The best medicine

So I have an aching wisdom tooth. Again. Because the last time it hurt, I went to the dentist and he, like most American doctors, gave me the "choice" whether to keep the tooth and get a root canal or to have it extracted, and refused to make the choice for me! And of course, I chose to keep it. I'm kicking myself for that decision now, but at the time, I have a feeling I subconsciously wanted to avoid a tooth extraction. 

That's the thing about American medical care. I haven't been able to decide whether it's great that they leave all decisions to you or not. I mean, in theory, I should be making decisions that affect my body. But in practice, am I really qualified to do so? I don't think so. I sometimes prefer the Indian doctor's way. They make decisions, give you their honest opinions based on their experience, and you give them your full trust. (Of course, there are some other aspects of American medical care that are just great, but neither is perfect.)

As I was thinking about this difference in approach, I was reminded of this dermatologist who I had once consulted in my teens in India. I have this "birthmark" on my right hand that tends to show up when I get tanned but lightens up otherwise. After a particularly bad summer, it kind of stood out and I wouldn't stop obsessing about it. Perhaps I was going through a period of typical teen identity crisis, but whatever it was, I promptly consulted a dermatologist about it. Not surprisingly, he said that plastic surgery was the only permanent solution, but since I was too young, he wasn't recommending it. Adamant, I kept asking him if there was any medicine that could help. Anything at all. After saying 'no' a couple of times, he simply looked me in the eye and said, do you know how many patients I have seen who have a mark just like that on their face? You're lucky it's on your hand where probably no one notices it. Some might consider this brash or belittling a patient's problem, and I'm fairly certain that the average American doctor would never say anything like this, but it proved to be the best medicine for my problem. It made me reflect on how trivial the whole thing was when there were people out there who were dealing with more serious issues. I've never once complained about the birthmark since. 

Ads and blues

So it's 12 in the night, I'm experiencing the home/family/country blues which I get once in a while. One gets so caught up in life that sometimes you don't notice how quickly time has gone by and that you haven't been "home" in over 1.5 years. There was a time when I used to be surprised when people said, "I haven't been to India in 5 years". But perhaps, I'm slowly inching towards that myself now.

I must admit that these days I don't think of home as often as I used to, when I first moved here. I don't feel the void as consciously; now it's hidden somewhere deep within and surfaces every now and then.

Earlier, birthdays and festivals and weddings used to trigger memories. But now, oddly, it's no longer the big and obvious stuff. I think of home when I hear a fan whirring. I think of home when I read news about interest rates in India. I think of home when I hear a loud horn on the road (a rarity even in New York). I think of home when I spot things, long forgotten, in the local Indian store from my childhood days (like picnic chocolate!).

And when I really miss home, I've resorted to doing odd things, like going on an Indian ad-watching marathon on Youtube. Yes, I watch ad after ad, both childhood "favorites" like Nirma and Liril and Perk, as well as new ones. This is almost impossible to explain, but maybe it has something to do with the elderly (and somewhat inconsiderate) neighbor who would wake up at 5 am and switch on the radio with ads blasting on full-volume until we left for school, and perhaps these ads help me relive those moments? Maybe it has to do with the fact that some of these ads are rather upbeat and could lift anyone's spirits? Or maybe, they're just plain entertaining. Whatever it is, it seems to help. Just throwing it out there as the odd "home remedy" in case anyone else experiences these blues.

Anyway, one of my recent favorites is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfYLu_MhLQQ . Those who've read one of my previous posts (with somewhat extreme views on portrayal of women in advertisements) might wonder how I don't think that this ad stereotypes women, but it's so adorable in it's own way, and the mother's character is so endearing that I could not help but like it.

Yawn! I think I'm sleepy now...

This one says "Don't worry, be happy"

Well, I'm home, sick, today so as I browsed through some Facebook updates, I stumbled upon this recommended article. The title of the article (which, in my honest opinion, could've used some serious editing and better authorship) is "Don't worry, be happy" and it tries to explain why a whopping 87% of Indian women are stressed compared to say, an average of 53% of American women (according to a survey). It covers a number of issues by way of explanation, ranging from female infanticide to female jealousy. It's not a terrible attempt, but I'd like to offer an explanation or two of my own to explain these numbers, which I think, could very well be close to the truth.

