The Power of Zero: Give or Take a Few

I've never been good at numbers. Especially those which have a long trail of zeros running after them trying to keep pace.
I can count up to 10 on my fingers. And I believe I can count up to 1000 in my mind. But anything beyond that, you lose me.

Which is probably why I just don't get these numbers and how on earth they are supposed to make sense.

This is what we are spending for the War for Oil the War in Iraq.
And then, this is what we are spending for making the Nation free from the suffering and death due to Cancer by 2015.

500 Billion for a War. 5 Billion for Cancer Research. What's the difference? Just a few zeros trying to keep pace.

Didn't I tell you that you'd lose me after 1000?

The Rope Question

A long time back a friend had posed this question:

"You have a tennis ball and the earth. You have two ropes. 

One rope ties the tennis ball along its surface. It fits exactly. 

The other rope does the same to the earth,

i.e. exactly covers the circumference of the earth.

You now increase the length of each rope by 1 inch.

Form a circle with each rope covering the tennis ball and the earth
respectively.

Is the distance between the tennis ball and its new circle greater
than that between the earth and its new circle?"

She was looking for the logic and not the Math.

Now since neither my logic nor my Math skills are anything to talk home about, I turned to someone who might have done justice to the problem.


This is the answer I got back:

"Is this a trick question?

If it were, I would ask,

1) What kind of a rope was used, i.e. what was the modulus of elasticity? Did you twist the rope during the process?

2) What was the tension in the rope while it was stretched?

3) What were the temperatures during the experiments?

4) What is the coefficient of thermal expansion, in case there was a temperature variation?

5) How fast was the measurement done? (may become important if we are thinking in speeds near that of the light)

6) The question that has always haunted me since childhood.....how can you tie a knot (to add that 1 inch) without altering the original length?

(That will be close to Heisenberg’s heart too.)

7) Question 6 alone can generate a whole set of debate, like how tight was the knot?

( I won't even get into the uncertainty in measurements!)

8) If you asked my Graduate school advisor he'd ask, "Did you repeat the experiment?"

9) My present boss would ask: "Did you write that up?"

(Just in case you didn't know what writing up is all about, it refers to writing up a US patent)

10) And his boss would suggest," Sign an NDA (non disclosure agreement) before you answer the question!"

11) The Corporate VP would ask, "Can we get the problem solved in China?"

12) Tom Skilling would ask, "Was there a Jet stream in the upper atmosphere pushing the rope?"

13) Dubya Bush would say " Are you sure it is not an act of terrorism?"

14) My Dad who loves a gourmet meal and is a secret poet at heart would ask, " May I hope, to eat the rope?"

15) My health freak brother would say, " Jump the rope 20 min a day to get rid of the extra calories."

16) My sister who is always looking for an excuse to scold me will say, " Who asked you to get in to such a mess with ropes!"

17) My Mom who spent her entire trip to the US trying to find a way to wash and dry her sarees would ask, "Can we dry our laundry on that rope?"

18) And last, my wife who is forever trying to stock up on things will say, " Can we have another rope? Then we can do the experiment with one and keep the other in stock just in case we need it later."

Thanks for asking. Hopefully I answered your question."

Needless to say I was left speechless.

*I'd like to thank AB for the question and AR for sending me the reply.

Riding the waves

Been struggling of late to come up with a brilliant post. Something that is profound. Or has a purpose. Meaningful. Insightful. Makes a statement. A Save the World kind of post. Or a Protect the Dolphins and Whales of the world post. Or make an appeal for saving endangered species. Educate, motivate, inspire. Do something good. Rescue an animal. Or help a friend. Something that makes me a little more human and a little less selfish.

Unfortunately I failed.

Miserably.

And although I can't write anything awe-inspiring, I came across a couple of really beautiful and touching posts.
This is the kind of stuff I wish I could write. And this is why she is and will always remain one of my favorite bloggers.
And then this one just made me want to run and grab my paint brush. And paint. The myriad hues of rain. And love.

