Realizations…Bite!

I am currently facing a gargantuan task. I have to sort out the images I have with me on my hard drive. The device is running out of space and I know I’ll keep taking more pictures so I have no option but to optimize the usage as soon as possible.

So, what’s the brouhaha about? I should be able to ruthlessly delete stuff, right? Well, it needs to be taken into account that I have certain OCD features which have prevented me from doing this in the past. I am a hoarder *hangs head in shame* so it’s pretty darn tough for me to throw anything away especially images of my child, taken from the moment he was born till the one I took of him yesterday.

As it is with fast moving bodies, you need to click a good number of images before you find the one which isn’t excessively blurry or the one which has your subject looking exactly the way you want them to. So it stands to reason that the human hurricane that he was before he turned 6, has way too many pictures which contain if nothing else, but a part of an ear, a pinkie or the curve of his butt. And it is now my “pleasure” to sort through those treasures and keep the ones which I absolutely can’t do without.

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Did I also mention that I need things organized in a said manner so I don’t have a mini fit looking at images all lumped together? The feeling of seeing a folder arranged into sub-folders which may or may not have their additional sub-folders is *quite* a joy. Neat. Tidy and most importantly, properly labelled. I’m quite the labeler. They make it easy to locate things in life like the trip you took when the child was 2 years old and it was winter. Or the images from when he was in diapers but sporting a bald look. It all adds up…to idiosyncrasies but it can’t be helped. It’s part genes and part malaise.

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Here I go, down the rabbit hole of images…..

In Bits and Pieces

I have a MAJOR quirk. I NEED things personalized down to the last detail to feel comfortable in a few things that I dabble in. For eg: the phone I use will need the font, wallpaper and ringtone done ‘just right’ before it’s ready for use. The same applies to my blog. Aesthetics or functionality; whatever be the case.

Till now I’d kept my rather obscure photoblog separate because it wasn’t texty and dealt with only pictutes but the need to have everything under one roof has been nagging me for a bit. So the photoblog will gradually be integrated into this one and there you have it. Quirk handled!

For now, enjoy (or not), the endless cloud pictures I just can’t seem to help myself from clicking.

Ta!

Of Mice And Men

TO’s school puts together a pretty good show for their annual day. The stage, the lighting, the whole shebang is something I look forward to each year. And it’s actually rather superlative given that they have to co-ordinate with kids ranging from kindergartners to 5th graders.

This  year’s extravaganza was their rendition of the Pied Piper of Hamelyn. Between the harlequin-like piper and rats (of which my flesh and blood was one), it was quite enjoyable. I seldom need a reason to start tapping my toes and seeing TO’s practice session at home, I knew it’d be fun all through.

They usually end with a peppy number and get the entire jingbang on the stage to take a bow.

Here’s how it went…

Buddha Had A Bulldog

Note: This post has been patiently waiting to see the time of day. It did not get it’s moment in the sunny blogosphere due to a nasty hand injury which prevented me from doing anything else but insulting the world at large. Read on below.

Or did he? It’s one of those things we may never really know about for sure. Well, not unless we research a bit into bulldog geneology and map it to a timeline and figure out when the first ones appeared.

But why bulldogs? Why not Shih Tzus or Sharpeis when they are clearly the cuddley-wuddley-izzums of the small dog segments? Well it so happened this weekend when we were at a place in the outskirts of Hyderabad, I came across the landscaping which was clearly done by a team/person who loves Oriental symbols and the Buddha especially.

 

 

There are statues all over the resort along with those chubby, laughing babies one tends to see in their artwork. What one doesn’t usually see are bulldogs. And yet there they were. And so was a pelican! Go figure…


Out of all the things there, these bulldogs caught my eye. Why wouldn’t they? They were so life like. Imagine trudging your way to the restaurant for breakfast, semi-zombieish from the lack of caffeine, and behold. A bull dog. Totally the cover for Better Homes and Gardens.