Also, I'd like to focus on a narrower section of the Indian society, one that I can relate to - the middle class. Rather than seek complicated theories, I think I'll start with the more obvious things that we've all seen our mothers deal with.

The Indian mother revels in a life-long of worrying. It's almost a duty. And it begins when your kid first steps into school. Emphasis on education and grades is so high in India that the average mother (or more so, the Indian mother of the "average student") is constantly worried about her son or daughter not doing well in school. Then, as they get older, there are the 10th board exams, followed by the 12th exams, followed by myriad "entrance exams" to gain admission into a decent University, followed by admissions into post graduate programs, all of which give Indian parents sleepless nights for financial and other reasons. Because, even today, a good education is the only path to a comfortable life in India, and Indian parents cannot see their kids making the cardinal mistake of not paying attention in school. By the time this long saga of education is over (consider multiple iterations for multiple children), it's time to worry about getting your daughter and/or son married. Indian parents, unlike parents in the West, are rather involved in finding a their children's life partners for them. This is no joke and I can only imagine the pressure this puts on a parent. This can take years, and the wedding itself is typically 6 months or so of pure, unadulterated stress. After this, it's time to help the kids raise their young ones (if you have 2 kids, you can assume 4 grand children).

So, honestly, when does this end? Also, I'm not saying that Indian fathers are not worried. They are, but like all other men, they can fall back on cricket/beer to distract themselves every now and then (not being critical, just envious). Women on the other hand can seriously obsess. Anyway, that was my two cents. Can I offer solutions? Actually, no. A large part of this stress is cultural - the need to solve all your children's problems. And that gets handed down from generation to generation. Until that changes, the stress will remain.

If Spidey were a sitar player

Would Mary Jane be a Bharatanatyam dancer? OK, silly, I know. But when we saw Key West's local Spidey playing the sitar, I had to stop and watch.

This Spidey's message: Peace, love and music

Hey stranger!!

So is this what meeting a childhood sweetheart feels like? A rush of memories from the past, an initial awkwardness, followed by something clumsy being said? Nope, that just sounds like a case of blogging after 6 months of silence.

I mean, I haven't written for 6 months, especially after having made a promise like that. And then I forgot my second blog anniversary! (Now I'm thinking that perhaps a comparison to marriage is more apt? :)). Anyway, I did stare at my screen for a full 30 minutes before I even started to write. And when I did, I didn't really have anything interesting to say. I mean, I could chronicle the past 6 months of my life in excruciating detail if you want, but I've never been that kind of blogger. Perhaps for the same reason that I rarely have Facebook status updates. I just don't think that the events in my life are so riveting as to warrant updating everyone who cares to listen or not. (Obviously, I presume my rambling blog posts are more tolerable...)

Although, I must say that after I recently saw a Facebook status about a "growth" on a somewhat objectionable part of someone's body, I realized that maybe I'm being too hard on myself and might have more interesting things to say than some. (Until I noticed that the aforementioned status got a couple of 'likes', and that undermined my new-found confidence a little...) And so, as a quick summary, the last 6 months have been fairly event-less. Just a lot of work, some introspection as I inch closer to the big 3O, a couple of brief vacations. And the death of a dear aunt. I've known her since I was a baby and she lived near us for a good part of my childhood and teenage years. A most loving and generous person. As always, a regret, too late, about not having stayed in touch or called often or spent time with her.

There were other things that I would've loved to write about, but I usually like writing about stuff as it happens. For instance, yesterday I watched a new Hindi movie. Is it just me or are there way too many incongruous/forced references to Hollywood cliches in Bollywood these days? I mean, whatever happened to the time when Bollywood was unapologetically Bollywood? Sure we've copied Hollywood in the past but we at least had the decency to put our very own Bolly-spin on it. But now these movies are trying too hard to pretend that this is what India really is today. Is it? I mean, I wouldn't know, someone tell me. I haven't visited in over an year, but something tells me that we don't stand under a canopy and exchange rings at weddings etc. But then, maybe I'm just being an old-school Bollywood fanatic and everyone else has moved on?

