Words in a waltz

...sorry, Zappa, but they do. Well, here's what I stole from Macy's Black Friday sale. No, not STOLE, as in thieved, sillies. Priced at $6.97, this was a steal all right. And after wading my way through an ocean of eager-beaver-shoppers, I finally landed on the second floor of Macy's and found that this was the last pair they had left in my petite (okay, diminutive) size. So, what'd you expect? I grabbed it and raced to the counter, and then out the door.



So that solves the big problem of how to keep my feet warm all winter. Unless, of course, I stumble upon the foot spa (muchly, highly, expectedly) under the tree! :)

This dates back to a little before our grand comeback, but it's important enough. So here goes...

So we routinely check our school mail on Friday night, and there it was - gawking at us - a mail from one of our favorite professors, telling us she was in town for a paper presentation at MAPOR. Ecstatic as that made us, we fixed up a luncheon date for Saturday, and the brutal cold, a missed exit, a delayed train ride, and a challenging six-block walkathon notwithstanding, we made it in time. Over lemonade, ginger cookies, apricot-hazelnut rolls, and a California Grille panini, we confabulated about this, that, and our impending research plans. Which, by the way, need to be sallied forth asap, given that her retirement is scheduled for the summer.

So while we go off to do some research on how to kick start our plans, we hope you'll be good.

After eons of dallying and dithering, we've finally decided to make a grand comeback.

So here's to more words, and their waltzes.

(There's still time for the New Year to ring in, so we reckon this is strategic comeuppance enough! That said, and enough said...)

...Holy, smoky turkey! We don't remember the last time the sun kissed us this heartily. A 60 degree day in the middle of November, in the windy city? Yes, we're not kidding you. The kids were out in the park, the heat turned off, the windows thrown open, and had it not been for that slight, very slight, nip (to remind us to cuddle around our loved ones this Thanksgiving), we may even have frozen our tee before slipping it on. Like we do in the summer. (Okay, pull those brows back down, and snap those jaws back on now, come on!) And while we save that as (fiesty) summer story fodder, let's direct you to what else Tom said about today.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! :)

BIG PIPPO croons, and DOGGIE dances to, the infamous LILON KING song...yes, that's our little one, getting mighty excited about her new found internet pastime. We figured there's no harm in dancing with the dog once in a while! :)

"...And when the stars are shining brightly in the velvet sky,
I'll make a wish, send it to heaven, then make you want to cry,
the tears of joy..."

~ Savage Garden


Today it is nothing beyond a strident spasm that lasts exactly the span of a single sand grain dropping down the hourglass. And then it is merely a muffled whirr in the ears, till the tears well up and dry out on their own, in perfect harmony with the submerging lump in the throat. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I think it’s true. Motherhood, like ageing does sometimes, mellows one. And heartache doesn’t seem to hurt as much as it used to.

There used to be a time, when love came wrapped in the silken smokescreen of pain. The entire world spoke of its ills, yet one, in all one’s unassuming, juvenile glory, embraced it, and beamed, sitting pretty right on its shaky periphery. And then the books, music, movies, conversations, growing up, work, friendships, more lost love, more love, poetry, more conversations, travel, caffeine - a bunch of random dynamics, like compost, nurtured one’s maturity, allowing it to bloom like a bonsai in the pounding depths of one’s heart.

I do not know whether it is the outcome of that, or the sheer need to overcome heartache because one loses time, as time gets more and more precious as one moves on, and one finds that one owes it in a gazillion ways to the very people that cause the heartaches. But all this explication doesn’t exactly suffice to take one by surprise. One grows, and learns, and unlearns, and grows. But what baffles me is the way that motherhood cankers one’s selfishness away. Sure, volumes have been written about a mother’s unconditional love, but mothers still need something for themselves. Be it a moment’s peace, a new possession, or something more fancy, like a surprise gift. Yet, it is possible for us to separate our own needs, our wants, our desires, our likes, and our life in general, from those of the ones we love; and I don’t mean spouse and children alone. How we are able to do it is as enigmatic as anything else in the universe, if one looks at it that way. Givers can’t always be takers, perhaps.

I shall keep from delving further and gashing at the phenomenon just so all the mothers in the world can get another round of roaring applause. And I am not exactly speaking from a motherly standpoint. It’s just that the dilemmas and despairs that life throws at one don’t really bring down the tears anymore. The tears are better saved for the nicer things in life. Like joy. And for that, one has to overlook the overwhelming power of heartache and wring out the little things from one’s life that make one smile. Or cry. And may be that’s how we do it.