My word for 2024 was “Wonder”, and it has indeed been a wonderful year!

Little N and I started out the year with a trip to Chennai. We were both visiting Chennai after eight and a half years, and what an amazing trip it was! I came to realize that Chennai still holds a little piece of my heart and always will.

I started a new position at work, which has been quite stimulating and has led to some excellent opportunities (and plenty of travel) this year.

Little A and Amma celebrated milestone birthdays. We celebrated 20 years in our home – the longest I have lived in any one place.

Little N graduated from college, and little A from high school. Where did the time go?!

Little N started a research position, and little A started college in August. Which means that N and I became empty nesters. After over two decades of caring for the littles day in and day out (at varying levels of intensity), suddenly, it’s just the two of us again. It has been interesting – learning to do fun things together again and focusing just on ourselves.

I am truly grateful for the many blessings that 2024 brought us.

My word for 2025 is “Whimsy”. For as long as I can remember, my default mode has been “serious”. I tend to focus on implementing, executing, getting things done. If that doesn’t sound like much fun, well, it really isn’t. My word will remind me to be more playful and spontaneous, and to do things “just because” rather than constantly try to check things off to-do lists.

So. Did you come up with a word for 2025? Be sure to let me know if you did! And here’s to a very happy, whimsical, and fun-filled 2025!! 🙂

“Denial ain’t just a river”

I was going to title this post “Changes”. But I don’t like changes (which I know will come whether or not I like them). Still. This is my blog so I am sticking with the more neutral “Happenings”.

What is this aggressive start to a post that comes after months of silence, you ask? Crazy pollen allergies, machi, that’s what. The crank meter is on high for this medicated, caffeinated woman and it doesn’t show signs of letting up for another month. Sigh.

Anyway. Back to the actual happenings.

Our two littles are graduating soon – little N from college and little A from high school. Come Fall, they will be off to pursue academic research and higher education at fine institutions (which this super proud mom won’t stop name-dropping). N and I will be empty nesters come mid-August. Which I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around. I have previously said v. dramatic things like “oh, little N will be off to college in just 7 years” on this very blog. Yet I am not processing that little A will be off to college in three and a half months. Really do not know what is going on. Has senility set in (super) early? Little A’s college notified us that they have a week-long orientation program for freshmen. Reading that, I am not considering that little A will leave for college a week earlier than we had anticipated. I am merely thinking that she’s going for one week for orientation – like some sort of sleepaway summer camp. What is this extreme denial? I shared this strange fog that I am in with little N (my no charge therapist) – that I am absolutely not processing the upcoming change. Ever the practical one, little N said “Well, what are you waiting for? Start processing soon!”.

So. I am currently actively trying to process. So far, I have progressed to visualizing N and myself on weekend road trips up and down I-95 visiting the chickis (and bringing them huge coolers filled with home-made food). And, on those rare occasions when I am feeling bolder, I even consider a weeklong visit to India with N later in the Fall. It is the details of my day-to-day stuff though, that eludes my imagination. Will I sleep in late because I have no more lunches to pack and no school rush hour drop-offs? Will I re-watch Bridgerton or Harry Potter on my own without little A to give me company? Will I stop cooking anything tasty altogether (N and Amma watch out!)?

I heard on a podcast that instead of thinking of an “empty nest”, it is helpful to reframe this season of life as an “open door”. A time when your young adults bounce in and out of their childhood home at unpredictable times and varying frequencies, yet you also continue to experience the joys of life together with them, if only at a different pace. I will hopefully remember the more optimistic sounding open door in a few months when I am actually staring at it. For now, I am looking forward to attending two graduation ceremonies over the next several weeks, celebrating with family and friends (and one handsome corgi), and completing the trifecta with a vacation where I hope to soak in the sun (minus pollen allergies) and more importantly, soak up some relaxing time with N and the girls before they head off on their sparkling new adventures. 🙂

It’s been a long time since my last post, hasn’t it? We’ve been well. Celebrated multiple milestone birthdays (including Winston turning 5!) and a milestone anniversary this year. I started 2023 with the word “Bold” and transitioned mid-year (as I like to do) to “Elevate”. 2023 was a strong year professionally as well. “Bold” and “Elevate” manifested for me in a significant promotion at work at the end of 2023. I am truly thankful for all the blessings that came our way this year.

I see 2024 being a busy year work-wise as I adjust to a different and heavier workload with business travel planned for almost every month. We also have two milestone birthdays and two graduations coming up this year, so there’s much to celebrate and look forward to. Most importantly, we are looking at becoming empty nesters this Fall (where did the years go?!).

My word for 2024 will remind me to look for the transcendent amidst the daily busyness and changes, and to keep joy and awe in the front of my mind.

I am currently reading Gretchen Rubin’s new book “Life in Five Senses”. There is a quote in that book from Proust’s Swann’s Way that totally captures my recent mango feelings:

“When from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered… the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls, ready to remind us, waiting and hoping for their moment, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unfaltering, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection.”

