Showing posts with label Random Thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random Thoughts. Show all posts
Friday, March 8, 2013
Last night, I stayed up late working on revisions for the book being published by Carina Press in July. As a result, I was in bed later than usual. I got up and did a few things, played with the kids, and then called Jason to see whether he'd be interested in joining us for lunch somewhere. I told him I needed to shower first, and I'd call him as we left the apartment.
Grabbing a towel, I told the kids where I was headed and turned on the faucet. I was in a bit of a hurry, since I knew Jason was waiting on us, so I jumped under the water while it was still a bit cool, and wet my hair so I could shampoo out yesterday's hair gel.
I had a nice lather going on my head when all of the sudden the water went from lukewarm to HOT! Hissing as I rinsed the soap from my hands in the boiling water, I made sure to keep the rest of my delicate skin from coming into contact with the volcano water as I frantically adjusted the faucets. But nothing I did seemed to help. The water just wouldn't cool down.
And then it hit me...as the apartment managing committee had warned, we were out of water. Everything pouring on me was coming straight from the small hot water heater attached to the wall above the toilet.
And I had a head full of soap. Fantastic. I wasn't finished boiling--uh, I mean rinsing--my scalp when I ran out of hot water too. So there I was, body freezing due to the original dampening from the lukewarm "pipe" water, and my hands and head stinging from my attempts to get the shampoo out.
I ended up going to the downstairs guest bathroom. Of course, we don't keep the water heater on down there, so it was another cold shower. But - I was able to rinse the soap out. So sue me, but I didn't shave my legs.
The good news is, with the warm India sun, I was nice and toasty by the time I got dressed and we picked up Jason.
But I gotta tell 'ya, some days bathing just ain't worth the effort.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
One thing I will be very glad to see when I return to US soil? Better customer service. I know, I know, those of you in the US are laughing right now.
But the one thing capitalism has done for America is give businesses just one small reason to keep customers happy. Because if we're unhappy with the service, there's (generally) 2-3 competitors we can move our business to.
Here in Bangalore? Not the case.
You've heard me complain about our dropped internet lines before, so I'll spare you the same ol' song and dance. In short, one of our internet lines stopped working (again), we called a repairman (again), he came (again), and then left without fixing the broken line. In addition, he caused the one working line to stop as well. So now, out of two lines (both of which we are still required to pay for) we have 0 Internet.
I'm typing this sitting in Jason's office.
The irritating thing about this? We have no alternative but to keep paying Airtel for their "service." There isn't really another option.
We have a third Internet line through a cable provider, but it goes down more often than Airtel, and we don't even have any contact information to lodge a complaint. I have to wait until the guys come to collect my monthly fee. Yes, that's right. We can't mail our payment. They send someone to our door to collect. Weird for a telecommunications company, right? (How much do you want to bet it's because internet payments aren't reliable because the internet is down too often - HA!)
I try to remind myself that internet connectivity is a luxury, not a need. Until I remember that this past week, we haven't had reliable running water, either.
....so, there really isn't an actual point to this blog, other than to say "be nice to your internet providers" to all my US friends and family, because you don't know how good you have it.
But the one thing capitalism has done for America is give businesses just one small reason to keep customers happy. Because if we're unhappy with the service, there's (generally) 2-3 competitors we can move our business to.
Here in Bangalore? Not the case.
You've heard me complain about our dropped internet lines before, so I'll spare you the same ol' song and dance. In short, one of our internet lines stopped working (again), we called a repairman (again), he came (again), and then left without fixing the broken line. In addition, he caused the one working line to stop as well. So now, out of two lines (both of which we are still required to pay for) we have 0 Internet.
I'm typing this sitting in Jason's office.
The irritating thing about this? We have no alternative but to keep paying Airtel for their "service." There isn't really another option.
We have a third Internet line through a cable provider, but it goes down more often than Airtel, and we don't even have any contact information to lodge a complaint. I have to wait until the guys come to collect my monthly fee. Yes, that's right. We can't mail our payment. They send someone to our door to collect. Weird for a telecommunications company, right? (How much do you want to bet it's because internet payments aren't reliable because the internet is down too often - HA!)