Anyway, this is a clumsy post, as you were cautioned earlier. Now that we have it out of the way, I hope to write more (and better), although given my record with promises, I'm not sure when that will be. Hopefully really soon. It's good to be back :)

Resolutions

Hello, anybody there? I know I haven't blogged in a while, because, well, I got a promoted at work, got significantly busier, and stopped following most of the advice I give on my blog. I know, I know, such is life or, rather, such am I... Anyway, I was recently whining to T about how I was beginning to lose touch with my friends, not blogging as much as I'd like, not working out, etc. as I'm so busy these days, to which she relayed Butterfly's words "For things that matter, you make time". So there, I found my resolution for 2011 - I'll make time :). For all those still reading this blog, thanks for sticking around and happy new year!

Too blessed to be stressed...

These were the words of the visibly tired "maintenance man" as I walked into my apartment building, exhausted, after a long day of work. He said this to someone who was enquiring after him. I could really use those words. These days work is insanely busy, which means that my head has been spinning with Monday's ToDos that are far from done on Thursday, I haven't had lunch in weeks, I've started buying clothes online, hitting the gym is a distant thought, and my blog hasn't been gettin' any lovin'. Heck, not even a worldless wednesday!

But I'm feeling the "good kind of tired" though, if there is such a thing. After a long time, I'm really enjoying what I do. And I have these words of wisdom from our always-smiling maintenance man to see me through the next few weeks as I get more organized and hopefully find time for myself again. Until then, Happy Diwali Everyone!!!

The Shopper and the Shauppeur

These days, many of my "blogger-thoughts" seem to occur while shopping. I hope I can say this without sounding shallow or inane. Anyway, today, I accompanied the husband to a store to help him pick out a pair of jeans. Finding myself in the unusual role of the shauppeur (okay, it's not a real word, but, you know, shauppeur = shop + chauffeur = someone who drives/accompanies you to shopping), it struck me, for the first time, that stores in the US almost never have any seating. It's almost as if they don't want the many waiting spouses/friends/parents accompanying their customers to have this basic comfort.

This lead to a sudden (and emotional) flashback to stores in India where customer service is impeccable. Right from the 'aiye behenji' greeting, to seating customers comfortably as someone tirelessly unfolds and displays hundreds of sarees while the behenji-suddenly-turned-diva rejects them one after the other with a shake of her head. The behenji is then shown how the saree will look on her, the saleswoman, and the store manager so that she can get a truly accurate picture of what the saree looks like, and is convinced that there really is no catch. And this I will never understand - how is it humanly possible to smile at someone who walks away after all this without buying anything? Epitome of human endurance if you ask me.

Anyway, back to America where, except for a 30-day return policy (which I will forever be grateful for), customers aren't treated as gods. Now, the behenji-business ain't gonna fly in America, but I would imagine that at least seating shauppeurs will allow them to busy themselves with Facebook apps on their iPhones and whine less, so that the shoppers can take their time to browse the store and find something they like. This may particularly help the case of the tired/irritable/impatient/well-past-the-dating-stage-I-don't-have-to-impress-no-more shauppeurs.

But then again, having no seating may force shauppeurs to browse the store themselves and perhaps buy something (I did eye a this pair of pink jeans that I almost tried today). Two birds with one stone maybe? This may hold true mostly for female shauppeurs though. What do you guys think?

Anyway, this post isn't just an attempt to understand the complex science of shoppology, but of late, I've noticed how little time and money is spent in understanding what people want, and how much of it is spent on something that someone sitting within the confines of an office thinks is a great idea. Just trying to see if paying attention to little things can make a difference. To the perceptive eye, some of my posts have undercurrents ...

