Any dream will do

Since I don't think I will sit down and type four different posts, I'm dumping everything together in this. I expect to see four comments from each of you, please. I don't like being ignored, my blog doesn't like me being ignored, my blog doesn't like being ignored, and I don't like my blog being ignored. Get?

Bangalore finally saw some rains, YAY! Thanks, Austy. You're a dear. Also, cheering up a sad 11-year-old who has a bad attack of dustitis isn't easy. But then, a woman has to do what she has to do. Especially if she's the girl's favourite aunt. Little Miss Muffet was sad that she had to bunk school and that her mother was getting on her nerves and that her throat and nose were irritating her. And so, I came to her rescue by telling of my own escapades from school when I was her age. Through the ages of 6 to 12, I have bunked school many a day and Dad has always given me a leave letter the day after to take to the class teacher. Our maid's husband would take me to school, usually. We would walk right up to the gate and I would make him go and tell the ayah that I wasn't well and he would take me back home. If it was my maid who had to take me because her husband was too drunk, halfway through, I would tell her that I had forgotten to wear my panties. My sister thought it was not something my niece needed to know and my niece laughed. A genius is never appreciated in her lifetime. Sigh.

Please, God, I want my butt of yore back. I miss my pink bloomers.

I bought Kathleen Bird York's 'Wicked Little High'. It's my best music buy of this year. Lyrically brilliant, and an astoundingly gorgeous smoky voice. To borrow from Robert James Waller, her voice is like 'woodsmoke on an autumn night'. Those who like good music, buy. And spread the word around. This album demands more takers, and not many know. 

Thursday, fun was had with my dear Dolon, one of my oldest blog friends and Maushi.  Truffle chocolates, BathnBodyworks stuff, new clothes, gossip, shopping, food, the works!!!! Not only did I get a bag of goodies, and a big one at that courtesy Dolon, Maushi treated us to dinner at Shiok. Grrrrrreat food and some awesome cocktails. Madman is a true artiste, bless him. Please ask for the musk melon sorbet (cantaloupe for you Yankifieds), one of his *many* creations and prepare to swoon in ecstasy. And for those of you I know and you who I know you know I know you, please ask for an exclusive snap of the three of us going 'Mmmmmmm' post the said sorbet. It shall be sent to your mailboxes for your eyes only. And don't just wrinkle your nose yet. It IS every bit as awesome as I'm making it out to be. 

Fourth post? I don't quite remember what I wanted to write about. But I think it was about bombing all terrorist areas of the world and penalising Materazzi for life.

Remember the comments.

Writer's note: To celebrate my having witnessed 30 summers on Earth, I'm going to, as and when I feel like it, look back in time to see an event from a different perspective (different=funny). The first one in this series is an on-the-spot poem that I wrote to cheer a friend up, who was down in the dumps. Here goes:

Once, Cadencia was made to go see a guy

Who was way fatter than she

When his mom came to serve snacks

He ate his share before mine came to me

We said goodbyes and went our way

And Dad asked Cadencia 'What say you?'

Cadencia looked at Dad and deadpanned

'He needs a push-up bra more than I do.'