Mother Dearest concluded that I either need to grow up or see a shrink. That was after spotting my dripping pile of water-logged cloths that I had stashed away in a corner of the laundry basket.
Ok, so I jumped in to a couple of puddles and decided to ditch the umbrella in the pouring rain a couple of blocks from home and enjoyed a bit of spinning around and dancing my way home, real psycho style in the rain, what's the big deal? Puddles are there to be jumped in, people are meant to get drenched and cloths are meant to be soiled, muddied and soaked.
Right?
Achoo!!! My respiratory system just might not agree with me there.
Anyways just stepped out of my wet cloths, had a nice warm bath and feeling quite cosy and warm inside. Except for the slight sniffling of course, but that too shall pass. I probably shouldn't have stepped out of the house today what with God having regular baths these days which requires emptying out the divine sewer systems, celestial bathroom-cleaning and emptying the heavenly buckets over poor mortal us and all. But then, I didn't want to invoke the rather formidable wrath of our dearly beloved librarian, that tiny little man with 64 horse power vocal chords, chameleon-like unpredictable mood swings and a temper that surpasses the most powerful of sand storms of the Sahara. Declaring war would not be a wise choice at the moment. What with Ban ki Moon's bespectacled eyes roving around these days and all.
As filthy as it is, Colombo is rather breath-taking in the rain. I watched fascinated from the dusty windows of a leaking bus as the rain fell, mist-like across the Kelani river, draping it in a shawl of the finest silk, giving it that flabbergasting blurred effect that covered ugly things. Like the slums. They were barely visible in the rain.
Maybe people like the rain because it blurs ugly things, the things that we don't really want to see. It washes the beggar people off the streets, it seemingly washes away the pollution, the garbage thrown here and there. Even the generally urine-stenching Town hall didn't smell so bad today. The people and the slums are separated by a sheet of falling water and you can no longer see the child licking the plate, dressed in rags, seated in a doorway.
Rain doesn't cleanse, as they say. It only masks things, temporarily washes things away. They have to reemerge some day, stinking, appalling and as putrid as ever.
Hell's roof must be leaking this rainy season, coz it sure seems like some of devil's puny spiteful creatures have escaped the dungeons and hit the surface this time around. And some of them just CANNOT get over the excitement of being behind those hollow round things (which we refer to as the driving wheel) that control these miraculous inventions called vehicles it seems. And some of them haven't seen the likeness of the female species in a VERY long time for they honk, flash their lights at the sight of a girl and purposely speed over puddles, spraying mud, water and God-knows-what else over the less fortunate pedestrians who are doomed to walk, balancing numerous bags and umbrella in hand, mouth and elbow, trying their best to keep dry. Well, they shall get born as swamp rats/ frogs/ insignificant filthy swamp things in their next birth. Karma exists you know. While these cowardly repulsive things chuckle maliciously inside their comfortable vehicles, I hope they vomit maggots out of their revolting mouths. That would send them screeching back to hell where they belong.
Anyways, it was fun wandering around in the rain, watching the rain soaked ravens preen their wings, feeling the drizzle of rain drop needles on the bare skin evoking goosebumps, jumping in to puddles, getting soaked, the feel of wet cloths clinging to the body as if craving for warmth, letting the hair blow in the wind only to be weighed down by the chilly drops of the melting sky back again. It was fun sitting in a bus while the rain enveloped and embraced everything outside, watching the rain water gushing down the streets, dancing and springing in glee across a rain-bathed window pane. However, it was not much fun coming home and sneezing the head (and everything else) off topped off by having to sit and listen to the preachings and chastising (with the consistency of a rubber band and everything stretchable) of a fuss pot of a Mother Dearest. "Still behaving like a child at 23 years old! People would have thought that you're mad!" she said. Ah who the hell cares. Moments like this come only once in a while and when it comes, the wise (wo)man seizes it by the neck and wrings out all (s)he can out of it when she can. Who the hell cares what anybody thought? Coz life's just too short to give a rat's ass :)
Achoo! *sniffle* :)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
30000+ views already! Thank you! :)
Well, today Lady Grouchalot officially exceeds it's 3000 view point (in such a short amount of time too) and I want to make this an opportunity to thank all those who take time to visit this blog and read all the crappy nonsensical mumbo-jumbo I write in it (even though it's a tad bit too dramatic sometimes). I want to thank all my Sri Lankan viewers (who are bordering on 1500 by the way) , viewers from the United states, United Kingdom, Canada, Netherlands, Malaysia, Japan, Australia, Pakistan, India, Iran, Singapore, Germany, France (panting) Russia, Italy and Greece (phew!) HI ALL!!! (waves excitedly) It's such a beautiful feeling when I see half the countries in the world map in my audience list. Although I don't know you all personally, I would like to get to know y'all. So do drop a word from time to time. I would be thrilled to get to know you all :)
A GREAT big hello goes out to my "stalker" friends too. HI!!!! (waves frantically) :D I do have a fairly good idea of who you are and I want to tell you that it's awfully, majorly nice of you to go the extra mile(find my FB/Twitter page, find the links from there) and take the extra trouble to read my blog as regularly as you can. This is one way of getting to know each other I suppose, even though it's unfair on my part that I don't really get to know your whims and fancies about life in general and what you are up to on daily basis. Oh well, at least you read my blog. I really do appreciate it. Thank you :) And please, DO feel free to stalk away!! :D
Well folks, life is not always a bed of roses. If you must know I was having a pretty crappy day today, what with the crappiest of all papers and all (next time, remind me to read the INSTRUCTIONS at the top of the page. Sigh...) And I've been kicking myself royally on my butt the whole day (or half the day) about it. And then I have a nap and have a dream about how everyone I have ever loved betrays and abandons me and I am left alone. And it really is the most horrible of all feelings, being tricked and deceived by the very people who you love with all you've got and I do hope that it doesn't happen to anyone in this world, even to my worst enemy(Hmmm....come to think of it, I don't think that I have any. Enemies I mean). And then getting up with this monstrous headache and wandering around the house aimlessly not really wanting to talk to anyone, I sit down in front of the computer and run across my visitor statistics on Grouchalot and voila! The 3000+ views point stares right at my face and my heart dances for joy. That just made my day me thinks and it's you people who made my day, the you without the faces, the you that I would like very much to get to know. Do drop a message from time to time. Because all of you are very dear to me and close to my heart and I would very much love to give you all a face that I will etch in to my memories and keep aside, an essential tresure for a rainy day. Muchos love to all :)
