Wednesday, January 18, 2006

..and the Keyboard ran away with My Brain...

Well, maybe not exactly back in the well, but definitely getting there. I am only left with a nagging cough that, when at it's performing best, convinces most people I am on the last legs of Life as we know it **exasperated sigh**!

Am right now at the airport, waiting for a flight that I never thought would come. Oh no, not delayed, it isn't. Just the result of 'a series of unfortunate events'...starting with a 40 min traffic hold-up, going on to missing my flight by about 2 minutes, turning left at the Wait-list desk and missing the next flight as well, accelerating past a multitude of other airlines as they turn down my requests for a ticket with a "Sorry but the next flight(s) is/are already going full, ma'am", hanging a breakneck U-turn at the "Simpli-fly" desk, who could not help me simply fly as their Credit-Card-swipy-thingy machine (yes, YES, I know it's called a POS terminal!) had simply died and they could only accept cash, and then, FINALLY, braking to a hard stop in front of the Kings of Good Times as they finally manage to make room for me. If all goes well, I will board in the next fifteen mins. If not, I shall probably walk to my destination. **More exasperated sighing**

Yesterday, between juggling prep for the event that triggered off today's Scenes from the Airport and trying not to die from the skull-cracker of a headache my sinuses were tangoing with, I was also out shopping for Maamu's baby's birthday. Hmmm...I liked the sound of that sentence...almost an alliteration! Hey, and that one too! Yenivays, I sleep-walk....coming back to the shopping...I realised that it is no mean task to buy clothes for a kid.

Do I buy something marked for a 2-year old? What if this kid is growing faster than the 'average' 2-year old? Should I then buy something for a 3-year old? Hang-on...that category don't exist!! Right after "2 YRS" come the "3-4 YRS". Errr...isn't there something missing here? These clothes look way too big. But then, I don't want to gift her coochie-coochie toys...and she is a tad too small for me to be buying books...I think. Maybe that is the problem...I should just stop thinking and buy something! URK! Whoever said it is easy to shop for a woman, should be shot! Forget shopping for a grown woman, I can't even shop peacefully for a pint-sized woman....and I AM a woman! BAH! (Vee, do you go through this for Aditi??)

Speaking of Vee, she and the Bioswami and the Baby left town last night, headed back to Singy. I was supposed to go see them off, (read that as MEET THEM for the first time this trip). Needless to say, that did not happen. Why? Because I think I managed die sometime around then, and barely dragged my headache and fever home (No, not body...by that time, the headache had taken over till that is all that existed). Mebbe we shall actually manage to meet before Aditi starts a blog of her own :o(

I remember thinking I must be delirious, on the ride home yesterday. Two things prompted this...one, my Honda, and two, the Moon.

For starters, my Honda. Yes, I insist on calling this the HONDA, and not the Activa as everyone else in this country call it. Why? Because I am still in denial over the fact that the only HONDA I own is NOT a mean, low-slung, street-hugging, high-speed monster. The only thing it is is, is BLACK (hmmm...too many is's there?). Yenivays, I keep riding the rogue roads a la Rose...lost in the dream that I am actually gunning one of these:


















Coming back to my delirium and the Moon. 'Twas a huge, yellow, moon...lying low across the horizon, silently tracking my every move. The kind of moon I am dead certain stories are written about, but which I cannot recollect at this time, for the life of me! It just hung there like a fat, yellow, stage prop, silently lighting up the sky around it. For some odd reason it had me thinking Unseen University, Saidin and Subtractive Magic. **shudder**

And speaking of Saidin, am re-reading Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time...currently in the first few chapters of Book One. I remember picking this very book up at a second-hand bookseller, off of a footpath bang opposite Mom's clinic some years ago. At the time I had no idea I was letting myself in for a a few years of concentrated reading and chasing of Rand al Thor across the an entire landscape, harried by a few million, constantly changing, characters and plot twists. I initiated Hem into the WoT world sometime back then, when he was just entering college, and he has kept pace with every volume of this story along with me. In fact, better than me! Me, I barely make it from one book to the next, remember who and when and where and why! Too much of a time gap between the books being published (GRR!), atleast later in the series.


I envy those who can go through a 10 volume series, over as many years and more, and NOT have to re-read and backrack to check their facts. I discount looking up the details on the Web...that is just plain laziness and smacks of cheating. What kind of a reader needs the blooming Internet to follow the story (not my kind, atleast, as has is proven by this entire point)! So, its back to square one and then forward again...

If I stopped making sense a couple paragraphs ago, the title of this post DOES warn you....and as the sign post at the 26th hair-pin bend up the hill to Ooty proclaims,"You have been sufficiently warned". Plus it's past midnight, and I started writing this post a couple hours ago, and have been adding as I go. So I shall now cease to wax and shall instead wane...g'nite

Thursday, January 12, 2006

The spirit is willing...

...but the flesh is on antibiotics :o(

There's tons to be told...my cruise experiences (so who cares that it only lasted about 2 days!), more observations from my seemingly incessant traveling, .... and more stuff that my brain tagged as blog-worthy, but which now seem to have spiralled away.

So, in the immortal words of the Terminator, I'll be back! (must imagine this being said in Arnie-like voice)

UPDATE: Not exactly back, but getting there. I can actually hear, discern scents and speak, without being mistaken for a broken foghorn, again! The magic factor seems to have been the dhumbi-rasa dad plyed me with...naturopathy nosedrops, if you will!...burns from here to Hell and back again...AARGH.