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.

For 'em pearlies

Warning: Explicit oral content. Read at your own risk.

A few weeks ago, I decided to try this mouthwash thing. I have very bad brushing habits, and thought of this as an easier way to keep 'em pearlies intact for a few more decades. I completely forgot about them while all our stuff was collected in a room and wrapped in sheets until the house painting job was over. Found them while arranging stuff back into the cupboards, and tried one of the three flavors (which was actually non-flavored, the others being CoolMint and FreshBurst).

A few days later, after habitually taunting the husband about his bad brushing habits, I suggested that he try the mouthwash I bought. Here's how it went...

Me: Didn't you just say you were going to brush your teeth?
Him: Done!
Me: Already?! But you were barely gone 30 seconds!
Him: How long does it take anyway?!
Me: Hmpf, no wonder you have all that plaque lining your teeth on the inner sides of your gums.
Him: Dude, that's the color of my teeth.
Me: What, brown?
Him: Huh?!
Me: You brush your teeth like you'd brush a baby's bottom. With soft bristles to boot! I think you should try out Listerine. I got it a few weeks back.
Him: What's that?
Me: 30 seconds of Hell in your mouth.
Him: :-| (a la Sheldon Cooper)

I decided not to elaborate. The ensuing scene that played out in my mind...
Me: You've got to rinse your mouth with it for 30 seconds. You can't swallow it. It stings. You can't drink water for a while after it's stung you.
Him: :-| (meaning "Now why would I ever do that my mouth?")
Me: At the rate we're going, largely thanks to our brushing routine or the lack thereof, we're gonna run out of teeth by the time we hit the 4-Ohs.
Him: I could live with that.
Me: Dude, missing teeth and hair! How are we ever going to rock our 40s?
Him (to himself): Drama queen!
Me: But dude, does it sting!
Him: :-| (translates to "And you're even bothering to recommend it to me. Are you out of your mind?!")
Me (to self): Why did I even bother?

Destructive entertainment: a good training technique

Our grandpups have been dirtying the living room every night, so that I have to mop it thrice every morning--once to scoop the pee and poop off, again with water to get the sticky paw marks off, and yet again with Savlon to kill the odor and germs off. They've been doing their business in the balcony/terrace area during the day, except when they are engrossed in playing and don't have the patience to go all the way outside.

Until recently, I didn't keep the door to the balcony open during the night for fear that the mosquito militia might take over. The last couple of months, however, have taken a toll on my patience. Two days back, I took the risk, and the results have been dramatic. The first night, they dirtied the place 50% lesser. The second night, that figure went down to 90%!!

So this morning, I gladly began sweeping the floor, because it wasn't quite possible due to the sticky floor until now. I found a lot of thin sticks, and wondered what they were, because we didn't really have any stick-ey object lying around. (Before we retire every night, we diligently hide everything that the critters can destroy. They've targeted and succeeded with the TV remote's rubber hand grip, the remote itself, a few wires, cloth, bottles... pretty much anything that is unable to protect itself.)


I found this lying on the rug that I put down for the puppies to snuggle in if they need it.


And then it all came back to me. I remember looking at this small table mat lying on the center table last night, and thinking, oh what the hell... they might not even look at it. What I didn't think was... this is the only useful object in the room... do you think they're gonna stick to their toys? Which kid ever did that?



But then I figured, this was a small price to pay for a clean room. (Only one pee! And that too, not splashed or spread around with their paws!)

So here we go. Another lesson learned. Leave one object in the room for them to focus their energy on.

Some thoroughly enjoyable destruction inside
Keeps the pee and poop outside

Whoever's looking for

... armpit hair picture of nude girl, did you find what were looking for on my blog? If you did, could you point me to that location? Must be some corner or my mind where I keep thinking about the Redneck Mommy. She's the one who teases people about posting such pictures. Not me. Although I could post such pictures if you ask me nicely. I've got a girl at home who runs around naked all day and has hair all over. Not just in her armpits. And she'll lick you all over even if you don't ask her nicely. I promise.

Professional hazards - IV

Drama alert!

Us technical writers are like beggars, always asking for information. Snooty developers and snootier product managers oblige us when they're in a generous mood. But mostly we're found knocking on their posh car windows looking for a scrap of information that they'd want to throw at us, if only to throw us off their trail for a while. We gladly lap up every bit we receive only to realize that it wasn't what we needed. Once in a while some benevolent soul comes along and throws a few better-looking scraps, along with a look that says: use it well.