Proust wrote Swann’s Way all the way back in 1913. What sheer joy to stumble on it, right on the heels of my feeling all the feels!! 😊

“Azhagaana mambazham, (h)alwa pondra mambazham”

One of our neighbors, R (God bless her!) sent a link to our neighborhood WhatsApp group with no information whatsoever. The link was to another WhatsApp group called “Mango Lovers”.

That was more than enough information for this mango lover, though. I joined the group immediately. There was no action in the group for almost a week. Wondered whether I should exit (I mean, do I really need to join more chat groups)? But it’s been a busy week at work and pollen allergies have been killing me. Just couldn’t find the bandwidth to make an exit, so I simply stayed put.

Suddenly last night – a ton of activity. Shipments of mangoes had arrived from India and one of the pickup locations was our own lovely town in Central NJ! Mr. V, who was organizing this whole operation, posted the names of the mango varieties that were available and the pickup addresses. The “Banganapalli” variety, which had reigned supreme during my childhood, was featured. And the pickup point was less than a couple of miles from home. My ears went all the way up, like W’s. But I was of two minds. I like to shop local, whenever possible. I am a big fan of our local farmer’s market and try to go at least every other week during the summer. And here was the complete opposite of local. I talked about it with N and we agreed that the mangoes would likely have been pumped with all sorts of questionable preservatives for them to successfully make the 7,000+ mile trek from India. We decided that we weren’t going to engage with any of this heavily imported mango business. After all, our local Patel store regularly brings us mangoes from Mexico and those are delicious enough, aren’t they?

I was heading back home this morning from running errands when I got a notification that the mangoes had arrived. I had just picked up cash and I was a minute away from the pickup location. Decided to check out the mango delivery scene just for vambu. Pulled up into a spot and saw several of my former (and now current) countrymen and women lined up to pick up India’s national fruit. And several others walking away with four and five boxes of mangoes each (oh, the greed!)

Here I was, for once in my ever-loving life, at the right place at the right time. This was no time to be all pious and hyperlocal. I did what I had to do.

Came straight home and bit into one of the juicies. And was transported all the way back to my childhood home in Vedachala Gardens, sitting right under the fan in the middle of the hall on a hot summer afternoon, wearing a little white “shimmi” and enjoying a banganapalli “kadhuppu” with the juice running down my chin. I couldn’t believe the explosion of taste (and oh, the joyful memories!!). I looked at N and saw that he was totally in the same place (well, he went to his childhood home and his joyful memories, but you know what I mean).

Little A was away at school for an event this morning. I couldn’t wait for her to be blown away too! As soon as she got home, I cut up a mango for her and waited as she ate it. “Well, what do you think?” I asked. “It’s yummy” she said, “but I like the mangoes that we usually get.”

Whoa!! Those Marathon Mangoes from the Patel store?!! Is it possible that the banganapalli is not universally the most fabulous mango in the world (like N and I think it is)?

I chewed on that (while chewing on some more mangoes) and realized that while the banganapalli is the mango of our childhood for N and me, the Patel mangoes are the mangoes of little A’s childhood. Our experience of taste is colored and enhanced by our fond memories.

Profound, no?

But (you knew there was a but) – just to be sure, let’s pick up a few more varieties to try next week.

And may the best mango win!! 😊

I wrote in elaborate detail about potato curry back in December of 2021 (https://momto2cuddlebugs.wordpress.com/2021/12/21/potato-curry/). Yet I felt an intense urge to put out an addendum this evening. After a blogging hiatus of almost nine months.

“What more can there possibly be for her to say about potatoes?” you are wondering. I can tell.

Well. There’s more.

When we were growing up, Appa was not one to pull up into the kitchen and help Amma with cooking. He would willingly go out multiple times in a day shopping for tiny forgotten vegetables and groceries without complaining. But he never got into cooking.

With one exception.

Each time Amma boiled potatoes (and let’s face it, that was a lot of times), Appa would surface in the kitchen ready to peel. The ease with which the cooled potatoes slid off their skins was no doubt motivating to a novice in the kitchen. More attractive, however, was the fact that the potatoes were lightly salted, already tasty, and promised of delicious preparations to come very soon. Appa would happily start peeling the potatoes, popping as many into his mouth as into the container in front of him. If V or I happened to wander into the kitchen at that time, he would pop a couple of the peeled potatoes into our mouths as well (let the joy be universal). V and I were sometimes willing recipients and sometimes distractedly opened our mouths while studying to receive any potatoes (or other yummies) that came our way.

I decided to make panini sandwiches for little A’s lunch tomorrow. With allergy season starting earlier than usual this year, my confidence at pulling together a full lunch in the morning is not great. I decided to make the stuffing for the sandwiches this evening. I salted and boiled six large potatoes and peeled them while little A was working near me in the kitchen.