And as I sit here waiting for that one moment of truth, when everything comes together in a flash of light and life can fall into place and everything works out the way I hope it will, I realize that in the meantime the only thing that I can actually do with any sort of authority, is write about me, myself and my life. And although I want this blog to have a little more meaning than being a record of my personal life, I have accepted the fact that I cannot find the pathway to inspiration where I can write something meaningful or profound. So what the hell!

And please don't say things like, "oh good to see you back". Don't. Because I'm not sure I was gone. Or even if I am back. Or whether I was missed. Or whether it matters that I am writing another meaningless post.

Life's a rollercoaster ride. And you hold on as tight as possible.

You can tell that you are obsessed about blogging.....

.....when you have to check your blog from half-way across the globe!

Okay, I am out of the country and will be unable to blog until the first week of December. My vanity has been forcing me to believe that my absence was noted and I was being missed. Hence the update......

Thanks to anyone who has checked in on me. And I'll be back soon.

Overheard

Mrs. Banerjee has recently returned to Calcutta after having spent a few months visiting her kids and grandkids who live in America. Her son who is an engineer is married with two kids and live in San Francisco. Her daughter who's been married a little over an year lives in New Jersey. On returning home Mrs Banerjee was asked by her friend and next door neighbor,

"So Didi, how did you like it there? How is Tukun? Is she liking her new life in the US? How is your new jamai*?"

"Oh Tukun is doing very well. Her husband Jayanto is such a nice boy. He does everything he can to help around the house . From groceries to cooking to doing the dishes and cleaning the house. He is so good with his hands. And he also takes her out every evening. Either to the Mall or for ice cream or a movie. Tukun just loves it over there. She lives like a queen. And why not? She deserves every bit of it. She is such a sweet kid. I couldn't be happier for her. Although her in laws are not very nice people. They are always asking Jayanto to send them money. And Jayanto's mother tries to make Tukun's life miserable. But Jayanto is an absolute gentleman and takes such good care of my daughter. "

"And what about your son? How is he doing? The kids must be growing up real fast!"

"Yeah, the kids are growing up and I miss them already. But my stay with them was such a miserable one I don't think I will go visit them the next time I go to America."

"Why is that Didi? What happened?"

"Oh don't even get me started on that. My daughter-in-law Rima is such a nasty person. She did not like my staying with them. She makes my Bubai work like a horse. She makes him do all the housework. As if Bubai didn't have enough things to take care of. He works so hard in his office all day. Then she makes him cook and clean and take care of the kids in the evening while she sits and watches TV. Such an irresponsible and scheming girl. Had I known I wouldn't have appoved the alliance in the first place. She will talk to her mother on the phone everyday and plot new ways to make Bubai miserable. She cannot cook at all. My son has lost so much weight. How can he stay well and work so hard if he doesn't get a nice homecooked meal? She comes home from work and orders take out. If you ask me she should stay at home and learn how to cook some rice and daal! And then she is so strict with the kids. I cannot even give them chocolate and sweets without her jumping down my throat and saying nasty things about making her children "hyper". I am sure she even takes them behind closed doors and hits them. Bubai is so scared of her that he cannot say anything. Who would have known that such a quiet and shy girl would transform into a shrew in seven years! I feel so sorry for Bubai who has to put up with her. And also with her mother. Did you know her mother is going to visit them end of this year? And that too for 4 whole months! Some people are so insensitive!"


* jamai: son-in-law

Live like you were dying

Heard Tim McGraw's 2004 Grammy winning Live like you were dying on the radio this morning. And it made me think about what I'd do if I had a chance to do it all again.

What would I do different?

What would I change?

What would I do if I knew this was the last day of my life?

"And I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
And he said one day I hope you get a chance
To live like you were dying"

What would you do?

I swear by Apollo the physician.......

There are people we meet who touch our lives and change it forever.

