Category Archives: friends

Batting A Century

.. and still in shock that I made it to this milestone.

This is 100th post on this blog. THE 100TH, PEOPLE!!

Yes, I can see those with a mere 500/1000 posts to their name, buffing their nails and nodding disinterestedly like “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. Cool!”

But obviously I have no time to bother because I will busy doing cartwheels, buying myself a pair of shoes and ack! who knows? maybe touching myself THAT WAY..

NOW. I get your attention. Take a seat, you friendly perv.

All of you who have hunted me down on the Internet to read me, or chanced upon me but stuck around and kept coming back – I love you. Yes, even you, the person who googled “Mallu Boobs Mom” to get to me. Because you came back even without a boob in sight on this blog. (Though you used the same search term and THAT is disturbing.) This makes me believe in your redemption, kind sir/lady. And really, flattered as I am, neither my mammaries nor genitalia have yet met the big bad world of the Inter Webbedness. So don’t be holding your breath.

I’m going to use this post to roll out the red carpet and accept the awards graciously handed out by blog buddies.

The Viking is tickled pink by how excited I am each time I get tagged for an award. ” So let me get this straight, ” he says, ” Its not like an association, or a blog community giving you an award, but your readers. Other bloggers.” And then his belly turns to jelly as he cackles, ” This is SO high school!”

The Viking. Proud recipient of the Mocksters-Never-See-Any-Action-On-Friday-Night award. And while he stews in bitter juices, I will move on, in SPIKY HEELS, SO THERE!

Two months ago, Richa aka. SuperGooshMamma was kind enough to pass this on – the Honest Scrap award. As cool as that is, I have been pretty restrictive with myself in terms of what I write about. So Richa, I am going to throw caution to the winds and write the difficult stuff…I will dust off those languishing drafts and let them live a little.

honest-scrap

And then this pretty Kreativ Blogger award from Era,  ” for allowing us (you guys) glimpses into her (my) world with descriptions that stir the heart and soul”. Stop. You had me at Kreativ. I zimply LAUW.

kreativ-blogger-award

From the inimitable MiM, these two beauties. Jeez! And I am giving them right back because I am addicted to her blog and need my daily fix from KL to make it through the mid-morning. And yes, I humbly acknowledge that I owe you a couple of tags too, Ye MiM of Great Faith In My Tagabilities.

loveblogaward

lovelyblog15

And if I may, I want to pass this on to everyone in my blogroll. There is a reason you guys are there, and its the Oscars. And my lurrve.

To all of you who read me, leave comments, let me stalk your cyber homes, and give me a peephole into your minds – thank you once again. You guys are the reason I have begun to love writing again, the reason I run to log onto wordpress as soon as I wake up to check for comments and the reason I go around plotting posts 24/7. There are so many wonderful bloggers and blogs out there and all I need is an extra 24 hours to be reading  and responding to all of you on a daily basis.

You are just tremendous fun to know.

And those of you who lurk here frequently, but have yet to say “Hey! Hi! Howdy!” – this is a vundderrfull time to delurk, no? even if only to say, ” Hey I went to college with you and you still be an insufferable, obnoxious arse. Chew shit.”

Touch base, dears. Wish me well/or to hell. Its the thing to do in the blog world.

C.O.M.M.U.N.I.C.A.T.E.

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Milestones and Magic

I was checking my mail during lunch when this little missive came in.

Dearest ******, (pet name for MGM)

Congrats on crossing 10,000 hits on your blog. Now I hope you will be gaining in confidence to start that BOOK me and the Viking have been waiting for.

Hugs n kisses,

Your proud Mamma

Two things must be said in this regard.

  • The Amma is a bit of a dog with a bone when it comes to fierce, relentless faith in her offspring’s capabilities. She more than compensates for all the amibition I lack:-) She also feigns deafness when I tell her repeatedly that there is no book in me, that there is no such goal. If she hasn’t heard it, it isn’t true:-)

  • This is why you need mothers – and why you love them when you’re all growed up.

I am awful at rolling out the big brass drum and marking these milestones, but somehow I’ve crossed two major blogging ones.

10,000 hits and my 50th post.

Peanuts and entirely insignificant compared to some of the major league bloggers I read. I don’t have to worry about blogger celebrity anytime soon and I’m really happy with the relative anonymity. Yet today, it is a big deal for several small reasons.

I started out with no ambition other than needing to write, wanting to stay sane and needing  a space to vent and express myself. I wanted to remember the puppies’ childhood – to record the small and insignificant little moments that I would otherwise forget. Being read by someone was just an added bonus, but quite frankly, I didn’t expect to be read by anyone but close family and friends. Initially, I was appallingly shy about reaching out to other bloggers and delurking to comment.