When they cross us a few days later, we show them what we've made of it. That's when they decide that it wasn't what they wanted to give us in the first place. Then they throw another large scrap at us and ask us to clean up the nice little trinket that we made out of the earlier scrap.

Oh, and did I mention the QA folk? They look at our trinket as if it's a waste of their time and that they need to get it off their hands before they're possessed by whatever's in it. If they are in a generous mood, they might even throw some bugs at us, praising our trinket for what it lacks. That, when they can barely string a few words together to make a sentence. Even if their life depends on it.

Disclaimer: I know I've made sweeping generalizations and accusations in this post, but would you prefer if I did a whiny, plaintive post with great detail of who said what to whom? I get my funny out instead.

Another day at work

... when you look at the clock and realize that this:
9
... has rolled around and turned to this:
6

:(

...oh, and as it turned out, I was working again from home until I looked up again and saw that it had rolled around again to this:
9

Men, mothers, marriage, mo(u)rnings

A large part of lunch-and-tea-time conversations at work revolve around the contributions that our spouses make towards housework and life in general. Or the extreme lack thereof. Some things that crossed my mind, and that I saved for posts like these are...

There's a मराठी idiom that goes like this: स्त्री ही क्षणाची पत्नी अणि जन्माची माता असते। (Those who know better, feel free to correct me.)
It loosely translates to: A woman is a wife for moments and a mother for a lifetime.
Here's what I think: Most men deserve their mothers and nothing more.

A popular complaint is that men sleep late into the mornings while their wives do all the housework, get the kids ready for school, and get themselves to work in time. They resent the husbands for their shameful boot-up time. The ones like me abhor this trait and resort to yelling curses to get our point across. Trust me, we've tried gentle and more socially-acceptable-but-never-to-be-spoken-in-public ways of making our fellas rise n' shine. It seems like some of us are doomed to an eternity of foul-mood-mornings cuz we have to think of and do EVERY FUCKING THING ourselves. Or spend our lives giving reminders, without the respect that a fucking cellphone / planner gets.

Hence, the popular quote: Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.
...should be changed to: Early to bed and early to rise makes your wife happy, zippy, and nice.
...cuz the quote only talks about 'men' anyway.

Disclaimer#1: I'm not proud of myself for gossiping or ranting, but this had to be put down.

Disclaimer#2: Cuz the hubs doesn't seem to have read this yet, and cuz the responses surprised me. It isn't as bad as I made it sound in the post. My problem is with our society and our mothers who bring up boys differently than girls. There are exceptions, but they aren't as many as we need for our society to become one where spouses are equal contributors.

Professional hazards - I

Yesterday, I received a friend's email via Yahoo groups. The subject was: What To Do When You Are Trapped in A lift? I didn't see any content or attachment in that email, so I ignored it.

This morning a friend from that group responded to that thread with this: So what do you do, press the "untrap" button?

Instead of 'getting' the joke, the first thought that crossed my mind was: Shouldn't that be "click" the untrap button?

Then I realized, the lift might not be one of those cools ones with a touch-screen input panel. Where do they have any of those anyway, except in sci-fi movies? Also, in that case, shouldn't we call it "touching" the untrap button? Then again, that would be wrong because we're actually touching the screen and not the button as such.

By then the joke died a silent death. Dang the profession!

PS: Initially, I wrote content / attachment, but scratched that to include "or." Like we say in Indie English... I'm a gone case. Mera kuchh nahi ho sakta.

To the two girls

...who zoomed past me--who was stationary for a reason--and almost cut through a red light. Yes, you two, who braked abruptly upon seeing the policewoman watching you attempt to jump the signal. You who looked nonchalantly around and appeared to act cool, then tried to moved backwards because you suddenly noticed that you were almost in the middle of the square, then turned around and asked, "Auntie, Model Colony?"

Firstly, that's not how you phrase a question. But then, you're the SMS generation--I'm surprised you didn't try to abbreviate that and expect me to understand.

Secondly, respect the pedestrian crossing! Did you notice you were on it and about to go beyond? Do you even know that it is there for a purpose? Or did you cheat on your written exam for the driver's license?

Thirdly, I may be an auntie to several little babies, some teenagers, and even a few adults who happen to be related to me by blood or by law, but I'm surely not yours. When you look at the mirror, do you sometimes notice the arms you've been gifted with? They look like bottle gourds grown especially for consumption by hippos. And from whatever I could see, so are other parts of your body. I have fat arms too, but they pale in comparison to your nubile, young cellulite bombs. (Kill me for this, but I just had to say it.)