I heard a story yesterday that truly inspires. It is about a young girl X. X was just 24 years old. She was bright. She was pretty. And when I say pretty, I absolutely mean it. Now everything was going great for X. She had a loving husband and she had just given birth to a beautiful baby. Things couldn't have been better for her. And then suddenly things started changing. She started noticing changes in her appearance. She was gaining weight. She did not feel well. Her beautiful long hair started falling out. She went to see a doctor who told her that it was probably because her hormones were all crazy after the birth of her baby and things would be okay with time.

But things just kept getting worse. She could not bear to look at herself in the mirror anymore. It was like looking at a total stranger. And she started noticing increased facial hair. At first she tried covering up using makeup but then it got a point where she had to shave to stop people from staring at her. She went to see more doctors. Yet every doctor told her that it must be a side effect of her pregnancy and childbirth and would go away soon. Then she started getting these streaky marks along her lower abdomen and thighs. Grostesque purple streaks. Like stretch marks. Terrified she went to see her doctor. And he asked her if she was being abused physically at home. She denied it and begged him to help her. She showed him a photo that had been taken two years back on her birthday. She burst into tears just looking at the bright and happy woman in the photo. What had happened to her in these few months? She looked nothing like the person she was before. Now she was a grossly overweight, ugly woman with rough features, hoarse voice, beard and a mustache.

So they started investigations on her. She seemed a clear case of Cushing's syndrome. Her cortisol level was way over the limit. Her ACTH level could not be suppressed. Yet all investigations drew a blank. There was no pituitary tumor, nothing apparently wrong with her adrenals. And there she was withering away everyday. No one knew where the cortisol was coming from. But they had to keep her from dying. So the endocrinologist decided that they would have to take out her adrenal glands. Even though it would mean lifelong treatment, it would keep her alive.

So they took her for surgery and the surgeon takes out one adrenal gland. Right at that time the surgery resident notices a slight enlargement of one of the ovaries of the patient. So they removed the ovary that appeared to have a cystic teratoma and sent it for a frozen section and examination by a pathologist. The pathologist took a look at the slide and immediately sent word to stop the surgery and prevent the surgeon from removing the other adrenal gland. Although not apparent at the first cursory glance , the pathologist knew right away that they had hit upon the right organ. The ovary in all likelihood was the source of the problem.

Further examination confirmed the initial suspicion. X had an active pituitary adenoma that had been growing within the ovarian teratoma and had resulted in the hypercortisolemia leading to the manifestation of Cushing's syndrome. Within days of removal of the ovary the patient's condition stabilized. Her cortisol levels fell to normal and her physical appearance started reverting to her pre-Cushing state. The patient left the hospital with most of her gained weight gone, her features restored, her voice and skin normal and no traces of hirsutism.

And if it weren't for the young surgeon who noticed the ovarian tumor and the pathologist who recognized the tumor for what it was, X would have withered and passed away. Says a lot for the doctors, the techniques and medical marvels that go on to save people's lives, every single day.

I heard this story from the pathologist who saved the life of the young girl. I saw her picture, both before she fell sick and after she was hospitalized. And also when she left the hospital. And honestly, it left goosebumps on my arm.


"If I keep this oath faithfully, may I enjoy my life and practice my art, respected by all men and in all times." The Oath of Hippocrates of Kos, 5th century BC

Eating right

To continue on the theme of how the West has changed us here are some observations on the way our eating habits have evolved over the last few years.

I married into a bloodline of gastronomically strong people. There are stories surrounding the consuming capacity of the household that have reached legendary proportions. The story goes that my great-grandfather-in-law passed away one night after having consumed an insane amount of luchi (puris) for dinner. The males in the family, right up to the generation of my father-in-law were quite accustomed to sitting down for lunch with food being served in a huge silver thali and accompanied by atleast eight to ten bowls of various vegetables, fish and meat, while someone would stand by and fan them with a pakha (hand fan) while they ate.