I try to remind myself that internet connectivity is a luxury, not a need. Until I remember that this past week, we haven't had reliable running water, either.
....so, there really isn't an actual point to this blog, other than to say "be nice to your internet providers" to all my US friends and family, because you don't know how good you have it.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
I've never particularly felt as if I needed to defend my rights as a woman. Most of this probably stems from the fact that I've been lucky to grow up and work with people who are not chauvinistic, and coupled with my own personality (I'm happy being a non-leader, and a support system for my family). I work outside of the home, and have never experienced a situation in which I felt somehow "less" because of my sex.
Frequently I will see groups fighting for increased women's rights, but I admit that while I support the great majority of these groups in concept, I've never been driven to participate. But even I, one of the more laid back and non-confrontational people you'll ever meet, had to raise my eyebrow at the sign Jason snapped a picture of near Sony World in Kormongala.
Frequently I will see groups fighting for increased women's rights, but I admit that while I support the great majority of these groups in concept, I've never been driven to participate. But even I, one of the more laid back and non-confrontational people you'll ever meet, had to raise my eyebrow at the sign Jason snapped a picture of near Sony World in Kormongala.
Did you see it? "Don't Talk While She Drives" Really? May I direct your attention here? Actually, this kind of stuff makes me laugh, but I am reminded of the differences between India and the US when I see this type of advertising. Marketing professionals in the US would know to expect a lot of flak from certain groups; here in India, I've never heard a complaint.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Since Monday, I've been limping around the apartment due to an unfortunate misstep while going down the stairs. I basically slid down three of them on my left heel. I barely had enough time to congratulate myself on staying upright when the pain started.
Ever since then, I've had no trouble using the foot, but I'm unable to put any weight on my heel at all. (knifing pain = bad). So long as I walk on the ball of my foot only, there's no pain. Today, I got out of bed, and having forgotten about my injury, I started walking as I normally do.
OUCH! It hadn't seemed to heal at all.
I decided to have a doctor take a look, just to make sure half of my heel bone wasn't floating around unattached down there.
So here's story of my very first India Dr. appointment. I called a medical center we drive by almost every day, and told the lady about my ankle, and asked whether they had anyone who could look at it. She set up an appointment at 1:30 pm. A photo of the waiting room. Don't we all look so happy? (It's just like home :) )
Ever since then, I've had no trouble using the foot, but I'm unable to put any weight on my heel at all. (knifing pain = bad). So long as I walk on the ball of my foot only, there's no pain. Today, I got out of bed, and having forgotten about my injury, I started walking as I normally do.
OUCH! It hadn't seemed to heal at all.
I decided to have a doctor take a look, just to make sure half of my heel bone wasn't floating around unattached down there.
So here's story of my very first India Dr. appointment. I called a medical center we drive by almost every day, and told the lady about my ankle, and asked whether they had anyone who could look at it. She set up an appointment at 1:30 pm. A photo of the waiting room. Don't we all look so happy? (It's just like home :) )
Forty five minutes after my 1:30 appointment time, I was still sitting here. (Also just like home. ) But when the doctor was finally free, he poked around on my heel, I yelped in pain, and he sent me downstairs to x-ray.
The cool part in India? You get to keep your x-rays. They took one from the top (not sure why), and from the side. Behold, my bones.
And with my superior Paint skills, I've highlighted the ouchie.
The doctor looked at the x-rays, and pronounced me a bad candidate for amputation, and recommended I take some anti-inflammatory and pain meds and shut up. I thought that sounded like a pretty good idea. All in all this was a good experience, but I must admit -- the very best part of being in India was the bill.
We carry what we consider 'emergency insurance' here in India, which means we purchased a plan that will cover hospital stays only. The rest of our medical expenses are 100% out of pocket. In the United States, this would be a very bad thing, as x-rays can run $250 and up.
