House of bricks

I don't know why every now and then life has to be such a big bad wolf, huffing and puffing and blowing at my tiny space. Pretty sure I wouldn't have even felt it but for these windows, they are the weakest links, they yield to slightest manipulations. No doubt they are my source to sun shine and fresh air but at times like these they make me feel vulnerable. I am like a little pig now who is petrified and is running around the house in search of that little corner.

Appearances matter

The only thing [I think] that I still possess from when I was in class 7 [more than 25years ago] is a loose page with a recipe of chocolate cake. Says much about my lack of sentimentality or my love for food and its documentation. Otherwise I find it hard to explain why I take these pictures when in the background I can clearly hear "Amma, what are you doing...... I am so hungry.....let me eat!"

Barota with Jerk Chicken

Non-dairy chocolate tart: a sample of what we talk about when we run...... 

There is nothing like a fresh fruit salad to brighten your mood   

Thai soup with flat noodles and fried tofu. Love the net for the awesome recipes that are just a click away.

Long time

This painting actually started last winter vacation. The sketch was made with much care and I was really excited about painting it. The painting, however, got off to a terrible start as I was completely out of touch with doing the acrylic paints with less medium (water), that makes it look more like an oil painting.  I had done a few messy petals and left it at that. There is nothing more dissatisfying than a good sketch spoiled by bad painting.

I had kind of forgotten about it till my good friend asked me last week why haven't I painted for the longest of times. That little nudge got me watching a few youtube videos and the one I really enjoyed was this one. It is really nice because she teaches not only how to paint but also how to fix your mistakes as you go along. I was decided up on doing the pear, as in the video, when I found my half-messed sketch in my crafts kit. I must say, that is one thing really nice about doing the oil painting style with acrylics, they are way more forgiving than water colours. They allow you to cover your tracks when the need arises. I had a brilliant time doing this and am hugely satisfied with the end product ......

Serves us right

Our entry, last year, into the tennis playing group in our neighborhood was a bit like baptism by fire. As neither of us (RRS or I) were as good and unlike in a team game where you could choose to hide in the background when you were a bit off color and pretend to be part of the game without being where the action is,  in tennis our shortcomings stood fully-exposed between double faults and unforced errors. The only thing we were good at then was turning up everyday, our game had no choice but to improve. It has been a fantastic addition to our life style. Apart from being a lot of fun learning to play the game and having a great bunch of people to hang out with, it has just seamlessly fit into our schedule. Largely because the court is a two minute walk from home and it is therefore easy for RRJ to join us once he is done with playing with his friends from the next block.

RRJ of course has his own set of reasons to like the whole tennis thing as:

• he gets to watch us play and take the parental role of nagging and giving expert comments like "why is your service so mokka (= bad)" and then proceed on to giving tips on how we could improve it, like "you need to do regular shadow practice"etc.!
• he is not told off for being late in coming back from play.
• he gets to play some more in the park adjacent to the tennis court.
• he gets to play a few shots at the end of our game in a proper tennis court meant for grown ups.
• and the aspect he perhaps loves the most is that without him needing to argue for it, he gets most of the days off from studying as by the time we are done and reach home, the scheduled study hour has elapsed by and there is only time for the bare essentials like food and sleep. He often hops around the house with that look of disbelief that all this is happening for real. 

Thankfully I am in that phase in life where I am getting the hang of how to observe my parental guilt with some detachment and not follow it up with a session of self-flagellation. Unfortunately though, I am yet to reach that phase when this detachment is sustainable even when exams are in sight. I pause my philosophies and tennis for those days and operate on damage-control mode and go through his notebooks, textbooks and worksheets as if it is my parenting that is due for assessment. My beastly avataar had a lump in her throat, when she read the sentence that RRJ had made in his class notes with 'greatest of ease':