Welcome to my place Vidya!

Today I am pleased and humbled to have the lovely and brilliant Vidya Sury as my Guest Blogger.  Vidya lives on the other side of the world from Vegas, in Bangalore, where she does freelance writing and takes care of her beautiful family.  She shares her world with us regularly on her awesome blog Going A-Musing, where she enlightens and delights readers with her love for and extensive knowledge of India, and its customs and culture.  Her photographs add another dimension to her narrative that transports Vidya's readers on an amazing journey each Sunday in the featured "Sundays in my City".  

And now without further adieu, I give you my friend Vidya…. 

 I am delighted and honored to be sharing my friend, Terri’s blog-space. Terri is also one of my top favorite writers. I also think of her as serious “Good Karma”.  I hope you’re all desperately waiting for Sara’s Sleep – Part 8, as I am.

I’ve got to admit I am also a little nervous ;-)

When Terri invited me over, I was excited.  Then, I thought, what would I write about? A day in my life? Neh. Who wants to know that I wake up at 5 am (but only actually get out of bed at 6 am), make coffee, start cooking to pack lunch for my fellas (husband -1, son – 1), drop son at school, socialize at the supermarket on the way home while buying stuff, have breakfast, check email, start work, check email, check twitter, check Facebook, answer the doorbell, ignore answer the phone, continue working, get distracted, fantasize, think of trying a new recipe, check email, go bring son back from school at 3 pm, cook lunch, enjoy it together,  contemplate continuing to work, husband comes home, have tea together, go for a walk, return, cook dinner, eat it together with son and husband, put in some work, check email, watch TV, and then go to bed midnight-ish.

See what I mean? End of post. 

But I am kidding. I don’t really do it that way.  So um..I’ll just tell you about:

Three things I love and couldn't live without:

My Coffee

Coffee rules my life. Not surprisingly, as we South Indians are known for being coffee addicts. And we’re oh so finicky about it. We’ll find fault with every coffee that has not been made in our own kitchen. My first cup of coffee is my favorite. (I say cup loosely. What I mean is a thug of a steel glass that takes an easy 400 ml). Pure filter coffee. I wake up in the morning, brush my teeth, light the lamp and pray. Then, I set the milk to boil. Beside it, I also get some water boiling. I add the coffee powder to the top half of the perforated steel filter.  When the water boils, I pour a cup to the coffee powder, topping up the container. Then as I watch the milk getting ready to rise, my subsconscious self is alert to the "tik, tik, tik" sounds in the coffee filter as drops of decoction percolate into the lower half of the filter. The milk rises, I switch off the stove.

Now comes the moment of truth. (or lies, it really doesn't matter, because this is a sacred moment between me and my coffee). Into my steel glass, I add a little sugar – just half a teaspoon. Never more. I like to savor the bitter taste of this pure fresh coffee. I pour milk into my glass. A little short of the brim. Then, carefully dismantling the top half of the filter, I pour the aromatic decoction from the bottom half into my glass of milk, until it is just right in color. NOT milk to decoction mind you, but decoction to milk. Yes. I stir this with a spoon. (not shaken ;-)) Then,(drumroll!) I take my first sip. A small one. I feel the coffee trickle down my tongue. My tongue is loath to let it go, but the coffee must move on, into my throat and onward. I take another blissful sip, and another. And all is right with the world.

Here's a photo of my coffee filter, predictably ancient and predictably passed on through three generations.

The picture on the left becomes the picture on the right. I don’t use the thingy with that handle, called a plunger to pack in the coffee powder though. I like to be gentle with my coffee. Yeah, my coffee thingy is pretty much orgasmic for me.

My son

Vidur is 14 years old and quite cool.  He’s my favorite source of wonder/entertainment/fun.  Like every mom, I think the sun shines when he smiles. These days he’s busy working on his own website – and since he’s at home, constantly delights me with his interesting theories about life. I am sometimes surprised how the time has flown – next month he’ll graduate to grade ten, and it only seems like I was crying at the gate while he did not look back as he skipped into his grade one class.