A GREAT big hello goes out to my "stalker" friends too. HI!!!! (waves frantically) :D I do have a fairly good idea of who you are and I want to tell you that it's awfully, majorly nice of you to go the extra mile(find my FB/Twitter page, find the links from there) and take the extra trouble to read my blog as regularly as you can. This is one way of getting to know each other I suppose, even though it's unfair on my part that I don't really get to know your whims and fancies about life in general and what you are up to on daily basis. Oh well, at least you read my blog. I really do appreciate it. Thank you :) And please, DO feel free to stalk away!! :D
Well folks, life is not always a bed of roses. If you must know I was having a pretty crappy day today, what with the crappiest of all papers and all (next time, remind me to read the INSTRUCTIONS at the top of the page. Sigh...) And I've been kicking myself royally on my butt the whole day (or half the day) about it. And then I have a nap and have a dream about how everyone I have ever loved betrays and abandons me and I am left alone. And it really is the most horrible of all feelings, being tricked and deceived by the very people who you love with all you've got and I do hope that it doesn't happen to anyone in this world, even to my worst enemy(Hmmm....come to think of it, I don't think that I have any. Enemies I mean). And then getting up with this monstrous headache and wandering around the house aimlessly not really wanting to talk to anyone, I sit down in front of the computer and run across my visitor statistics on Grouchalot and voila! The 3000+ views point stares right at my face and my heart dances for joy. That just made my day me thinks and it's you people who made my day, the you without the faces, the you that I would like very much to get to know. Do drop a message from time to time. Because all of you are very dear to me and close to my heart and I would very much love to give you all a face that I will etch in to my memories and keep aside, an essential tresure for a rainy day. Muchos love to all :)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
An otherworldly experience
Rain and lightning ceased just enough for me to get connected to the world wide web once again. Electricity came on just a while earlier as well and I got to experience how peaceful the world is without the modern technology hindering all its natural beauty.
It was all so beautiful and so very serene, bathed in the soft, soothing, mellow candle light and the storm brewing outside. The candles burned and flickered sending shadows dancing across the walls. The smell of melting wax mingled with the wet, earthy smell of the rain outside was just so sublime. Everything has a smell, the flame of a candle, the wax, the wet leaves, the woody scent of the wet bark of trees, the clay-ish fragrance of the soaked earth, the sulfuric smell of lightening, the wooden frame of the French windows that gives off a resin-like fragrance on wet days and even the rain itself that falls through charged air, mingled with dust particles from the sky. The rain raged on outside while the wind sighed and whispered, sometimes fluttering the pages of the book that I was reading, singing butterfly songs of fluttering wings. An occasional lightning bolt branched across a weeping somber sky, peeked a silvery peek in to a softly lit room and bolted away in an instant, taking its silvery floods of light with it. A cool gust of wind occasionally intruded the candle lit room through the open balcony doors, ruffled the hair, caressed the cheeks and sent the wind chimes chiming, reminding me of a tinkling giggle of a young and carefree lass. It was all so peaceful, so very tranquil and lovelier than words in all its placidity. It was easier to believe in fairies and angels back then in this unearthly sort of ambiance. It was easy to believe in unicorns, elves, leprechauns and the existence of a bewitching, enchanted, magical world beyond the practical, logical and all too serious world of ours.
Candle light and rain being the culprits, I have always loved candles as long as I can remember. Truth be told, I love it when electricity goes out at night (so as to indulge in my obsession with candles without seeming too odd), particularly when there is a storm raging on outside. Maybe its the hopeless romantic in me or the dark being lurking somewhere within who invokes in me this unquenchable fascination for candle light. Whichever it is, it truly is a magical sort of experience, a real liberating, otherworldly sort of feeling that just makes you feel glad to be able to feel the way that you do. You don't really need alcohol or drugs for intoxication. It is possible to get drunk on life itself, to really absorb moments like this if you pay attention close enough. It's moments like this that makes you feel that life indeed is, fully worth living :)
It was all so beautiful and so very serene, bathed in the soft, soothing, mellow candle light and the storm brewing outside. The candles burned and flickered sending shadows dancing across the walls. The smell of melting wax mingled with the wet, earthy smell of the rain outside was just so sublime. Everything has a smell, the flame of a candle, the wax, the wet leaves, the woody scent of the wet bark of trees, the clay-ish fragrance of the soaked earth, the sulfuric smell of lightening, the wooden frame of the French windows that gives off a resin-like fragrance on wet days and even the rain itself that falls through charged air, mingled with dust particles from the sky. The rain raged on outside while the wind sighed and whispered, sometimes fluttering the pages of the book that I was reading, singing butterfly songs of fluttering wings. An occasional lightning bolt branched across a weeping somber sky, peeked a silvery peek in to a softly lit room and bolted away in an instant, taking its silvery floods of light with it. A cool gust of wind occasionally intruded the candle lit room through the open balcony doors, ruffled the hair, caressed the cheeks and sent the wind chimes chiming, reminding me of a tinkling giggle of a young and carefree lass. It was all so peaceful, so very tranquil and lovelier than words in all its placidity. It was easier to believe in fairies and angels back then in this unearthly sort of ambiance. It was easy to believe in unicorns, elves, leprechauns and the existence of a bewitching, enchanted, magical world beyond the practical, logical and all too serious world of ours.
Candle light and rain being the culprits, I have always loved candles as long as I can remember. Truth be told, I love it when electricity goes out at night (so as to indulge in my obsession with candles without seeming too odd), particularly when there is a storm raging on outside. Maybe its the hopeless romantic in me or the dark being lurking somewhere within who invokes in me this unquenchable fascination for candle light. Whichever it is, it truly is a magical sort of experience, a real liberating, otherworldly sort of feeling that just makes you feel glad to be able to feel the way that you do. You don't really need alcohol or drugs for intoxication. It is possible to get drunk on life itself, to really absorb moments like this if you pay attention close enough. It's moments like this that makes you feel that life indeed is, fully worth living :)
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Sights and sounds of avrudu
Well, after starving from the morning (didn't have breakfast and survived through the day with a fruit juice and yogurt) finally got to lay hands on that milk rice on the table at the auspicious time. Wonder who makes these auspicious times and stuff. Him and I need to have a talk.
