Jokes (do us) Apart…

I have been reading some serious stuff the whole day and for some light relief I opened those bulk mails. Just an effort to think afresh.

You know, what I mean, don’t you? We all do and its no different with me.

And I read some. And remembered TWO of them. Just two of them. Why?
You will find out yourself….

[1] Between the ages of 15 - 20 a woman is like Africa. She is half discovered, half wild. Between the ages of 20 - 30 a woman is like America. Fully discovered and scientifically perfect. Between the ages of 30 - 35, she is like India & Japan. Very hot, wise and beautiful !!!!!!!!! Between the ages of 35 - 40 a woman is like France. She is half destroyed after the war but still desirable. Between the ages of 40 - 50 she is like Germany. She lost the war but not the hope. Between the ages of 50 - 60 she is like Russia. Very wide, very quiet but nobody goes there. Between the ages of 60 - 70 a woman is like England. With a glorious past but no future. After 70, they become Siberia. Everyone knows where it is, but no one wants to go there.

[2] A man wanted to get married. He was having trouble choosing among three likely candidates. He gives each woman a present of $5,000 and watches to see what they do with the money.

The first does a total make-over. She goes to a fancy beauty salon, gets her hair done, new make-up and buys several new outfits, and dresses up very nicely for the man. She tells him that she has done this to be more attractive for him because she loves him so much.

The man was impressed.

The second goes shopping to buy the man gifts. She gets him a new set of golf clubs, some new gizmos for his computer, and some expensive clothes. As she presents these gifts, she tells him that she has spent all the money on him because she loves him so much

Again, the man is impressed.

The third invests the money in the stock market. She earns several times the $5,000. She gives him back his $5,000 and reinvests the remainder in a joint account. She tells him that she wants to save for their future because she loves him so much.

Obviously, the man was impressed.

The man thought for a long time about what each woman had done with the money he'd given her. Then, he married the one with the biggest boobs.

Any guess, who did what? I mean who sent which one?
Err…I mean, more specifically: gender of the sender...ha ha ha…(some comic relief there, as if.).

No prizes for guessing.
[1] some globe trotter still on the look out
[2] some analyst doing rounds of..err…no comments

Just some silly jokes doing rounds for light relief like this. Any comments?

Talking Stats...

Its number game: it scored 1000 hits. I am talking about my blogspot stats.
I am HaPPppy. Keep reading and keep in touch. I hope to be more regular and hope to keep up the expectation.

Tac/Tac su mycket/Gracias/Merci/ Mahalo/Dhanyavaad/Shukriya/Thank you/ blah blah..and blah..

Quote-Unquote

"A wonderful thing about a book, in contrast to a computer screen, is that you can take it to bed with you." - Daniel J Boorstin.

Escaping Escapade

I am safe home and miraculously escaped serial bomb blasts that rocked the capital city this evening. Really a narrow escape of sorts and I am lucky that I am safely back home.

Its kinda usual to catch up with friends or go for a movie on a weekend. And this Saturday was no different. I started the day with some phone calls to plan the weekend while browsing the morning newspaper. Movie I was interested in was not part of a common agenda so it was ruled out. But a get together was planned.

And our hang out zone for this weekend was as always the heart of the city which we fondly refer as CP (Connaught Place) . We still call it CP despite a more Indianized name of 'Rajiv Chowk' as it's become part of our vocabulary. We met and had a good time. Soon it's time to return.

I am for some reason fond of public transport and prefer taking metro rather than hiring a cab or an auto-rickshaw (equivalent to tuk-tuk). And since CP and my place are bang on the metro line its much preferred. And as usual I planned to take a train on my way back home. But for some reason I hovered around that place and stayed back to meet an old acquaintance (I used to live there and had lived almost for two decades in that area) .

Thus I escaped the twin blasts in CP.

If I had not for some reason NOT remembered that occasion and NOT decided to pay him a visit, I would have definitely be near the Central Park in CP around the time the blast was clocked.