The real joy of blogging, the fun, doesn’t really kick in till the interaction kicks in. I’ve had the time of my life getting to know these other amazing bloggers, cherishing their thoughts, relishing their play with words. I seek out their writing daily like a junkie craving a fix with his morning coffee. Hanging out virtually and cyber-chewing the fat has given me meaningful connections to other people, to their lives – connections to different perspectives.

So thank you, to the 10 of you (6 excluding my family? WAIL!) who maybe comprise most of my hits:-) Thanks for wanting to read what I have to say and actually stopping by to give me feedback. You make my day everyday. What? You didn’t get the memo about Moi – the feedback whore? Shame. I don’t really care about notching up a readership, but I care greatly for the personal e-mails you sometimes send and for letting me get to know you better. You have made it worthwhile. and GAWD..

Without intending to, I sound like I’m on a goddamn soapbox taking home an Oscar. Ok, an Emmy then. No? At least a Tony?

I saved my best for last – and its a Friendship Award from the lovely Era, who hosts an awesome blog and actually updates daily. Yes, you heard me. So go on over. You’ll stay warm in Florida and she’ll make you laugh.

Ta-daaaa.

FriendsAward

The award says:

“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated.”

Awwww. I melt into a big fat puddle is what.

Era, you rocked me with this one! She awarded me almost two weeks ago and I’ve felt like an ungrateful wretch for not posting it sooner. But looking at it now, its a perfect fit for this post! Thanks again, Era!

Edited to add: Err guys?? The wordpress edit monster ate some comments. Dunno how. Pliss to post again if you find your comment swallowed.  Remember? Feedback whore:-)

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The Genetics of Hospitality

Can one inherit a sense of hospitality? Is it stealthily intertwined in our DNA helix?

Our home is always open to Arvind’s friends. Kids from his kindergarten come visiting and lately, older kids from the neighbourhood – real school kids – as Arvind would inform you – have started to drop by.

They drop by and they stay. Then they stay some more and pretty soon they have eaten all the mac and cheese our kitchen cupboards were selfishly hoarding. Because our kitchen cupboards are real bitches about sharing their mac and cheese and they must learn their lesson.

They have the usual gigs – videogames, Wii, music and lego. Playing pirates was in for a while till they got kicked out for having used my panty hose to pirate with. Harmless cross-dressing – I would understand. Pirates? Gah! A couple of days ago, we found them in Arvind’s bedroom poring over a tampon. My tampon. Yes, you heard me. We then proceeded to have an entirely generic tampon-discovery conversation.

Kids: Where does it go?

Me: In umm.. lady places.

Kids: Where’s that?

Me: Somwhere off the coast of Argentina. Where’s that map? Aaah.. there! Look, there’s Africa! Lots of lions there.

(Blessed reprieve in the form of short-term-whippersnapper-memory.)

Now brace yourselves for the really strange part. Yes, the strange part without the tampon. The Viking and I love it. Having our home upended by totally random, energetic children. Making dinner for four and suddenly having six or seven of us at the table. Charming dinner-time limericks that are almost always about farts and excrement in their many-splendoured variations. Occasionally, in a startling departure from protocol, we are treated to limericks about spew. Its a blessing, truly a blessing. The spoonful of sugar helping the medicine go down and all that.

In the midst of all this gross! and eewww!  our home feels just that little bit more like a home with kids.

Both of us have grown up in families with an open home policy. Not to mention a ” have-food-will-feed” policy. Neither of us can remember a time in our youth when we didn’t have friends – or friends of friends – hanging around our homes. Hanging around watching TV or waiting for the next meal. During our college years, it wasn’t even unusual that they dropped by to do laundry. Some of them hung around so much that our families just sort of adopted them after a while. It was simpler that way.

Our mothers, we reminisce, were particularly popular. Probably because both mothers like having people around and have this wonderful, inherent sense of generosity. It also helped that they weren’t afflicted by the most common Mommy sickness – uptight-itis. I can never recall anyone being sent away without being fed, even though I have seen my mother turn a whiter shade of pale seeing how much biriyani my brother’s friends could knock back. However cramped our living quarters were, (incredibly cramped for some years) family members and friends were always welcome to come and stay, whether it was for a few days or weeks. Mattresses, pillows and crisp, clean sheets appeared as if by magic to accomodate them.

It’s crystal clear to us that this is how it has to be. Gregariousness is in this family’s blood. As early as a wednesday, we start planning who will come for dinner/playdates/coffee and chat during the weekend. Friends drop by unannounced, step over our mess politely and feel comfortable that we don’t fly into a panic picking up after us or apologizing for unwashed windows. (People actually do that. You’d think they had puked in your shoes or were guilty of a similiar injustice.)

Parenting brings us full circle. Now we are the ones looking on indulgently and loving the noise, the brouhaha, the masti. Handing out plates of pasta, refusing more Coke, raising our voices simply to be heard above the din of the TV and wishing for our sons the same kind of wonderful memories of a friend-infested home.

I love it when nature meets nurture.

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