But then, there IS a beauty of starving for a while and finally getting to stuff ourselves senseless. I'm guessing it must an ancient tactic to get us to really appreciate the food that we are eating and to develop patience and self discipline. And it works! It takes a huge effort to actually lie starving while you KNOW that there is this huge amount of food on the table just waiting for your snapping jaws to just devour em up and when you actually get down to the business of eating (after the ceremonial task of feeding each other a mouthful of milk rice at the auspicious time, starring at the auspicious direction) every flavor of the slightest significance just explodes in your mouth and sends you off to ecstasy. Mouthgasm I should say.
After much huffing and puffing ( a whole lot of smoke and eyes tearing from too much of smoke later), Mother Dearest, Father Dearest and myself managed to get the fire going in the little stove we built in the middle of the living room in order to make the milk pot overflow. It's almost like this family tradition although we could have very well used the gas stove for the purpose, we go the extra mile to fetch stones and timber and spend hours blowing, pouring kerosene and trying to keep the fire going. It's quite fun really, running around the thing, poking a stick in here, blowing off the ashes there and pouring more kerosene where it is needed. It's one of these Aluth Awrudu smells that I'm so very used to, this smokey, musky smell that it leaves afterwards and the soft smokey, dreamlike atmosphere. It's just so.......avrudu like.
I also like the milk rice cooked in a new clay pot bought just for the occasion. It has this earthy after taste that is just so sublime that you find yourself gobbling down the kiribath even if you're not that much of a milk rice fan. And afterwards it's nap time for the kiribath lovers of course. I had a long deep cosy nap which was disturbed by Mother Dearest who woke me up saying that we needed to go visiting.....with plates.
This plate business is something that is fascinating at the same time, somewhat annoying. While it is such a warm and beautiful sight to see people walking all over the place with covered plates filled with goodies hanging from their hands, mouths and elbows, knocking on gates, ringing door bells and all which gives you such a nice, homey sort of a feeling, it is equally annoying to sort out who brought which plate and/or napkin and then revisiting them with plates (once again prepared, arranged and covered carefully with your own hands, not to mention, carried by yourself as well).
Well, even the visiting part is alright except the part where they go ahead and serve you ( with all the good intentions and the good cheer of the season of course) with all the oil-oozing sweet treats that you have grown so sick of seeing ( you have already seen, touched and winced at the same stuff on the twenty something plates that you have already received not to mention prepared at home too) and you absolutely HAVE to take one and nibble at it for courtesy's sake (even though all you want to do is puke at the very smell of it). I SWEAR to God that the next time anybody offers me something oily or sweet I'm just going to throw up in their face. Do mark my words.
But as I said, it is such a joy to see all those people on the streets of the neighborhood pleasantly burdened with the weight of sweets prepared by their own hands ( or not) with love, knocking on gates or gaily calling out to one another. Everybody is smiling. It is the one day of the year that you get to see everybody smiling. The atmosphere is so ecstatic that you could actually cut the smiles and laughter in the air with a knife. Like you cut dodol....or kiribath......or milk toffees...Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!!
Anyways, despite the many faults and deficiencies of the Sri Lankan human race as a nation, this is the one day of the year when everybody eats, drinks, bathes, lights fires, go to the temple (and even starve) as a nation, together as one. This is the day that every Sri Lankan strives to spend as happily and as extravagantly as he/she can, as his finances, his social situation allows him to be. The sense of unity and good will is so overpowering that you just end up greeting everybody that you meet a happy new year whether you know them or not. The ambiance is just so wonderfully warm and fresh with mouthed and unmouthed greetings resonating through the air. And I love every minute of it.
Not to mention the fire crackers. While our Doggie Darlings continue to hide under bushes, furniture and follow us around for the rest of the Awrudu season, I just cannot get enough of those sounds. It just gives that much needed boost to the festive glow of the honey colored Awrudu ambiance and I can see myself soaring skywards on a sky rocket and exploding in to a million pieces in turn, coloring the sky a beautiful golden reddish color. And the smell it leaves you after the explotion, the smell of burnt paper and burnt gun powder (??) is so exhilarating that it has become, in my mind, an essential, quintessential Awrudu fragrance.
As a child I have always loved and looked forward to avrudu. The main reason being, Father Dearest used to tie up a swing for me in a lower branch of our mango tree those days (the days when I was considered a very lovable child who deserved to be spoilt.....Sigh...). I would nag him weeks before the actual avrudu day till he climbs up to the tree ( he does not trust anyone else with this task as it needs to be tightly fastened to the branch for the sake of my safety) and ties up the swing for me with a rope and then climb down and attach a piece of wood as the seat for the swing. I would spend my days and nights in that swing, spin and spin on it till I got dizzy, go high up as I can, eat drink and practically live in it till at night fall when Mother Dearest would drag a reluctant, unwilling me in to the house, with threats and warnings of taking down the swing if I don't come in that instant. Ah....happy days..........
Avrudu has always been a very serious affair in our household. Everything is done to precision, with due respect and even the making of the food is done with an almost sacred sort of deference with our own hands even though there are domestic aids around. And I of course, enjoy every minute of the hustle and bustle and all the hullabaloo surrounding the frantically bubbly activities. Although it's a lot of work and the abundance of food ultimately results in going to waste, nobody complains. Everybody goes about doing their part with a smile on their faces and hope in their hearts. Mother Dearest I have noticed, is particularly bubbly when Awrudu nears. While some may consider Avrudu unnecessary, conventional bull crap, I consider it necessary, because all in all it brings joy, it brings hope, it gives you something to look forward to. Yes true, the world we live in is friggin' hypocritical and rotten to the core, but something like this at least once a year gives us at least an illusion of a rich and thriving culture to hang on to. And that's what we need to survive, to go about our days with a spring in our steps, something to hang on to, something to keep our heads above the water. Even though you are sometimes aware that it's a mere illusion, you are just glad that it's there. It is hope after all. We are all just waiting for our very own personal Godot.
I just love seeing people smile. There is indeed, happiness in the world and I'm just glad to be able to witness it with my own eyes. I'm glad that I constantly keep getting mesmerized by life and times, no matter how many times it has been repeated and how insignificantly small they seem to be. I know that I shall never stop being fascinated by life. I don't want to. It keeps one alive :)
But then, there IS a beauty of starving for a while and finally getting to stuff ourselves senseless. I'm guessing it must an ancient tactic to get us to really appreciate the food that we are eating and to develop patience and self discipline. And it works! It takes a huge effort to actually lie starving while you KNOW that there is this huge amount of food on the table just waiting for your snapping jaws to just devour em up and when you actually get down to the business of eating (after the ceremonial task of feeding each other a mouthful of milk rice at the auspicious time, starring at the auspicious direction) every flavor of the slightest significance just explodes in your mouth and sends you off to ecstasy. Mouthgasm I should say.
