THE DOG WHO GOES TO SCHOOL

“D” is a golden retriever who belongs to“E”. A curly haired one at that. It might surprise you to know that she is pure-bred. Whoever heard of a curly haired retriever? And to top it all she is skinny. Of course, her weight is closely watched by her proud owner, but I fervently hope the poor thing doesn’t have to go to a gym like her human counterparts.

She is barely out of puppy hood and just like a toddler, has this seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy. All this extra energy is spent licking anybody who gets within licking range. And the said object does not even have to be human. She loves to give cars and garden chairs a thorough washing too.

She goes to obedience school and to the surprise of everyone present, actually passed the course. She was the only one of out of all the dogs ever owned by C’s family that ever managed to do that. Which just goes to show how deceptive appearances can be.

What truly adhered her to everyone’s hearts is that even though she was left loose in the garden for three days, she didn’t dig up a single flower bed. Yes, on the last day she did dig up one little plant with pink flowers on it. But everyone agreed that it was just her way of saying thank you to C’s grandmother.

FOLLOWER OF DREAMS

He is a World War-II veteran who flew fighter planes. He boasts of ancestors who signed the Declaration of Independence. He won the fight against oral cancer. He creates three dimensional paintings.

She married him at the tender age of 18. She had never traveled out of Colorado. But she still followed him to all the way to Yuma, Arizona. All they owned was a beat-up old truck, a cranky old refrigerator, a hoe and a pump. The net value of everything they owned was $3,300.00. This was a good thing because if they were to be granted any land in Arizona they had to show that they had assets worth atleast $2,500.00

These were the two wonderful people who welcomed me into their home and their hearts on Thanksgiving Day. To me they symbolize the realization of the American dream. Sure, times were hard and the going tough, but they have both been through it all and come out all the stronger for it. They succeed so well that they went all the way to Egypt to help the then Egyptian President with his plans for a green revolution in his country.

They teased me good-naturedly, stating that they would have an Indian at the table this year. And I decided to play the part by dressing up in one of my Indian outfits. This sent everyone into raptures and there was a flurry of clicking cameras.

The table was set with the colors of Thanksgiving, warm ambers and browns. The centerpiece consisted of ears of corn, aromatic candles, wooden napkin holders shaped like turkeys and tiny pumpkins. The crystal ware gleamed in the light of the candles. The traditional feast that followed consisted of roast turkey with all the trimmings. Side dishes consisted of cranberries, stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, a bean casserole and some sour bread. And the desserts, how could I not go into raptures over the desserts, there were three different kinds of pies; pumpkin, pecan and apple.

About two hours later, all 13 of us were lolling about in the living room, reading books or watching TV, too stuffed to do anything else. Talk about being stuffed!!!

DESERT ROAD

I was invited to spend Thanksgiving with C’s grandparents, who live in Yuma, Arizona. Hence plans were afoot as to how to get an entire family including a hyperactive dog to Yuma with the minimum of effort. I was to go with D, since I was not sure when I would be able to get off of work and C wasn’t sure she wanted me and a hyperactive golden retriever together in the back seat. Whose sanity was she really trying to save?

So D and I set off after dropping off C at her cousin E’s home. She gave me strict instructions to swat D if he swore too much at the other drivers along the way. D complained that he was not only getting beaten up by his wife, but that she was instigating other people to do the same. If you could beat up a 7-foot, 200 + pound Navy- trained sharpshooter that is. We were off, with D gleefully remarking that we would definitely get there before the “girls”. He was a perfect gentleman, swearing only once at a crazy guy who kept changing lanes in bumper to bumper traffic.

We decided to stop at Carl’s Jr for a bite to eat and who should walk in but C and E. The look on D’s face was a sight to behold. He finally decided that he was unfortunate enough to hit all the traffic while the girls had had a relatively traffic-free ride. We left the restaurant before them, since the dog needed a walk to burn off extra energy. Two hours later, we arrived at C’s grandparents’ home. A minute later, guess who we see pulling into the driveway??

I AM GOING TO BE FAMOUS!!

It is a cold rainy day today in San Diego. This after the clear blue skies and warm, sunny weather in Arizona over the weekend. People had made dire predictions about how hot Arizona was going to be when I told them that I was going there for the Thanksgiving weekend. Let it be on record that Arizona, or at least Yuma, has lovely weather at this time of year. It was foggy when we left on Saturday morning!!

