Travels with M.

~Some critical observations on the state of things in the land of the free~

This post finds me in the mighty US of A. I am visiting family (sister and brother-in-law, hereafter abbreviated as sis. and bil respectively.) I've spent the last couple of days being ferried from state to state, visting friends of my relatives and relatives of their friends. I've also had the opportunity to sample local and multinational cuisine and engage in banter and exchange idiot grins with the locals. Sometimes they do not understand me when I speak, whereupon I resort to the tried and tested method of speaking slowly and loudly. It works. A puzzled look with a "Pliss help me, I am just a stupid tourist" also helps.

I also managed to pick a quarrel with an idiot in a soapbox of a car in Ann Arbour (I was crossing the street, when the stop light had turned red and was blinking (indicating we still had time to cross) when genius comes out of the crossing, looks at us and says "see that red light? It means stop". I helpfully pointed out to old brainiac that it was blinking, when he drove-on, uttering his desire that we perpetuate our line. In any case, it sounded like that. Filled with the spirit of brotherhood, I returned his greeting. My sis., on being briefed about my encounter, later, said I should not engage total strangers in such friendly conversation, as it it could have me facingthe business end of a gun... strange country.) In short, I'vebeen living like an american... Mc'Donalds inclusive.

My observations to date :

1. Not all americans are obese

2. Not all city-downtown areas are safe (detroit.. take a bow)

3. Illinois is flat.

4. Lake is a misnomer for Michigan... it's a bleeding sea!

5. Humans were not bred for the express purpose of sitting in soapboxes and hurtling around the countryside for hours at a stretch. Something went wrong somewhere.

6. Rest areas are a blessing

7. Rest areas are dirty

8. They stink

9. Mc'Donalds and co. do not constitute healthy food. They do not, also, make one healthy but they do make some wealthy and others wise.

10. America has good PR. But, the skeletons in the closet only pop outwhen you have to live here for a long time.

11. Vacations are fun.

In the next post, M. discovers more.

Something I knew all the time!

You Are More Mild Than Wild

You're confident, and you really aren't concerned with how "hot" you are. Other people's ideas of what's sexy don't concern you. And this is exactly what makes you attractive.

Are You Hot?

Ho hum! I am glad to see that some of these tests do reflect my true nature. Push off Levi's, Prada and the like.

Useless information - Rules!!!!!

This Is My Life, Rated
Life:	6.4
Mind:	6.5
Body:	8.6
Spirit:	7.1
Friends/Family:	2.6
Love:	0
Finance:	9
Take the Rate My Life Quiz

Ok, for those not in the know, the scale is from 1 to 10, with 1 being the worst. And, no funny questions about my love life, or you'll get such a talking to!

The Ritual of Feeding

~In which little F-. occupies centerstage, yet again~

My previous post introduced little F-., my visitor of a couple of weeks ago. Upon re-reading that post, I noticed that I had left out one rather important episode of that evening... the feeding of F-. From the previous post, the reader might have had the impression that F-. is a very well-behaved being, filled with goodwill and peace. This is true. To a large extent, actually. Thus it was, that she decided to teach us patience and dexterity in a game she would call (if she could speak) feeding.

This is how it progresses. You need:
1. Little F-. (1x)
2. Stools (3x)
3. Little F-.'s mother (1x)
4. Me (1x)
5. A little plastic bowl

A little wonder

I haven't been posting in a while... a circumstance necessitated, in quite equal measure, by my lack of progress in my work, a rather potent attack of faulus handus (Faux Latin: lazy hands), and a dose of 'oh-the-world-is-so-gray-and-no-one-loves-me'-itis. It's taken me some time to shrug it off, but now that it has been shrugged off, I intend to push ahead. Full steam!

This post is dedicated to little F-., whom I had the pleasure of meeting last week. F-., and her mother D-., had come down to visit me. D-. is an ex-colleague of mine, from the previous town I'd stayed in. As we hadn't seen each other in years, and as she had an evening free and didn't know what to do, we decided to inflict our respective company on each other... with one exception: F-. came along.

The moment I saw F-. across the car park, I knew we would have no problems hitting off - and, indeed, we did. We got along like a house on fire... make that several housing complexes, and a mall thrown in for good measure, on flames. The whole evening she had this incredibly cheeky, toothy smile on her face -- despite having a cold that D-. tried to staunch - rather unsuccessfully - with napkins, tissues, old t-shirts and so on. Here I must mention that F-. is 1 year old, learning to walk and a bundle of fun and curiosity.