After much huffing and puffing ( a whole lot of smoke and eyes tearing from too much of smoke later), Mother Dearest, Father Dearest and myself managed to get the fire going in the little stove we built in the middle of the living room in order to make the milk pot overflow. It's almost like this family tradition although we could have very well used the gas stove for the purpose, we go the extra mile to fetch stones and timber and spend hours blowing, pouring kerosene and trying to keep the fire going. It's quite fun really, running around the thing, poking a stick in here, blowing off the ashes there and pouring more kerosene where it is needed. It's one of these Aluth Awrudu smells that I'm so very used to, this smokey, musky smell that it leaves afterwards and the soft smokey, dreamlike atmosphere. It's just so.......avrudu like.
I also like the milk rice cooked in a new clay pot bought just for the occasion. It has this earthy after taste that is just so sublime that you find yourself gobbling down the kiribath even if you're not that much of a milk rice fan. And afterwards it's nap time for the kiribath lovers of course. I had a long deep cosy nap which was disturbed by Mother Dearest who woke me up saying that we needed to go visiting.....with plates.
This plate business is something that is fascinating at the same time, somewhat annoying. While it is such a warm and beautiful sight to see people walking all over the place with covered plates filled with goodies hanging from their hands, mouths and elbows, knocking on gates, ringing door bells and all which gives you such a nice, homey sort of a feeling, it is equally annoying to sort out who brought which plate and/or napkin and then revisiting them with plates (once again prepared, arranged and covered carefully with your own hands, not to mention, carried by yourself as well).
Well, even the visiting part is alright except the part where they go ahead and serve you ( with all the good intentions and the good cheer of the season of course) with all the oil-oozing sweet treats that you have grown so sick of seeing ( you have already seen, touched and winced at the same stuff on the twenty something plates that you have already received not to mention prepared at home too) and you absolutely HAVE to take one and nibble at it for courtesy's sake (even though all you want to do is puke at the very smell of it). I SWEAR to God that the next time anybody offers me something oily or sweet I'm just going to throw up in their face. Do mark my words.
But as I said, it is such a joy to see all those people on the streets of the neighborhood pleasantly burdened with the weight of sweets prepared by their own hands ( or not) with love, knocking on gates or gaily calling out to one another. Everybody is smiling. It is the one day of the year that you get to see everybody smiling. The atmosphere is so ecstatic that you could actually cut the smiles and laughter in the air with a knife. Like you cut dodol....or kiribath......or milk toffees...Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!!
Anyways, despite the many faults and deficiencies of the Sri Lankan human race as a nation, this is the one day of the year when everybody eats, drinks, bathes, lights fires, go to the temple (and even starve) as a nation, together as one. This is the day that every Sri Lankan strives to spend as happily and as extravagantly as he/she can, as his finances, his social situation allows him to be. The sense of unity and good will is so overpowering that you just end up greeting everybody that you meet a happy new year whether you know them or not. The ambiance is just so wonderfully warm and fresh with mouthed and unmouthed greetings resonating through the air. And I love every minute of it.
Not to mention the fire crackers. While our Doggie Darlings continue to hide under bushes, furniture and follow us around for the rest of the Awrudu season, I just cannot get enough of those sounds. It just gives that much needed boost to the festive glow of the honey colored Awrudu ambiance and I can see myself soaring skywards on a sky rocket and exploding in to a million pieces in turn, coloring the sky a beautiful golden reddish color. And the smell it leaves you after the explotion, the smell of burnt paper and burnt gun powder (??) is so exhilarating that it has become, in my mind, an essential, quintessential Awrudu fragrance.
As a child I have always loved and looked forward to avrudu. The main reason being, Father Dearest used to tie up a swing for me in a lower branch of our mango tree those days (the days when I was considered a very lovable child who deserved to be spoilt.....Sigh...). I would nag him weeks before the actual avrudu day till he climbs up to the tree ( he does not trust anyone else with this task as it needs to be tightly fastened to the branch for the sake of my safety) and ties up the swing for me with a rope and then climb down and attach a piece of wood as the seat for the swing. I would spend my days and nights in that swing, spin and spin on it till I got dizzy, go high up as I can, eat drink and practically live in it till at night fall when Mother Dearest would drag a reluctant, unwilling me in to the house, with threats and warnings of taking down the swing if I don't come in that instant. Ah....happy days..........
Avrudu has always been a very serious affair in our household. Everything is done to precision, with due respect and even the making of the food is done with an almost sacred sort of deference with our own hands even though there are domestic aids around. And I of course, enjoy every minute of the hustle and bustle and all the hullabaloo surrounding the frantically bubbly activities. Although it's a lot of work and the abundance of food ultimately results in going to waste, nobody complains. Everybody goes about doing their part with a smile on their faces and hope in their hearts. Mother Dearest I have noticed, is particularly bubbly when Awrudu nears. While some may consider Avrudu unnecessary, conventional bull crap, I consider it necessary, because all in all it brings joy, it brings hope, it gives you something to look forward to. Yes true, the world we live in is friggin' hypocritical and rotten to the core, but something like this at least once a year gives us at least an illusion of a rich and thriving culture to hang on to. And that's what we need to survive, to go about our days with a spring in our steps, something to hang on to, something to keep our heads above the water. Even though you are sometimes aware that it's a mere illusion, you are just glad that it's there. It is hope after all. We are all just waiting for our very own personal Godot.
