Nightmare Before Christmas

I go to a yoga class three times a week. I've gotten to know my instructor, Samu, really well. It started with staying a few minutes after class to chat, then we started sharing a few recipes with each other (she gave me potato curry, I gave her banana bread), eventually she started to even speak with me in Tamil. She asked me a few weeks ago if I could come and dress up as Santa for the kids in the preschool that she teaches at. Me, being the considerate wife that I am, knew that Neil would be off of work and might enjoy doing it. So, I volunteered him. What follows is only a portion of the terror we witnessed this morning...

Neil & Courtney, spreading Christmas joy in Chennai.

Clara turns 1

We remember just one year ago...

love at first sight

bright-eyed from the start

sweet cuddler

not yet interested in Uncle Neil's antics

Can't believe she's already one! Lots of love and kisses being sent today to our #1 niece on her #1 birthday!

Dr. Dreadful--Indian style

the makings of curry

I was never that into science growing up but I did always love the Dr. Dreadful Drink Lab. Anyone else with me? I never thought about it before, but maybe my interest in mixing spices and bizarre flavor combinations is somehow associated with the strange, carbonated, colorful concoctions that entertained my palate around the age of 8. Who knows. Either way, I seriously love mixing and matching flavors and finding creative substitutes for things I can't find or use here (eggs, sour cream, quick rise yeast, etc). I have also had my fair share of things blow up on me to claim an even stronger association with a science lab (tomatoes in my mixie, hot soup in my mixie, boiling chenna in my pressure cooker, the list goes on). Thankfully I've escaped with only minor burns and a lifetime's worth of lessons on "this should not be mixed with this".

My favorite thing to make is curry. The big lesson of the night the first time I made curry is that sniffing the freshly ground spices of curry is similar to inhaling flour, except there's chilly powder in curry. Explosion of the sinuses.

Still learning.... :)

Cyclone Jal--almost

We were set to have a huge cyclone hit Chennai a few weeks ago; In anticipation of the cyclone's arrival, Neil and I went to the beach to watch the waves. It's hard to capture through a camera, but they were pretty impressive. The cyclone ended up being considerably smaller than expected, which we were thankful for because it felt kind of intense leading up to it! Here's some footage of our first 'almost a cyclone' experience...

Looks can be deceiving

This might look like a normal hand, but it's not. It's actually a hand unintentionally marinating in chilly (yes, that's how it's spelled here) oil. I thought I would be quick and chop chillies with no protective covering. FAIL. After soaking my hands in whole milk 3 different times they still felt like they were on fire for the next 8 hours. I learned this lesson in August.

Fast forward to October. Again, I am cutting chillies. I DO protect my hands this time (an inside out grocery bag works wonders), but I fail to protect my eyes. For some unknown reason I decide I need a closer look while I'm chopping. Result: left eye on fire.

Take note: chillies are not for wimps.

Lemony Bitterness: a rant

A few years ago I realized that lemon scented cleaners have wreaked havoc on my ability to enjoy anything lemon flavored. My most recent bitter moment came while enjoying a date night with my hubby at a local Thai restaurant. The waitress poured traditional Thai tea with a pungent lemon smell. One whiff of the tea filling that cute little Thai cup turned me into a 12 year old dusting my mom's piano, trying not to break all of her Precious Moments figurines. I've had similar moments over the last 5 years that increase my beef with the Pine Sol lady (you know, the one with the dreads who has been doing lemony-fresh commercials since 1992). I seriously don't get it. Why have the lemon people sacrificed the countless commercial marketing opportunities with teas, cakes, marinades, candles, etc for the floor cleaning industry. It's a waste of a perfectly good citrus, if you ask me.

So, take this as a public service announcement: Stop using lemon-scented cleaners. Seriously. If your children, in whom you want to instill a 'dignity of work' value, have any hope of enjoying lemon flavored food, you MUST stop using these vehicles of dessert destruction.

I would really like to be cured of this association. Until then, my bitterness smells like lemon-scented Pine sol.

Flattery

As a part of their jobs, many of the trainees are asked to pick pseudonyms for when they are on the phone. Some Americans have a difficulty hearing and repeating Srikalaivaani, and so they are asked to start going by "Paul" or "Carrie". Thus begins the infamous dialogue:

"Hi, welcome to (huge company), my name is Cory, how may I help you?"

"Wait, your name isn't really Cory, is it? I know your name isn't Cory. What's your real name"

"Hari Kumar Balasubramanian"

"Umm, ok, let's stick with Cory."

From time to time I hear back from the trainees who are getting ready to start answering phones. A few days ago one sent me an email stating that he had been asked to choose a pseudonym and was proud to tell me that he had chosen Neil Miller as his fake name. I was at once amazed and in disbelief. Flattered, yet slightly unsettled. So, just in case you run into him on the phone, I wanted to let everyone know that I have neither switched jobs nor started a cult.