I popped a few chunks of the perfectly boiled potatoes in my mouth and took a moment to savor them. Over time, I have realized that I am incapable of boiling potatoes without thinking of Appa (or popping a few in my mouth).

I saw little A standing nearby not paying any attention to me.

Why pass up on a good opportunity to (hopefully) create some potato memories for her? I took it. 😊

I have told you before that we lived in a joint family with Thatha and Patti, Chittappas and Chittis and cousins until I was 10 years old. Patti would conjure up a yummy (and usually crunchy) snack by 3:30 pm every day, just in time for when we would get home from school. When we moved to our apartment around 45 minutes away by bus, Patti continued to make her yummies; after all, there were other grandchildren waiting to be fed.

But somehow, with our absence, the snacks got on Thatha’s radar. Especially when he noticed that Patti was making something that V or I particularly liked (and let’s face it, that was almost everything). Thatha (in his 70s then) started getting himself ready before the snacks. He would ask Patti to pack enough of everything that she made, and armed with the goodies, would board a PTC bus and ring our doorbell by 5 pm.

Man. The memory of Thatha’s surprise visits brings a smile to my face even now.

Patti, perhaps not wanting Thatha to wear himself out with the long bus journey back and forth, would say to him “I am sure she (referring to Amma) can make these same yummies, do you really need to carry these over?”. But Thatha would hear none of that. Even as we gratefully polished off every last bit of the bajjis and ribbon pakodas, I nevertheless wondered why Thatha would go to so much trouble just for V and me.

Little N is at college now, working on a summer job. She and her friends have rented an apartment, and she cooks with skill and style with my mini instant pot. Little N is a far better cook than I was even during my grad school days (cooking during my undergrad days was out of the question). We are off to visit little N for the 4^th of July holiday. As I pack assorted homemade frozen meals and snacks for her, what my Patti said so long ago comes back to me.

“I am sure she can make these same yummies, do you really need to carry these over?”

And suddenly it all makes sense – why Thatha would go to so much trouble just for V and me. ❤

“Kanaa kandenadi thozhi…”

I last wrote a wild “Dream” post in May 2013 (https://momto2cuddlebugs.wordpress.com/2013/05/23/dream/). But more on that later.

I am here to tell you about last night’s crazy dream.

So. In my dream, it turns out the family is on vacation (good start, no?). For some reason, little A and I decide to go off to check out some scenic views, just the two of us. We decide to set up on a narrow ledge with no walls on three sides. The view is breathtaking, not just because of the beautiful valleys and mountains in the distance, but also because our ledge is sitting at a very great height. I decide to lean close to the edge to see how the view is from there. And little A, inexplicably, decides to jump onto my back. Now, she has not done this since she was 2 years old (and she was not amused when I told her my dream this morning). But here we were. Me hanging from the side of the ledge holding on with one hand, and she on my back. I am about to let go of my grip and fall. Note that I am surreally calm, like I am Caillou’s mom or something (should have realized that it’s a dream right then). I pleasantly say something to little A like “oh, I am going lose my grip, baby” and I jump back onto the ledge in one swooping movement (sort of like Bahubali). Little A jumps on my back again. We repeat the whole drill. We (thankfully) decide that we’ve had enough of the scenic views, fold up our beige picnic blanket, and head back to our car.

Except. I don’t remember where we parked. I ask little A to call Dad (as though he’s supposed to know where we parked). I don’t hear her calling him. I look in little A’s direction and see her texting Dad a picture of a snake and a couple of emojis. I am still surreally calm. I ask little A what she thinks she is doing. She says to chill, there’s enough information in there for Dad to text us back with the location of the car. It all makes sense to me when she puts it like that.

We walk on past a Hindu Temple where there are hundreds of people standing outside looking in and only a handful of people actually inside the temple praying. I briefly consider visiting but little A and I keep walking on by and I don’t say a thing.

A few minutes later, I am still walking. Alone now, and looking for a bathroom (surprisingly, not wondering where little A went). I see a bathroom, not far away. But alas, there is a dinosaur waiting for me outside (watched too much Jurassic Park in my day!). Well. You gotta do what you gotta do. I deftly duck past the irate dinosaur and enter only to find the bathroom crowded with several families with young children. I warn them to be careful stepping outside since there are dinosaurs waiting for them. Nobody even looks in my direction. “Well, ignore me at your own peril”, I think, with a superior air. And look around for an open bathroom stall. Except the stalls have all morphed into office cubicles with desks and computers and everything.

I am stumped.

At this suspense-ridden moment, I am happy to report that I woke up before I subjected myself to further “crap”. 😉

I told you earlier that I wrote a crazy Dream post back in May 2013. It crosses my (analytical) mind that back then was allergy season too, and like now, I was likely medicated up to my eyeballs with Zyrtec. And get this – that dream involved heights and jumping off from heights too. What in the world?!! Listed side effects of Zyrtec don’t seem to include crazy-ass dreams. Perhaps they should.

Johnson & Johnson – Tsk. Tsk. 😊