Weather, combined with the fact that it was Monday and half the people had not turned up to work, ensured that I was bored to tears.

So when a colleague asked if I wanted to hop over to Starbucks, I jumped at the chance. I was not going to drink their coffee, of course, because it gives me the jitters, but I sure could help her with the cups. She went around the office collecting orders and off we went. Juggling two umbrellas, a purse and the entry card made getting the car door open a difficult proposition.

We managed to make it to the car without any major mishap and had to repeat the performance in the reverse order when we got to Starbucks. That was when we had a micrphone thrust into our faces and horror of horrors, a TV camera too!! This, when the two of us looked like drowned rats.

After answering a bunch of inane questions on why we loved the rain and how San Diego needed it badly, we were allowed to go. So watch me on Channel 8 people!!!

BOND, JAMES BOND

D-day finally arrived last Sunday. When my roommates asked if I wanted to go catch the latest James Bond flick, I jumped at the chance. I was at the end of my tether by now. My normally peaceful roommates were bickering like crazy. The constant battles were getting fiercer by the day and it was no fun being caught in the middle of the cross fire. The new James Bond did get emotions running high. At least in our home!!

Per D, having a golden-haired, blue-eyed, rough-around-the-edges man play Bond was sheer sacrilege. C begged to differ. She had seen the said actor on one of the promos with his shirt off and as far as she was concerned, that settled the matter.

This was a pretty different James Bond movie. For one, it was much longer. It showcases the emotional side of the man licensed to kill. It also sets the stage for his flashy cars, an Aston Martin no less, and of course, for his womanizing ways. This is the rough and ready Bond before his metamorphosis into his suave avatar.

The new Bond has a craggy face, the bluest of eyes, cute ears that stick out and the body of a Greek god. I think on this one, I am going to have to side with C.

CHEESECAKE

Stop salivating!! I know that is a difficult proposition when the object in question is all cream, white and cherry red, dripping with whipped cream and ready to be eaten!!

I am talking of the Cheesecake Factory, a popular restaurant, what did you think??? The place was so crowded that we were handed little gadgets that beep and flash red lights when a table is ready. We chose to sit on the bar stools. I had a tough time finding a typical American meal on the menu. Half the menu was Mexican or hybrids of the same and I am heartily sick of Mexican food by this time. I finally found meatloaf and potatoes which I promptly ordered. This set us talking about American food and I discovered that the quintessential hamburger was not American. Per D, the watcher of the History Channel, it was discovered by an Italian who was riled that his meatballs took forever to cook. He slammed his spatula down on them and voila, the hamburger was born!!

More shocks, Santa Claus was the invention of Coca Cola. Of course, Saint Nick did exist. He was a rich Russian who used to hand out gifts to his less fortunate brethren. But the rolly-polly red- suited gentleman who embodies the spirit of Christmas was the result of an advertising blitzkerig. Why red? To match the color of coke, of course. I don’t know how many of my illusions are going to be razed to the ground before I leave this country. I know I am too old to believe in Santa Claus, but this was too much to digest.

Talking of digestion, we decided to walk around the Fashion Valley mall to aid the process. I saw this cute electric scooter that the security guard was using. It has two wheels and a handle to hold on to. Something right out of a sci-fi movie. It is supposed to be amazingly stable and easy to maneuver. You wouldn’t think it if you could see it. It looks like a stick balanced between two wheels. Only two people have the dubious distinction of ever having fallen off of one. President Bush and Paris Hilton. Go figure.

Another piece of wisdom bestowed on me by D. If you can only see the make up and not the girl, then she has on too much makeup. Now guys are beginning to figure out this makeup business? Where was I when this revolution was happening? I seem to know less about make up than the average guy!! Jeez… Talking of guys and make up, MAC’s, the upscale makeup store has at least two guys who wear it, and these guys are SERIOUSLY cute………. Yeah I know, they could be gay, but what the heck, a gal is allowed at least a few illusions right?

I also spotted this painfully young, bespectacled figure looking completely lost and lonely. He was making circles on the floor with the toe of his shoe, rather like a young Indian gal with the tea tray in hand, during the girl-seeing ceremony.(I watch too many movies.) I was sorely tempted to walk up to him and say, “Hey Sunil, how are you doing?” Just to see how he would react. Why Sunil, you might well ask. Because he looked Sunilish, why else? Better sense prevailed though, just in the nick of time. I walked past and got into the line for movie tickets, a regular Miss Goody Two Shoes if there ever was one.