I was so oblivious of the tragedy even when I was on my way back until suddenly my phone rang (it was jammed for well over an hour) and my dad broke the news. By then things were under control. And when I was walking down those lanes of Lutyens' Delhi (I like to walk those lanes; it brings me nostalgia from my childhood days), I was the only soul walking down the street.

Now the BIG question was: how do I get home?

My friends have already gone home, so no cars for me (and I don't drive). Delhi is on alert and all shops are closed, all street corners are deserted. My options were: a) to get in one of those crowded public buses and go bonkers with the thought of a blast on the bus for an hour (it takes an hour to reach my place on a bus); b) wait for an auto-rickshaw if it is willing to go my way; c) and wait till metro starts plying (it was stopped for security reasons).

I was getting all kinds of suggestions as friends and family were calling me non-stop. In my mind, walking was the safest mode but it's bit of an irrational thought to walk 20 KM. I completely ruled out the option of public bus as there is no control who boards and with what. News still pouring in about yet to explode bombs which were yet to be found. So, I patiently walked towards the nearest metro station and was greeted by a long queue; dozens of police vehicles; reporters from TV channels; sirens and hooters going on non-stop. I thought in my head: its much better to wait and get frisked and screened and be sure that there is no bomb in any one's bag. For some reason I trust the way metro functions.

But, you know for some reason I did not sound even for a second or felt 'panicked'; that's a strange realization. I was walking as if nothing happened. I was waiting in the queue amidst those brouhaha as if nothing can move me.

And I came home unscathed. I am alive.

Where is SIR?

Umm…I would not have even attempted to write something on this line if today for the n-th time I had not heard this. I guess it made up to the level to ‘inspire’ me for a blog post instead of writing what my super cute boss has been insisting on for a few days now (just two days to be precise, I will finish that the first thing after this one, promise!).

Well, the question was: “where is ‘sir’ (it was not ‘sir’ but a variation of sorts in Hindi)? Ohh, he must be at work” Whoa?

To tell you the whole thing I have to mince a few more words. So, allow me.

I am on my own. And off late, I am REALLY on my own (Read: started to stay in the flat I had bought earlier this year). This requires me to commission works when I want to fix some particular furniture or an appliance the way I want. Which further means I need to meet/talk with carpenters, electricians, plumbers, painters, etc etc and bring them home and tell them their job and supervise. Quite a process.

I am a perfectionist when it comes to a job and I can be really ‘bossy’ in my just five feet (or even less than that) stature and a nice façade (Read: face).

In India (especially) it is normal for people to be overtly curious. I have been courting volleys..err queries around who all are the occupants in my flat. I guess it’s because these workers around here do not think a female can be a sole occupant when I ONLY bring them home and I am the ONLY person they see in the place. And then it’s a full fledged house, so they are ‘entitled’ to think its housing a family and not just ‘only the female’ they meet.

And depending upon how blunt the question my repertoire varies between being sharp and rude to being snappy and snubbing. I have heard them all and tackled them with an effortless ‘dodging’ of a footballer in a way “dude, just tell me whether it functions properly or not; it’s immaterial whether for 10 people or one. And don’t ask me how many people will drink water from this water purifier in a day?”

Ummm…that was easy.

Then came a smart one from this electrician (who apparently knows my family, my dad and all): “who all will be staying here? Are you all shifting here?”

Umm…I had no clear answer. Because, I don’t want to give him any info. So I very nicely swallowed the question, yikes!

He’s a very curious sort, so he did not stop at that: "you are not married, right? Is this ok for you to stay here all alone?"

Urghhh…I least expected this one. So it was a shocker of sorts. But he has a point; he wants your info, that’s his birth-right. When you don’t even look married (well, here in India women sport certain symbols when they are taken…well, I mean married) why on earth you chose to live separately (he has been working for us for five past years or so, so has the right to talk like my granny!) I murmured something and I felt really angry while answering, so I preferred not to repeat it clearly in more audible voice (dont want to spoil a relationship; I very timely remembered advice of my so-very-good-at-man-management brother) and started to call some numbers while toying with my mobile. I later heard from dad that the electrician had paid him a visit and showed concerns around my new flat and that he (my dad) had not made a right decision.