I just love seeing people smile. There is indeed, happiness in the world and I'm just glad to be able to witness it with my own eyes. I'm glad that I constantly keep getting mesmerized by life and times, no matter how many times it has been repeated and how insignificantly small they seem to be. I know that I shall never stop being fascinated by life. I don't want to. It keeps one alive :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Aluth Avrudu preparations
And so it is once again the season of oil-oozing sweetness, the season of alluring cooking smells that fattens you just by inhaling the fumes, super oily skin(due to the excess of oil consumption) and the smells of cinnamon, cardamom and coconut oil wafting from the kitchen areas. It's the season for all sorts of cuts and burns, hand burns, finger burns, leg burns, even butt burns(try bending over near an oven door which had just delivered a steaming cake, wearing a teeny tiny short yourself) It's the season when Mother Dearest fusses about near the stoves steaming this, frying that and Father Dearest ditches his customary sarong and gets in to his sexy work shorts (his words, not mine) and bustles about the place mending this, fixing that, making frequent trips to the stores to get vanilla, butter, this and that (Mother Dearest's orders of course) sawing timber(what the hell for????) and occasionally poking his head around the kitchen department in hope of that occasional offer of little morsels of food tasting (he's sort of our own personal guinea pig. And he loves being that!) Over all, it's just the season of mellow oil and sweet-fullness that shall leave you hating sweets for months afterwards!
Well,Avrudu is everywhere. Dropped in at the super market to get some this and that's (since Mother dearest swore not to set foot outside the house until after the whole new year ordeal was over) and was surprised to see the length of the liquor queue at the store(which surpassed all the counter queues put together in the whole super market). Well it seems like we Sri Lankans have turned ourselves in to a jolly nation since of late. We drink on New year, we drink on Christmas, we drink on birthdays, we drink after exams, we drink on our weddings, we drink on other people's weddings, we drink because we found a job, we drink because we lost the job, we drink because someone died, we drink because someone was born, we drink because we won the match, we drink because we lost the match and then we get together our friends and we drink just because. What's the difference? We Lankans are just on the lookout to "put a party" and "put" a drink. Well, good for us I'd say. I guess livers and brain cells shall have to be imported from China before long at the rate that we are going.
And then this group of elderly ladies arrived in chintz cloths and colorful blouses, armed with a large drum ready for some Avrudu drum beating inside the super market. They were all wearing matching plastic bangles, bead necklaces and flowers in their hair, true colorful Lankan style. Pretty. That got me smiling and made me forget about the complications of importing human organs in to the country in order to save the nation :)
Although the excessive food season is a little too much for the digestive system to tolerate, the making of all that abundance has always been fun. I like the making of kokis, that crunchy, oily not-so-sweet, flour based, deep-fried delicacy which I actually don't mind eating much. I like dipping my favorite butterfly mold in the batter and lowering it in to the hot oil and listening to the hissing of the oil and watching the batter covered mold disappear amidst millions of golden oil bubbles. I love slipping off the battered butterfly slowly and carefully off the mold and on to the oil, letting it float away carefree and bubbly, turning a beautiful golden color. The butterfly for me is a symbol of hope. And new year always brings hope. However, it does become a tad bit disturbing when it comes to the part where you eat the butterfly, wings and all later on. So we shall not think about it now.
The kokis and the milk toffees done, only the cake and the pudding shall be my responsibilities tomorrow. Rest shall be Mother Dearest's responsibilities. She managed to get her finger cut from a condensed milk tin today by the way, whereas I managed to escape without any injuries (except for a slightly burnt finger tip acquired by trying to dip a finger in to a boiling pot of milk toffee mixture,[greed, tsk tsk!] Ouch!) which is surprising because I'm the accident prone one who is always in a hurry and barging in to things, toppling over stuff and emerging out of the kitchens with bandaged hands and usually howling.
Our domestic aid has gone home for Avrudu. Even if she was here all these would be done with our own hands. It's almost like a yearly ritual when all the sweet meats are prepared, houses cleaned, sheets and blinds changed. Without that an year would not be complete. I love the ambiance, all the activity, the hustle and bustle, the sweat, the heat of the season trickling down our backs as we grind and fry and sprinkle. We smile. It is such a joy.
Since the whole cleaning fiasco has been taken care of earlier on, theres not much left to be done. I take absolutely no part in these cleaning expeditions(unless I develop a sudden desire for sneezing myself off to my death bed) due to my fatal allergy to house dust. The dust-busting duo(namely the servant and the Mother Dearest accompanied by brooms, brushes and our trusty, awfully noisy vacuum cleaner) explored corners in the house that they have never seen before and many spiders lost their much cherished homes because of this cleaning frenzy. Poor creatures. They shall be homeless this Avrudu season.
I shall hit the bed now since tomorrow I got to whip up a miracle cake like no other that has ever hit the tables of our house before. Therefore, I need to preserve my energy to cut, grind, mix, chop and bake tomorrow. Nightey night everyone! Hope you're having as much fun as I am! :)
Well,Avrudu is everywhere. Dropped in at the super market to get some this and that's (since Mother dearest swore not to set foot outside the house until after the whole new year ordeal was over) and was surprised to see the length of the liquor queue at the store(which surpassed all the counter queues put together in the whole super market). Well it seems like we Sri Lankans have turned ourselves in to a jolly nation since of late. We drink on New year, we drink on Christmas, we drink on birthdays, we drink after exams, we drink on our weddings, we drink on other people's weddings, we drink because we found a job, we drink because we lost the job, we drink because someone died, we drink because someone was born, we drink because we won the match, we drink because we lost the match and then we get together our friends and we drink just because. What's the difference? We Lankans are just on the lookout to "put a party" and "put" a drink. Well, good for us I'd say. I guess livers and brain cells shall have to be imported from China before long at the rate that we are going.
And then this group of elderly ladies arrived in chintz cloths and colorful blouses, armed with a large drum ready for some Avrudu drum beating inside the super market. They were all wearing matching plastic bangles, bead necklaces and flowers in their hair, true colorful Lankan style. Pretty. That got me smiling and made me forget about the complications of importing human organs in to the country in order to save the nation :)
Although the excessive food season is a little too much for the digestive system to tolerate, the making of all that abundance has always been fun. I like the making of kokis, that crunchy, oily not-so-sweet, flour based, deep-fried delicacy which I actually don't mind eating much. I like dipping my favorite butterfly mold in the batter and lowering it in to the hot oil and listening to the hissing of the oil and watching the batter covered mold disappear amidst millions of golden oil bubbles. I love slipping off the battered butterfly slowly and carefully off the mold and on to the oil, letting it float away carefree and bubbly, turning a beautiful golden color. The butterfly for me is a symbol of hope. And new year always brings hope. However, it does become a tad bit disturbing when it comes to the part where you eat the butterfly, wings and all later on. So we shall not think about it now.