THE HOMECOMING

It was homecoming week at C’s school. The said school is set on Point Loma and is surrounded by spectacular views of the sea. At any given point in time, groups of students can be spotted in the coves, surfing. It has the reputation of being one of the best surfing schools in the country and from what I saw, that reputation is certainly justified. I wonder how much studying they get done though.

C’s friend E came down from northern California to attend the homecoming and a wedding. She is a petite, extremely fair blonde, with straight golden hair that just shimmers on her shoulders. She also has the prettiest colored eyes if you looked beyond the glasses. And those glasses are just a front. I bet she wears them to hide the razor sharp wit that lurks underneath. She had us in splits with her descriptions of her 88-year-old grandmother, who she takes care of, and the kindergarteners in her mom’s school. On being asked how the wedding went, she stated, “Oh, it was fun.” “ I have never seen so much boob on display for a long time now.” That led to a lively discussion with D giving us his protracted opinion on the subject, interspersed with glares from C.

We got to the school auditorium and the set had the Taj Mahal as its background!! There were also a few elephants scattered about to add to the ambience. All this led C to exclaim, “Oh, I am going to just die.” “I invited an Indian to come watch an Indian program?” “I will never live this down.” She thought I would die laughing at the variety programs if it was Indian and the students did not know what they were doing. The background was pretty good as far as backgrounds go, but the program could have done without the girl in the red and blue sackcloth. She fondly believed she was alluringly draped in a saree. Even I can drape a saree better than that. And no, being an Indian does not automatically mean that you are born with the skill. To say that I was slightly retarded in that aspect is putting it mildly, but I know I could have done a better job.

It was pretty noisy in the auditorium. There was a lot of squealing and hugging. People climbed over seats to hug long lost friends. I did wonder if I could go around hugging people like they were long lost friends and watch their astonishment when they couldn’t figure out who on earth I was!! That plan was soon laid to rest when I realized the whole audience was primarily made of White Christians. Again, it was one of the few times that I wished I was a guy. Per C, the women outnumber men in the ratio of 3:1. And each girl was prettier than the other. Phew!!

The programs began with the usual good-natured jeering and catcalls. But the thunderous applause that greeted the end of each program showed the pride the students felt for their school.

The names of the homecoming Princes and Princesses were announced and they all had to walk up to the stage. The girls wore pretty gowns and the men were all in tuxedos. They were an extremely uncomfortable bunch as could be seen from their demeanor. In fact, the guy who was chosen to be the Homecoming King, hung his head all the way until he got out of the auditorium.

The most startling discovery of the evening was that my sweet looking apartment mate was such a good mimic!! She does this really neat imitation of a monkey. She told me that she has tried the monkey chatter with every one of the guys she dated. Which leads me to think that maybe, just maybe, D was the only one who could live with it and hence the resulting marriage.

RIVERDANCE

Lord of the Rings ambience. Music that varied from haunting melodies to foot stomping numbers.(Now I know where AR Rehman gets his inspiration!!) Dances that ranged from tap dancing to flamenco. Costumes that were a feast to the eyes. Angelic voices that reminded you that there was a God. Splendid performances that left you gasping for more.

Riverdance, as the production is called, is a collection of music, comedy, and some wonderful Irish dancing. My first experience of theater and I was in raptures. If this is what it does to your soul, I definitely want more of it. I had always though of theater as being stuffy, snobbish and for the fuddy-duddies. And I gracefully accept defeat. I am grateful I got to experience something so moving.

It was wonderful to see how it touched everyone in the theater. There were a lot of school-going kids and they were just as enraptured as I was. Or was it the child in me reacting to something new, something wonderful? I was glad to see “C” was caught up in the spell too. She actually tried out a few of the steps during intermission. The rest of the intermission was well-spent figuring out which of the red-heads in the row ahead of us were fake. I, as usual, failed miserably, having no clue what a red-head was, fake or otherwise.

Intermission over, the magic started again. More dancing, more music, more magic. All in all, it was too short. I hated to leave, hated having to come back to earth after being in a dream for two short hours. But come back to earth I did, with a resounding thump!!

CONNECTIONS

I have a karmic connection with buses. I cannot explain it any other way. After more than 15 years of traveling on the good old red (now blue!!) buses of namma bengalooru, just when I though I had gotten rid of buses for good, I land here, in the land of plenty, and get reacquainted with them.