So when I got married and moved to the States the expectations were high to say the least. Needless to say I had never done any cooking prior to tying the knot, so my entire knowledge was dependent on the three cookbooks I had brought with me from India. And I fared pretty well. I guess there really wasn't that much to cooking after all. I grew quite adept at preparing regular daily fare of rice and roti and vegetables and curry. But what B was more interested in was the more exotic stuff. The delicacies of Indian cuisine. And we experimented. And we ate. To give an idea of the volume of cooking and eating we were doing, I went through 11 gallons (approximately 41.6 liters) of cooking oil in less than 5 months! And yes it showed. B gained 30 lbs within a year of our marriage. And that is when we realized that something needed to change.

We usually ate dinner late which meant we would have an evening snack that comprised mainly of fried snacks. So that was the first thing we decided to change. Dinner would be in the evening, as soon as we came back home. Because we were hungry and starving eating a proper meal made way more sense than senseless gorging on junk food. That alone drastically cut back on our consumption of fried food and chips. Which was great. That also was the time B switched from regular soda to diet soda. We tried to adopt to eating more healthy. More salads, more veggies, less carbs and fat. No crazy diet. Just smaller portions. And making better choices.

The transition took a while. Some years actually. But now B checks the nutrition information on the side of everything he consumes. And has started abandoning things containing high fructose corn syrup. And no more soda. Especially no more diet soda. He counts calories. He eats right and exercises. He has lost 30 lbs in the last 6 months. And I am happy for him. Except now I don't know what to cook anymore. Or what to buy. Everything in the grocery store has high fructose corn syrup. It's a pain to look through the nutrition information of everything that you put into your shopping cart. And everyday we are adding to the list of items that are not fit for consumption.

B's parents are alarmed. They probably think he has gone off his rocker. His Dad is scared that B will be a kolonko (disgrace) to the family name by not living up to the eating standards of his clan. And it amuses me to no ends to hear B trying to persuade his Dad to give up on sweets and fried food.

It has been a long journey. But I think we've arrived.

To err is human

Me, I'm not a very forgiving person. Nor do I forget easy. I trust people blindly. And when they destroy my faith I just shut them off from my life.

Take MC for example. We were best friends through college. I still own a treasure chest of memories from those days. Memories that warm my heart when I revisit them in my mind. Yet MC and I drifted apart. Because she hurt me. In more ways than one. And I realized that she never really was my friend. She had just used me for all those years.

So I dropped her. From my life.

And even though she has tried so many times to make things right, I just can't trust her again.

Sigh! Looks like I'll never attain divine status.

Basking in fame

This mention shot up my visitor log by 4 times .

Hmmm....what a little bit of publicity can do for you!

Bathroom woes

I have always been obsessed about bathrooms. Even as a child I had a bath all to myself in India. It was done up in a pretty pink to go with the overall pink decor in my bedroom: pink tiles, pink marble, pink washbasin and toilet, pink shower-mat on the floor, pink shower curtain, even pink toilet paper (don't ask me where my Mom used to get that from). I have no idea why everything was so pink, considering it isn't like my favorite color or anything. May be my Mom decided upon it because it was her favorite color. Or may be I was being stereotyped for being a girl. Anyway, there was a lot of pinkness in there. And I didn't mind at all. Because it was done up so nicely and everything was kept so clean and beautiful. Like I said earlier I obsess about bathrooms. I cannot go to one unless it is clean and dry. And that means no water on the floor, no mess anywhere and it has to smell good. Because you see, my bathroom has always been my haven, a refuge, a place where I can spend time with myself. Since locking my bedroom door was not looked upon favorably at my home, I would often take a story-book with me into the bathroom and read it curled up on the bathroom mat. I just loved the tiny little space the bathroom would create for me and would hide in there for hours until someone came looking for me.

