Thursday ginger tea with mr brown eyes The best part of this week has been morning tea with my brown-eyed boy. This morning we ate toast with a thick layer of cream cheese and mustard, smiled at each other, and it felt so warm and companionable. Guess its about the only meal we have had together this week...with my crazy work hours. I know its old fashioned and all, but its so important to have meals together. At home in Bangalore, my mother would get so angry with us when we'd come down to dinner at our own sweet times. My father would always say, "why dont you just put the food on the table and they'll eat when they want to"..and I thought that was reasonable. But now I understand her frustration. This article in the Guardian is vehement about returning to good old family mealtimes. The author stretches things too far in some places, but I think he has a point....here's an excerpt.
"A return to the table is inevitable because, as Carlyle once said, "the soul is a kind of stomach, and spiritual communion an eating together". We seem incapable of socialising without food. Among people who like to enjoy other's company, every meal is a love feast. We eat to commune with our gods. The discreetly lit table is our favourite romantic rendezvous. At state banquets, diplomatic alliances are forged. Deals are done at business lunches. Family reunions still take place at mealtimes. Home is a place which smells of cooking. If we want relationships that work, we shall get back to eating together. Along the way, we shall conquer obesity: if we stop grazing, we shall stop gorging."
See, that "stop gorging" bit may not apply to me and brown eyes. When we cook and eat together, we are the original bakasuras.
Tuesday
I've always felt a little uncomfortable in restaurants where the waiters are too servile, treating customers with exaggerated importance. It just seems so unneccessary. I read this interesting article on salon. The story examines the dynamics of being served, tipping and attitude. Apparently, you can tell a lot about a person's character from the way he/she treats waitresses.
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Monday
Packed city of people in a hurry---and me--another little ant busy getting from point A to B. Had a minor run-in with a couple of male ants at work. The story is I, who usually scurry up the stairs as it is the sole form of exercise I get these days, took the elevator today. As I stood in front of the lift, I felt many other ants inch up behind me. Now there is a LOT OF SPACE in front of the lift. No need to stick to each other's hind legs. Oh well, so i ignore this invasion of personal space and stand there patiently. Someone cuts a corner behind me, making a run for the lift, nearly fracturing my shoulder in the process. So I say excuse me?? and of course i dont know who i m saying this to..so many ants so little space. ok so we are all packed in nice and tight and the lift stops at floor 1. The doors swish open and despite the obvious lack of space, several formally-dressed with tie, important-looking ants sail right in. Me, by now, crazed with rage-- roll my eyes and say hey this is full, give up, then just usher them in and walk right out of the lift and take the stairs. I can sense people in the lift are looking at me strange. I have no idea why this made me so angry. Actually ants are more organised, considerate of each other even. Experts of community living, they walk in a single file, even when there are 10,000 of them. I'm not even an ant. Insects and animals have infinite grace. Why am I human?
Monday, October 28, 2002