And lastly, Model Colony stretches for at least a couple of square kilometers beyond the signal you were attempting to jump. Try being specific when you want to get directions from random strangers whom you auntize. Especially when you're inviting death-stares from them by halting right on top of the pedestrian crossing.

I hope you didn't find your destination and were fined thrice in the same day for breaking traffic rules.

Gems in the mailbox

I came across these as part of an email chain today...

"Accept that some days you are the pigeon and some days you're the statue."
I found this hilarious. Loved it. Although most of the times I feel like I'm the one who's just standing there and watching the fun.

"If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague."
Hmm, if I decided to take that seriously, I could one day have a PhD in decency.

Birds of a feather...

Here's another excerpt from an email exchange with a team mate.

Her: I wonder whether we should use [full product name] instead of [abbreviated product name]? I dislike the “ARS” abbreviation because it sounds like “arse.” Am I the only person who would notice that?

Me: Heh, it actually never occurred to me! (And my mind is usually in the gutter, when compared to other prissy girls around me.)

Her: Well, I’m glad I have good company in the gutter! ; )

I'm thrilled when I meet a 50-year-old woman who looks gorgeous, does her work smartly and with painstaking attention to detail, and thinks like me sometimes. I thank thee oh heavens above, for this serendipitous association with my lovely team.

Multitasking gets to you at times

One of the reasons I'm grateful for being born as a member of the female species is the awesome multitasking feature that's programmed into our brains through a million years of evolution. I usually put it to great use, but sometimes, when the wrong process accesses the wrong memory location (couldn't help the computing jargon!), it has comical results. It kinda makes me feel absent-minded or stupid ...at least that's what it would appear like to an onlooker when I'm:

• Picking leafy vegetables or peeling peas and I throw the roots or pods into the "clean" bowl instead of the "dispose" bowl
• Closing multiple jars and match a tiny lid with an extra-large jar and the darned thing falls into the oil/ paste/ gooey stuff inside
• Cooking and my mother calls and I answer but tell her to hold on because I was looking for my phone
• Eating biscuits and feeding my dogs and the wrong biscuit ends up in my mouth
• Getting dressed in multiple rooms--clothes here, moisturizer there, the comb in a third room--in a hurry to go to work, only to realize in the office lift I'm still in my somewhat-wet bathroom slippers
• Opening the toilet door after I'm finished and use my ID card to 'swipe' out

It also doesn't help that the keyboards for the office workstation, my personal desktop, and my laptop all have DiFfErEnT layouts!

It's also not fun when you're busy with activities in the marital bed (like RNM puts it) and your brain's planning the breakfast menu for next morning and setting a mental reminder to boil the milk and walk the dogs before you leave for the movie the day after. At such times it's a downright curse.

One night last week

Me to the husband: Wouldn't our dogs be quite disoriented right now? I've used a face cream, a foot cream, a perfume, the mosquito repellent is at work... so many different smells!
The husband retorts: Yeah, and Mojo's fart and Fibi's fart and your fart and mine. It's a wonder we haven't died of gas poisoning yet.
Me: Drat! Let's never light a matchstick in our bedroom, shall we? Our Final Destination might just be an explosion.

Thanks for the prodding, momofrs! ;-)

Glut: make a pig of one self

...says WordWeb, and I agree.

Aside from the fact I have made no silly resolutions this year, I also seem to have subconsciously devised a plan for doing the opposite of what I hoped to do last year. Now, I can blame it all on the fact that my in-laws are staying with us for a month, and 90% of our conversations (and apparently our lives) revolve around food. It's paradoxical, really:

• MIL keeps telling the hubs and me to lose weight.
• She herself is about 10 kilos overweight.
• I'd lose more weight laughing at her exercise routine than she does by performing it.
• We have two maids who do the cooking--one for lunch and one for dinner, so that I don't have to enter the kitchen while MIL is here, and she gets some relief from 35 years of cooking and feeding the family and the endless list of extended family members and friends.
  
• Despite the availability of maids, we still have more cooking related tasks to do.
• Conversation on food is playing on a continuous loop, almost like the background score of a movie, or like the universal ether; it begins just before bed-time--about what's for breakfast the next morning.
• If the plan isn't fixed, the question arises again; after some mumbling on my part and/or escaping to the bathroom, MIL prepares something which I may or may not eat (I'm always in a rush to leave home in the mornings).
• I have come to dread weekends and holidays because then I also have to talk about and help with lunch.
• Although dinner is almost ready everyday, there's still the important task of re-heating everything. Oh, and preparing a salad, and giving tadka to the daal.
• Then there are days when either of the maids does the vanishing act and poor MIL has to cook 80% or more of the meal--I go on a guilt trip and chip in a little.
  