I was terrified of using the toilet anyplace other than home. Public toilets in Calcutta (in clubs and malls) were dirty and stinky and I would never ever visit one unless I was dying. I could go on for hours at a stretch without needing to go to the loo. That also meant I would never go to the bathroom in someone else's house. Most houses I've been to did not have a separate shower and there would always be residual bath water on the floor of the bathroom, something that I detested. So that meant I never did sleepovers at a friend's house. And I could never explain to my friends why I would just have to go back home at the end of the day.

And I absolutely hated it if someone destroyed the sanctity of my bathroom. Like this one time when my parents were having their 25th wedding anniversary and there were a million people invited to our house for the occasion. And all was well except for the fact that hundreds of people were using my bathroom and leaving it wet and dirty. I was waiting for the guests to go home when suddenly I see water trickling from under the bathroom door into my bedroom. Horrified I run to open the door only to see the bathroom flooded. It seems someone had pooped and the toilet got stuck and it overflowed all over the bathroom and into my bedroom. It was just disgusting. And my poor Mom had to clean it up and get the toilet up and running. You see I blamed her for having invited all those people and letting them use my bathroom. After that if we had guests coming over I locked my bathroom door to prevent people from using it.

And then I had a Math tutor when I was in school who had this strange habit of peeing all over the toilet seat. The first time this happened I thought may be he was unaware that men had to lift the toilet seat before going in. So I made sure before he came each day that I left the toliet seat up and I wouldn't have to clean up his mess once he had used the toilet (which he did everytime he came). And the weirdest thing was he actually made sure that he put the seat down and then peed all over it. Now is that disgusting or what! It just beat me as to why someone would do that. And I was too polite to actually tell him that he made me clean up after him everyday and that it "pissed" me to no end that he didn't have the sense to appreciate the fact that I would leave the seat up for him. Boy was I glad when I passed the class and he was gone.

However the absolute worst incident that I can recall is when a friend from my tuition needed to go to the bathroom real bad and since my house was close I took her home so that she could use my bathroom. Now I was under the impression it would be a quick come and go for her. But when the minutes started dragging out I started getting a little uneasy. After about a half hour she emerged from the bathroom, thanked me and left in quite a rush. I went in to check the condition of my bathroom. It was my worst nightmare come true. The toilet was stuck and there was water that had overflowed all over and this girl had used my bath towel to clean up her mess which resulted in shit all over the towel, the wash basin and even the walls. I couldn't believe it! What kind of individual could do something this gross and then leave without saying that she was sorry and offering to clean up? If any one of you have watched the movie Along came Polly you will have a fair idea of the kind of disaster I'm talking about here. It took me and my Mom over an hour to clean up the mess and get the shit-hole (literally) to start looking more like my bathroom. It took like a week to get it to smell like the way it did before this female invaded my territory. And I still have not been able to forgive the girl for what she did. Needless to say she never dared to speak to me again in her life.

So now you know what I mean when I say I obsess about my bathrooms. I have 3 full baths and a powder room in the house that I live in now. They are all tastefully decorated (no pinks thank goodness) and they smell great. They have matching shower curtains and decorative towels. There is recessed lights, candles and the works. My bathrooms are my haven.

And I hate it when people leave their mess all over.

Snapshots from her life

She was born first, a couple of minutes before her brother was born, healthier and the bigger of the twins. She survived. Her brother did not. She always felt guilty about holding on to life while her brother could not.

She grows into a beautiful baby. She has her mother's smile. And she hardly ever cries. She is the apple of her Dad's eye.

She is 6 years old. She starts going to school. She has a lot of friends. They play in the yard during lunch break. She is a fast learner and she can't wait to tell her Mom all the new things she learnt in class that day.

She is 10 years old. She tops her class in her final exams. Her Dad buys her a wrist-watch that she proudly wears to school the next day. She swims and paints and learns classical music in her spare time.

She is 15 years old. She dreams of becoming a doctor like her cousin. She looks at herself in the mirror everyday to see if she is as beautiful as her Mom. She has her first crush on a guy who lives a couple of houses down the road from her. She watches him from her window.

