I don't understand Monday morning blues

After a nice long weekend wanting-to-do-lots-but-actually-doing-very-little-yet-not-feeling-too-bad-about-it, I woke up as the clock struck 7:00. Except it didn't really strike anything. It didn't even chime. It must have been a sweet time in the past when grandfather clocks announced the hour of the day or when the little sparrow (or cuckoo) peeped out of a fancy clock's window and tweeted the time. Sigh! I digress.

The first thing I felt was happiness at being awake at an early hour. I wanted to walk Mojo and Phoebe before the sun started beating down on us earthlings, and this was just the right time. Then I noticed that I was lying with my head at the wrong end of the bed, my feet propped up on my pillows. I don't remember when that happened! Many a time, even if I am dreaming, I am aware of the fact that I'm dreaming. But last night must have been something. I don't remember how or when I drifted off to sleep (the hubs kindly filled me in with seemingly innocent comments about how the arm he rested on me vibrated each time I snored). Anyhoo.

The day began on a good note. I can't understand people who are 'not morning people'. It's a little strange to me how someone can not feel elated at being able to rise and shine with the sun. What I also fail to understand is why people often complain about Monday morning blues. I love going to work. Maybe I'm one of the few people who enjoy their jobs. But if your job is so much of a pain in your butt, why not do something about it? It's not like I've never felt the blues... I did, at times, when the work pressure was too much and some unreasonable tasks were expected of me... but how can a person feel blue on every Monday morning. How miserable could someone's life be?

If you were looking for a point, I'm sorry, there wasn't any that I was trying to make. Just typing out something that was going through my mind. Succumbing to the silly need to express myself. Just cuz I can. Meh. Get on with your day, folks. I hope you didn't waste your time reading upto this point.

Feeling all grown up (and amused at it!)

When I slept after midnight, I was groaning to myself that I won't be able to work out what I had planned for the next day. Although I don't know how it happened, I woke up at 7:00, and felt like sleeping in only for a few minutes before my brain took over and I sprung on my feet and got cracking. Maybe it was sound sleep that made me feel rested, and maybe it was reading The Hobbit to the hubs that gave me the sound sleep I needed. But I was glad I didn't spend any time complaining to myself and trying to stay in bed.

I freshened up, opened all the windows--an activity I love to do in the mornings--to left the cool, fresh air in, walked the dogs, bathed myself, paid the milkman, cleaned up a bit while boiling milk, and closed all the windows again so that the hot summer doesn't turn the house into an oven. I updated the sleepy hubs on the status so far and gave him instructions about the stuff to do (or not) next. Then it was time for the most important activity of the day: dropping off my new two-wheeler for its first free servicing. I wasn't keen on doing it because I didn't want to walk any distance at all in the sun. But a nice idea hit me when I reached the service station. By the time the attendant looked at other people's bikes, I walked down home and fetch the car. I reached just in time for the attendant to check my bike and hand me the job card.

I zoomed off to work and was happy to reach at my favorite hour... right before breakfast is served. My favorite activity is to set myself up at a nice, cozy corner table, switch on my laptop and get on with my day. During my first few days at the new job, I sometimes used to stay put in the cafeteria until it was lunch time and the smells of various food items pissed me off, or the laptop battery was almost completely drained. In any case, almost half my day would have passed pleasantly. It felt nice to do that again... in the past few weeks, I've had to change my work timings so that I could go play badminton on my way back home. But I've begun to think that maybe working in 2 shifts with a break in between is a good idea, and the drive home and back would be worth it. But I can never seem to stick to any kind of routine.

Anyway, getting so much done simply by springing out of bed early in the morning makes me feel all happy inside. And grown up, if I may add. Yep. I still find it surprising when I act all mature even though it's expected of me now that I'm in my 30s.

PS: It gladdened me to see a fresh bunch of flowers in the little garden patch. Who knew that the simple white bloom of Vinca can be such perfect metaphoric accomplice to the beginning of my bright day?!

Apologies

It's been so long since I posted anything here that it feels a bit weird typing text into this UI. However, the apologies are not for that. Also, for a change, this is not a sarcastic post.