Many more such comments followed and forgotten (as they did not ‘affect’ me so much) and I was just getting more used to the ‘game’; becoming a veteran of sorts.

Then it was the turn of my ‘I-don’t-know-what-to-say’ neighbor. He meets my brother during his weekend visits and very happily he goes on blabbering: “good that you started to stay here, it was lying vacant for so many months. So, it’s you and your wife?” Wow!! what imagination, I say, really creative imagination!!

It’s hard to engage my brother in a conversation in the middle of a staircase and when his smile can make you forget what your next sentence was. So, that was it.
And this one is so typical: watch this. This neighbor always watches me in the place, day in and day out and not my brother but he only chooses to ask questions to him. Such “gender sensitive” some people are! Anyway, my brother and him have become very goody-goody-hi-hello pals ever since.

But coming back to what made me start it all: I am revamping the look (not mine) of my flat and planned some more work and hence engaged a few more workers. I needed to go to their workshop and place an order and they needed to come and fix it after a week. They came (I brought them as they never came to this part of town or village?).
They entered, and looked in, and kept on looking as if they wanted someone to come out of the corridor, or the bathroom or whatever nook and corner not visible from the entrance. Well, what’s the matter?

Where is ‘sir’? I was like: windows are here, why do you need ‘sir’ in the house? I kept silent, I did not know how to react. Thank heavens, he incorporated his own answers: "Ohh, he must be at work.."

Umm…what?? I am paying you for what you are planning to fix on my windows and then I gave you correct measurements. I even got this helpful doorman remain standby in case he needs a hand. Now, why you need a ‘sir’ to appear from nowhere?

Anyway, here I am waiting for ‘sir’ to appear from nowhere to come home after his work. And then I have a ‘weekend-husband’ visiting me with such sexy smile (now I know from where my ‘I-don’t-know-what-to-say’ neighbor got so imaginative).

Now you know how it feels in my new place, on my own with ‘husband’ and ‘sir’ trooping in from all over. And I say: I don’t really know what to say. I am sort of speechless.

Umm….that’s something new..err news of sorts.

What’s say?

(W)rite THE Passage

This weekend was supposed to be super-hectic because: (1) my out-of-town brother's visit was due, (2) I had planned an outing with a friend over a movie - my house guest has left, so its time to shower attention to others (I better should do this as I am meeting him for the first time after my return home; we are neighbors across the street; can you imagine how my social life has been ever since I have returned?!), (3) catch up with some others to set everything write..err right. So quite a chock-a-block of a weekend...ummm.

And it indeed was a super-duper hectic weekend and I enjoyed to a hilt. Bro is super cool as ever (he is looking damn sexy, FYI); Movie rocked; outings were super nice. And I realized how more hectic it could get.

There was a discussion over some nice tea (I am a tea-addict) about some articles I just read (it was a travelogue and about a city I just visited and it almost felt he published it before me, ouch!) and our conversation invariably shifted on writing and such things and there came a shocker.

Why do not you write? Whoa?

Well, I have heard this before and I have been toying with such ideas. But writing professionally?

Does not your profession need you to write?

Well, thats different. I write and I love to write, on the job on technical matters; I love to write to unwind and mostly end up writing never-ending (read: LONG) e-mails/e-notes; I love to describe things vividly, may be its part of my training as an Anthropologist or this is a gift of being born in a family ( my mum is/was into literature and my granny was a prolific writer and a gifted poet; its a pity she never published). Well...well...I still do not see myself cut out as a writer. I might write as a hobby or for some kicks.