My total bill for today's visit? (Two x-rays and consultation charge) - 700 rupees (about $14). I thought about asking them to go ahead and x-ray everything, so I could build a cool paper skeleton from the scans.
Monday, August 13, 2012
For the past week or so, I've been in a bit of a funk. For no single reason, I'm irritable, non-social, and listless. And so what I'm about to say is probably not accurate, and odds are, not even true in most cases.
People are selfish.
And lately, this pervasive attitude has really started to bother me.
Do I think people are selfish only in India? No. But with all the social norms I've grown up with, and am now living apart from, I think this truth is easier for me to see here.
When people choose to lie to me instead of give me bad news.
When people push my children on the ground because they're in a hurry to leave an elevator.
When people stare at me blankly and suddenly forget the English they were just using when I ask about things I'm missing in a food order, or when I ask for change from an auto driver.
A few years ago, I struggled to survive in a bad work environment. When I finally decided the stress and frustration was beginning to affect my health and home life, I quit. And when I told a friend of my decision, she said, "You gotta do what's good for you." I nodded in agreement, and it wasn't until I was on my way home that I started thinking that maybe she wasn't right after all.
Because you see - I left that job quickly. I went down to the HR department, gave them my resignation, and then told them that while I would abide by policy and give them two more weeks if they required it, I would strongly prefer that they allow today to be my last day.
I left several teammates in a lurch that day - and heaped the very same stress I'd decided I couldn't handle onto their already burdened shoulders. In truth, I was selfish.
I mention this only to say that in the grand scheme of things, I am one of the most selfish people you will ever meet. But lately I wish we could all be a little more honest, and open, and just plain nice to one another. That for one moment each day, we really make an effort to place ourselves in the shoes of the person standing next to us, and ask what we can do to make their life easier.
So the next time I have to pick twelve items from a menu before I find one that they actually have in stock, I'm not going to get angry. I'm going to smile, and say thank you, and try my best to be the happy part of someone's day, instead of just another customer.
Because the truth is, I'm just being selfish. And the world could use a little less of that attitude.
People are selfish.
And lately, this pervasive attitude has really started to bother me.
Do I think people are selfish only in India? No. But with all the social norms I've grown up with, and am now living apart from, I think this truth is easier for me to see here.
When people choose to lie to me instead of give me bad news.
When people push my children on the ground because they're in a hurry to leave an elevator.
When people stare at me blankly and suddenly forget the English they were just using when I ask about things I'm missing in a food order, or when I ask for change from an auto driver.
A few years ago, I struggled to survive in a bad work environment. When I finally decided the stress and frustration was beginning to affect my health and home life, I quit. And when I told a friend of my decision, she said, "You gotta do what's good for you." I nodded in agreement, and it wasn't until I was on my way home that I started thinking that maybe she wasn't right after all.
Because you see - I left that job quickly. I went down to the HR department, gave them my resignation, and then told them that while I would abide by policy and give them two more weeks if they required it, I would strongly prefer that they allow today to be my last day.
I left several teammates in a lurch that day - and heaped the very same stress I'd decided I couldn't handle onto their already burdened shoulders. In truth, I was selfish.
I mention this only to say that in the grand scheme of things, I am one of the most selfish people you will ever meet. But lately I wish we could all be a little more honest, and open, and just plain nice to one another. That for one moment each day, we really make an effort to place ourselves in the shoes of the person standing next to us, and ask what we can do to make their life easier.
So the next time I have to pick twelve items from a menu before I find one that they actually have in stock, I'm not going to get angry. I'm going to smile, and say thank you, and try my best to be the happy part of someone's day, instead of just another customer.
Because the truth is, I'm just being selfish. And the world could use a little less of that attitude.
Monday, July 23, 2012
I remember spending hours on the Hodgen School playground in Elementary school. Spinning on the merry-go-round, swinging on the swings, and being launched through the air from the Teeter-Totters by my good friend Kari. I also remember the solid metal slide. You know, the one whose surface had been rubbed to a fine polish by years' worth of elementary-sized bottoms. And the one my classmate Alisha eventually fell off and broke her arm.