She is 20 years old. She is in love with a guy from her class in Medical school. They study together and prep each other for the upcoming test. She decides to be a Pediatrician. She loves little babies.

She is 27 years old. She is getting married. She couldn't be happier. Her Dad cries when she leaves for her in-laws.

She is 35 years old. She is a successful doctor. Her husband is a surgeon. They have an apartment in Jodhpur Park not too far from where she grew up. She has two kids, a girl aged 4 and a baby boy who will be 1 next month.

She is 47 years old. She watches with joy her children growing. Seems like yesterday that they were born and now they are all grown. Her daughter tells her about her boyfriend, a guy she met at the club. She worries a little and wants to meet him at some point. Her son wants to be a tennis star.

She is 56 years old. She is at the airport to see her daughter and son-in-law off as they leave for the US. Her son is studying to be a doctor.

She is 70 years old. She has three grandchildren, two from her daughter and one from her son. She hardly ever sees them as they all live abroad. She has retired and spends her time reading. They decide to buy a place in the country where she can spend time tending to a garden. She is still as much in love with her husband as she was 50 years back.

She feels fulfilled.

She wishes she can go on experiencing life. The way she has been. But she can't. Because she had to live her entire life in one brief moment as she lay on the hospital bed dying from hepatic failure. She was only 15.

AM passed away 6 years back on this date. But her memory lives on, as fresh as ever. I wish she had a chance to live her life. One that held so much promise.

What the devil!

In light of all the buzz about today's date and news on women who have induced labor early to avoid having a baby born today, this is probably the most unreal of them all.

"As your demon child willfully pushes and kicks, causing your lady hole to dilate to the size of a drainage pipe, keep your knees locked together at all times. "
Lady hole....WTF!

"This will give your demanding child a wonderful, early lesson that he can't always have his way. "
Life lessons even before you are born!

"The most reliable method known to Creation Science to get a mother to go instantly into labor is to jump in front of her when she least expects it and scare the dickens out of her."
That's what we do every time we get a post-dated pregnancy.

"make sure that the child is kept in a chicken cage on the hospital floor, and that there are at least two full grown hogs within four feet of the cage at all times. "
All hospitals will be christened zoos henceforth....

" the so-called "taint" (the disagreeable area between the genitals and the anus) is where demons are most likely to post messages for each other."
Why don't they just sms each other?

"Our laboratory and research center will pay $18 a pound (17 cents a pound for mixed race infants) for any child under the age of 6-months. "
Mixing races can cost you dear!

And while you are at it read the ads on the sidebar..... "accept Christ and get a free playstation 2"!

Pulled over

Got a speeding ticket on the interstate yesterday. This one's a first. Making a sad face and pleading eyes did not cut a deal with the Sheriff. Damn!

More fears (updated)

Had a tick clinging onto the back of my leg for 55 hours without my knowledge (or permission).

Will I get Lyme's disease?

Update: To answer the question about the 55 hours that so many of you had, I believe I know when the tick latched onto me. This was Sunday early afternoon. I was vacationing on a beach in North Carolina and felt something bite on the leg. I jumped up and shook my leg and saw a big beetle-like insect crawl away and assumed that I had been bitten by that creature. In retrospect, I think the beetle was just taking a stroll near me and it was the tick that had bitten me instead. But I was wearing long pants and did not see the real offender. And I did take a shower right after that and also after returning home and still did not see the tiny critter. It was the back of my leg, for crying out loud, and I did not feel a thing. And I do not have a full length mirror in my bathroom to preen in front of. Therefore....it went undetected until Tuesday evening when I took a shower after returning home from work. And the thing was still clinging on to me. And it was still alive! I have it trapped under a glass for identification purposes.
And no, I do not have a rash or fever or other symptoms.
Yet.
But it is way too early to say. It takes atleast seven days for the disease to start showing symptoms.
Only time will tell.