The kokis and the milk toffees done, only the cake and the pudding shall be my responsibilities tomorrow. Rest shall be Mother Dearest's responsibilities. She managed to get her finger cut from a condensed milk tin today by the way, whereas I managed to escape without any injuries (except for a slightly burnt finger tip acquired by trying to dip a finger in to a boiling pot of milk toffee mixture,[greed, tsk tsk!] Ouch!) which is surprising because I'm the accident prone one who is always in a hurry and barging in to things, toppling over stuff and emerging out of the kitchens with bandaged hands and usually howling.
Our domestic aid has gone home for Avrudu. Even if she was here all these would be done with our own hands. It's almost like a yearly ritual when all the sweet meats are prepared, houses cleaned, sheets and blinds changed. Without that an year would not be complete. I love the ambiance, all the activity, the hustle and bustle, the sweat, the heat of the season trickling down our backs as we grind and fry and sprinkle. We smile. It is such a joy.
Since the whole cleaning fiasco has been taken care of earlier on, theres not much left to be done. I take absolutely no part in these cleaning expeditions(unless I develop a sudden desire for sneezing myself off to my death bed) due to my fatal allergy to house dust. The dust-busting duo(namely the servant and the Mother Dearest accompanied by brooms, brushes and our trusty, awfully noisy vacuum cleaner) explored corners in the house that they have never seen before and many spiders lost their much cherished homes because of this cleaning frenzy. Poor creatures. They shall be homeless this Avrudu season.
I shall hit the bed now since tomorrow I got to whip up a miracle cake like no other that has ever hit the tables of our house before. Therefore, I need to preserve my energy to cut, grind, mix, chop and bake tomorrow. Nightey night everyone! Hope you're having as much fun as I am! :)
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Still alive! Yeey!!
Well, Lady Grouchalot is once more up and about on her feet I fear. She did not die, unfortunately for some people :)
Anyways, here's a BIG, tight hug to EVERYONE who were kind enough to leave a message, drop a text, a call (even if I did not answer the phone sometimes. Sowiee!) who inquired and made demands that I take this, do not eat this, do not drink that, drink this, eat more of that and when I ate more of that coaxed me to stuff myself senseless and everyone who fussed and clucked about me all these days. Yes it was annoying at times and Mother Dearest suffered the most from my mood swings and general annoyance at being fussed over, but I know it was all out of love.
The Darling is quite the miracle worker me thinks. It's like every time he's around, (and he's been around quite a lot ever since I have been sick) he transmits a little bit of his energy on to me. If such a short amount of time is capable of transferring that kind of energy, imagine what a straight month or years with him around would do. Oh I would be doing all sorts of umm....creative and innovative things with that sort of energy. Yes.........Interesting..... :D
But then I feel like a dementor or a succubus that sucks off energy off people that I come in to contact with. Did that sound weird? Mua ha ha ha ha! Of course not! :P
Something to do with the healing effect he has on me I guess. Like they say, love performs miracles on everyday basis. Yes, we do fight and hiss at each other like cats and dogs sometimes too( both being full blooded, passionate individuals, we can't help it. Life's just too boring without the drama :D ), but just one and a half hour of merely lying there in your beloved's arms lifeless, before you know it(and as your folk watched open mouthed), people who were barely capable of walking across a room without staggering are suddenly prancing around, making cheese and mushroom omlettes for dinner! :D
You do not need any verbal verifications. You just feel the love. It's just there, in every touch, in every breath, in every gaze. It's in the urgency of his voice when he asks if there's any progress in health or how he hurries to see you every day, even though you know it's extra trouble for him. And that confirmation is enough ground for miracles, even to pull somebody off their death beds. That I have discovered of late. And every day we learn. We learn of miracles, of reasons, of hope and dreams, how they make us live. I guess that's what we live on, on hopes and dreams. Ok,I'l just stop being sappy now :D
Even went for law classes in the morning and realized how much I missed them! International law and covenants were discussed in brief today, whose ambiguity which I found rather fascinating. And then, along came a spot test that I did NOT see coming. Must start studying soon. But then Uni exams are not over yet, much less the dreaded assignments which I have been putting off quite comfortably. Sigh........
Feels like I have been enveloped in this sweet, soft cocoon of blissful oblivion for so, very long. No wonder since I have been sleeping my life away, parading among the waterfalls and the forests of Rivendell, dancing with elves, hobbits and scrumptious looking lost kings (sigh..Aragorn! <3 ) for the past one and half a week or so. Today as I came out of the woods in to the real world, I was struck with the gravity of the situation amplified by the weight of work to be done. Sigh......So much work, so little time.............
Yes well, I'm back anyway. For better or for worse. Better start working soon as I do not intend to go mad by the end of this year with the sheer thesis pressure. Baudelaire BETTER be good to me, or else!!!
Anyways, here's a BIG, tight hug to EVERYONE who were kind enough to leave a message, drop a text, a call (even if I did not answer the phone sometimes. Sowiee!) who inquired and made demands that I take this, do not eat this, do not drink that, drink this, eat more of that and when I ate more of that coaxed me to stuff myself senseless and everyone who fussed and clucked about me all these days. Yes it was annoying at times and Mother Dearest suffered the most from my mood swings and general annoyance at being fussed over, but I know it was all out of love.
The Darling is quite the miracle worker me thinks. It's like every time he's around, (and he's been around quite a lot ever since I have been sick) he transmits a little bit of his energy on to me. If such a short amount of time is capable of transferring that kind of energy, imagine what a straight month or years with him around would do. Oh I would be doing all sorts of umm....creative and innovative things with that sort of energy. Yes.........Interesting..... :D
But then I feel like a dementor or a succubus that sucks off energy off people that I come in to contact with. Did that sound weird? Mua ha ha ha ha! Of course not! :P
Something to do with the healing effect he has on me I guess. Like they say, love performs miracles on everyday basis. Yes, we do fight and hiss at each other like cats and dogs sometimes too( both being full blooded, passionate individuals, we can't help it. Life's just too boring without the drama :D ), but just one and a half hour of merely lying there in your beloved's arms lifeless, before you know it(and as your folk watched open mouthed), people who were barely capable of walking across a room without staggering are suddenly prancing around, making cheese and mushroom omlettes for dinner! :D
You do not need any verbal verifications. You just feel the love. It's just there, in every touch, in every breath, in every gaze. It's in the urgency of his voice when he asks if there's any progress in health or how he hurries to see you every day, even though you know it's extra trouble for him. And that confirmation is enough ground for miracles, even to pull somebody off their death beds. That I have discovered of late. And every day we learn. We learn of miracles, of reasons, of hope and dreams, how they make us live. I guess that's what we live on, on hopes and dreams. Ok,I'l just stop being sappy now :D
Even went for law classes in the morning and realized how much I missed them! International law and covenants were discussed in brief today, whose ambiguity which I found rather fascinating. And then, along came a spot test that I did NOT see coming. Must start studying soon. But then Uni exams are not over yet, much less the dreaded assignments which I have been putting off quite comfortably. Sigh........