• Every few days, we run out supplies, and then go grocery shopping.
• Food is brought home and stuffed into the fridge; when that real estate runs out, the remaining is piled onto veggie baskets and fruit trays.
• Non-perishable items are stuffed into containers; when that real estate runs out, the remaining is piled into one big can of extra-stock items.
• Hubs and FIL make a special trip to the veggie market every Sunday to hoard a week's worth of subzis.
• Also, most of the guests we ever have are during the time frame when the in-laws are around, so there's always more food/snacks to make/buy.
• A social transaction is incomplete if only one family visits another and the favor is not returned, so we travel to however far and long it takes to... guess what???--meet them for breakfast / lunch / snacks / dinner!!!!!

As if that assault on the senses is not enough, the mind constantly nags and plays a tug-of-war with itself:

• I shall not have a morsel of food for the next three days.
• Warm water is all I should ingest--helps detox, ya'know?
• I can lie to whichever other lady is in charge of nutrition at home (mother or MIL, in case they're visiting) by saying that I'm having all the meals at the office (too much work, you see?)
  
• Well, maybe fruits will do no harm.
• While you're having fruits, what's the harm in having milk--you need all the calcium you get, after all.
• Also, don't forget the assorted raw veggies you can eat--carrots, beetroot, etc; if they're too much to shove down the throat, douse them with salt and chilli powder and lime and crushed groundnuts and...
• Who the hell has time to arrange all that healthy stuff? I've gotta rush to that meeting now, let me grab a bag of chips and I'll deal with the diet plan later.
• Aaargh! All this talk about food. I don't ever want to eat anything till I lose 5 kilos. (Munching on roasted peanuts in the background.)
  
• (In the morning...) I'm not gonna go to the cafeteria with my colleagues. I end up eating that which shouldn't be eaten. I will rush home as soon as it is time to leave. I will stick to my desk and drink warm water till then.
• (Few hours later... while a colleague is ordering snacks) Nope, I don't want to eat anything, I'll just take a bite off your sandwich to taste.
• (Few minutes later...) I realize I'm downing a big cup of coffee / tea and eating chaat. How the hell did that happen?!
  
• (As I'm drifting to sleep...) Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life... I will not eat a morsel of food until I am REALLY hungry. Warm water is my favorite food.

Now, the story that made me write this rant-filled post:
As ALWAYS, I woke up and was in a hurry to leave home, to go do my investments in time for the upcoming "taxable income declaration schedule" (I call it the universal law of karm-oney: what comes to you shall be partly snatched away before it reaches you, and you cough up the rest yourself). Coming back to the point. I did not finish those tasks in time for my weekend class. I admit, rather regretfully, that it wasn't possible for me to cross 15 kms of city traffic in 7 minutes. So I came to the office instead. All the while contemplating whether I was hungry enough to eat. I parked the car and just as I was about the take the stairs and go straight to my desk, my own personal devil who's hell bent upon inflating me to the point of bursting mind ordered my feet to turn around and go to the cozy little neighborhood café instead. I ordered a Garlic-Mushroom Tostato, a Yule Log, and a Frappe Royale. A Rs.330/- meal (after a 15% corporate discount) for one person.

Mother earth is now officially invited to open up and swallow me right now, while I'm all meaty n' chocolaty. If that doesn't happen, someone please shoot me in the head. Only make sure my dogs are properly taken care of for as long as they live. As for my husband, well, let's just let his mother feed him to death :P

Has it been so long

...that I need a cellphone reminder to tell me that it's our anniversary today? Well, I could blame it on the weekend full of chores and no time for ourselves that made us drop dead in the bed last night--no energy for even thinking about today.

I woke up this morning, let Fibi out, and snuggled in with you only to have Mojo jump around and sniff and settle on us, breathing heavily into our ears. So then I let Fibi join in and jump over us too. As I pulled myself out of the warm, comforting husband-and-dog-pile-on-the-mattress and headed for a bath, I noticed the phone blinking and wondered irritably what other task I was supposed to do today--only to be surprised by the anniversary reminder. After which I ran to you excitedly, passing on the reminder. Some hugs and kisses and rather childish lovey-dovey wishes later, we got back to chores. Which involved you feeding the dogs and me getting ready and playing with them until it was time to drag my sorry ass to work. All the while thinking about having one whole day at home, with you on the sofa, me lying in the bean bag, snuggling with the dogs, watching a silly sci-fi movie, and NOT DOING OR THINKING ABOUT DOING ANYTHING ELSE. Sigh!

