Carbon neutral blogging

As we drive around getting to places we need to be, doing the things that need to be done, and making the best of our time and energy, it does seem hard to look at the big picture at times... and, every once in a while, we do what we can so our children need not grow up in a world that gets progressively hostile, stifling their existence, making even the basic function tedious...

Towards that end, we make small positive changes in our lives today, hoping the Snowball effect or the Butterfly effect will take care of making it better for our children.

Well, rather than rambling about it, here is one step which seems easy to do, thanks to an initiative by kaufDA. In their own words:

Our goal is to contribute our part in reducing the carbon footprint by raising awareness of the severe environmental damage caused by carbon emissions. One of our activities is to raise awareness of the carbon emissions resulting from the use of the internet - specifically of blogs. A blog with 15,000 visits a month has a yearly carbon dioxide emissions of 8lb. To neutralise these emissions we have created "My blog is carbon neutral" buttons so bloggers can demonstrate that they care about the environment and the carbon footprint of their blogs. We present them a small but nontheless worthy solution to contribute to environmental issues. Our idea is to show possibilities to make a contribution to protect the environment.

To find out how you can participate please visit http://www.kaufda.de/umwelt/carbon-neutral/how-you-can-join

And how do we actually neutralize your blog's carbon footprint? We are planting trees in cooperation with the Arbor Day Foundation in Plumas National Forest in Northern California for our project to neutralize the carbon footprint of blogs. Thousands of wildfires burned down many national forests over the past ten years and 88.000 acres of Plumas' were destroyed by two fires in 2007. To help replanting we need the support of bloggers all over the world! For every participating blog we plant a tree. One blog - one tree.

Why do we do this? We are a German based company called kaufDA, which provides advertisement brochures of local stores online to help consumers search for specific products and find good deals in their neighborhood. This reduces the amount of brochures printed and so the project helps the environment by reducing unnecessary paper in mailboxes. An American on average receives 41 pounds of junk mail per year. This has the same carbon footprint as burning six gallons of gasoline.

We'd be glad to plant your tree! Help us and show that you care! Every tree counts!

Interesting Indian Ads

I got these in my Inbox a while back and thought some were brilliant.
(Might have to click on the image to see full size text)

Springwater Corridor, my little haven

Barely perceptible warmth of the evening sun caressing my back

Refreshingly cool zephyr gently inciting goosebumps

Whispering rustling marsh plants waving, conspiring

Bold animated toads and frogs croaking and chorusing

Steller's Jay scolding, loud ducks quacking , sweet geese honking

Tiny lambs bleating, busy chickens clucking, proud peacocks clamoring

Springwater Corridor, thank you for lifting my spirits so high.

Northwest Film & Video Festival

Found another vintage treasure in my Inbox along with the announcement for a Wish-I-Could-Participate kind of event:
the NW Film & Video Festival
Nov 6^th through 14^th.

I have always liked embroidered patches.

One of the souvenirs I look for during trips/vacations is rustic-looking embroidered patches that I can add to my existing clothes, well, to my kids' clothes nowadays...

And, when they outgrow the clothes, I simply remove the patch and sew it on the current clothes so they always have a 'souvenir outfit' that they can't outgrow :)

Anyway, I am digressing...

Even though it is dwarfed by its counterparts in NY and SFO, Portland Art Museum is a lovely place to be on a soggy Fall day. Or, any other day, for that matter :)

Maybe I'll take half a day off and spend a quiet afternoon there one of these days...

Ddim rŵan, of course.

No Buffeting, No Chopping Fan

Found another neat thing in my Inbox (thanks Dan at RBR!).

Can't wait to replace my noisy old industrial strength fan with this sleek and elegant bladeless one.

While the pros seem a no-brainer - not noisy, not a cleaning nightmare, not to mention the chopping hazard if I leave it accessible to the kids...

...the sole con I can think of is just about as weighty: can't make the R.D Burman-esque "Mehbooba Mehbooba" (Sholay) effect when I sing using it as a proxy microphone.

As their website explains, "The blades on conventional fans cause unpleasant buffeting because they chop the air before it hits you." And this chopping is what makes the Mehbooba vocals a hit for me...

Hmmm. Tough.

Trompe L'oeil

Found these in my Inbox (thanks Darcie!)

These mind-blowing Trompe L'oeil (trick the eye) 3D murals are painted on the sides of buildings by artist John Pugh.

