Flippin' the Bitch Switch

The cute haircut I almost didn't have.

 I enter the salon at five minutes to three and tell the girl at the counter that I have a three o'clock appointment.

"Please be seated, Ma'am" she says.

I sit and while away the time till 3.20 p.m.

I catch her eye and raise an eyebrow. She goes scurrying around, speaking to all the stylists one by one, and looks furtively in my direction, but she doesn't come up to me even once to ask me who my appointment is with. She goes back to her desk and starts flipping through the pages of her appointment book like a crazed person. I walk up to her and ask her if there's a problem.

Does this question make me look fat?

So Joe, who you’ve already read about here, and who is still reluctant to allow me to use his real name on my blog, because I spontaneously ( I believe the word he used was 'gratuitously') bring up the topic of hoo-has where they don’t belong  (though why does referring to them have to be so awkward?), called me this morning to catch up. 

Though he's incredibly busy, and spends a lot of time flying around to different corners of the country, and the world (which makes me just hate him and envy him madly), he always manages to find time to call me every other day. And while I just babble on and on and on, most of my tirades are just met with a 'Hmmmm.' But he has been dealing with me for many years, and he has learnt well.

Some people are just born to be providers of blog content

So this calendar, right, is sitting on a table in my sister's house. And like a lot of other things she does, I can't explain this either. Doesn't it just remind you of the convicts of yore who scratched on the walls of their prison cells, with a jagged bit of stone, to figure out how much of life was passing them by, day by agonizing day? What? Only 14 years and 28 days more days to go before I can get out ? Yay me! 

You'd think we kept her chained in the basement, or garage, and fed her out of a tin plate when she was a child, wouldn't you?

You know, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea, when I actually see those words out in the open like that.

Sigh. Too late now.

Ode to May

Oh, May! You hold a special place in my heart, because you remind me of childhood summer vacations and picnics with my friends, spent splashing around in the cool, sparkling river, till we were frozen, and shrivelled like raisins.

Of bicycle races, of sneaking out on languid afternoons to trespass on a neighbouring farmer's property and break mangoes from his trees. Of risking our lives by laying coins on the railway tracks so that the train would flatten and disfigure them, and we would be left with souvenirs of our bravery. Of devouring glasses of mango fool, and drinking in the cool, crisp air as we gesticulated our way to victory in Dumb Charades wars.

Yes, May, you fill me with longing and sweet emotion reserved for a first love.

But these days, I love you mostly because your gorgeous, flaming red flowers make my nose itch considerably less than April's flowers do.