Happy Hero

Both kids have been fairly spidey obsessed. This is is the five-year-old Nu's SECOND Spiderhero-themed birthday. (At had FIVE; oy, yes.)

Nu and her superhero friend.

That silly Spidey--he crashed into the bottom of the cake again!

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All Right

So this is kindergarten humor:

Mama!

(Holding heirloom tomato aloft)

I'm putting out a tomato-warning. 

A TOMATO  warning! 

(giggles)

Doesn't it sound like tornado-warning? 

Mama?

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Taking a Fall (for science)

While I was over at a visa interview in Grand Rapids, At was "the nucleus" in his science period skit. His science teacher wanted to show how At the nucleus moved, so he pushed him off the demonstration table... and...

At ended up with a broken collar bone. True story. No, we're not suing anyone.

He's in a lot of pain, but he's such a sweetheart and tries to mask it. 

(Related: This kid is ridiculously cute.)

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Old Things (2)

I picked up from my old house the black corduroy trench I’d left behind. S didn’t have to save it for me, since the house papers are long signed and it has no real monetary value. But I'm glad it was saved. That I have it. It’s always made me feel sophisticated. Miss Selfridges. Ten years ago it cost me less than 20 GBP. I know because I never spent more than that on one piece of clothing.

And although it still quite warm now, it reminded me of wearing it back to my rooms on my way back from the Žižek talk the evening the snow started unexpectedly flower-like and light.

And how you called me on my new cell phone. I must have given you the number because refusal would have been ruder than necessary. Because you asked although you shouldn’t have.

You said—“Are you out in that thin black coat of yours.”

And I tried to act as though it were ok for you to call me on a cell phone. And you acted as though there were nothing unusual in telling me that you were worried about me calling me to check on me on my walk home in the snow.

You said—“How was your talk?”

And I pick from Žižek’s talk the one thing I thought you needed to hear. “Žižek says that if you tell someone you love them then the dominant emotion implicit in that statement is selfishness because you want to hear it back.”

You make fun of Žižek. I bristle. You imply that Rushdie is a philanderer. I am non committal.

We ring off.

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Old Things (1)

Today I found the song you played me on repeat from across the aisle while trying to make eye contact. You may have played it a hundred times? Played it louder than necessary. Played it back to back with another song I don’t remember at all. Something with Salman Khan in it? Some other song extolling the virtues of romantic love and taking a chance.

Anyway, I found “Mannil” on an old CD copied for me by a dear friend who’d billed it as “SPB Marina Beach Song” because even seven years ago I’d forgotten how the song was sung, but only remembered only that it was filmed on the beach. But although I’d forgotten the song itself, something about the frisson of seeming desirable to you must have stayed with me.

And today, listening to that song from another lifetime, I enjoyed it as I never have before. Remember you, footnote, person whose name I never knew. I’d look you up on facebook if I knew your name.

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Where in the world is NuNu at 3 a.m. on Friday?

Complaint: inability to breathe, chest pains (from what began as a cold contracted from older sibling).
Stuff received: inhaled steroids, oral steroids, antibiotics.
Patient's mood: manic.
Parents' mood: panicked. (Where did the weekend go?)

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Amma

Called Amma to find out that she'd been sick and feverish for two days.

Sick since she got home from Benares; since she bathed in the Ganges with its famed sin-eliminating waters and decomposing corpses downstream.

She said she only meant to take a token dip but ended up doing nine. She said she swallowed some of the water.

In the last month two childhood friends have told me that their mothers died--one six years ago and C did not make it back to the funeral, the other one month ago on account of which S wasn't celebrating her birthday this month. I loved these "Aunties"--I loved their food, their style, their staunch support of their daughters. I yearn for a chance to tell them this.

I wonder when I'll see my own Amma again.

The kids called Amma this morning to yell "Get well soon, Ammama."

It's only been two months since I was in India.


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