Main Street, Los Gatos , California. Even the woman peering into the ruin is part of the mural.

Taylor Hall, California State University , Chico , California. The Doric-style columns are actually nothing but paint.

Honolulu, Hawaii. This mural took two months of studio work to plan and another six months to execute with the help of 11 other artists. Featured are Queen Liliuokalani, the last monarch of the Hawaiian Islands , and Duke Kahanamoku, the ultimate father of surfing.

This mural at the Cafe Trompe L'oeil, San Jose , California , is entitled "Art Imitating Life Imitating Art Imitating Life". This customer doesn't leave at closing time.

Twenty-nine Palms, California . Valentine the bull and a patient buzzard are waiting for the artist to awake.

Bay in a Bottle, Santa Cruz , California . The passer-by is part of the mural. Looks like a nice spot to rest your weary feet on a sidewalk in front of the Sarasota County Health Center, Florida.

"Slowin' Down to Take a Look" in Winslow , Arizona. Included, of course, is "a girl, my lord, in a flat bed Ford slowin' down to take a look at me."

Vintage-style Shopping Lists

turn into delightfully appealing typographic art at Shopping Losts

While GIMP is nothing to be sneezed at, the tool is only as good as the wielder and I am more of a paper-and-pencil artist dipping my toe in the Digital Art ocean, dreaming of all the magic Photoshop will let me create...

If I had the luxury (read money and time) of taking lessons now for pure pleasure, among the many things I'd like to learn, digital art, graphic design, photographic tricks and tips would be somewhere in the top 12.

Of course, I've toyed with the idea of just buying the software and teaching myself with all the lovely tutorials online, but the current budget doesn't allow for such frivolous spending as the $300 or so it would cost to buy the topnotch software... and even if we somehow managed to splurge, it is just an indulgence of mine, not a career enhancer, besides, where would I find the time between job and kids to teach myself anything?!

I keep going back to the Little Box of Dreams as Erma Bombeck so beautifully put it. My box has gotten bottomed out and replenished a few times, but with fewer and fewer items as time goes by... I guess the day it decides to remain empty is the day to pack up and leave...

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

Druk Yul: Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon

D managed to sneak in a short break from his work in India and take a cultural tour of Druk Yul: Kingdom of the Thunder Dragon aka Bhutan.

While he has offered to do a guest post about his experiences one of these days, I am not holding my breath, considering the 10,000 things he has lined up that are much higher priority for him :)


Not being much of a souvenirs person himself, I had to specifically ask him to get back something for those of us who wished we were there but weren't. Kids got a simple and practical T-shirt each, a size bigger so they can grow into it.

D got himself a traditional Bhutanese outfit, Gho, which he loved modeling for us but was reluctant to be pictured in.

I could be persuasive at times, as long as I have justifiable reasons and D is in a reasonable mood :)

It seems comfortable, has a belt and socks to go with it. When going to dzongs and such, apparently a sash is worn over the outfit, the color of the sash determines one's station in society.

Knowing my eagerness for experimenting and my unbridled passion for World Cuisine, he usually comes back from trips with cookbooks loaded with local flavors. I find that quite thoughtful and sweet.

Traditional Bhutanese Food Fair cookbook featuring recipes from various regions of the kingdom, plus a Nepalese cookbook featuring simple recipes from the neighboring country are my newest. And, am already excited about Ema Datsi turning out alright.

And, knowing my love for "artsy stuff" as he puts it, I got some stamps, handmade paper notepads, handmade paper notecards with pressed flowers and such, plus a short video that he managed to shoot that demonstrates how the handmade paper was made - De zo (Paper Making).



That is not all. Oh no, that is not all. While the kids got the well-recognized symbol of dragon in their tees, D decided that would be too blasé and would not aptly suit his wife... and, when he handed me this tee, I just burst out laughing, it was just too cute. While I am usually quite reserved, compared to D I am practically a chatterbox.



He visited Paro and Thimpu, and was particularly thrilled about going to the Tiger's Nest/Lair, which was a distant dream last year when he showed it to me on the web and suggested how wonderful it would be to build something like that for our home, while the practical moi sat there thinking, hmmm... would be lovely view but what about the hike each way to get supplies and take kids to school...