On Water - Blog Action Day 2010

(Click here for source of image)

On most mornings, as I brush my teeth, I just let the water run all the time. Then I spend a good 20 minutes in the shower before leaving for work. And not even for a moment do I stop to think that over a billion people in this world have no access to something as basic as clean water. Thing is, living a sheltered life in urban India, followed by a move to America, has, over time, made me forget this harsh reality, until I got an invite for the international blog action day on water.

Frankly, like most people out there, I have been largely ignorant of the global water crisis. As I began to google, I realized that I did not want to blog about "facts and stats" today. There is loads of research out there describing the problem at hand and it's ghastly consequences. And few people reading this blog (myself included) will remember all the numbers (although a billion is quite unforgettable!). So I thought, what can I, and those like me, do to help in their own little way?

The answer came to me from the very idea of Blog Action Day - awareness. It really is the first step. A general awareness (if not a complete understanding) of the problem at hand is what will drive each one of us to do our bit to help solve this problem. As an example, I never used a reusable grocery bag until I found out that New York City produces an insane amount of waste every day. Knowing that, made me feel like I had to do something about it, and I have refused many a plastic bag over the past year. Awareness, and a little initiative is all it took.

So, know that over a billion people in this world do not have the "luxury" of clean, drinking water. Know that hundreds of thousands of children die in India every year from water-borne diseases. Know that millions of little girls drop out of school because they have to walk miles and miles each day to fetch water. Know, that 40 billion hours are spent each year by Africans walking for water. Know, that while gallons of water are being wasted in one household, another goes thirsty. And finally, don't ignore it and be part of the solution in your own little way.

Save water. Reduce pollutants. Support NGOs that are working hard to solve this monolithic problem. Spread awareness. And this one is free, easy and fun - contribute to ideas! Think-tanks, and members of organizations like Asha for Education have been putting their minds together to come up with solutions to the water-crisis problem in places like Jhabua, Madhya Pradesh, India*. Water-crisis spins a complex web of socio-economic problems and there is much you can do to contribute in the form of ideas/research/volunteering.

To end with a line that will make us all appreciate the severity of this problem - "A recent UN report confirms that more people die of contaminated and polluted water than from all forms of violence including wars." (ref) I, for my part, will not let water run waste in my sink or tub from today, and recyle. Will you?

*Special thanks to Sharad Sundararajan and Shreya Amin for leading the efforts for Jhabua from New York.

Wordless Wednesdays

The Fine Line

I love Desperate Housewives. What I love about the show is that even with a name like that, they refuse to portray their leading female characters as idiots, which is increasingly becoming a rarity on Television. These women are shown as fundamentally strong, intelligent, and witty without being Charlie's Angels or CSI Detectives, and I'm fine if they throw a cat-fight or two into the mix just to add some drama - it's a TV show after all.

Now, what I cannot stand is shows like 'The Real Housewives of...' series, Bridezillas or Paris Hilton's new BFF, whose sole purpose seems to be to slot women into one of three categories - bitchy, dumb or gold-digger. Over time, I've sort of made my peace with this portrayal - unfortunate, but someone out there gets a kick out of this stuff, and money must be made off it. But this Sunday, I was completely ticked off after seeing this ad.

Some would say this is a harmless ad. So why am I so riled, when I could look past Bridezillas? You see, once advertising misses the fine line between stupidity and comedy, and begins to think that women must be portrayed as dumb in order to potentially lure female consumers, one must take notice of the gravity of the problem.

My issues with this ad are, but obvious. Firstly, it is not funny. Yes, I mean even with grown women in Cinderella-like gowns, wearing those silly expressions. If they were going for comedy, they failed miserably. Those women could have been witty and funny - it's not entirely impossible. Even SATC could teach you a lesson or two on how to do that! Secondly, these people from advertising and marketing didn't stop to think if self-respecting women would want to buy butter-finger snacksters after seeing such an ad (and not just because they're called butter-finger snacksters)? No, just like in the ad, I think I won't! You see, I would feel stupid eating those things, now that I have the image of those two silly women stuck in my head, know what I mean?