The powers that be had an inkling that I would be using the MTS buses. Barely a week after I got here, they put their combined heads together and changed all the bus numbers and the bus routes to boot, confounding my already addled brains. So instead of one, I now have to ride two buses just to get to work. And to twist the knife in a little deeper, the waiting time between connecting buses is so well coordinated that I can never hope to get to work on time unless I run to catch the buses.

My acclimatization process here had more to do with getting used to the buses in this city than anything else. Contrary to back home, the buses here run on time. Except when it is time to go home, when they invariably run late.

The early morning wait for the bathroom ensures that both the bus and I cross the road at the same time when the traffic lights change. Me, at a dead run, jumping over potholes and sundry other obstacles with élan, putting any Olympic hurdler worth her salt to shame. Mothers with strollers, dogs, sweet old ladies, grumpy kids, all get out of the way in a hurry when they see me coming. The bus driver plasters a smile on his face and wryly comments that I did good when I hop in just as the doors close. I wonder if he would recognize me, if one of these days, I am standing at the stop when the bus rolls in and I walk into the bus like the rest of the civilized world.

All said and done, I love the buses. I love the way a bus actually “kneels” to let people with disabilities get on. I love the way the drivers are always polite. I love watching the whole cross section of society that gets on and off of a bus. The gamut of people runs from the smartly dressed business woman to the old man who looks like he never takes a shower. This is really weird because the said old man always has a new book to read at the bus stop. I know, because I always try and read the title. He smiles when he sees my antics and I turn away shamefacedly. And nothing to beat the kind of conversations I have with the people waiting at the bus stops. Everything from desk top printing to the devastation caused by the tsunami. I do not think I would ever want to give up all of that in a hurry. And best of all, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that beats the rush of finally spotting the bus that takes you back home, after a long wait at the bus stop.

MOVIE MAGIC

I have had an overdose of Prithviraj over the weekend. First it was “Classmates”, the movie that is all the rave in Malluland, and then it was “Parijatham,” a Tamil movie.

I know true blue mallu-movie watchers are going to sneer at my selection of movies. I never was a Malayalam movie fan. Possibly because my parents were not avid movie goers. My first taste of a mallu movie was on Doordarshan. Every Sunday afternoon, an award winning movie would be screened. Thank goodness, a lot of mallu movies won awards. Never was a mallu movie more avidly awaited. I belong to the elite few who actually watched “Elipattayam” from start to finish without falling asleep even once.

All that changed once I got into college. Having a bunch of mallu-movie fanatics for friends helped. That was when I got to see movies like Manichitrathazhu, Amaram and Kilukam and they have remained favorites to this day. I labored under the impression that I had seen it all and considered myself quite a connoisseur as far as Malayalam movies were concerned.

My self delusional state lasted until I got married. Hubby dear was aghast at my mallu movie repertoire. He felt my education was sorely lacking and took it upon himself to set things right. He started me off with “Thoovanathumbikal” and I fell hook, line and sinker.

Now most of the arguments at home are about who the better actor is-Mammooty or Mohanlal. Never has the north-south divide been so prominent. I am a Mammooty fan since he looks great and acts even better. And hubby dear is a die-hard Mohanlal fan. He actually tried to name our son after one of the characters in a Mohanlal movie. That was when I had to put my foot down.

Things have come to such a pass that I have hubby dear’s friends trying to convince me that I have to shift to the Mohanlal camp. They consider me a traitor and sneer at hubby dear for failing to make his wife change her mind.

I never realized the seriousness of the issue until I boarded one of the local buses in Kerala. My aunt and I were having a discussion on Mohanlal movies and I happened to comment that he looked like a teddy bear. The sudden pin drop silence in the otherwise noisy bus was deafening. My aunt hissed at me to keep quiet and we hurriedly got off at the next stop!!!

SNAP SHOTS

* Early Friday morning. I left home a whole hour before the train was scheduled to leave for L.A. And I still managed to miss the train I was supposed to take. Once, just once, I wish a trip would go off smoothly without any hitches. I am tired of having all these misadventures. I go on trips to take a break and I end up with frazzled nerves instead.

This time, about 3 minutes from the Santa Fe station, a friend and I were stopped by a policeman. The reason? We had come out of a building where the alarm had gone off. Answering a bunch of questions on why were in the building’s lot (we had gone to get directions) and where we were headed ensured that I had missed the train.