It reminds me how I have failed others expectations in the past: my supervisor commented reading my thesis that we were not attempting something in English literature and that all my passionate 'write-up' should find another place for its expression (well, if you read it you will notice my touch here-n-there oozing out from somewhere in the middle of those theorizing!). At the end of it he did press me for a book (in my style definitely) on my thesis and its still 'going on' despite a lot of encouraging-inspiring anecdotes. And so far I have not really completed it. Till this moment it will count as: I failed his expectation.

Then, my very nice boss (you know who I am talking about..ummm) had a similar idea looking at how I handle writing reports and churning up e-notes that I might do justice for a nice piece on the project we put our hearts on. Well, its still in the back-burner (read: its the least accessed folder on my comp). So, you know I have one more on the list of failed expectations.

And this is the latest: my very beautiful boss (this one is a female, at last; looks like I always praise men a lot!) was (or still is) sore with me for not completing what is again a write-up!

So, do you still think I can do justice?

And you wanted me to jot down my notes from all the places I had been over those ten weeks, five time zones and three countries? And you want me to write a series for a big name? And you are offering me what is sounding like a 'job'? And that I have good sense of photography (!)

Such a pot loaded with talent: Someone should hire me, soon....

Ouch...I have no clue what to say. And how to respond.

As far as I know: I am at my best creatively when I am not pressed for; when I am not hard pressed with a deadline. And when I am on my own and when the mood is just (w)right!

Umm...you never know I might be one ONE day..Amen! What do you say?

P.S: I am wanting to know your response, have you voted yet?

Here I am....

Wow...I have to write about this one: just chanced upon this new book "You Are Here" by Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan.

I am reading quite a lot these days as I like to keep myself busy.

Well, what more you can do when you find yourself surrounded by a horde of workers? Dont you worry: I am not being mobbed or anything; I was supervising workers at my new place as I was readying it for my house guest, a dear friend.

And this was one of the books I read during this stint.

I am amazed at her description and I must tell you this girl can write from her heart and what all she can write! Kudos to her frankness and openness. I admire her for that. Not just because she wrote it but because she is all of 26 years; because she is from India (dont you know about those hypocrites and setting standards and stereotypes?). Ouch, truth hurts.

Hmmm...commendable feat! I gotta meet her and talk with her. I somehow already liked her.

(Her next book reading is on 23 August at MGF Metropolitan Mall, Saket; I will be there.)

One Year and Counting....

There is something very uncanny about me. Seriously, I mean it.

I somehow cannot forget dates and however busy I am I will still remember Birthdays and remember my friends from middle of nowhere.

Well, this time it was my Blogspot. This sweetheart has just turned ONE and I am so very happy for him or her (?) (I prefer a girl child!).

Thanks to all of you who makes the number ticking to more than 900 (wow, thats quite a feat considering this baby of mine is just 365 days old). I love all the attention you shower on my baby (and me) reading it, commenting on it, discussing it, sometimes even sending me reminders for more updates. I love that, even if I am tired and in travel mode and in a place with no gadgets; I like to oblige as I hate to disappoint.

I hope to continue writing and bask under the Sun shine (I love Sun, dont you know?). Looking forward to all your admiration and dedicated patronage. Its the 90th blog and Solna will write more; at least that is the plan.

And here's wishing my beloved a very happy birthday!

Joyeux anniversaire! (French connection, eh?)

10 weeks and thereafter....

I am really glad as I write this one. This is the one to say, I am back. I am back home. I am back for those relaxing-refreshing cups of chai, I am back for that warm little corner in my bed room.

Hmm, some one was missing home.

Yes, it has been 10 weeks and this was the longest time I was away on a trip and this was the longest I pretended I never missed home. This was the longest I wanted to feel like a nomad jet-setting from one place to another. This was the longest ‘trail’ I traveled at a stretch and it went on to such an extent that I almost forgot to appreciate the new place I was visiting. I guess I overdid this time and I could feel it; sense it.