It was a surprise to me to see how relaxed D-. was, as regards her daughter. When we entered my office, I offered F-. a cookie, which she accepted and stuffed into her mouth - whole! My brain froze in a tableau involving a choking little form on my office floor. The little thing in my upper-left chest cavity started doing squat-jumps and my mouth fell open. D-. took this moment to tell me to look after F-. while she went in search of the ladies' room. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Ah, oh, D-. could you wait till F-. has, uh, finished.
D-. : Ah, M. it's not a problem. Nothing will happen.
Me: But, but, what if she chokes?
D-. : Then she'll cough and spit it out. Now, where is the ladies' ?

Eventually, I ended up morosely pacing the corridor until F-. gulped down the last morsel. But more about F-. now:

At our institute she took an instant liking to Linux. She tottered over to the monitor that displayed a raw, rather pixellated approximation of a penguin and kissed it, (to be more accurate, she slobbered all over it -- but the intention was there!) before banging away on the keyboard in a rather professional manner. We had to restart the machine. I see a great future for her.

At my place, later, she inspected the kitchen in a way worthy of a mother-in-law. The cupboards were opened, the pots drawn out and approved and then, this done, she decided to check out if the other side of the room had anything interesting to offer. It did. It offered one the exciting possibility of examining my potato-and-onion basket. The basket in question was duly inspected. The contents trundled out, the potatoes bitten into, the onions slavered over and... *crash*: that would be the slightly broken porcelain bowl, the one I wanted to repair for quite some time, now a very broken porcelain ex-bowl. Oh, well, that shortened my to-do list by one.

Much later, in order to avoid giving the fire brigade and the police an evening of excitement, we decided to go out, and ended up having dinner in an Indian restaurant after which, it being late in the evening, I had to part with the two of them. It was a delightful end to a delightful day, and whenever I think of F-., I get a little mushy! I love kids - when they are kids. When they grow up, they somehow, inexplicably, turn from lovable tykes to stubborn bast**ds. I should know! I was a kid once!

My Enneagram

This is my Enneagram. I wonder what that is, but it is supposed to be a personality test. And here are the results : Tah Dah!

I am : the Questioner

Questioners are responsible, trustworthy, and value loyalty to family, friends, groups, and causes. Their personalities range broadly from reserved and timid to outspoken and confrontative.

How to Get Along with Me

* Be direct and clear.
* Listen to me carefully.
* Don't judge me for my anxiety.
* Work things through with me.
* Reassure me that everything is OK between us.
* Laugh and make jokes with me.
* Gently push me toward new experiences.
* Try not to overreact to my overreacting.

What I Like About Being a Six

* being committed and faithful to family and friends
* being responsible and hardworking
* being compassionate toward others
* having intellect and wit
* being a nonconformist
* confronting danger bravely
* being direct and assertive

What's Hard About Being a Six

* the constant push and pull involved in trying to make up my mind
* procrastinating because of fear of failure; having little confidence in myself
* fearing being abandoned or taken advantage of
* exhausting myself by worrying and scanning for danger
* wishing I had a rule book at work so I could do everything right
* being too critical of myself when I haven't lived up to my expectations

Sixes as Children Often

* are friendly, likable, and dependable, and/or sarcastic, bossy, and stubborn
* are anxious and hypervigilant; anticipate danger
* form a team of "us against them" with a best friend or parent
* look to groups or authorities to protect them and/or question authority and rebel
* are neglected or abused, come from unpredictable or alcoholic families, and/or take on the fearfulness of an overly anxious parent

Sixes as Parents

* are often loving, nurturing, and have a strong sense of duty
* are sometimes reluctant to give their children independence
* worry more than most that their children will get hurt
* sometimes have trouble saying no and setting boundaries

Some of these comments are dead on!

Of sauces, fries and sealing wax

~and chances and sins~

Yesterday evening, on my way home, I thought would pop into one of those little shops that sell those sinfully delicious French Fries, and indulge myself. Normally I don't eat junk food but yesterday, I fairly lusted after it.

I bought the fries and began to sample them on the way home. I hadn't gone far, when I saw a figure tentatively detach itself from the shade of the doorway a little further down the street and begin a hesitant progress in my direction. Surprised, but un-alarmed, I continued walking, munching on the second potato miracle, nodding appreciatively at the tumultuous reception of those goodies by my taste buds, when my attention was brought back by a sibilant whisper "excuse me, sir, but would you happen to have some loose change to buy food?" The speaker was a rather plump, unkempt woman. Now, in principle, I don't encourage giving money to people, because I am not sure what they will use it for. But, if someone asks me money for food, I feel bad as I believe no-one should go hungry. So, I stopped and said, "well I can offer you this," extending the fries to her, calling her bluff, if that was what it was. She responded with "really? Can I have it all? What about you?" As I was on my way home, I said I would cook and eat shortly and she was welcome to the fries, an offer she happily accepted, returning to her nook to munch on them, and I continued on homeward.