He visited many Dzongs, spun many prayer wheels, explored the Folk Heritage Museum in Thimpu, saw masks being carved, hand-made paper being made, and generally spent the few short days absorbing the local culture and foods as best as possible with a wonderful and friendly guide, Chhimi, who presented his country with quiet dignity.



In addition to the exotic images above, the ones that got my heart racing were the pictures of the Centenary Farmer's Market in Thimpu where villagers from the valley and other nearby places come to sell their agricultural products.



The Institute of Zorig Chusum, of 13 Traditional Arts & Crafts seemed like an interesting place. Images/videos of masks being carved, quilting/embroidery in progress, paper-making, weaving and ornament-making were quite fascinating to see.



Tashichhoedzong, "Fortress of the glorious religion" houses the throne room of His Majesty the King. The imposing 2-story Buddha statue was quite a sight, in the photos at least. Apparently, there was an Archery competition that D managed to see during his short visit, with the King's brother being in the audience.



Ooh, and the Takin Reserve... (more about it soon)
The story behind the Takin, Bhutan's national animal, was interesting.

According to legend, when the great saint Lama Drukpa Kunley (called "the divine madman") visited Bhutan in the 15th century, a large congregation of devotees gathered around the country to witness his magical powers. The people urged the lama to perform a miracle. However, the saint, in his usual unorthodox and outrageous way, demanded that he first be served a whole cow and a goat for lunch. He devoured these with relish and left only bones. After letting out a large and satisfied burp, he took the goat's head and stuck it onto the bones of the cow. And then with a snap of his fingers, he commanded the strange beast to rise up and graze on the mountainside. To the astonishment of the people the animal arose and ran up to the meadows to graze. This animal came to be known as the dong gyem tsey (takin) and to this day, these animals can be seen grazing on the mountainsides of Bhutan...-- Wikipedia

Takin Reserve...



While I couldn't be there, I guess the images and stories D brought back makes me feel like I took the tour myself.

I know many would scoff at the stereotypical tourist seeing everything through camera lens instead of enjoying it straight-up, but, I say Bah! to them... 'coz, if D had not taken the trouble to capture the sights through his unique perspective, I would have missed out on what, to me, at this point, is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity...

Read more...

One other reason I love Portland, OR

Besides the

• bursting-with-Nature Parks in most neighborhoods
• good Fishing & Outdoor recreation
• healthy bike-friendliness even a bike-drive-thru on demand
• love-it-or-hate-it-MAX-rail-transit
• Way-of-Life Farmer's Market
• Refreshingly Casual yet Carelessly Chic Who-the-heck-cares-if-you-can-splurge-on-Designer-Wear attitude which doesn't sacrifice style or sophistication

one other reason I love Portland: it's brilliant Microbreweries!

And, the fact that this isn't a crazy idea here: Bike to Beer Fest

D being a home-brewer, with me being a willing apprentice, beer is not just some cold pale fizzy watery beverage to be chugged down mindlessly in our household.

From delicious dark bocks to light & crisp summer lagers to bold stouts to cheerful fruit-wheat beers, D loves to have a batch of his recipes aging all through the year, if he can find the time.

Home-brewed Chocolate Stout and Raspberry Wheat so far have been my holiday favorites...

Having managed 4 weeks flying solo, I can't wait for D to come home... and can't wait to see if he will get some brew going soon, now that Fall is here and the holiday season is around the corner... I'm thinking Pumpkin Spice...

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.

Not a Museum, just a Home...

Chunks of spent toothpaste clinging desperately to the sink dodging the attempts by a four year old to send it away;

clumps of white shaving foam dotted with the grooming leftovers from a hurried morning routine;

long strands of scraggly dark hair swirling about on the bathtub and floor dodging the persistent fingers;

hand soap, lotion, and toothpaste tubes desperately longing closure;

carelessly tossed little shirts and socks speckling the floor after missing the wide-open laundry hamper.

Spoons laying about the floor, dropped by frustrated infant learning to self-feed or left carelessly after stirring or shoveling something in a hurry;

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 waiting 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;

bits of tissue and coloring pages enthusiastically torn and scattered by an inquisitive and energetic one year old;

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 have them put away you hear But I am still playing with it Amma!

Niggly enough things to encounter in a normal household, but colossal enough to tax my tolerance as I walk in the door after a long day at work, angry that they didn't get sorted out in the whirlwind of a morning.

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.

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...

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...

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!!

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.

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.

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?

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...

"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.

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...

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...

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...