Typos and Typing

How is it that after nearly two years of blogging, I finally added “Varun” to my WordPress dictionary? This, my friends, is a new level of laziness.

Goodbye squiggly red line: “Varun” is now a word.

In other news, in my ongoing attempt to act like an 8 year old boy, I seriously scrapped up my palms this weekend while jumping over a curb. After unsuccessfully ignoring the pain and inflammation and having my beloved Varun pour hydrogen peroxide on my open wounds, we went to the ER. There, a lovely Doctor cheerfully pulled out the gravel. This was all done, of course, without an anesthetic so I could “feel” the foreign bodies and guide her needle and tweezers.

Dr: Wow, you’re being very brave. I know this hurts a lot.

Me: Oh, thanks. I’m practicing to not have an epidural when I give birth so I’m learning to bear pain.

Dr: So, are you comparing this to labour?

Me: (I know she has multiple kids. This is dangerous ground) Um. Nope. No, not at all.

Awkward.

Anyway. It looks much more dramatic than it is.

I have matching gauze wraps on both hands. Most people have thought that they’re hobo mittens; apparently, I’m so stylish I can pull of bandages as mittens. Or, people have very low expectations for my outfits.

My typing is a bit haphazard and mildly painful. So here I shall leave you.

Happy Monday!

 

Advertisements

Little Things, 3

I’m starting to look forward to Friday mornings so I can reflect on my week and smile about the small joys I’ve experienced during the week.

-This weekend my dear friend Joanna came to visit and we went to Niagara falls. Somehow I never tire of seeing the millions of gallons plummeting into the swirling depths.

-I got to enjoy great time in God’s word while enjoying a tasty breakfast. Also, I love eggs.

-New makeup brushes! I spend about $32 a year on makeup and am slowly trying to build up a usable, inexpensive, effective and ethically made collection. (Um, good luck, Self). Amazing new bamboo brushes from Eco tools.

-Do you see that hand cream? UH-Mazing. It has no paraben, dye, colorants or other yucky stuff. It was not tested on animals. And it smells like the lemon Girl Scout cookies. I’m not kidding. You will want to eat your hand. Or at least sniff it excessively…see? It only takes a $7 hand cream for me to get excited!

So, what small things brought joy to you this week?!

*The mentioning of products is purely out of my own excitement. Nothing has been sposored. I wish

Feels Like India

A fellow blogger is heading to India with her husband to meet his relatives and visit his homeland in a few weeks. We were chatting¬† about the anxieties surrounding such a trip and I thought I’d spend a few posts sharing my thoughts. I have a midterm tomorrow so I’ve set the timer–can I write a whole post in 20 minutes?!*

Things I’ve felt when journeying within India…

View of slums out of the plane window

The first time I went to India, Varun and I got engaged. I was young and head over heels in love and blissfully ignorant. While our trip was exciting, invigorating, amazing, entertaining and well-worth it, there were times when I felt isolated and sad. Being unable to speak the language made me feel stupid, incompetent and embarrassed. Being unsure and obviously out of place made me feel shy and self-conscious. I grew tired of people staring at me and inwardly wondered why people couldn’t just act like me.

At the same time, being welcomed heartily by my new family and accepting gifts and chai and hugs and smiles from strangers made me feel loved and accepted. I felt humbled knowing that people loved me not because they could understand me or talk with me, but because Varun loved me and that was enough for them. I felt cherished and protected by Varun, his sister and his parents as they showed me new sites, dressed me in local clothes and enveloped me with warmth, caring and laughter.

On later trips, India has had the faint echo of home. The cacophony of honking traffic and aggressive vendors invokes in me feelings of familiarity and joy. As I’ve rejoined the 1.2 billion people that make up the mosaic of India, I feel apprehensive and excited; I long to be accepted and yet…I deeply fear it.

When I observe Varun bargaining wildly with a rickshaw driver or chatting with relatives I feel relaxed knowing that he is where he belongs. At the same time, I feel tense to see his ease contrasted with my dis-ease, to see his quick laughter and familiarity in settings that perplex me. Wonder and confusion and curiosity flood my heart to see the man I love in a place so foreign to me; yet it’s the place that reverberates with many of the songs and colors and ideas that endear Varun to me.

*Nope, couldn’t do it. It took 27 minutes. Oh well. If I do poorly on my exam, at least I’ll have something to blame…

Previous Older Entries

Categories

Visitors

  • 60,838 hits