To the girl in the white burqa/hijab with the gray floral print who was driving a black scooter on F C Road yesterday,

I apologize to you yet again for my mistake. I intended to park next to Wadeshwar, and because the most efficient way to parallel-park a car is to do it in reverse, I halted close to other vehicles parked on the right. Being totally focused on getting to the spot before the traffic started flowing again from the signal at my rear, I made a mistake. I reversed the car before thoroughly checking the rear view mirrors. Thankfully, neither you nor I were fast enough, and I stopped the moment I realized that the rear left fender of my car had hit the front bumper of your scooter. It took me a few seconds to make sense of what happened and realize that I had to immediately move forward to help you regain control over your vehicle. I did so, got out of the car, and tried to repair the damage that I had done. It seemed to me like your scooter had not toppled over and that you were standing straight, which meant that you were apparently not seriously injured. I helped pick your bags off the road and placed them on your footboard, and I wanted to do more.

I hope that by now your shock and anger has subsided and you are ready to hear me out. I apologized then too, but you were in mood to pay any heed. Had I been in your situation, I would have felt the same things about you and said the same things to you... "Why do you drive if you can't reverse? You should simply stay off the road, etc" However, you said something to the effect of "An apology is of no use, it doesn't change anything." That got my goat. I totally disagree. I knew what my mistake was, and I had to decency to acknowledge it and apologize for it. In addition, I came over to find out the consequence of my action... Were you hurt? Could I help you get medical attention? Did I break something? Could I get it repaired for you?

Had you given me a chance, I would have done all in my power to undo the wrong that I did. However, you and I were both in a bit shock (you, understandably more than me) and tempers flew high. I have seen people who do not even bother to get out of their effing car and try to find out what their mistake has cost others. I surely didn't give off any such arrogant vibes. Not even remotely. However, when you yelled at me even after I profusely apologized and helped you gather your stuff and offered to do more, I got ticked off too. I did argue that I made a mistake and that it could have happened with you too, but it was more to get you calm down and try to establish a dialog rather than for the sake of arguing. It definitely didn't help, did it?

Then, because you didn't seem to need or want any help from me and because you were putting up a fight even against my apologies, I stormed off and got back into my car. Did you notice that I waited patiently until you moved away (still yelling at me) and I could continue with my task without harming anyone else? I'm sure you didn't.

What's the purpose of writing all this here? Well, I hope that you shared your story with someone and somehow someone you know gets to read this and lets you know about it. I pride myself on my driving skills and feel ashamed at the mistakes I make. I do try to learn from them and not repeat them. However, like everyone else, I am not and will never be perfect. So, I do the best that I can. Apologize for my mistakes and try to undo the wrong that I might have done.

I wish we had met in a better situation. We might even be friends. Inspite of the fact that it was all directed against me, I liked that your were spirited and didn't take things lying down. Also, unlike me, you were feisty without being abusive (at least I don't remember any cuss words being used). You remind me of my dear friend Noor, and not just because your attire indicated that you are a Muslim. I could totally picture her giving a piece of her mind to someone who had wronged her! Anyway. For what it's worth, I hereby record my apology and wish that the incident doesn't linger on in your mind. Also hoping that you weren't hurt, and if you were, you do recover soon.

Regards,
Simply Pallu

Easter puppies

This one was written when our first set of grandpuppies was born in April this year. I just couldn't gather the enthusiasm to put this up so far. Anyhoo...

Easter Sunday brought the best gifts I have ever received. I had called Phoebe into our bed in the early hours of the morning. She was panting heavily and I thought being with us would soothe her. I knew she would deliver soon, and was lazing in bed thinking of taking her for a round of pee so that she would be free to give birth. We woke to a wet spot on the bed, realizing that the first pup was on its way. By the time we could gather our wits, the boy was out and Phoebe had freed him of the cord. I barked instructions at the hubs to gather the supplies I should have kept ready in the first place. The mat and a bedsheet were placed on our bed just in time for the second one's arrival. It was a girl followed by another one. I called my animal-loving-soul-sister Apu to let her know that the most awaited event of this month was happening in my bed :P

Before the next one came, we moved Phoebe and the first-borns to her whelping area.
The fourth pup was a boy after which there was a gap in which Phoebe could rest a bit. Then came two girls in quick succession. Sadly, the sixth one was a stillborn. Phoebe licked it a lot trying to revive it, but it was clear that the pup probably never matured enough to be born alive. It was ghostly pale, as opposed to the others who were a very healthy shade of pink. We left the girl on a piece of paper on a table nearby. It took a while for the seventh one, a girl, to arrive, and Phoebe gladly had some water in the meantime. I had a hunch that the litter wasn't complete yet, so we stayed put in the whelping area. Soon enough, the last one arrived, another girl.

