When you’re the father of four princesses, Valentine’s Day can be quite intimidating. The girls are watching you. What will Daddy get for Mommy this year? Does he buy her the quality long-stemmed roses or the cheap bouquet from the grocery store? And does he remember the chocolate. Cuz Mommy loves her chocolate.
And did he do the same thing as last year? Or did he attempt to be a little original? Does he get her a teddy bear, or give her extra kisses that morning? And does he pick out the perfect card? And write her a poem or pour out his heart with as many words can fit on the inside of the card?
Truth be told, as much of a romantic as I am, Valentine’s Day is not the most important day in my year, and I hate that everything costs more the week leading up to the day: flowers, chocolates, and cards as well. But a day later and everything is 75% off? Hmmm. Does that mean somehow that timing is everything and the price tag on one’s love is slashed if you’re a day late? Continue reading
I know many of you spent the weekend digging yourself out of an igloo. Hubs shoveled us out of our driveway while I kept the couch warm. This calf strain presently makes even walking difficult, but hoping to get back on my feet soon. Just have to be a good patient. Take the drugs (where is that Advil bottle,) show up to my physical therapy appointment (and not call the office fifteen minutes after I was supposed to be there,) and no matter how tempted I am to go for a little jog, I have to wait.
Many of you also spent last night glued to the TV as the music divas walked the red carpet. Arm and arm with the tuxedo-bearing best voices of today at the Grammys. Not I. Hubs and I went on a last second date night. To do the one thing I can do right now. We went to the movies. Continue reading
As I walk to our next class, Jay hobbles next to me, bumping into my side as the student body rushes down hallways to beat the sound of the late bell. With each accidental brush, I’m wondering how my life turned this unpredictable corner today. A day ago, I was top choice for Freshman Choice Award #4: “Most Likely to Eat Anything and Get Straight A’s While Chewing.” Because when you’re Indian, you don’t have a choice about the latter, and you’ve eaten enough strange things by the time you turn five that the first part isn’t too farfetched either.
I cover from head to toe last Sunday to set off for my five-mile run in arctic temperatures. When it hits the low 20s in New York, you feel a little closer to the Santa and imagine Polar Bears might attack if you don’t pick up speed, the latter good motivation to not quit. In my no-can-show-skin get-up, I can easily be mistaken for ski patrol or, say, a bank robber, my ear lobes the only parts exposed to the elements. I am determined to run. But I am even more determined to stay warm. Music set to my SuperHero playlist, I am out the door, off and running. SuperHero, because I always feel like a Superhero by the time I make it back home. Plus, my go-to song is actually “SuperHero” by Family Force 5. My run usually slows to a jog when it comes on. Because I can’t run as fast when I sing out loud. And when you have headphones in, you can’t tell how loud or how off-key you’re singing. Yeah. I’m that runner. Continue reading
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Today’s post is found on MidLife Collage. My short vignette is in this week’s contest and you could pop over there, leave a comment, and hit the FB like option to help me win $100 shmacks! With that kind of cashflow, I might just have to buy hubby some roses! 🙂 And just think, you might have missed voting for American Idol, but you can still vote for me! 🙂
And before you read it, I want you to know that I really thought about this story before I put it out there. During this season of Valentine’s, when all you hear and see are kisses and cuddles, roses and chocolate, life still happens. Lovers fight. Marriage is not easy. And relationships are perhaps more challenging than ever if they want to thrive.
The actual event the story describes happened a year ago. So for the record, we are so over it. And chances are, hubs might not even remember it. Wish I could say it was the first and last bad fight we ever had, but then my love story would be a fairy tale. And truth be told, it’s so much better than any fairy tale I’ve ever read. Simply because tested love produces real love. And I prefer the real deal over the fluff stuff any day. And every day.
Happy reading and huge cyber hugs for voting for me!! 🙂
Thought about writing a Blog titled, “Post Super Bowl Blues,” but I don’t have them. I woke up, ready for another week. No lost sleep over the 49ers loss. Or tossing and turning over that near four-second, end of the game, turn around. An exciting finish!
Not gonna write about the many great commercials this year! Loved the Clydesdale horsey one. I’m sappy sentimental like that. My kids really liked the “cream/cookie” Oreo library battle one. And then there was very touching shout out to God and farmers by Chrysler! And who couldn’t love a daddy who dresses up for his little girl who wants to play princess, even if Doritos do little more for me than turn my fingertips orange. Yeah, not exactly a fan. Continue reading
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I walk into math class and sit in my usual spot. I can hear the snickers all around me but that doesn’t hurt as much as the, “Meeeee-na” whispers when I turn and am greeted with a bubblegum bubble-covered smirk and then a pop. Like my world. Deflating with each jab, I have no control of the rejection that fences me in.
Until I take the sharpened pencil and slip it under my shirt, just at the waistline. Under my desk where no one can see. With my two fingers, I find the cut, just days old, still scabbing and not healed yet. Not stupid enough to slice along my wrists. Or even on my thighs. That’s what all the predictable girls do. The ones who prefer an audience for their pain.
I trace the bumpy skin until my fingertips find the start of my newest scar on my waist, grit my teeth and poke hard. With the tip of my pencil til I feel the skin break. I’m a writer. I call it rewriting my story. With lines of pain. Just one more reason I love pencils. Continue reading
Answer: The commercials. Obviously.
Can I tell you that I had to look up which teams are in the Super Bowl. I do this every year. Because this chica is an NBA fan. Bulls to be exact. And I cannot devote too much time to tv. Because the other hours of my life I like to do other things like sleep, write, work out, and live. Out my own reality TV show. Called the “Wild and Content World of Raj.” It’s called getting material. For the next story.
Anyway the other day, I decided to put my electronics away as I watched the Bull’s game that we sat down to watch in real-time. No updating my FB status as Deng hit a three from downtown or Nate did a superman jump to make yet another poster worthy block. And when a center goes coast to coast and dunks… Yeah. We love Noah in this Chi-town house set in the heart of Knicksville.
No tweeting either. Okay, maybe just one retweet. Of a Sam Smith comment on the game. But absolutely no checking my email. Does anyone even have email anymore?
So anyway, holy cow! Have you seen the commercials that are out there? They are pretty darn good. Okay, not all of them, but a lot of them. Continue reading