** The train itself was a blue and silver affair and double-deckered to boot. It went by the fanciful name of “Pacific Surfliner.” Cheesy I know, but I loved it. It brought to mind visions of the sun, surf and the sand. All able-bodied people had to go on to the upper deck while the lower deck (is it called that on a train?) was for the feeble, handicapped and the elderly. Surprisingly, the train was crowded. There were people sitting on the aisles. Reminded me of all the trains back home in India. The only thing missing was the parade of vendors selling everything from hot tea to cd discs. Yes, cd discs, I saw this on my last trip to Kerala. Instead we had frequent announcements from the snack bar on the availability of a “wide variety of snacks and beverages”.

***Two concrete domes, a part of a reactor, with a smoke stack on the top of each. This view out of the train window inspired one young chap to comment to another, “Boy, what rock-hard boobs.” The domes did resemble the said part of the female anatomy. A few seconds later there was a third one!!!

****Metro link to Sierra Madre: Towards the end of the ride, the train was actually in the middle of two freeways with vehicles zipping full tilt on both sides. Who came up with the brilliant idea of putting a train track in the middle of a freeway?

*****Early morning car ride in Arcadia. Traffic completely at a stand-still. This early and a traffic jam? The reason: A whole family of peacocks crossing the road. Penalty for hitting one? Just $1000.00. Anyone up for an import business in peacocks?

******The tram ride from the parking lot to the Getty museum. A weightless feeling, like you are hanging in mid air. The tram slows down too, adding to the other-worldly feeling. Combine that with the knowledge that the tram (or is it called a cable train?) has no human driver and the feeling of being close to the Maker is reinforced.

*******The sight of kids (and more than a few adults) rolling down the gently sloping, grassy, landscaped, Getty Gardens. What fun to be crazy and to be able to let go like that.

********On seeing a sculpture that had three versions of the human torso, each smaller than the other, stacked one on top of another, my friend’s 13-year-old son commented, “Is that supposed to represent the American national obsession with dieting?”

*********“Enikyu Charlie Chaplinum ayittu photo edukanam.” Young wife telling her husband on the Star Walk in Hollywood Boulevard. The global Mallu has truly arrived.

*Coming back to a house filled with toys strewn all over, the air redolent with the smells of Indian cooking. Can this be packaged and sold? A fortune to be made, what with all the homesick desis that abound.

**Throwing darts at a dart board in a sports bar in Baldwin. Since there were 10 of us throwing darts indiscriminately, god save anyone who did not get out of the way in time. More than a couple of people had darts fly past their noses while they were trying to pull darts off of the dart board.

***The two dragons that guard the entrance to China Town in L.A. They represent prosperity and harmony. I felt a strange affinity to them. I am born under the sign of the dragon per Chinese astrology. That must explain the attraction.

****Eating “authentic” Chinese food. I don’t think I have ever eaten Chinese food that so oily. But nothing to beat the taste.

*****Mexican Dancers in the courtyard of the Institute of Mexican Culture. Thumping music, beautiful costumes. Feathered headdresses. Another dance, beautiful Mexican women dressed in colorful, fringed gowns and the men a perfect contrast to all the color, dressed all in black, with huge black sombreros.

******Memorial park, a native Indian, dressed in traditional costume, playing haunting music on various wind instruments. Beside him, his associate, a PYT (pretty young thing, all ye uninitiated) selling cds of the music.

IN THE HOT TUB

Last evening saw me curled up on the green velvet La-Z-Boy, channel surfing. I had had a bad day at work and I was plotting innovative methods of torturing the various entities that had made my day miserable.

“C” walked in and asked if I wanted to go into the hot tub. She had asked me earlier too, and I had declined saying I couldn’t possibly get into a swimsuit. This time around, she would not take no for an answer. When I trotted out my familiar excuse of not having brought my swimsuit, she offered to lend me one of her “modest” ones.

The swimsuit in question was a one piece (thank god for small mercies), with pretty blue flowers on a darker blue background, cut low in the back and high along the sides. Gad!! Did she honestly expect me to wear that? I tremulously asked her, “C, can I wrap a towel around this?” On hearing that I could, I grabbed my towel off the rack in the bathroom and hurriedly wound it around myself sarong-style. And C promptly pulled it off saying, “That is a bath towel, silly, get a beach towel.” For the life of me, I could not figure out the difference. Only that my bath towel was a solid mehandi-green color while the beach towel was a gaily striped blue and white one. Does the color and pattern make such a difference?