While the litter was making its way into this world, I kept helping Phoebe every chance I could... tearing off a couple of pups' protective sacs and helping them breathe. It just felt so... right. My girl did her job beautifully--tore off the sacs, cut the cord at just the right length, licked the pups clean and kept an eye out for intruders. Her instincts continue to amaze us. Mojo was pretty confused and kept popping in to quench his curiosity, but always remained at a cautious distance. The darling never troubled Phoebe in any manner. Maybe he dared not ;-)

When sufficient time had elapsed, I took Phoebe out for a walk, which was more like a mad dash to the road and back. She kept barking loudly at me, as if to tell me that we have to hurry. Maybe that's how they protect their young ones... by creating enough ruckus to ward off predators. She peed and pooped right in the middle of the street--quite unlike her--and ran back up the stairs at lightening speed.

I could have sat there all the time, but Apu called to say she was coming right over from Mumbai before she could even get home. Thanks to her, I gathered my wits, cleaned up a bit (thanks a bunch to the hubs for being so quick when it mattered, muuuuahh!) and even managed to have a bath in time. Apu and her husband could adore the pups only after Phoebe stopped barking in their face and settled down realizing that they meant no harm. Mojo had his fill of jumping around and running batshit crazy when they entered the door. This was the only time he got any attention that day. Except for the occasional appreciative nod and touch when hubs and I cooed over how non-nuisancy he was today.

I took Phoebe for a couple more poop-n-pee sprints, and then she had a few morsels of food at night, right beside the pups. Not being in that room was unbearable for her. Because the work week would begin the next day, I did not let hubs sleep in Phoebe's room. And rightly so. The little critters kept me up all night with their squealing. Although I did enjoy that too.

Setting off the sabbatical

I wrote this post in April when I quit my job, but I haven't had the inclination to upload it yet. So here goes...

The perfect beginning that didn't last

I doubt that many will understand this, but I was thrilled to wake up at 6:30 on a Saturday morning! It was just way I wanted my sabbatical to begin. I was so excited to be up at the time that the temptation to snuggle in did not even form completely in my mind. I thought of getting dressed and going for a walk, but my feet were hurting like they do on most mornings since several months now. So, I sauntered into the other bedroom and did some stretches in my night dress with the ceiling fan on full blast. I don't like getting sweaty right after I'm out of bed, but that's the big downside of exercise. Just one of my excuses for not getting into a healthy morning routine.

I was tempted to doze off again after the stretching and so I lay down on the floor, relaxing. Instantaneously, my dogs woke up and came barging from the bedroom sniffing and jumping over me. I took the cue, changed, and took them for a walk. We left the neighborhood and walk alongside the main rood today, and they were unexpectedly well-behaved. They didn't pull constantly, and I could control them with my voice and a few tugs at their leashes. We even saw a pack of puppies on the way, and one of them walked up to us ready to play but then chickened out suddenly. It was nice to see 'em all and their mum looking over her shoulder protectively. After we got home, though, we went to wake up dada, but snuggled in instead, like we always do, falling prey to his powers of sedation.

At this point, I succumbed to weariness and stopped writing. Didn't catch on for more than a week after. Through the first week at home, several things kept me busy, including lazing around and watching TV.

Come Sunday, the enthusiasm of waking up early and attempting to start and continue an exercise regime went right outta the window. I spent the morning gathering our apartment-related documents so that I could hand them over to the next office bearer. We had an annual general meeting planned for the evening. It went surprisingly well, and lasted only a little over two hours. I was the Secretary of the apartment association, but happily gave up the position in the hope that other members would take up the responsibility. The guy who was President gave up his position too, which surprised people. At least they said so.