Feels like I have been enveloped in this sweet, soft cocoon of blissful oblivion for so, very long. No wonder since I have been sleeping my life away, parading among the waterfalls and the forests of Rivendell, dancing with elves, hobbits and scrumptious looking lost kings (sigh..Aragorn! <3 ) for the past one and half a week or so. Today as I came out of the woods in to the real world, I was struck with the gravity of the situation amplified by the weight of work to be done. Sigh......So much work, so little time.............
Yes well, I'm back anyway. For better or for worse. Better start working soon as I do not intend to go mad by the end of this year with the sheer thesis pressure. Baudelaire BETTER be good to me, or else!!!
Friday, April 8, 2011
S I C K :(
Lady Grouchalot has been almost bed ridden for a week. And this is the first time in years that she had been seriously ill. Needless to say, it sucks like hell.
It's been almost two weeks since that fateful visit to the crazy doctor (who gives medicine for everything else BUT the actual illness and who is overtly enthusiastic about the details of my menstrual period and has a ball of a time poking around in my abdominal area) and his outrageous claims as to that I do not eat enough that my dearly beloved people had been on a determined mission to piggify me (the slow and painful process of slowly transforming one in to the size of a pig or even worse, a miniature mammoth) So then I make up my mind to eat more and this happens. Now, instead of eating more like I should, I just end up throwing up at the mere mention of the name "food"
Yes well, our family doctor (a nice chatty little lady doctor who often forgets that we are not on a friendly house visit every time we see her) claims that I'm a ball of phlegm (which is true) but then there is this sudden aversion that I have developed towards the very mention of food and water which makes the recovering a whole lot harder than it ought to be.Yes well it's true, Lady Grouchalot is surviving on the wonder liquids of Vegemite, Jeevanee and lime juice these days. And trust me, it's not all that fun.
J.R.R Tolkien is doing wonders for me these days. He has been performing miracles every time I used to fall sick ever since I was a child. It's where I go off to hide when the pain (or the nausea) gets too hard and seek refuge amongst the elves, dwarves and hobbits of the middle earth. Call me an escapist but huddling up with the Lord of The Rings and getting lost among their magical, fantastical pages............Sigh just heaven.... Even though I'm not supposed to over tire my eyes, I find it very soothing.
Apart from Tolkien, I have grown a deep liking for chilly paste and hot isso wadei (Prawn wadei - A crunchy, fried paste of dhal and chilly topped with a HUGE scrumptious, juicy fried prawn which by the way, I STILL did not get.Sigh.....Life's not fair :( ) Although I do manage to swallow whole spoonfuls of chilly paste at one go and emerge out of the pantry with flaming cheeks, tears down my cheeks and steam escaping out of my ears, nostrils and eyes every now and then. Funny. I could never handle spicy food before, therefore I never liked them. But now, it seems like chilly is all that I could eat. And I blame the fever for that.
Mother Dearest comes in every 10 minutes or so and checks the temperature and the skin thoroughly for red spots. The dengue scare still hadn't escaped the minds of the nation I suppose. The household is worried. They miss my frenzied cries and dance tornadoes across the house. I shall be dragged off to a blood check tomorrow. Argh!
While the attention is all good, you discover who really does care and who doesn't during times of sickness. Which is great for life even though being sick sucks to the core, you shall see, maybe for the first time, what people shall act like in your moments of helplessness. Being sick even gives you time to think and it's surprising how philosophical one tends to get in times of sickness. Plus it's a great excuse to sleep! Although I'm quite sick of sleeping right now.
Good thing that I don't usually have a problem with pills. Because the number of pills that I have to take right now is actually bigger than my actual meal size.Sigh......You never really value what you get for free I guess. Things like good health when you have it, you just brush it off, take it for granted, you don't even notice it. But trust me, that is all that you really do need in your life.
The Lady needs her rest now, she has been sitting and tapping along way too long. Good night everyone. Shall see you all with another post soon, hopefully, if she is not dead that is. I plan on finishing the semester exams before I do something stupid like dying. Oh no, I've worked way too hard for that!
It's been almost two weeks since that fateful visit to the crazy doctor (who gives medicine for everything else BUT the actual illness and who is overtly enthusiastic about the details of my menstrual period and has a ball of a time poking around in my abdominal area) and his outrageous claims as to that I do not eat enough that my dearly beloved people had been on a determined mission to piggify me (the slow and painful process of slowly transforming one in to the size of a pig or even worse, a miniature mammoth) So then I make up my mind to eat more and this happens. Now, instead of eating more like I should, I just end up throwing up at the mere mention of the name "food"
Yes well, our family doctor (a nice chatty little lady doctor who often forgets that we are not on a friendly house visit every time we see her) claims that I'm a ball of phlegm (which is true) but then there is this sudden aversion that I have developed towards the very mention of food and water which makes the recovering a whole lot harder than it ought to be.Yes well it's true, Lady Grouchalot is surviving on the wonder liquids of Vegemite, Jeevanee and lime juice these days. And trust me, it's not all that fun.
J.R.R Tolkien is doing wonders for me these days. He has been performing miracles every time I used to fall sick ever since I was a child. It's where I go off to hide when the pain (or the nausea) gets too hard and seek refuge amongst the elves, dwarves and hobbits of the middle earth. Call me an escapist but huddling up with the Lord of The Rings and getting lost among their magical, fantastical pages............Sigh just heaven.... Even though I'm not supposed to over tire my eyes, I find it very soothing.
Apart from Tolkien, I have grown a deep liking for chilly paste and hot isso wadei (Prawn wadei - A crunchy, fried paste of dhal and chilly topped with a HUGE scrumptious, juicy fried prawn which by the way, I STILL did not get.Sigh.....Life's not fair :( ) Although I do manage to swallow whole spoonfuls of chilly paste at one go and emerge out of the pantry with flaming cheeks, tears down my cheeks and steam escaping out of my ears, nostrils and eyes every now and then. Funny. I could never handle spicy food before, therefore I never liked them. But now, it seems like chilly is all that I could eat. And I blame the fever for that.