I was aghast at the knowledge that the three of us, actually two, since D was clad in his shorts and t-shirt, were going to be traipsing along the path to the swimming pool in minimal clothing. On questioning C, she nonchalantly informed me that the people in our apartment complex were quite used to the two of them walking about in their swimsuits. Great, just great.

We got to the hot tub and I threw my towel over the railing and hurriedly got into the tub before anyone could get a glimpse of a baby hippopotamus in a swim suit. I was in such a hurry that I sent a tidal wave of water towards poor D who was almost drowned. It was just his navy training that saved him.

C slid in. I really envied the way she looked, so svelte and perfect. The water was hot, but as I got used to it, I could actually feel all my tensions slip away. That must have been my Piscean side kicking in. Water always soothes me. We sat in the tub for a while talking about our day and at the end of it all, I really felt good. Pretty silly of me not to have tried this earlier!!!

SIMPLE PLEASURES

A convertible with the top down. Long winding country roads. The wind whipping your hair into a frenzy. Rolling pasturelands on gently undulating hills. Music from Gangster. Great company. Loads of laughter. That about sums up my trip to Julian.

Julian is a quaint little town set in the hills of San Diego. It is story book perfect. Signs direct you to give way to horse drawn carriages and to watch out for horses at crossroads. One can actually find sheep, horses and cows out in the open. A scene that is extremely rare in the US.

There were four of us. Three girls and one guy. I don’t know how “M” contrived to bring about that situation. He did have this long-suffering expression of being stuck with three women, but secretly, I think he enjoyed it all. To his credit, he let us browse all the little stores to our hearts’ content, even pointing out a few interesting ones to us.

On our way to Julian, we saw horses grazing in a field. A perfect photo op. Out we jumped. “M” went first nonchalantly leaning on one of the poles that supported the fence. The two girls, K and A, went next, standing a safe distance from the snorting horses. I decided to copy M’s pose. I put my elbow on one of the posts and ZAAAAAAAAAAP!! I jumped back in alarm; I had felt an electric current run through my arm! “M” then says, “Oh you felt it too?” Couldn’t the idiot have warned me? Next we saw a long winding road and we obviously had to get pictures of that too. “M” decided to fling out his arms and caught me neatly at the edge of my left eye. I know I shouldn’t have called him an idiot. It is a good thing my husband isn’t in the US right now or he would have been facing charges of martial abuse since I went to work on Monday with a shiner.

We stopped again to photograph a gaunt tree and had to make a mad dash back to our car since we saw a patrol car stop right in front of our car. Later we found out the policeman had not stopped for us!!

We finally got to Julian and it was like being transported to another century. Of course, the hordes of bikers on their Harley-Davidsons struck a discordant note. Yeah, if I was a man, am sure I would have felt differently about it.

The stores all sold handmade things. Everything from pot-pourri to jewellery made of the locally available stone was on display. Perfect for a Saturday afternoon browse. The girls also went wine-tasting. It really was a pity that I had never tried anything alcoholic in my life. Does cough syrup count?. I would have loved to try the different wines too. But then, I didn’t want poor “M” to have to carry me back to the car.

The diner we went to for lunch was so historic it had only one washroom. Our tokens were cards from a deck. And you went hungry if the waitress called out “Queen of Hearts” and you weren’t listening. Lovely system. Wonder when someone is going to bring that one to India. There were other groups of our fellow countrymen. And as usual everyone was busy ignoring everyone else.

Late afternoon and we had to try the specialty of the area. The apple pies. And since M planned to eat a whole pie and I wanted to get one for my roommates we went to the express lane. Five minutes later and the express lane was the longest line there, actually stretching on to the road. We savored the warm, wonderful smelling apple pies and once sated, made our way home.

A nice lazy Saturday, right up my alley!!!

THE SHOUT HOUSE

Yet another birthday. And this time I was prepared. Or so I thought. (I had remembered to carry my credit card).

I was told that we were going to a place that had “dueling pianos”. Visions of elegantly clad men and women with wine glasses, soft muted lights, listening to classical piano music flashed across my mind.

For once, I truly regretted being such a tomboy. I don’t think I have ever owned a truly feminine dress in my life. Sighing at my lack of pretty dresses, I chose to wear a long black skirt with a knit black and white top, all the while hoping that I would not be turned back at the door for being so casually dressed.