And I'm not overreacting either. This ad is only one in a string of such insulting ads that I saw this weekend. And even if some women don't consciously feel offended by this (it's almost impossible to mentally register ads these days given all the info overload), I'm not sure if the overall impression of such ads appeals to the average woman's subconscious at least. So, to all the ad agencies/TV shows out there, please, take a leaf out of Desperate Housewives. And if you absolutely must show us as "girly girls", you could learn from 'The Closer' where Kyra Sedgwick has such a weakness for chocolate that she steals donuts from a crime scene while superbly solving a homicide mystery. I can live with that. Just not stupidity.

A different kind of drama

The other day, I "reconnected" with someone from my school who was known to be brilliant but was always pushed hard by her parents for that one extra mark she couldn't get. I imagine there was a showdown every time she took home the report card. That reminded me of the comically different situation in my family.

Just for some background, when I was growing up, I took my exams way too seriously. To be precise, I was your perfect Debbie Downer meets the evening-before-the-big-exam-drama-queen. For years, my family patiently put up with my obsession to ace every single exam, made worse by strong pessimism about how I was actually going to do in them.

Inevitably, national engineering entrance exams happened. I enrolled in this soul-crushing course called Brilliant Tutorials. True to their name, they are only meant for out-of-this-world brilliant people who shouldn't even need to take their course. Now most people I knew, myself included, never got past 20/100 in their tests. (Although, there was always some brilliant rascal from Chennai who managed to score a 90/100 and made you feel like an insect.) In those days, people wrote on paper, and results were sent in snail-mail. On one occasion, things played out like this (10 years ago):

Me: Mom, did the Brilliant guy send my exam papers home? Everyone in school go theirs 3 days ago. Are you sure the watchman/postman/you didn't miss them?
Mom: (avoiding eye contact) No, I didn't see any.
Me: How come everyone else got them? Do you think they lost my papers? Oh my God! They lost my papers! (looking close to tears).
Mom: (Looks helplessly at my brother who's the worst liar on earth.)
Me: What is it? Are you hiding something from me?
Mom: (Reaches for papers under the sofa cushion.) They came in the other day just before you walked in from school. There wasn't enough time so I hid them beneath the cushion.. (voice trails off)
Me: I got only 14?!! What the hell! I can't believe you did this to me!
Mom: I'm so sorry, nanna. I didn't want you to get upset.. (sheepishly)

Now that's a scene you don't find in most Indian households - parents hiding their child's results! Whether it was done out of love or out of fear of the drama queen is debatable ;) but I will say this - I couldn't have asked for a cooler family who never believed that my grades defined me, or that bad grades are a good reason to get upset.

P.S.: "Shortened" and republished for brevity's sake.

Yellowstone National Park in Pictures

Last week we visited Yellowstone National Park. Having already told everyone we know how cool our vacation was on Facebook, I have moved on to my blog (No, I am not above flaunting. And yes, Facebook takes precedence as I get more comments there). Now, my knowledge of Geology is almost zero, and I still know very little about Yellowstone - both good reasons to let the lovely pictures clicked by the husband do the talking. Here are a few.

Scenic drive - just kept getting better and better.

Some very interesting terrain - roaring mountain, mammoth springs... Almost felt like a different planet.

Hot springs and some interesting life forms that survive these high temperatures. The one on the left is called emerald pool.

Some hot stuff this! Was quite the thrill to stand a few feet from these geysers and mud volcanoes at Old Faithful, Norris Basin, Dragon's mouth...

Spotted some wildlife too. A friendly bison even stopped by our van.

Water bodies. So pure and untouched. Yellowstone Lake, West Thumb, Lamar Valley.

Yellowstone by dusk. That dashing man in the picture is my husband...

On our way back we stopped at Grand Teton National Park and enjoyed some huckleberry margaritas at the Blue Heron at Jackson Lake Lodge. There couldn't possibly be a place with better views.

That was a great trip!