Only a little later the true import of the situation struck me: was it only a coincidence that I had chosen that very day to buy the fries? Was there some hidden purpose in this sudden desire of mine? I don't know. But what I do know is that on the way home I felt laughter welling up inside me, insistent, cheerful and bubbly -- a kind of compensation, perhaps, that I'd only had two French fries to myself.

And the sealing wax? It doesn't really come into the story. The title sounds prettier when I include it, though.

On wonders and magie

Sunday. I sit in front of my laptop. It's quite late in the afternoon and I finally want to capture some stray threads of thought before they escape forever.

Being an Aquarian, I have been rather reliably informed, brings with it a certain susceptibility to flights of fancy, day-dreams and a like of myths and fairy tales. Irrespective of how much truth lies in the above classification, I unabashedly admit to the possession of these traits.The frequent dreamy look on my face suggests, not a profound contemplation on the meaning of the life and similar higher thoughts as it may seem, but rather the fact that one of my flights of fancy has taken off, attained cruising altitude, and the passengers are busily opening their packets of salted peanuts, popping the tabs of their beverages and getting comfortable in the expectation of a serious journey.

As a child, I grew up on a diet of Enid Blyton, C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carrol and the like. The lazy vacation afternoons were spent lying in bed, snuggled up with the chronicles of Narnia, the adventures of the Famous Five, the Five Find-Outers, the Wizard of Oz, Alice's escapades and so on. In the evenings I would join my boon companions, and we would sometimes think out adventures and enact them out. The surroundings, such as they were, were often recruited willy-nilly into our fantasies. Thus, the inoffensive tree in the backyard would be transformed, according to the theme at hand, into a mysterious forbidding castle, where a Snoggon-tribe held the princess of fairies as hostage, and we, in our roles as heroes, would wage a stiff battle to procure the freedom of the said princess. We always managed to win. The tree, too, demonstrated its multifaceted nature by playing its various parts successfully. Thus, some afternoons we sailed the wild seas on our trusty ship (the tree), some other times we tired of the earth and blasted off into the unknown, final frontiers on our trusty spacecraft (the tree), and sometimes, when both earth and space presented little by way of incentive for us to explore, we escaped into our fairy tale world and held off hosts of besieging gremlins, gnarks, goblins and other equally delightfully wicked creatures from the safety of our castle -- a structure that was remarkably tree-like to the untrained, uninitiated eye.

As a child, I never tired of miracles, of magic, of the supernatural. Indeed, I never questioned it. Death, for example, was explained to me simply as a departure of a person from earth and into heaven, next to the Gods and I accepted it as such. The world of magic and wonder was always within reach. Compared with such an idyllic childhood, 'growing up' was rather disappointing. First I had to contend with the shocking truth that Santa Claus did not exist and the jolly rotund man who handed out the presents around Christmas was part of an elaborate charade. Then, the various knocks one receives from life during the process of growing up proceeded to harden the part of me that subscribed to the simple world -- a faerie world, if you will -- where wondrous events were the norm rather than the exception, where right and wrong were clearly distinguishable, where there was no grey.

I wonder, sometimes, if a return to the simple life is ever possible. Sure, time pushes forward inexorably. People age, new things are discovered, old things relegated to the trash heap of the past. More and more children exhibit such precociousness and maturity at such an early age that I sometimes wonder how I ever survived, since I was not as smart as they are when I was their age. I am forced, sometimes, to evaluate my beliefs, my hopes and my dreams. Is there any place for wonders in this world of today? Such thoughts are depressing and they bog me down. And then, I think: of the little old woman and her charming smile when I helped her load a carton of purchase into the trunk of her car; of the friendly black man and his little dogs, who greet me enthusiastically and exuberantly whenever we meet on the street; of the cashier in the supermarket who smiles and puts an extra purchase bag 'on the house' once in a while; of the lady at the diary who, when I sampled and asked for the price of a particularly excellent cheese, proceeded to mark it down to half the price. This too, is magic, these little things, these wondrous things. Perhaps the simple life we seek does not need any extra door, that it is here, in front of us. We just need to see it... maybe!