vermillion fingers

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i keep wanting to do a year-ender post.
some people do it really nicely and thoroughly like D did on her site
~ i hop on to my train of thought. it’s this silly old train that doesn’t stop at the station I intend, and distracts me with vada and cutlets even if I *gasp* am not in the mood.

After a feeble protest, I look down at my oily fingers that have turned vermillion having dipped themselves in watered-down ketchup.

Erm, where was I?

How about a year-ender with the ‘moment of the year’ post?

Would that be the one when I am hanging up the clean nappy at 11.15 p.m. and clothespin my finger instead?

or how about the ‘why-don’t-you-HUSBAND-handle-this’ feeling of the year: was that when half the tin of nivea creme was a dollop on one cheek of the first born /or actually was it when first born reached in and adoringly touched the water flushing in the toilet bowl/

no. strike that all out.
actually should end it on a happy tralalal dumdee dum note:

how bout the best advice ‘ever’ on cooking ladies finger/okra: (this is from a school friend who had her first cooking lesson in 1993 when her mum went to Trichy.)

“whatever happens don’t keep vendakka in the pressure cooker…”

and in all these years,it’s worked for me…

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9 responses »

  1. Thanks for stopping by. The anniv was eventful, you’ll hear abt it soon.

    Had lurked on your blog too..found the payasam’s very interesting*drooling*

    So true on the vendakka…learnt it the pasty way, at age 16, when i made sambhar for the first time , in a pressure cooker. I should stop here, seriously!

  2. Loved this moment of the year post.

    Also loved your big banner, and the image of you and your inner child sitting on all the imagined and real pain-in-butts in my life. :))

  3. hi,

    had a ‘why-don’t-you-HUSBAND-handle-this’ moment (really, I don’t think I’d notice anything if someone else didn’t verbalize these things for me). So anyway, since you inspired this bit of ah-ha-moment, I have rushed to the computer to tell you all about it.

    The husband has to leave early so I drop the little one to day care, and then at the end of the day husband picks him up, and then they both pick me up, and we go home.

    This”equitable distribution of parenting” (I’m quoting myself here) isn’t so equitable at all. It takes about 3 hours (on a bad day 4-5 hours) to get the little one up, cuddled, dressed, fed, bathed, booted, coated, mittened, hatted, iron-man-toy-found, seat-belted, convinced about the wisdom of going to day care, and (finally!!!) dropped off.

    It takes 15 mins to pick him up.

    And this has been going on for 2 years now. So finally, my subtaranean feelings of injustice surfaced, and for once, instead of huffing and puffing and stewing and pressure cookering, I walked up to husband and said “I think its unfair that it takes me about 3 hours daily to do my share of the little-one-in-day-care, and it takes you 15 mins. That is 3 hours less of work every day that I do, and it all adds up, and so we need to fix this.”

    And he said, “hmm, that’s true. Do you want me to drop him off? Or is there anything else that you think will be fair?”

    Alleluia! No tantrum necessary!

    I feel all adult and mature and together.

  4. d: are you different from the other D?
    dipali: interesting, i dunno. tiring, yep.
    in love: i listened to savage garden after 5 years, thank YOU!
    socio: socio’s better half is now Dad of the Year nominee !*applause*

    socio is nominated in the ‘pressure cookers from South India’, category

  5. Madhu: yep. new learning of the day — i didn’t know panneer could be deep fried…

    your ‘deep fry’ toast has reached the wonderful people at woodlands hotel, brickfields

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