Ouch.
Since I was young, safety standards for playground equipment has really evolved. No more metal slides - they're plastic now. The Teeter-Totters are smaller, and less-able to launch children into the upper atmosphere. And the hard gravel or dirt surfaces have in some cases been replaced by sand or that weird recycled tire stuff.
Not so in India. Okay, sure, the ground at this playground was covered in nice, soft sand. And there wasn't a slide in sight. But take a look at this picture and tell me what you see. Go ahead, double-click and get a closer view.
Ouch.
Since I was young, safety standards for playground equipment has really evolved. No more metal slides - they're plastic now. The Teeter-Totters are smaller, and less-able to launch children into the upper atmosphere. And the hard gravel or dirt surfaces have in some cases been replaced by sand or that weird recycled tire stuff.
Not so in India. Okay, sure, the ground at this playground was covered in nice, soft sand. And there wasn't a slide in sight. But take a look at this picture and tell me what you see. Go ahead, double-click and get a closer view.
Yes folks, the bottom half of this piece of equipment is totally rusted away. And very very sharp. But you know what? My kids LOVED playing here. And I've gotta say, all the climbing toys looked like a lot of fun. But you can bet I'm glad all of our tetanus shots are up to date.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Timothy experienced a "first" here in India - he lost a baby tooth yesterday!
And for all of you wondering, the Tooth Fairy does indeed visit India. Looks like the exchange rate is 100INR per tooth.
Monday, March 12, 2012
This past Wednesday, I had a very frightening experience at the mall, and I thought I would share.
For those of you who know me, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I like talking to people. I'll strike up a conversation with just about anyone. One of the best parts about actually looking like a foreigner is that people here assume I'm interesting and will strike up a conversation with me, instead of the other way around. I really enjoy it.
But after Wednesday, I'm not so sure.
I'd taken the boys to the Forum Mall in Koramangala to play in the children's play area adjacent to the food court. I sat down with my laptop, planning to take advantage of the hour and a half of peace and quiet. About ten minutes into my "break", a man asked whether he could sit down at my table. I, assuming he must be the father of one of the other children in the play area, said of course. I'd snagged one of the prime "kid watching" tables, it seemed only fair to share one of the other three chairs.
And here's where everything started going wrong. Instead of boring you with an enormous monologue detailing the "he said, she said", I thought I'd compile a list of appropriate and inappropriate actions while talking to a married American woman with two children. Hopefully it will give you some insight into the (American) female mind.
The DO's
DO ask general questions like "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Bangalore?" I'm fully aware I'm WAY too pale-skinned to pass for an Indian native. I won't take offense at your assumption, and I'll gladly answer your questions. That's essentially what I'm sharing here on the blog.
DO feel free to make observations about me. "You have a funny accent." or "You must be new here." Again, stating the obvious will not anger me, so long as you don't mention my weight or my not-so-clear skin. Even my husband gets in trouble for that one.
DO ask about my family. I love my kids, and when they're right next to me, separated only by a thin sheet of glass, it's perfectly appropriate to ask what grade or how old they are. I can talk about them forever. This is especially great if you have children to gush about. I'm not ashamed to say I carry photos on my cell phone in hopes someone will instigate a brag-fest
DO suggest places or things I need to try. There's nothing better getting recommendations from the experts.
The DO NOTS
DO NOT invade my personal space without my permission. I'll admit, I'm an overweight mother of two. I've been out of the dating game for over eight years now, so I'm probably not the person to give advice on flirting. But just assume that if the girl mentions her boyfriend or husband, she's probably not "secretly" asking you to run your finger up her arm. Americans as a rule tend to expect a little more distance between each other when speaking, especially with strangers. When in doubt, back up.
DO NOT wax poetic about how beautiful my eyes are - especially if I've already mentioned a husband or boyfriend. Do not assume that when I jerked my arm out of your finger's reach; that was secret code for "please tuck my hair behind my ear for me"
DO NOT ignore all other physical cues (flattening myself against a wall to get away from your fingers, complete lack of eye contact, broad hints that I need to get back to work) and try to share not only my table, but my seat. I do not want you to sit in my lap.