General advise on itineraries and how to plan your Yellowstone trip can be found in abundance on the net. Only thing I'll add is don't believe anyone who says 4 days is too little to explore Yellowstone. Sure more the vacation days, the merrier, but if you can't take more than a day or two off work, you can still very much enjoy Yellowstone, so don't let that deter you.

On inception and recursion

I have often noticed how engineers think very analytically, even about the most mundane/unexpected things. The other day I was having lunch with a bunch of fellow computer science "enthusiasts". One of them declared that he hadn't seen the movie, and here's a snippet of the conversation that followed (spoiler alert...oh, and geek alert too):

C: Inception is like a dream within a dream within a dream...There are multiple levels, sort of like recursion.
AK: Every time you die, you get popped off the stack and go back to your previous dream.
P: But under some circumstances the dream could just hang for a long time, no?
AK: Yes, if you're highly sedated...
C: Sometimes you can't tell if you're dreaming or awake. Leonardo's wife dies because she thinks she's killing herself in a dream, but it's actually real life.
NR: Bad design.
P: Pch. No error handling.
AM: That is why they had the totem. It's like a global variable.

Ah, what would the world be without us engineers...

P.S.: If you're not one of "us", then sorry about the computer jargon. I promise not to do this often.

EDIT: Oh, and what a coincidence - Happy Engineer's Day my brethren!

A tribute to Maggi Noodles

Thank you, Maggi Noodles, for always being there. On late Sunday afternoons as a stand-in for lunch. At 2 am, when hunger pangs are at their worst. When recipes go terribly wrong. When I was still learning that buying milk, tomatoes and Hershey's kisses is not what one calls "doing your groceries". And when I finally accepted that, contrary to my mother's belief, age and experience won't necessarily improve my cooking skills.

Whether I'm feeling like sambar, curry or Chinese, all I need is two minutes and you can make my wishes come true. Pray when will they make chocolate fudge Maggi? Never disappointing, always satisfying, a beacon of hope for those of us who cannot cook - thank you, Maggi Noodles.

P.S. I thought of writing a corny poem using the line "You're not just a Noodle, you're the Dude-le", but better sense prevailed and I decided to spare my readers the agony. M surely remembers the poem I once wrote for her birthday. Never quite heard the end of it until I left college...

I'm a vegetarian and I love my leather boots

My recent trip to the land that knows nothing of the existence of vegetarians (a.k.a New Orleans) made me reflect on why I was still vegetarian. I mean, it's not very easy being vegetarian. While NYC is as vegetarian friendly as an American city can possibly be, I did spend two long years in Pennsylvania, mostly ordering pancakes and fries at restaurants for dinner because I had nothing else to choose from. But I was never the least bit tempted to sway. So, I developed some grandiose notions about why I had stuck with vegetarianism while many "had strayed from the path". Clearly, they were "too weak".

Of course, the fundamental reason why I'm vegetarian is because I was raised vegetarian. But then I was raised to be a lot of (good) things that I am not today. For instance, I come from a household that set a store by keeping one's place very clean and organized, whereas I dread unannounced guests for a reason (never, ever show up unannounced at my place). So upbringing couldn't have been the only reason.

Then I thought that I was vegetarian because "it was the right thing to do". After I moved to the US, I quickly lost that notion. I stopped thinking that eating meat was some sort of sin. So I decided that I must be vegetarian because I was non-violent - I didn't want to see some innocent creature get hurt. But one day I realized, much to my horror, that I had fallen in love with a pair of lovely leather boots and had no compunction whatsoever in buying them. They're my favorite, most comfortable pair of boots I've ever owned and if I ever had to replace them, I'd do so with (gasp) the exact same pair if I can (Do you know hard it is to find a good pair of boots?). This was an eye-opener and I quickly checked off love of animals as a possible candidate.

Thus I've concluded that it is neither strength of character nor principle nor love for all things living that is keeping me vegetarian. Clearly I'm somewhat hypocritical, and I think I must generally be disgusted by meat, the same way I'm disgusted by beets and spinach and raw plantain (ugh!). Nothing great about that, but in the grand scheme of things if a chicken or two is saved, then all the better.