Now I am back, back after a hectic yet nice, well executed trip. I want to relax (still wanna relax after beautiful Wales, huh?), take time off and go for a nice soak. What a wishful thinking….
It’s as if someone heard me or someone read my mind. I have to be on my toes and I have to be ready for a run and get ready for a hectic week ahead.

Or is it that I don’t know how to take it slowly?

News in New York

I love to travel and I am a well planned traveler (hmm...can’t stop being a narcissist!). Mostly my trips go smoothly. But not this time, especially, not when I was in New York. This is the second story in a row and I just cannot ignore it. It never happened to me (someone muttered, there is always a first time. Well, I guess I know that.)


I 'lost' my luggage. I don’t mind it as most of the time it’s my extra clothes (I never wear one pair second time; I have so many clothes, don’t you know?) but I just cannot waste time waiting for my luggage as I had a trip lined up immediately. I waited near the conveyor belt for my second suitcase at Heathrow airport. Bags of different shapes and sizes ramp-walked until I knew the one I wanted to see was yet to board the flight. What?

Yes, that’s exactly what I was told when I went to American Airlines counter at Heathrow airport. My second suitcase from JFK airport was not loaded on the plane as they had problems reading barcodes on the tags as their computers failed. Well, good to know the reason. Things fail and life isn’t a perfect basket. And it failed in New York of all the places and exactly on the day I was traveling. Some really know how to make impression.
I should not crib as every passenger flying with AA on 30 July had a similar experience. And I was lucky as mine arrived on the next flight and it was delivered at my doorstep. And I could carry on with my cute little trip to the beautiful Wales on time. So it was not that bad.

But still for the first time someone goofed up with my luggage and it was in New York.
And it made news, yes it did. Did you see the footage where they showed me along with other passengers tugging along their suitcases and waiting in long lines at JFK when computers failed at all AA counters?

He's got my drink....

Its been a long time I had updated my blog and you know why. Umm, I am in travel mode, you see! Yet I am being asked why I am not updating my blogspot. Sir, this one is for you.

I am in New York currently, holidaying, working, multi-tasking (don't ask me for details!). And the latest is that someone snatched my drink. Yes, you read that right; no mistake reading it.

I was in this fashionable restaurant in South of Houseton (SoHo) for a nice dinner with my friend; it was a nice evening after a rainy afternoon and we decided to sit out which is kinda sidewalks. We were excited, first with the food and drinks (especially, with the red wine I got to drink),then obviously with the environment and we were enjoying ourselves. We were talking as usual over a nice spread of food. Someone walks up to me: I look up thinking he is looking for something and before I could gather my friend gives a single and he leaves the scene. We continued.
Then someone dashes towards our table and this time he begs for food. I look up and so does my friend. It was like why these guys are coming to us? And not to other diners?
Well, we again continue with our eating-talking mode. We pretty much were engrossed with ourselves and food. Then again he strikes me (us)!

He walks, err.... almost dashes straight to me and asks if he could have my drink and grabs my drink gulps it down in no time before I could comprehend and hence react. I was like, whoa?
No one budged, no body went running after him; only some surprised faces.

It was such an awkward experience and I never imagined this could happen when you are in a nice place and when you are dining with dozen other diners. I was surprised and asked why was that?

The simple cheeky answer my friend had: you attract attention, don't you?
Well, I hope not.

That was scary and I would love to forget this to remember the nice dinner.

Watch me live on TV

12 June, 2008: I will be at Olelo station for the "Health is Wealth" program with Dr. Inam Rahman.Tune in to channel 52 at 7:00 p.m.

HULA-cination!

Aloha!!
It’s been quite some time for me in this Aloha-land and I have been pretty busy catching up with my work and activities and not to mention, my side trips, and, ummm…I am tanning beautifully. But, the first thing first.

This is HULA for you. And here you go……
I am awestruck and I cannot write. Well, no writer’s block this time. I strongly feel writing about something so awesomely beautiful will take away its whole essence. So, it’s for your eyes and I will help you with that. No, I am not gonna dance for you, well…you never know!! Hmmm, coming to think of it, I really feel like staying back here, and I am not kidding. Well, you know where it is coming from....no prizes for guessing!! Mahalo!!