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So, did Buddha have a bulldog? I guess we’ll never know.

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P.S: What do you get if you cross a Bulldog and a Shih Tzu? Bullshit! Image result for laughing dog gif

9

Red and I completed 9 years in our parenting journey. They have been a lot of things but never dull. 

We were handed a longish and skinny baby who filled out quickly enough and we couldn’t stop nom-noming on his cheeks, his nose and all his little limbs.

You have never been digustingly mushy and annoyingly gagworthy till you have a kid. The most absurd nonsense erupts from your lips. Goo-goo gaga seems normal. You string together the weirdest rhymes and play horsey and never think of your dignity at all.

Your offspring could be a bald, drooly, raspberry-blowing run-of-the-mill infant and you beam the instant you lay eyes upon him and think…isn’t that the most beautiful baby the world ever saw?! And the annoying baby talk starts all over again while the baby in question gazes at you in mild exasperation.

Time passes…baby gets weaned off, learns to poop at the right time, the right place and thankfully in the right way. He goes off to school and you keep watching for tears and separation anxiety; never realizing you’re the one going through it. The child will bounce back sooner than you.

Kindergarten gives way to grade school and then a laptop-toting 9 year old tells you exactly what they want for their birthday right down to the guest list, food menu and how they want to celebrate.

The next day you’re dragging their butt out of bed so they can get back on the school grind and the child is suffering from a post-party hangover. They are stuck to the floor doing a 500-piece dino puzzle and you’re giving them a minute-by-minute update of how late you’re getting and how the bus won’t wait and you see the same tot who looked at you with fuzzy eyes and no idea of how the world works. He’s not really 9..he’s still your baby.

Awww

1998

5 girls met. Talked. Slowly at first and then incessantly. They sat in the last benches of most of their classes. Had some adventures. Loads of giggles, some fights. Went through a bunch of guys. Made other gal pals and 20 years later are still around in a pretty good capacity given that work, home, spouses, kids and pets do make their presence felt quite a bit on a daily basis.

College was such a melting pot. You had all the directions of the country converge along with linguistic and religious backgrounds and still found that you fit somewhere; with someone. And you wore each other like gloves and the fit just got better with time with a few mends here and there.

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There were classes where you each were at sea, and then those where you still had the chance to sail through. There were gaffes, bloopers, red-letter days and some days you’d rather really just never remember again. There were fests and fiestas where you met the next few months’ rides in the form of people (ahem..guys) from other colleges and also did a quick dipstick to see if you were on the right end of the social spectrum when compared to the rest of the lot out there. Fashion played a big role. Some were gawked at, some gaped at and some just grimaced at as a bad idea never to be repeated with oneself.

You had days when the homework hadn’t been done and the entire class (barring the usual goody two-shoes suspects) was asked to leave by the lecturer with clenched teeth and furrowed brows. There were classes which were bunked at the proverbial last minute to go watch a newbie director’s movie premiere with no money left for snacks ergo home made lunches came to the rescue…however lame the situation seemed.

These 5 girls had their own idiosyncrasies; they still do but they had FUN! They didn’t have stars in their eyes but didn’t really know what the world had in store for them either. They sat and laughed at the teachers’ often utterly ludicrous utterances and marveled at the sophistication and expanse of knowledge the others possessed. They wrote their hearts out, thought about new things; had their horizons and visions broadened by good books recommended by even better teachers and still managed to sleep through at least half of their graduation.

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Endless sandwiches were eaten along with innumerable cups of tepid coffee which kept the noggin running, however sporadically. They bitched, they gossiped, they cried, they guffawed with laughter and they made memories. In time they shared these memories with their significant others and introduced their friends to the new people they’d share their lives with thereon.

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Twenty years on, on the right side of the dreaded (?) 40s, it’s nice to look back and know there was a time and a place and people who made you carefree, kept you young, foolish (in the best way possible) and buoyant.

Here’s to you ladies…you know who you are.

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Salut!