DO NOT follow me to another table if I move, especially if I actually say the words "I want you to leave me alone." If you hear these words, the appropriate response is an immediate retreat.
The REALLY, SERIOUSLY, DON'T GO THERE
DO NOT run your finger across the tops of my breasts pointing out moles, and commenting about how gorgeous they are. First of all, ew, and second - NEVER touch a girl's boobs in public. I don't care whether you can see my navel because my shirt's too short and you're too tall. Consider them wet paint.
DO NOT assume that I want you to put your cell phone number in my phone while I'm checking on my children. I did not teach Tyler to cry on command so you would have time to do this AND get my phone number. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say you shouldn't even have your eyes on the screen of my phone or laptop at any time, unless I am holding it up to your eyes. DON'T, JUST DON'T
DO NOT ask me to kiss you before I leave. If I'm to the point of exiting the building to get away from you, I'm not in the mood for a European greeting or goodbye. I'm an American - we don't even use lip gloss after each other, we especially do not kiss strangers - especially stalker strangers.
The I THINK YOU NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP
DO NOT pluck a stray hair from my shirt, comment on how pretty it is, and then stick it in your pocket.
The I THINK I NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP
DO NOT follow me all the way out to the auto-rickshaw stand when I am trying to get myself and my children away from you. At this point, I have no problem finding a friendly (not creepy) security guard and asking him to detain you. I'm a stay-at-home mother - I've got the time to fill out a lot of paperwork if necessary.
The I WILL KILL YOU AND HAVE NO GUILT
NEVER touch my children. EVER.
Special Thanks to Andy (and Ludacris) for my new theme song.
For those of you who know me, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I like talking to people. I'll strike up a conversation with just about anyone. One of the best parts about actually looking like a foreigner is that people here assume I'm interesting and will strike up a conversation with me, instead of the other way around. I really enjoy it.
But after Wednesday, I'm not so sure.
I'd taken the boys to the Forum Mall in Koramangala to play in the children's play area adjacent to the food court. I sat down with my laptop, planning to take advantage of the hour and a half of peace and quiet. About ten minutes into my "break", a man asked whether he could sit down at my table. I, assuming he must be the father of one of the other children in the play area, said of course. I'd snagged one of the prime "kid watching" tables, it seemed only fair to share one of the other three chairs.
And here's where everything started going wrong. Instead of boring you with an enormous monologue detailing the "he said, she said", I thought I'd compile a list of appropriate and inappropriate actions while talking to a married American woman with two children. Hopefully it will give you some insight into the (American) female mind.
The DO's
DO ask general questions like "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Bangalore?" I'm fully aware I'm WAY too pale-skinned to pass for an Indian native. I won't take offense at your assumption, and I'll gladly answer your questions. That's essentially what I'm sharing here on the blog.
DO feel free to make observations about me. "You have a funny accent." or "You must be new here." Again, stating the obvious will not anger me, so long as you don't mention my weight or my not-so-clear skin. Even my husband gets in trouble for that one.
DO ask about my family. I love my kids, and when they're right next to me, separated only by a thin sheet of glass, it's perfectly appropriate to ask what grade or how old they are. I can talk about them forever. This is especially great if you have children to gush about. I'm not ashamed to say I carry photos on my cell phone in hopes someone will instigate a brag-fest
DO suggest places or things I need to try. There's nothing better getting recommendations from the experts.
The DO NOTS
DO NOT invade my personal space without my permission. I'll admit, I'm an overweight mother of two. I've been out of the dating game for over eight years now, so I'm probably not the person to give advice on flirting. But just assume that if the girl mentions her boyfriend or husband, she's probably not "secretly" asking you to run your finger up her arm. Americans as a rule tend to expect a little more distance between each other when speaking, especially with strangers. When in doubt, back up.