Any Comments?

I am still at it,have been figuring out what is happening when you are sending your comments. It seems some of you have been sending your comments and could not 'send' it across to me (I was told personally). Well, I must have done some stupid thing with this blogspot's settings, or else, someone must be sending comments on my posts to someone (!).

Comments or no comments, I love all the attention around me...err, my blogspot.
I love that!!

Sevilla Moments

I love food and I love to travel and I love to talk. And all these happened as I met my favorite boss at Sevilla over some very nice Mediterranean and Spanish dinner. And we had a very nice time.

First the meeting: I was meeting him exactly after a year and since we both had a real hectic time at work and home and we both had cribbed to each other about some extra pounds we had added since our last meeting. I was meeting him when he just recovered from a very nasty lung infection which most definitely kept him away from Tennis which is something he does not like to miss. Way back, when he had a ski accident and broke his knee, I remember him going to Tennis court and play some shots without moving much when he could barely walk (that did the damage to his recovery and he had to go for another surgery to rectify it). Well, the point is, nothing can keep him away from Tennis for long and when it happens then the only complain you hear from him is about his weight going north!!

So, I knew what to expect. I reached there before him and waited for him. And when he arrived, I was rather surprised. He is as stunning as before, charming, stylish and that same lithe frame. I was like, where are those extra pounds, man? Anyway, this man knows how to crib when he misses his Tennis or definitely knows how not to put on weight.

Now the setting: a nice big piano and the pianist belting out very romantic, soulful numbers and I was mischievously grinning thinking he must have mistaken us for a couple. Well, we did not have any way to tell him we were not and enjoyed those lilting music which could sneak in between our conversation. And it was soon at the background as we got engrossed in our discussion on life, or rather philosophies of life. Hmmm…..

Now the food: And he wanted to immediately order food before I get into that deep thinking-talking mode and delay the order as he was very hungry; had worked on his presentation and forgot to order lunch. Well, I don’t mind either..food and yummy food and I don’t complain. So, we went ahead with ordering food. There was this duck recipe in red wine sauce and some ‘paella’ with jumbo prawns, chorizo, squid, fishes and some more seafood. And it pleased our expectation. I am not a rice-person but for some reason ended up with that paella variation as other things on menu meant too much of food and I was not really so hungry. They served such huge portion that I needed help; my order was shared by him for me to decently finish the platter.

And finally the most crucial point, the reason why such a dinner meeting finds a place in my blog. Life is one big complication; we need to make it complicated to live it or else its not interesting and yet we say we want to live it simple. Do I make sense? Hmmm….

It has been a pattern so far with me. I have a real ‘hectic’ life and I still manage to crowd it with some other things and in the process I fail to prioritize things. I move on to newer things leaving behind half-finished older things. I try to look for fresher avenues, newer projects/assignments as if more is less. And in the process I spread thin and lose focus. I want to be good; good at everything. Or else it’s not satisfying. I would rather do it nicely or not do it at all; it sounds good at some level. But at more practical level is it wise to spread thin? Is it wise to move on to newer things when one has unfinished work (read PENDING job from old projects)? Or is this just a need to feel good with something which holds more hope than the one in hand? Well, he got me thinking and I want to think about it too.

Sevilla will remain in my mind for long. Not because of anything else but for that life-churning discussion, for those soothing words which never criticized but alerted a lost mind, for those reassuring eyes telling me that you are not alone and that everyone is doing their bit in walking the path of ‘one big complication called life’.

So, where are we heading from here? Hmmm…I only hope that I know.

P.S: I am still spreading thin again, diverting my creativity on this blogpost neglecting my presentation in hand. And its when you just told me how someone never works on her publications, but updates regularly on the blog. Well, I believe in being happy and live for the moment. So far, such ‘moments’ have given me big joys and I don’t complain even with a fewer publications and I still get hired and I still am known for what I do. But, I could do better. I know, you meant that. Thanks!

