stone, dirt-filled tires and adobe blocks; and a natural ventilation system. These factors work together with the natural temperature of the ground, and with the sun and the seasons, to heat and cool the house without ever requiring air conditioning or heating. Plus, construction is geared toward circulating air throughout the dwelling.

But the earthships employ a smart water-use system.

The water is collected when it rains and stored in a cistern to be used and reused throughout the house. Water is first used for tasks like washing dishes or clothes, then it's circulated through the house for the greenhouse system, and then for toilet flushing.

And what allows for full electricity in a house with no connection to the grid is a combination of solar power, wind power, DC wiring and high-efficiency DC lighting.

Sciarrillo also explained that if the wiring system is done properly, there should be enough power left over to run AC appliances like TVs and stereos.

Of course, earthship isn't cheap to build, and it cannot be plonked in the middle of a city grid.

I haven't looked into it enough to know all the pros and cons, but, it aligns well with my personal philosophy to reduce negative impact on Earth as we pass through it.

gaucho-like toddler pants

While I don't really like gaucho pants for little kids, I do like the flaring leg that is not bell-bottom.

I meddled with a Simplicity™ pants pattern I had for Ana and made a couple of lounge pants (full-length) that she seems to like to wear around the house these days.

These are simple elastic waist pants, but, I try to keep the front flat and put the elastic only on the back, which gives a nicer look than all-round elastic waist.

There is nothing much to these pants except I was in the mood to make them, and she needed some lounge/jammy pants anyway... and, she outgrew the last batch I had made - the old ones make nice capris still - her waist and butt still fit fine if she is not wearing diapers - but, I felt it may not be comfortable for her to move in, especially since she is not quite potty-trained and still wears diapers most of the day.

I usually buy plain tees on sale, and add my own appliqué or painting to customize it . This tee in the picture is an old one featuring a block printed elephant, made with my treasured wooden block.

The few wooden blocks (for block-printing) I bought in Jaipur right outside the City Palace when I was in India last year have become my favorite items in my craft box. It is amazing... and, I didn't even bother to bargain - it was a steal at Rs.25 for a block that size that has a gorgeous design on it.

I feel terrible that I bought only 4. I wasn't carrying a lot of cash then, plus, I had just splurged a bunch on some sarees and shalwars, and, the local artisan sitting in his little thatched store selling these blocks didn't seem like the sort to accept credit cards :-(

sewing: toddler tops

Burda 9744 pattern that I used for tops a while back was pretty nice, so, I decided to adapt it a bit to make this cutesy tops for Ana.

I kept the same collar and puff sleeves from Burda 9744, but, instead of full front-open like in the pattern, I made it partially open (enough to fit over the head), and added a bit of shaping around the mid-riff with elastic, which gave it a rather pretty look, if I may say so myself :-)

I had wanted to make sort of fluffy, girly tops for Ana, with puff sleeves. Collar was optional in my mind. I had made other tops with this elasticized mid-riff, but, without sleeves or collar.

So, it was fun to adapt the Burda 9744 pattern to what I had in mind. It really helped to have the collar, neck, and sleeves ready to use from the pattern.

I am gradually working towards making some simple adaptation of peasant tops for Ana. I hope I can make it before this summer goes away... if there are any easy-to-follow instructions for peasant tops for toddlers, please point me to it, I'd much appreciate it.