DO NOT wax poetic about how beautiful my eyes are - especially if I've already mentioned a husband or boyfriend. Do not assume that when I jerked my arm out of your finger's reach; that was secret code for "please tuck my hair behind my ear for me"
DO NOT ignore all other physical cues (flattening myself against a wall to get away from your fingers, complete lack of eye contact, broad hints that I need to get back to work) and try to share not only my table, but my seat. I do not want you to sit in my lap.
DO NOT follow me to another table if I move, especially if I actually say the words "I want you to leave me alone." If you hear these words, the appropriate response is an immediate retreat.
The REALLY, SERIOUSLY, DON'T GO THERE
DO NOT run your finger across the tops of my breasts pointing out moles, and commenting about how gorgeous they are. First of all, ew, and second - NEVER touch a girl's boobs in public. I don't care whether you can see my navel because my shirt's too short and you're too tall. Consider them wet paint.
DO NOT assume that I want you to put your cell phone number in my phone while I'm checking on my children. I did not teach Tyler to cry on command so you would have time to do this AND get my phone number. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and say you shouldn't even have your eyes on the screen of my phone or laptop at any time, unless I am holding it up to your eyes. DON'T, JUST DON'T
DO NOT ask me to kiss you before I leave. If I'm to the point of exiting the building to get away from you, I'm not in the mood for a European greeting or goodbye. I'm an American - we don't even use lip gloss after each other, we especially do not kiss strangers - especially stalker strangers.
The I THINK YOU NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP
DO NOT pluck a stray hair from my shirt, comment on how pretty it is, and then stick it in your pocket.
The I THINK I NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP
DO NOT follow me all the way out to the auto-rickshaw stand when I am trying to get myself and my children away from you. At this point, I have no problem finding a friendly (not creepy) security guard and asking him to detain you. I'm a stay-at-home mother - I've got the time to fill out a lot of paperwork if necessary.
The I WILL KILL YOU AND HAVE NO GUILT
NEVER touch my children. EVER.
Special Thanks to Andy (and Ludacris) for my new theme song.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
For anyone living in the south United States, you've likely heard of Jeff Foxworthy and his "You Might Be a Redneck if.." comedy routine. Well, I'm from the south, and many people would call me a redneck.
But I don't agree. I believe I'm a superhero.
Yes, a superhero.
And here's why. When we moved to India, we were somewhat surprised at the number of times our electricity has gone out. Watching television at the apartment, eating ice cream at a local store, shopping for groceries - all of these things I've attempted to do in the dark. (Some more successfully than others) We just chalked the power problems up to the Bangalore infrastructure and waited for the generator to kick back on.
And now the boys and I are temporarily back in Oklahoma. No more power issues, right? Wrong.
The other day, I went to Ross (a clothing store chain) in Tulsa to do some shopping for Deepta (hi Deepta), as I promised to grab her some shirts for Christmas (or Valentines Day, since it will be closer). I was standing in the checkout line while a teenage girl scanned my items. When she and the other people in the store started gasping, I looked around to figure out what was wrong. Ah, the power was out, and in the United States, it wasn't normal. After 10 minutes with no answers, the store manager encouraged us to leave our purchases at the counter and come back later. (Which I did)
A day later, I went to get my hair "did". The hair was washed, cut, colored, and styled, and I stepped up to the counter to pay with my gift card. No go - the telephone line had gone out, and with it the credit/debit/gift card machine. Five minutes later they got the line up and working....but my gift card still wouldn't work. After another 10 minutes, it was decided my gift card contained no balance (thanks a lot Andy!). So, resigned, I went ahead and paid everything with my debit card, and called Andy to tell her she needed to start pulling bank statements so we could call the corporate office and find out why Andy gave the salon $100 for nothing.
Anyway, by now you should be seeing a pattern. I walk in, things break. My conclusion: There are gamma rays everywhere in Bangalore, and those gamma rays have turned me into a superhero with electronic powers. As soon as I figure out how to harness them, I'll be all set.
So, for all of you out there thinking of moving to Bangalore, here's a little tip. Extended stays turn you into a superhero.