Shopping, these days...

Over the years, I've found that my patience with shopping has significantly waned. If I see a longish line outside a fitting room or cash register (a rather common sight in New York), I more often than not overcome my desire to own new clothes and escape almost instantly.

So today I went shopping again. I know, I know, I bought a lot lately but the weather's turning rather grey in New York which means that fall is here and somehow, yet again, I have nothing to wear! (Digressing a bit here, but how is it that one can own so many clothes and still have nothing to wear? It's a baffling phenomenon that seems to afflict only women...)Anyway, as I stood in a line outside the fitting room contemplating whether I should try a sweater on to confirm if the extra small size in GAP is really a medium or not (Have you seen what GAP calls small ?!!), I saw a visibly exhausted mother sit down to rest her tired feet after spending probably several hours shopping with her teenage daughter for back-to-school clothes. While the daughter enthusiastically tried on clothes and showed no signs of relenting, her tired, but patient mother looked on. And suddenly I was reminded of all the times when I went shopping with my mother. I would insist we survey every store in town before going back to the first store to buy the first outfit I had tried, while my mother shook her head in disbelief and indulged a daughter who never seemed to tire of shopping. It was so much fun. Mothers and daughters just have this thing, you know? I miss you mummy! :(

Off to New Orleans!

So we're going away this weekend to New Orleans! We decided around two weeks ago to make the trip and ever since then, two things have become apparent to me: (a) The anticipation of an impending vacation is one of the best payoffs of taking a vacation, (b) A woman's approach to a vacation is vastly different from that of a man.

I think (a) is self-explanatory, but let me dwell on (b) for a bit. If you're a man, your approach most likely will be - "Tickets are booked. Great. We leave at 7 for the airport". But, if you're a woman, it all begins with the quintessential pre-vacation question - "What am I going to wear?". And one thing will lead to another and before you know it, your "incidental expenses" will outweigh expenses of your trip itself. So, a new top, a new skirt, new clothes for the husband, a bag of goodies from Sephora, a new perfume, and a hair styling appointment later, we're all set to leave this evening. Will blog about New Orleans once we're back!

PS: This is for my fellow makeup junkies. My haul from Sephora consisted of a smudge-proof eye pencil from Urban Decay, liquid eye liner from Tattoo, Eye shadow in Galapagos from Nars, and a soft-pencil lip color in Walkyrie from Nars as well. Haven't tried all of them yet, so right now, I can only vouch for the lip color which I also used at my wedding two years ago. So hard to find a good shade for lip color for brown women around here somehow. If anyone knows of any, please help out :).

Happy Independence Day!

Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Indians out there! Missing the unbridled celebration that is so characteristic of India. In fact, I miss it on all festivals too - the loud speakers, the pandals, the decorations, the singing and dancing on the streets - that vibrant, unrestrained celebration that we Indians are so fond of. Nothing holds us back when we're happy or sad, and I think it takes a certain amount of unity and love and pureness of heart to be able to express oneself so freely.

For all the Steven Slater admirers out there..

Slater's got style. The man is now famous for calling it quits. An overnight celebrity of sorts for not being able to take it any more. So, while I've given Susan Boyle and Octomom a miss, Slater gets a place in my blog. Why? Because, you see, Slater hasn't really done anything that remarkable. He neither wowed millions with a dramatic singing performance, nor did he push 8 babies out of his uterus and live to tell the story. He simply had a meltdown at work. Anyone thinking so what's the big deal? Well, it's just that thousands, perhaps even millions, of people gazing out the office window on a Wednesday afternoon wondering how much longer for the weekend to arrive, will now have the comfort of drawing a mental picture of escaping to freedom via an emergency chute, beers in hand, no less. That sort of thing can change lives. If that's not a big deal, then what is?

Now, I'm no legal expert, nor do I know anything about airline safety, but all I have to say is this. Give the guy a reality show already! Move over, Fly Girls (yes, someone actually thought of a show on flight attendants even before this exciting event) The most famous flight attendant in history is here!