A late thanksgiving

Snippets of conversation with people you will never see again. Recommending books to strangers while waiting for luggage at an airport. The infinitesimal connection you feel with someone when you realize that they also love to bury their noses in a book.

Recapping the past year, there were so many trips, so many new places. Museums at Washington DC, Afghani food in Maryland. Watching others gamble at Reno and driving around Lake Tahoe. Revisiting Universal Studios, zipping past Highway 1 breathing in the air from the sea, and getting burned on the beach. Yosemite in the last dregs of winter, Aspen in autumn. Started off the year in New York, drove ATVs over sand dunes, hiked to a bunch of places. Got a motorcycle license, but never managed to get one for my very own. So many plans made and forgotten about.

Discovered geocaching, flew an aircraft and threw up mid-air. Made multiple trips to San Francisco, had camping adventures and visited the lovely Khushboo in Milan. Drove her nuts dragging her forcibly from one place to the next, managed to get directions to a teensy hidden bookstore in Italian - the small victories.

Experimenting with my new camera as the year waned, participating in multiple secret santas and attending more birthday lunches and dinners than I can count and completing my Goodreads goal. I'm sure many significant events have been left out, but this is my way of giving thanks, counting my blessings and being sappy.

True Story

You spend your childhood being the tomboy, the errand runner, the mischeif maker. You are defiant, independent and breeze though life. You have standards and are picky.

And then life catches up with you. You get a job that you didn't want in the first place. You try to fit into the mold that you never thought you'd belong in. You get married and have kids.

Defiance gives way to contemplation. You struggle to make peace, but put up a brave front so that your parents don't feel guilty. You compromise. You lie to keep others happy, something you thought you'd never do.

You focus on getting through each day, and forget the dreams you once must have had. Go without. Try to be good. Get amazing at cooking. Get constantly berated and take it all in. Be the only source of true love for your kids. And think, was it worth it?

Past me

I saw a question on the interwebs today. It asked whether past you would think present you is cool.

6 year old me would be in awe of the fact that I have the ability to bestow a box of assorted fancy chocolates on my cousins whenever I visit India.
12 year old me would be super excited that I have gone whale watching (Just like on the discovery channel!) and visited the Grand Canyon but would be slightly put off that I work a 9-5 ish job and not some mash up of marine biologist-explorer-travel show host.
Summer intern me would be jumping from sheer joy that I have the ability to go on long drives and own a god damn car.
3 years ago I remember marvelling at someone knitting a scarf. That actual clothes came out of a ball of yarn and patience was astonishing to me. I finished one last week, I think past me would be proud.

It sometimes helps to review your past perceptions. Because they change, like everything else. Don't let current you be the only one that calls the shots. There's a lot to be said for spontainiety, but there's something to be said for healthy self reflection too.

More lists

Time for another list. I've stopped carrying a notepad in my back pocket, so I'm assaulting you guys with lists. I apologize.

1. The estranged(only slightly) love of my life is coming to visit. For a whole week. Love bubbles and rainbows all around for me and her.
2. A visit to the highly esteemed Green Apple book store was made, and homage was paid to the second hand books.
3. Euro is almost over, with all the teams I backed losing, so I'm switching to la Italia with the famously bonkers Balotelli for the finals.
4. I am giving Harry Potter books 5,6,7 another chance.
5. Pizza Chicago for dinner tonight.(Be still, my beating heart)
6. A highly biased, thouroughly amatuer review of the American Idiot will be forthcoming from me next weekend.
7. Uzair Jaswal
And since we are on the topic of lists, check out the terms and conditions Einstein laid out for his wife and other such gems at this (sometimes hilarious) website.

Kitchen escapades

I spent the last week cooking something new everyday. Well, almost. Fruits of my labor were enjoyed mostly by me, partly by my i-have-a-golfball-for-a-stomach roommate. The black bean soup was a hit and the potato wedges came out better than expected, though I suspect that ketchup had a lot more to do with that than I care to admit. The oven is a finicky beast, burning my pita chips on one day, and making them crunchy perfect the other. I will conquer you one day, Oven, you just wait!

I made a lemon brioche french toast thingamajigy yesterday, full of summery lemony goodness. My quest for brioche/challah was thwarted, so I subbed it with French bread in the recipe. Take that, universe! Though once I zested and juiced my first lemon, I knew that I had become a kitchen slave.

More baking will surely come and so will more fat. As a preventive measure, I bought a pair of cute red 3 lb weights and a yoga mat. Further plans for this week involve fixing my car, being social and not giving up on Game-Of-Thrones.

EDIT: Just had to add this. Mystery solved.

                                                   

Too big, too small, just right?

There has to be a secret, somewhere that I should know. Something that someone was telling me when I was daydreaming about my books.

That would explain why I am having an identity crisis. The only thing that made sense, that prompted a spark of recognition was something that I read this morning. "I'm now beginning to think the entire human experience is putting up that cheery front and not letting the cracks show through. I'm a bad human now."

Work, commute and an urgent need to check off things from a list is stretching me paper thin. There is a shell being built somewhere, just the right size for the Goldilocks in me.

Where's my baby bear?