But I don't agree. I believe I'm a superhero.
Yes, a superhero.
And here's why. When we moved to India, we were somewhat surprised at the number of times our electricity has gone out. Watching television at the apartment, eating ice cream at a local store, shopping for groceries - all of these things I've attempted to do in the dark. (Some more successfully than others) We just chalked the power problems up to the Bangalore infrastructure and waited for the generator to kick back on.
And now the boys and I are temporarily back in Oklahoma. No more power issues, right? Wrong.
The other day, I went to Ross (a clothing store chain) in Tulsa to do some shopping for Deepta (hi Deepta), as I promised to grab her some shirts for Christmas (or Valentines Day, since it will be closer). I was standing in the checkout line while a teenage girl scanned my items. When she and the other people in the store started gasping, I looked around to figure out what was wrong. Ah, the power was out, and in the United States, it wasn't normal. After 10 minutes with no answers, the store manager encouraged us to leave our purchases at the counter and come back later. (Which I did)
A day later, I went to get my hair "did". The hair was washed, cut, colored, and styled, and I stepped up to the counter to pay with my gift card. No go - the telephone line had gone out, and with it the credit/debit/gift card machine. Five minutes later they got the line up and working....but my gift card still wouldn't work. After another 10 minutes, it was decided my gift card contained no balance (thanks a lot Andy!). So, resigned, I went ahead and paid everything with my debit card, and called Andy to tell her she needed to start pulling bank statements so we could call the corporate office and find out why Andy gave the salon $100 for nothing.
Anyway, by now you should be seeing a pattern. I walk in, things break. My conclusion: There are gamma rays everywhere in Bangalore, and those gamma rays have turned me into a superhero with electronic powers. As soon as I figure out how to harness them, I'll be all set.
So, for all of you out there thinking of moving to Bangalore, here's a little tip. Extended stays turn you into a superhero.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
So while I appreciate my wife rubbing it in my face about the fine amenities that are available in the U.S., I will try to retaliate with posting about a good day of my own, only mine is in spectacular weather. Ha!
Today I found Bamburies. Their slogan "The choicest meats". Now while I'm not sure that "choicest" is a word, their slogan describes what they are: they are a meat wholesaler. They have a wide variety of meat, but the most important to me is Beef. This is not buffalo like that sold in other places, like Spar, this is cow beef. Yum. I haven't tried it yet, but I certainly look forward to it and maybe that can be another blog post.
If you are interested this link will show you where their store is: http://g.co/maps/ek89s
They packed the meat so good, I went ahead and drove up the road to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch and had the fajitas though I thought about having the club sandwich just so I could remind my wife how good it is. :) Anyway, while there, the waiter tells me about a concert they will be hosting on the 26th and proceeds to give me a free pass. Awesome. So I will be attending a concert featuring a U2 cover band on the 26th while my wife has to work all week. Sarcastic sad :(
So that was the fun part of my day, then the India came into play when my electricity suddenly went out. That normally is not blog worthy, but this time it didn't come back on. Check the breakers, but all is well. Checked the breakers in the basement, but they're good too. Called the electrician, thankfully still available on a Sunday night, and he informs me that the transfer switch died. The transfer switch is the box that decides whether to use generator power or main power. However, it can apparently just fail to a point that nothing gets through. Fantastic. In any event, it is fixed now and I can get some sleep knowing that my phone will be charged in the morning. In times like these, its important to focus on priorities.
Friday, December 9, 2011
A few more of these, and I'll be forced to create a "Head Injuries" blog label for them. The below was the result of a Taco Bell staircase and Timothy's impatience to beat us to the pop machine.
He felt a lot better when we told him it made him look like the dog on Disney's Bolt.
The Head Injury Scoreboard is now tied. Tyler - 1, Timothy - 1
Place your bets.
Friday, November 11, 2011
So, I have a new software package called Artisteer that lets me design my own blogger templates, and I'm having way too much fun. Just a warning, this blog may look crazy for a while as I experiment.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I'll preface this with a warning that this post is mostly for the grandparents, and that otherwise it will likely be a little boring, but this is a short video of Timothy doing his computer-based school (we do the computer stuff in the morning, then we read and do writing practice worksheets in the afternoon).