My friends - real and virtual

My friends mean the world to me. And I would drop everything and run when one of them needs me. I am thrilled to think that the same friends I shared my first smoke with, decades ago are the ones I sit with, together with our kids, sharing funny stories. There’s something so therapeutic about the phrase “do you remember” – and the farther back – like say, the 70’s the better! And I love that we have technology that lets us connect and stay in touch with everyone, no matter where they are, in real time!

And now, I’d better be off.  I hope you enjoyed our time together today.

Terri, thanks again! I loved my virtual trip to Vegas. Now, I must wait to do it for real!

Thank you, Vidya!   Come visit me again, anytime!

Some of my best friends are men

I’ve been thinking a lot about a dear old friend of mine who is currently in the hospital.  His name is Garry, his wife is my BFF (and I only give that distinction to her, no one else.  Best friends don’t come easily for me), and he just had quadruple-bypass surgery yesterday morning.   He came through it well and is doing ok, the last update I had.  Garry and I go way back.  I first met him and Mary in Turkey in 1977 (if memory serves, and it often does not!).  We were all stationed at Karamursel AFB in Turkey.  Garry, my fiancé Glenn, and I all worked in the Computer Operations office.  Mary was, at the time, a stay-at-home-Mom, and she watched my son (then 4 years old) along with her two kids (4 and 6) while we worked.   Life was good that year.  We all became extremely close friends.  The weird thing for me was that I became friends with both Mary and Garry, separately and together, if that makes sense.

Garry and Mary in Vegas last year, celebrating Garry's birthday.

Garry has the most hilarious, dry sense of humor.  He had me in stitches so many times.  He found out early on how much I get grossed-out over anything to do with snot, buggers or the nose.  Ewwwww.  So of course, he enjoyed taunting me with snot jokes, especially at work.  The other guys at work, to include my fiancé, chimed in, and I was severely grossed-out on a daily basis.  It seemed to be a special source of entertainment for these guys.  I didn’t mind so much, as they could all attest, I can give as good as I get.  And I did.  We had a blast at work.  And during off-hours, Mary, Garry, my fiancé Glenn and our kids spent most of our time together, playing cards, drinking wine, going to ball games, BBQing.  I will never forget that time in my life.

So, Garry, just get well soon and take care of yourself, will ya?  I want us to have many more times together, my friend.   And the snot jokes?  Keep ‘em coming.  I won’t complain.  But I will get revenge.  You know that I will.   I love you so very much, my beautiful friend!

I don’t know why exactly, but over the course of my life, I have made close friends with men, instead of women, most of the time.  Only the last few years have I been comfortable being friends with women.  I can’t say it’s because I am a lesbian, because in truth, I am bi-sexual (with a preference for women), and I firmly believe sexual preference has nothing to do with friendships.   Many people would beg to differ, however.   I can make a friend, male or female, and it has nothing to do with my sexual preference.  So, I don’t know why it’s easier for me to be friends with men.  I’ve always worked primarily in men-dominated jobs until just recently, so that may factor into things.  I guess I’ll never really understand it.

I’m not discounting any of my amazing women friends.  I don’t know why they put up with me, but they do.  And I love them all for it.  You know who you are.   There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. 

My men friends…..Garry, Dave, Dean, Maverick, Matt, Dick, Mike, and anyone I forgot to mention…..you guys rock my world.  I hope you know that.  I look up to you.  I revere you and your accomplishments, your compassion, your wit and wisdom.  Your significant others are damned lucky to have you and I’m sure they know that.    I love talking computers, writing, books, sports, etc……just not snot……with you all.  Thanks for seeing me for who I am, and not just some old broad.  As a person who is often discounted these days because I’m older and I need a cane because of my bad back, your devotion helps keep me sane.

Me and Dave

Me and Dean

Kenna and Dick

Mike and Santa

OK, I’m done now.  I hope some of you are still awake.   My mind has been on my friend Garry and I just had to write something.   Writers are like that.  Sometimes, the emotions just take over the fingers and we write our hearts.    

I heart you Garry.  Get well soon!

Garry's Birthday celebration last year in Vegas.