We've spent all these years doing something or the other (work, watching movies, pigging out on food, long drives, household chores) and always postponing important things like attempting to have a healthier lifestyle and having more time off for 'ourselves'. Maybe it's time we start focussing on those things now. Otherwise we'll always be tired and whiny even after weekends. We'll have a happy anniv, hon, some day.

Till then, here's the pic of the year:
We're doing a good job of hiding those hideous tummies, but we still look a li'l horizontally stretched, don't we?

Chill, sweetheart, it's just a reminder of where we are and where we want to go back to, which is this...
I've merged the images, but the rest is all reality--only 3 years and a dozen kilos earlier. Just like our current reality is close to the Michelin Man.

Ok, stop throwing things at me. Focus, focus!!

Sociophobia

This morning, I leave my cellphone for charging and then forget to carry it to work. A while later, the husband pings on GTalk, and asks me to try and remember where I left my phone--he thinks I'm clueless about the exact location of all my important stuff... it is true sometimes, but not always. So I call him to save time and the effort of typing. He doesn't realize his phone is ringing until I say so on chat. Then the bugger has excuses for low volume, yada, yada. [Snigger]

Then he offers to hand over my phone on his way to work, which is really a detour of about 1.5 kms. I tell him to ring up a colleague who lives nearby and pass it on with her instead. He totally avoids that situation by begging me to let him come and give me the phone. I try reasoning with him. The colleague not only takes the same route to the office and can pick the phone from home (hubs doesn't have to make any effort), but also sits in the adjacent cubicle and so meets me at least once a day (I don't have to make any effort)! That, however, is not good enough for him.

He just wants to hand it over himself so he can come and see me (do not judge, people, there is no romanticism here). The truth is, he always tries to avoid situations that involve interacting with people. I am not even remotely close to being a social butterfly, but I mostly do stuff that's necessary or if it helps (like in this situation). To conclude, driving extra in peak traffic conditions, burning fuel, waiting at the office gate, and risking being late for a meeting at work is all worth avoiding that painful 30-second call to an acquaintance. Now, if the acquaintance had a pet dog...

the phone would be promptly delivered to their residence, even if takes an extra couple of kilometers :P

PS: I too try to wriggle out of most social situations , but pointing fingers and making fun of the spouse is totally a "duty" in the marriage contract I wrote up in my head.

PPS: Dear hubs, if you read this before you leave home, please don't get mad. I love you. I still want my phone to see you before you go to work; I can't wait till you come back tonight.

Random weekend plan VI

Update: what actually transpired

Saturday:

1. Hope to wake up early, prepare and eat breakfast
   Woke up early, prepared tomato-onion-oregano-omlette-sandwiches and gobbled 'em up (hubs loved 'em, of course!).
   
2. Make a trip to the bank while hubby gives his bike for servicing
   Did some of the banking chores while hubby gave his bike for servicing and then we scooted from that oft-overcrowded place.
   
3. Attend my Katthak class on time and not make silly mistakes
   Attended my Katthak class (on time!) where we began a new song in the Bollywood section (Aaja Nach Le--title track).
   
4. Rest for a while and do some housekeeping
   Goofed around for a while, felt hungry by 15:00 and so headed to Vaishali for some sinful lunch. On the way I got a Calligraphy pen and some ink, whipped it out at the restaurant and showed off like I was an artist, but all I really did was scratch the paper until it tore. (The shopkeeper did tell me to work the nibs until they gave in and started doing as they were told.) Later, went shopping for some doggy stuff--got those collar+leash things, nail clippers, and a few snacks.
   
5. Walk the dogs separately and then walk by ourselves or go for a longish drive
   Goofed around some more, but didn't take the dogs for a walk--the heavy meal had slowed us down. The hubs began to cut the dogs' nails only to realize that the clipper wasn't very good.
   
6. Prepare dinner or order in and bathe the dogs while it is delivered
   Made an excuse out of getting the clipper exchanged, bought some more snacks and a Train Your Dog CD instead, and rushed to the Baskin n' Robin's where we really intended to go :)
   
7. Sleep early without gawking at the telly like a zombie
   Stuffed with ice-cream, we came back, brushed like good li'l kids (brushing aside the temptation of letting the nice, ice-creamy taste linger) and cleaned up a little before hitting the bed; also, no TV!!
   