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Now that Amberly is four, she needs an older sister. So it's time to celebrate Bekah's Birthday!
Happy Birthday Bekah!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Happy Birthday Amberly!
Timothy and Tyler sang for you. Hopefully we can catch you on Skype.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Until I can convince my body (and my youngest son's body) that it does not want to be sick, I'll be taking a brief break from posting. On the bright side, if Tyler runs fever for much longer, I'll be sure to take pictures when I visit an Indian doctor's office.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Since we've moved into our two-story apartment here in Bangalore, the boys have taken great pleasure in helping mommy get all the dirty clothes from upstairs to down. This is because I allow them to toss the clothes from the upstairs railing to the dining room below. (It's a little harder to motivate them from this point.)
Well, I messed up. This morning, my youngest was acting especially bored, and I remembered his clothes were still in my bathroom floor from his bath yesterday, so I sent him up to "get your clothes and throw them off the balcony so mommy can wash them"
Excited, he hustled up the stairs. Imagine my surprise when I heard my oldest screaming "don't do that, you'll get a big spanking. Mom! Tyler is throwing his clothes!"
I came upstairs to tell my oldest that I had in fact asked the younger to do so. But they weren't in the apartment. That's right, Tyler had stepped outside to the terrace and proceeded to toss his clothes "off the balcony."
I forgot to specify which one.
So this morning I got to change out of pajamas and take a ride on the elevator to big Tyler's clothes off the concrete below. Yeah!
On the bright side, I met a new neighbor, and we had a nice chat.
Well, I messed up. This morning, my youngest was acting especially bored, and I remembered his clothes were still in my bathroom floor from his bath yesterday, so I sent him up to "get your clothes and throw them off the balcony so mommy can wash them"
Excited, he hustled up the stairs. Imagine my surprise when I heard my oldest screaming "don't do that, you'll get a big spanking. Mom! Tyler is throwing his clothes!"
I came upstairs to tell my oldest that I had in fact asked the younger to do so. But they weren't in the apartment. That's right, Tyler had stepped outside to the terrace and proceeded to toss his clothes "off the balcony."
I forgot to specify which one.
So this morning I got to change out of pajamas and take a ride on the elevator to big Tyler's clothes off the concrete below. Yeah!
On the bright side, I met a new neighbor, and we had a nice chat.
Monday, October 3, 2011
I'd love to tie this in somehow to our stay in India - but I'm at a loss.
But it's funny enough to me that I'm posting it anyway.
For dinner, I gave the boys one Oreo cookie each and left the opened bag on the kitchen counter. My youngest comes upstairs, and in an effort to shoo him back downstairs (I work online in the evenings), I said, "I'll make you a deal. There are cookies on the counter. Bring them up and I'll get you one to eat while you watch your movie."
All smiles, he races down the stairs. Several minutes later he's back with an explanation. "Well, looks like you can't give me a cookie tonight. We ate them all."
Ah well.
But it's funny enough to me that I'm posting it anyway.
For dinner, I gave the boys one Oreo cookie each and left the opened bag on the kitchen counter. My youngest comes upstairs, and in an effort to shoo him back downstairs (I work online in the evenings), I said, "I'll make you a deal. There are cookies on the counter. Bring them up and I'll get you one to eat while you watch your movie."
All smiles, he races down the stairs. Several minutes later he's back with an explanation. "Well, looks like you can't give me a cookie tonight. We ate them all."
Ah well.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Can you guess which country this picture was taken in?
If you guessed India....you'd be wrong. It appears India isn't as foreign as I had first assumed. The traffic in Oklahoma looks strangely similar. (Photo courtesy of my friend Paul Keller)
If you guessed India....you'd be wrong. It appears India isn't as foreign as I had first assumed. The traffic in Oklahoma looks strangely similar. (Photo courtesy of my friend Paul Keller)
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