Quote-Unquote

"Life is like a trumpet - if you don't put anything into it, you don't get anything out of it. "- William Christopher Handy

Ri(N)gmarole….(2)

And finally it’s out of the wraps, literally. And I am happy. But that ring has to be replaced.

Wait….let me tell you the whole story before you cook one for yourself just reading this one line….

I now have TEN fingers, all 'single' and ready to mingle..err all working and separate.

What? Did not I tell you last time, it’s about that ring and my finger?

Anyway…I wouldn’t mince any more words and give you the facts:

I was nursing a broken finger all these six weeks. It sounds to be a minor thing going by calamities happening around us. But for someone who never had a bone injury and that too when you were not ENGAGED in a fist fight or any such thing could really shake you out of your wits. I actually fainted (oops, I never knew I could!!) but the pain was way too much for me to bear it with a smile as I found my ring finger (with that RING of course) crushed and squeezed in the doorway.

And for first few seconds I bravely did my bit to free my fingers from there only to realize the damage and that was it. I could actually see the color of my flesh under the skin as if they were scooped out…OUCH!!
Luckily I had a friend with me who could take my beautiful trinity ring off as my fingers started to swell in no time (Let me tell you its not an easy task to take off a ring when the finger is hanging loose and when skin on the finger is not intact and when its that intertwined ring; to hell with it, all the complications together!! Thanks, dear. I dont know how you did it but you really did a clean job!!).
And two hours later I returned home with x-rays and prescriptions and wearing that bandage/plaster what my ‘funny’ orthopedic surgeon flirtingly called buddy-strapping (it indeed is called ‘buddy-strapping’!!). Yes, my ring finger needed a buddy to support it as it lay immobilized inside the wrap.

What an immobilized existence it was- My world had literally shrunk and I was limited only to telephones. You read an email and phone up to discuss, could not write emails in response. Not that the process was very slow but also with pain and that bandage and restriction to keep the injured hand up all the time was really making life quite difficult. It was not just difficult for me but people around me had to adjust. And shaking hands was one such…and even holding hands for that matter, Ooops!
I knew how handicapped I was, could not lift my arm as I also had injured some nerves and then that strapping had to be kept away from water, so no washing, no scrubbing your face, no shampooing your hair…omigoodness! And still you need to face the world….err, show your face to the world!!

I realized how it is to live life with one hand/arm. And life goes on….
And when you want to try to by-pass something you are invariably made to stand face-to-face with it. Such happened when I just dreaded the sight of a pen, forget about even lifting it and even 'trying' to hold it, I was needed to 'sign' papers and not just any papers but legal papers.
And the number of signatures I 'produced' that day even surpassed what I usually do in a month. And I learnt how to sign in forty (or more?) different ways in a day !!

Now, I know how to write with my left hand, how to eat food with left hand-here I mean my regular meal with chapatti, how to maneuver keys to open a lock and many such.

Now….ring finger is fine but I still can’t wear that RING.
I now need a different size as my ring finger really has a weird structure , thin at the tip and swollen at the base (yikes…what am I explaining…).

Do they really have customized service for trinity rings…I wonder!

Quote-Unquote

"Great people talk about ideas, average people talk about things, and small people talk about wine". - Fran Lebowitz

Sp(L)it-zer Wide Open...

"I remember the first time I had sex - I kept the receipt."
Said Groucho Marx. And someone did it.

Ooops, looks like Spitzer took this one too lierally!
But, you cant blame him either he used 'plastic' atleast..well, you should have spelt it right to him, no?

Anyway, poor chap wanted to have some fun which went ..well, we all know what he did, dont you? Tsk tsk...

ri(N)gmarole.....1

Its about a ring, and not just any ring...its a Trinity ring. And there is a story...well...it will be told when the fingers start working.....What?

To be continued......