I stepped out into the living room to find a decent pair of sandals to go with the outfit. Did I even own one? “D” took one look at me and stated, “Sam, you are overdressed.” What? Did I hear him right? Umm, so “D”, what kind of place are we going to? “To a bar.” (As if that explained everything). Back I went, to change into my usual uniform of jeans. I went back to D with another question. Would I look like a complete idiot if I drank water in a bar? Thankfully the answer was no. Phew!!!

C’s cousin, “E” turned 21 on Nov 2nd. A very important age in the US, coz you can henceforth drink legally. Is this state specific? I never did find out.

She was a pretty girl with dark, natural corkscrew curls. I have never seen hair so naturally pretty. The key word here is “natural”. She was a vision in an electric blue spaghetti top and jeans with blue velvet Indian jhooties.

We went into the bar and I was duly stamped on the inside of my left wrist. I felt like I was being stamped before I entered the gas chamber. The stamp was a five pointed star by the way. This was a week day and the bar was supposedly empty, though I could not spot a single empty chair.

The bar was around a raised platform which had two pianos placed together and there were two singers. You could request your favorite songs which would then be played on the pianos. And all the while that I was there, there were no dearth of requests and the music was continuous without a break. It was a complete antithesis of what I had imagined. The music was foot tapping, earthy, raucous, loud, and accompanied by loud catcalls.

The favorite song seemed to be the one that had a chorus that went, “It’s a fine time to leave me Lucille; you b***h, you s**t, you w***e!!!! And everyone would point fingers at whoever was on the dais at the time.

There were at least three birthdays. The birthday gals (all three were girls by the way) got to sit on top of the pianos while the songs requested for them were being played. Once done, they got bumper stickers with the words “The Shout House” stuck across their fannies for their trouble.

“E” went up when it was her turn. An extremely raunchy number was played. I shall not put down the words of the song in deference to my young readers. Suffice to say it was enough to turn anyone beet red. And to top it all, a young male volunteer from the crowd did a lap dance for her. Since I have never had the occasion to see one, I found the whole performance entertaining. That was one sporting volunteer.

Poor “E” came off the dais after she got her bumper sticker, and was almost on the verge of tears much to D’s consternation. He had requested for a song, but not the particular one the pianists chose to play. Peace was restored by the promise of an extra drink at D’s expense.

We had to leave early since all of us had to go to work the next day. I gave “E” a hug and wished her a very happy birthday again. As I left, I admired the young girl’s grit. Not once did she break down in front of all those people. She kept smiling through the entire performance even though it was obvious to everyone she was very uncomfortable. I was told that she was brought up in an extremely strict environment where the mere mention of the words booze or sex was taboo. So you had to admire that kind of poise in one so young. You are going to be one heck of a woman “E”.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

It was D’s birthday yesterday. And I am yet to meet a person who is more reluctant to celebrate it. And hats off to his wife “C” who is determined to make him like his birthday again and pretty much succeeded.

There is a tragedy behind the entire tale. Both of D’s grandmothers were buried on his birthday. Which is technically enough to turn anyone off of birthdays I suppose.

As for sheer effort, I think C definitely needs a medal. She has been planning it all since the beginning of October. And I have had my agony aunt skills stretched to the limit.
She decided to get “glamour” pictures of herself. That was her idea of a gift for D. That is when all the cloak and dagger stuff began. She hid stuff in my closet before and after the photo shoot. And once the pictures were ready, she asked me to go along to choose six of them. This was an opportunity that any red-blooded guy would have given his right arm for. Unfortunately, I was the wrong gender and straight to boot!

Choosing the best photographs is hard work!! Never again will I envy the judges of any kind of beauty contest. I am sure they get psychiatric help after every judging. And my travails continued…Imagine going through 300-odd pictures to choose 6. But to my credit, I did it. Maybe I actually have a flair for this kind of thing!!! Hmm.

We all went to a restaurant called Claim Jumper. And as to why it is called that, I haven’t the foggiest idea. The restaurant is all wood and old world charm. I loved the fans. They were palm leaf shaped all attached to a central, long, rotating steel shaft and attached to the roof.

More present giving……… and one of D’s presents was attached to a ball of string that went all around the restaurant. Drew had to walk around winding the string, under tables and around poles before he finally got to it. After a lot of excuse mes and I am sorries, D finally got his present. Suffice to say that I have never seen anyone get more excited about a golf club.