Throughout the working week, hubs ran off to work as early as he could and came back as late as he could. Bugger's been taking advantage of me being at home to work longer hours. Not that I mind. I think he can use this opportunity to do some good work and get noticed. He's had to put in a fixed number of hours over the past two years so that I could work flexi-time and longer hours, and make multiple trips to the office if required. It worked for us, because my commute was almost half of his and I had to maneuver through only half the traffic. Also, the car was always at my disposal and I have been taking undue advantage of it. Sigh!

On Tuesday, I took Phoebe to the vet for an ultrasound, and we came to know that she had at least 6 pups in there. I've been waiting for their arrival all through the week. The same evening, hubs and I went to see a new pooch in the neighborhood. A girl who used to have a Dalmatian but gave him away because she couldn't manage to take care of him, has now brought home a month-old Rottweiler. Apparently her husband got cured of his dog aversion and wanted one that belonged to a big strong breed. It was a fun half an hour, where we let Bullet (yep, that's his name, but just "Bull" would suffice if you ask me... he's strong!) scamper around between our feet and over our heads, lick our faces, and chew our fingers and ears.

During the rest of the week, I did some cleaning up around the house, organized some documents, went grocery shopping, cleared the spare bedroom and created a whelping area for Phoebe. Took the dogs out on several short sprints, off the leash. I was too lazy to walk them around the usual track, and besides, they enjoy the freedom.

Good Friday morning was spent at me mum-n-dad's, where I clubbed a few things in one trip: I had to carry some warm clothes and tiffins for mom to carry during her upcoming old-ladies-gang trip to Kashmir. She had prepared my favorite food item. My dear friend Meg was in town for the weekend and we wanted to catch up. I had to drop mom off to granny's on our way back. Pawan was ok to be dragged around town and dumped at mama's place while I met Meg ;-)

Saturday was spent at home, zombie-watching TV. Except when I went to the bank and tried to check email. My internet connection played hooky through the week. Phoebe had began panting in the afternoon and continued through the night.

The obvious consequence of the uh-oh moment

... was confirmed today.

It's been 35 days and it seemed like the perfect time to take Phoebe for an ultrasound. We were hoping that there'd be fewer cuddly balls of spotted fun to grandparent this time, but that isn't to be. We saw 6 of 'em floating around in my girl's tummy. Hoping there are no more.

The hubs all but panicked, while I was secretly thrilled that I would be able to hold a few more of those delightful young'uns so soon. This time, though, I'll manage things better. Cherish my moments with 'em instead of turning into a shrieking banshee like I did a few months ago.

When I broke the news to the good lady who runs the pet products shop that we frequent, she couldn't wrap her head around the idea! It tickled her funny and we were both giggling at the prospect like tweens :)

In related news, a family solicited Mojo's puppy-making skills for their 2.5-year-old Dal named Lucky. She was a pampered brat, but I didn't mind Mojo passing on some of his baby-paste (Thank you, writers of 18 to Life!) to her because she was so fine-looking. She had perfectly spotted ears! Their progeny would be quite sought after. And, we get to keep one of our choice!

So all 1.7 of you people who happen to pass by this space every few days, pull up your sleeves, get the megaphones out and get prepared to yell at every passerby and demand that they take away my puppies by the end of January 2012. Go on, be good now.

11.11.2011

Yeah, I hate shortening it to make it look cool. Just wanted to note that mom enters her 60s today. She's locked herself up in her house in a pseudo-maun-vrat because she doesn't believe in birthday celebrations. Is it a surprise then, that I like mine to be small, private events, and I consider it to be a time of introspection and making resolutions instead of doing them on every new year's eve? This year I hadn't planned on any celebration, but had a surprisingly fun day.

Anyhoo... mom's obsessing over how she can take better care of her mom who's now in her mid-80s. That, when she doesn't even love her and does it out of a deep-seated sense of duty. Thankfully, I love mine. That doesn't stop me from having serious doubts about how I would be able to manage her old age. Three decades on this planet and I still refuse to grow up. Tch, tch!