Sunday:

1. No choice but to wake up early, cuz I've booked tickets for The Informant @ 09:00
   Didn't I say we had no choice? Also, I cooked up my own recipe of corn-bhel, and needless to say, the hubs loved it. The poor chap eats and appreciates anything I make on a whim I am so cool at making junk food! The movie was good too, although it's the sort that you need to pay complete attention to. You'll find it boring, or won't understand it unless you hear every dialog. Matt Damon is among my favorites: the Ocean's trilogy, the Bourne series, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and now this--good range of characters.
   
2. Rush to the dance class
   This was postponed to the evening because my teacher was out of town, but she eventually cancelled it after she got stuck in the train on her way back :(
   
3. Rush back home and freshen up
   We did rush home, but to my gran's and then my mom's place, for lunch instead of dinner. Mom made rataalyacha khees (a preparation of sweet potato) for hubs and batatyache kaap (potato made with the same formula as these) for me. There's nothing as gastronomically satiating as gorging on a special dish that you think your mom makes best.
   
4. Rush to the FoC event to meet Unmana and to give my old techie books away ('donate' is too pompous a word)
   I got late for this and eventually missed it. I started in my car and called up Unmana to locate the exact venue, but those FoC folks had wrapped up the event and left by that time :( The carton of books will now rest in the boot until it's given to people who can make use of it. Hmpf!
   
5. Rush to my mom's place while hubby gets his bike back from the garage
   Yep, this was done, although in a different order. And I must mention that the hubs slept over at mom's for over an hour and a half, while I had to run home to let the maid in--who neither turned up, nor called!
   
6. Rush back home in the hope of finding some time to rest
   I did rush back home, but there was unrest in the household after that. The dogs had scraped away huge chunks of two different walls inspite of being muzzled, for which they received a little trashing and a really long time-out. I know that doesn't work on dogs, but that was all I could do to not beat them to death. I swore I'd get crates that same evening and locked them up everyday. The hubs, however, did not think it was a great idea and avoided their dreadful fate by just being non-cooperative.
   
7. Prepare dinner and eat if I have enough energy to even care for food (a good idea would be to have it at mom's place!)
   And guess what we did again? It was BnB, encore, tonight!
   

Pray I follow through and not toss the plan outta the window. Been doing that too often. This post is really my to-do list. Must take a printout in Arial Black, 72 pt.
Ooh, I really did take a printout, but then the only time I looked at it was when I tried out the Calligraphy pens and tore the same paper :P

Counting my blessings

Thank you, God,
...for blessing me with a fresh supply of cool water in the office rest room yesterday. The winter that's just set in brought along some nasty boogers, and the sun that's still blazing (through late mornings and afternoons) made them dry up and encrust the inside of my nose. It felt like I'd just flown over from a Siberian desert. (Of course, I wouldn't know for sure unless you send me enough money to go there, would I?) If it wasn't for the water that not only melted the boogers, but helped flush 'em out, I'd have gone about all day feeling like a rhino with a newly sprouted horn (not that I'd know that for sure either).

Thank you, Dog,
...for spraying me with a fresh supply of your nasal fluid this morning. I've been praying to God to help me find some inspiration to wake up early and feel invigorated. You are the answer to my prayer. I couldn't ask for better.

Patterns and numbers

I just noticed that my number of blog posts
... in the first year
= p1 = 12
... in the second year
= p2 = p1 x 2 + 2 = 26
... in the third year
= p3 = p2 x 2 + 4 = 56

If the pattern continues
... in the fourth year
= p4 = p3 x 2 + 6 (or 8, I could twist it the way I want ;-))
... which means I could write 118 or 120 posts this year. Hmm. I hope they aren't all fake posts like this one.

Also, the pattern will surely not continue the next year onwards, 'coz there's no way I can write 256 posts in a year. Well, unless I decide to write about the number of boogers I pick in a day, or day to day reports about the quality of my dogs' poop, or the decibel levels achieved when squabbling with the hubby (did I beat my mother's score yet?).

The part of me that no one sees

... is Troubled

You are compassionate, caring, and soothing. You like other people to depend on you... In fact, you don't feel right unless you are helping someone out. Underneath it all, you feel the burden of everyone's problems. Without your guidance, you fear that many people's worlds would fall apart. You like to feel in charge, even if it brings you a lot of stress.

What's the Part of You That No One Sees?

Yes, hubby, I can hear you mumble "bossy bitch." This post just proves your point. Now go get that batter so I make appé and dosas to feed our ever-hungry stomachs :P