Dinner was fun as I got to meet C’s parents as well as various other sundry relatives and friends. C’s father teaches business marketing at the university and we had a lively discussion. Right from the matriachal society of Kerala to the nitty gritties of bringing up children. I haven’t had such good conversation for a long time and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it.

We all finished eating and then a strange thing happened. Each of us was presented with a bill. God, how could I have forgotten? We were going Dutch. I had left my credit card behind. Now this was going to get embarrassing. I frantically looked through my purse, and thank you, God, found that I did have some cash stashed in a forgotten pocket. Phew.

Now this was another lesson I learnt the hard way.
Never, ever, step out anywhere without your credit card or your cell phone.

HALLOWEEN ROCKS!!!!

Sexy sleeveless long gown. Check

Black lacy overcoat with red spiders all over and red satin ties. Check

Pointy lacy red and black hat. Check

Black sandals-Check

Cute broom-Check.

Black kohl-ringed eyes. Check.

In case anyone is wondering if I have defected to a fashion house, I was just describing my Halloween attire. People here really take their Halloween outfits very seriously. I figured that one out yesterday.

It started right from the bus in the morning. At every stop there would be angels of every hue and color, bunnies, a Viking queen and even Xena the Warrior Queen getting on. There weren’t too many witches though, which was funny, considering it was Halloween after all. I would have loved to get on to the bus in my full witch regalia, but I was unsure if the bus driver would let me get on the bus, broom and all. He could tell me to fly to work on my broom right?

Note: I got more compliments yesterday than I ever have in my life. So I look good in witches’ attire? Go figure….

At the witching hour, the trick or treaters started arriving. “D” looked handsome in his King Arthur regalia. “C” was the Rainbow Bride. She wore a really short blue costume trimmed in white fur with a halter neck and multicolored gloves and stockings. It was hot enough to turn the cold evening steamy.

Soon we had a whole parade of kids and not-so-kiddy teenagers at our doorstep demanding candy. There were some who could hardly talk, they were so small!! I loved handing out the candy and wishing everyone a “Happy Halloween.”

Soon it was time to go downtown. This was the best part according to “D” and “C”. I was skeptical. Downtown on a week night? I was sure it was going to be deader than a graveyard in the middle of the night, but then as usual, I was proved wrong. I was warned by “D” that some of the girls did tend to dress a “little slutty”. Understatement of the year?

We were joined by some friends and we sure were a motley crew. We had
Rainbow bride: She drew enough wolf whistles and cat calls to set “D”s teeth on edge. I bet he was dying to hit some of the people.
Psycho: It was “M” in a really scary mask. The guy is at least 6 feet tall and lanky. He wore a really baggy pair of jeans and a white shirt smeared with blood. He looked pretty natural, scratching his head and looking retarded. His favorite game was to hide behind walls and come out suddenly screaming his head off. And for some reason his favorite people to scare were Asians. He had the time of his life yesterday.
The Green Alien: This was a very pretty girl dressed in a short green silk dress, with a laser gun and an insect like mask.
Captain America: He wore a red and blue dress rather like Superman and he had foam rubber shaping his superb muscles. He did everything from direct traffic to warn people against Psycho. He also broke into an impromptu jig with a couple of girls at a traffic light to the accompaniment of much clapping and whistling.
We also had bat-girl and a girl pirate to heat up things if things weren’t hot enough already.

Downtown yesterday was a riot of color. The costumes ranged from the innovative to the completely bizarre. How else do you explain a penis with two testicles, a lady dressed in a towel with bubbles in her head, someone dressed in a Sikh’s turban and someone else dressed in a saree!!! The best one was this truly beautiful woman all dressed in black leather as a dominatrix. She was dragging along this guy, also dressed in black leather. She willingly swatted anyone who wanted to be swatted on their butts with a leather whip.

And as for the women. Looks like yesterday’s motto was “Less is better.” Everyone lived up to that unspoken rule. Suffice to say that it was every guy’s wet dream come true.

We traipsed along the streets seeing and being seen, having the time of our lives. I had to be particularly careful to see that I did not poke anyone in the eye with my broom. But in spite of all the glitz and the glamour as well as the blatantly sexual nature of the costumes, there wasn’t a single instance where someone misbehaved. I really admired that kind of restraint. And I am pretty glad I decided to get into the spirit of things, sore feet and the cold, notwithstanding.