Mother Dearest comes in every 10 minutes or so and checks the temperature and the skin thoroughly for red spots. The dengue scare still hadn't escaped the minds of the nation I suppose. The household is worried. They miss my frenzied cries and dance tornadoes across the house. I shall be dragged off to a blood check tomorrow. Argh!
While the attention is all good, you discover who really does care and who doesn't during times of sickness. Which is great for life even though being sick sucks to the core, you shall see, maybe for the first time, what people shall act like in your moments of helplessness. Being sick even gives you time to think and it's surprising how philosophical one tends to get in times of sickness. Plus it's a great excuse to sleep! Although I'm quite sick of sleeping right now.
Good thing that I don't usually have a problem with pills. Because the number of pills that I have to take right now is actually bigger than my actual meal size.Sigh......You never really value what you get for free I guess. Things like good health when you have it, you just brush it off, take it for granted, you don't even notice it. But trust me, that is all that you really do need in your life.
The Lady needs her rest now, she has been sitting and tapping along way too long. Good night everyone. Shall see you all with another post soon, hopefully, if she is not dead that is. I plan on finishing the semester exams before I do something stupid like dying. Oh no, I've worked way too hard for that!
Monday, April 4, 2011
My final World Cup post I assume
Well, India won the World Cup. And if anyone was wondering, I did manage to watch the match and completely at that (thanks to The Darling who decided to drag me off to the giant screen at CH.I had no choice BUT to watch) That is despite the momentary disturbances caused by bobbing heads ,drunken, merry men eager to share their World Cup spirit in turn blocking the giant screen (at whom lethally explicit words were thrown till they sat down, all in true world cup spirit of course), girls in shorts who would perch their heavy/boney rear ends on tables eager to strut their stuff (again blocking the screen) couples who decide to declare to the whole world (or the entire cricket watching community who really couldn't care less by the way) of their never ending love for each other by standing up and hugging each other and still stubbornly kept glued to each other (still standing up and blocking the screen) papare bands, fire works, the occasional pervert or two, well, it was quite a ball indeed.
Lady Grouchalot is mighty proud of our team. They proved themselves as formidable opponents, honorable sportsmen and above all, beautiful human beings. And if you ask me, they lost nothing. They won the hearts of many anew if anything, yes even the reluctant hearts of Cricket-indifferents like myself are today a teeny bit cricket positive because of our wonder team of extraordinary men.
However, it's quite shocking the extent that the Indian media has carried the whole event off to (Ermmm....who declared war guys?) As far as we all knew, it was just cricket, a gentlemen's game played in a gentlemanly way. And all those articles screaming for blood made me wonder if we are playing the same game at all. Wonder if they had a battle-till-death gladiator game in mind where they assault, pluck out each other's eyes, beat each other to a pulp with bats, balls and wickets, clad in gladiator armor, loin cloths and all. Now wouldn't that be fun to watch?
Point here being, there is no point in breeding hatred, seeping with jealousy and being consumed with thoughts of revenge. It's all fun and games people. Sure,India won the World Cup and they SHOULD be happy about it. And it would have been easier for us to be happy for them too if it wasn't for the gloating, taunting minority (?) of Indians and the Indian media hell bent on exhibiting their ignorance and stupidity, by way of personal attacks and petty remarks. I have always upheld India as one of the most esteemed nations in my very short list of esteemed nations of the world. I'm not so sure about it now.
That being said, while the country is still recovering from the Cricket fever of yesterday, I am sitting here, mastering the art of gracefully blowing my nose (and failing miserably at it).The cold that I have been putting off for about a week now has finally had enough of being chastised in to silence with threats of temporary medicaments it seems. And it couldn't have chosen a better time to rebel. First paper of the semester starts tomorrow and well, true to my wonderful procrastinating nature, I had kept all studying and revisions till the last minute (not considering the lack of lectures or ANY sort of guidance regarding the unit) And now with a heavy head that feels like Atlas the giant has been sitting on it with his two pesky, illegitimate kids who's been tugging and pulling at my hair and poking out my eyes, I couldn't seem to get anything in to this cumbersome head of mine. Well, things do seem very bleak at this point. I say let's just hope for the best :)
Lady Grouchalot is mighty proud of our team. They proved themselves as formidable opponents, honorable sportsmen and above all, beautiful human beings. And if you ask me, they lost nothing. They won the hearts of many anew if anything, yes even the reluctant hearts of Cricket-indifferents like myself are today a teeny bit cricket positive because of our wonder team of extraordinary men.
However, it's quite shocking the extent that the Indian media has carried the whole event off to (Ermmm....who declared war guys?) As far as we all knew, it was just cricket, a gentlemen's game played in a gentlemanly way. And all those articles screaming for blood made me wonder if we are playing the same game at all. Wonder if they had a battle-till-death gladiator game in mind where they assault, pluck out each other's eyes, beat each other to a pulp with bats, balls and wickets, clad in gladiator armor, loin cloths and all. Now wouldn't that be fun to watch?
Point here being, there is no point in breeding hatred, seeping with jealousy and being consumed with thoughts of revenge. It's all fun and games people. Sure,India won the World Cup and they SHOULD be happy about it. And it would have been easier for us to be happy for them too if it wasn't for the gloating, taunting minority (?) of Indians and the Indian media hell bent on exhibiting their ignorance and stupidity, by way of personal attacks and petty remarks. I have always upheld India as one of the most esteemed nations in my very short list of esteemed nations of the world. I'm not so sure about it now.
That being said, while the country is still recovering from the Cricket fever of yesterday, I am sitting here, mastering the art of gracefully blowing my nose (and failing miserably at it).The cold that I have been putting off for about a week now has finally had enough of being chastised in to silence with threats of temporary medicaments it seems. And it couldn't have chosen a better time to rebel. First paper of the semester starts tomorrow and well, true to my wonderful procrastinating nature, I had kept all studying and revisions till the last minute (not considering the lack of lectures or ANY sort of guidance regarding the unit) And now with a heavy head that feels like Atlas the giant has been sitting on it with his two pesky, illegitimate kids who's been tugging and pulling at my hair and poking out my eyes, I couldn't seem to get anything in to this cumbersome head of mine. Well, things do seem very bleak at this point. I say let's just hope for the best :)
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