Heartcrossings

J has recently hit a growth spurt - every time we check she is taller. A little bit of sass probably comes along with the territory as I was to find out recently. On evening, it was way past her bed time and she was still lounging on the couch watching Food Network with DB. After asking her to go to bed about five times in a row and being ignored, I finally lost my cool. "J, I am going to count to three and I want you out of the couch and in your room" I shouted from the kitchen.  Cool as a cucumber, her eyes still peeled on the TV J says to me "Go right ahead, Mommy. I hope you learn to say your ABCs after that". DB and I could not help ourselves - we burst out laughing. Needless to say, I was not able to make either a witty or stern comeback to that. So, J took her time - about ten minutes longer and then retired for the day. It occurred to me that she had managed the situation to her advantage - and she is not even ten years old. If she leaves me tongue tied now

I always marvel at people who get ten times as much done as I do in day. Along with awe comes envy and disappointment with myself. So much on my wish-list and so little time. As the years go by, the days grow more and more crowded. After marriage, I realized that my personal time had all but evaporated. I now need to carve that time out of nowhere because all the hours of the day are spoken for. Yet I know of women who are able to raise a couple of kids, manage a home and a career and still make it to girls' night out every other Friday. Reading this article where the author talks about the difference between culling and surrendering gave me pause. Culling is the choosing you do for yourself. It's the sorting of what's worth your time and what's not worth your time. I have culled in certain areas of my life but overall my tendency has been one of surrendering - Surrender, on the other hand, is the realization that you do not have time for everything that would be w

I have written before of my disappointment with reading Jhumpa Lahiri's books specially because she has such amazing facility with language. From lesser talent, the reader expects a lot less and is not nearly as disappointed. Finally, I read a piece by Lahir i that is completely satisfying. This is the kind of writing I have been waiting to read. Each word in this essay is like a smooth pebble, the sentences themselves so precisely balanced that one word less or more and nothing would be quite the same. If this essay was food, it would be an ethereal lemon souffle - delightfully light but far from frivolous.  What I specially loved about this piece is that she made no reference to her immigrant roots or invoke her signature diaspora angst. Leaving those tropes behind, did not take anything away from the deeply personal voice of her writing, instead it rendered the piece universally appealing. This is the Lahiri that I've been waiting to read a long time. I can't wait f