Breaking news

I received an email yesterday from a family friend asking me to take a look at a sonography report of his sister and give my opinion on it. I agreed to do so not knowing how difficult it might become for me. This person's sister is in Calcutta. The sonography report was generated out of a lab in Calcutta. As I briefly read the report I suddenly realized that I was looking at a report of someone with possible kidney failure. I did not have any lab reports to validate my suspicion but the report seemed pretty unambiguous.

To my friend the report made no sense. All he had deciphered was the kidneys were smaller in size bilaterally and that some tests were being suggested to confirm parenchymal damage. Yet with my limited knowledge it seemed quite apparent to me that the patient had some major renal damage. Which brought me to the question about how I wanted to tell our friend that there was something really bad going on here. Like I said before and also being mentioned here, I know the right thing would be tell the family exactly what was going on, so that they could get the much needed treatment. Yet, I find myself in confusion, hesitating about how I should break such unpleasant news. And I realize how hard it is for doctors to be the bearer of bad tidings. No matter how hardened you are and how the years have seasoned you through watching endless sick and dying patients, it never changes. You always have a hard time breaking bad news to the family. You feel obligated not to crush the hope that the family has put in you. People think doctors are miracle workers. That they can always provide cure. But there is so much one can do.

I wish I could tell my friend that all was well. But I could not. I had to tell him the truth. Sometimes I hate having to do this.

Giving up

I always thought that people should not start something that they cannot stand by. I believe in taking a decision and standing by it. No matter how hard it is. I also thought people who stopped blogging after a few months were weak and unable to stand by their decision. Blogging to me was more than just spending time on the internet. It was a window into people's lives and beliefs. It was a window that let the sun come into my life. And let me be myself.

Have you ever given up something that you really love because you think your sacrifice might make things right again?

Will be unavailable......indefinitely.

Yipee!

I just realized that after a long time I am getting to see the sun come up when I leave my house in the morning. And if I'm lucky I may even catch the last rays of daylight when I get back home.

Three cheers for long summer days that are just around the corner!

You made my day

To the kid who SO made my day...........

Sometime last evening on reaching home after a long day at work.

The front doorbell rings and I go to check who it is.

Boy (in his teens) selling charity tickets for wheelchair bound neighborhood kids: Could you get me either of your parents to talk to?

Me standing there a little taken aback, thinking....my parents?....O my God he thinks I'm underage and he needs to talk to an adult....O MY GOD he thinks I'm UNDERAGE......O MY GOD......I can still pull it off.....I still look young......My God I look like a teenager......O MY GOD!!!!!

Okay that entire piece of conversation was in my head and took a fraction of a second.

Me giving my bestest and friendliest smile: I don't have my parents here. You can talk to me. I live here.

Boy a little taken aback and totally embarrassed: I'm sorry. You look so young!

Me dancing around (in my head ofcourse) with joy: No problem. What can I do for you?

I still can't stop smiling.

I feel good.

Kid, you made my day!

National Wear Red Day

Okay so I'm wearing my red sweater to work today to show my support for women's heart disease awareness.

February 3, 2006 is National Wear Red Day.

Granted I had no clue that such a day existed until yesterday. Also granted that I detest the countless made-up "days" that people come up with (you know "sweetest day" and the likes). But when I read about wearing red to promote awareness of risk factors for heart disease and taking action to lower it I decided to lend my support to the cause. Did you know that heart disease is the number one killer of women, far more than the number that die from breast cancer?

We CAN make a difference. I read that Americans can lower their risk of heart disease by as much as 82 percent by leading a healthy lifestyle, by controlling risk factors like high blood pressure, diabetes, high cholesterol, obesity, smoking and physical inactivity.

And in other news......today is Saraswati Pujo. Saraswati, the Goddess of knowledge. Still remember the early morning Pujo at home, putting all my school text books at the feet of the Goddess and praying Joyo Joyo Debi, the garlands of marigold, the proshad, eating kul, and most of all, not having to study the whole day.

That was then. This is now.

Ma.... bidye dao.....budhi dao....