Soundtrack Of Life

Simply had to do this tag (stolen from The Mad Momma). This is my first take.

Rules of the tag: Various situations are given. You have to come up with a song ( or a couple)
that aptly describe those situations in YOUR life.

Opening credits: Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen

Waking up: Alive – Pearl Jam

Average day: Comfortably Numb – Pink Floyd

First date: Ethiopian Music under Meskerem’s blue lights

Falling in love: Tadap Tadap – Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam

Love Scene: Wicked Game – Chris Isaak

Fight Scene: Rape Me – Nirvana

Breaking up: Don’t Speak – No Doubt / I Will Survive – Gloria Gaynor

Getting back together: Socha Nahi Tha - Kaante

Secret love: Let’s Make a Night to Remember – Bryan Adams

Life’s ok: Don’t Cry – Guns n’ Fuckin’ Roses

Mental Breakdown: Between The Bars – Elliott Smith/Brick – Ben Folds Five/Trouble - Coldplay/Creep - Radiohead

Driving: Who The Fuck Is Alice – Smokie (wtf? I need to get some driving music)

Learning a lesson: Freshmen – The Verve

Deep thought: *silence*/Sounds Of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel

Flashback: Time Of Your Life - Green Day/Wouldn’t It Be Lovely – My Fair Lady (Audrey Hepburn)

Partying: Abdel Khader – rachid taha, khaled

Happy Dance: *anything with Nibbles – didn’t dance before that…yikes!*

Regretting: Wish You Were Here – Pink Floyd

Long night alone: Lonely Nights – Scorpions/In These Arms – Bon Jovi

Death Scene: The End – The Doors/Last Kiss – Perl Jam

Closing Credits: Shine On – Pink Floyd

Go on – do this tag all ye who can’t live without music.

Yay!

Guess what ol’ Null Pointer bagged herself? *drumroll*

How cool is that? Can’t believe its from The Mad Momma – I feel like a groupie that just got offered a backstage pass!

While I soak it up, I’d like to pass it along to some awesome ladies that helped me tide through a nasty bout of postpartum blues through their posts and made me want to blog – Poppins and Maggie. And of course, Mona, who’s always there to cheer me on.

*prances about with silly grin*

Pick A Number, Any Number

Took Nibbles out for a stroll today and bumped into an old neighbour.
He: “Ah, so this is lil’ Big Byte, eh?”.
NP: “Yup, sure is”
He: *does a quick scan* “Six months?”
NP: “uh…Eight actually”
He: “Oh!”

What? What? Is Nibbles too skinny? Maybe I should invest in some desi ghee after all. Damn carrot-apple mish-mashes. He’s not drinking enough milk. Maybe because I’m feeding him too many solids? Or maybe he needs more. I mumbled along and bumped into an old Filipino nanny that began the whole cooing+monkey face routine for Nibbles, so I stopped.

She: “Cute baby. How many months?”
NP: *nervously* “Eight”
She: “Laaa! He’s pretty big for eight months!”

Fuck ‘em. I give up.

Papa do Preach

This evening, I had the hardest time getting Nibbles to sleep. He’d nurse for a few minutes, doze off, then start crying all of a sudden. All I did was thrust the silver bullet (my boob) back into his face till he passed out again. This routine went on for a bit, and a tired Big Byte walked in.
BB: “What’s wrong with Nibbles? Trouble sleeping?”
NP: “Dunno. He ate well, drank milk too…I think” *pinches areola to check supply and squirts milk all over the place*
BB: “Whoa!” *ducks* “Yes, there’s enough milk.”
NP: “Maybe it’s a ear infection? Or he’s teething”
BB: *rolls eyes after hearing default diagnoses for nth time* “Why’s he kicking around so much?”
NP: “Oh! That’s his new thing. He enjoys it. I think it’s kinda cute…”
BB: *starts massaging Nibbles’ legs* “Maybe they’re hurting. He’s been standing all day, no?”
NP: “Hmmm…”

Duh! Nibbles finally settled down, continued to feed in peace and fell fast asleep. He has been so excited with his ability to stand, that he even tries to feed standing. Of course his lil’ legs must be overworked.

So much for mother’s instinct.

Never On A Sunday

There’s nothing like spending the first beautiful Sunday in ages – you know, with bursting greens, bustling strollers, chirping birds, sexy breeze and all? – stuck at home resuccitating a laptop brought to its knees by a deadly virus. Seriously though Big Byte, was there any need to catch a few minutes of the damn IPL game on a day like that? I know, I know, you feel awful enough and you did bring her back to life, with her memory intact. But a gal’s gotta vent, so…AaargH!

No Pressure

I never thought I’d be doing cooking posts beyond heartfelt odes to maggi. The very idea of preparing a real meal fires a panic attack. Being extremely accident-prone as a kid, I was never really allowed to fiddle in the kitchen too much – especially with that elusive pressure cooker.

I’d always stared at the pressure cooker in awe and fear, dashing out of the kitchen just before the whistle blew (sufficiently freaked out by all those stories of daughter-in-laws myseteriously dying due to bursting pressure cookers). So I’m rather surprised that I’ve finally succumed to its powers. I’ve been struggling with homemade food for Nibbles, and I’m competing with tasteless, commercial goo. I didn’t bother investing in a blender, and decided that chunkiness would make for interesting texture and easier transitioning into “real” food. Nibbles decided to disagree.

I rummaged through the bottles of homogenous veggies – carrots, winter squash, peas – when the pressure cooker nudged me, with its shiny grin. One whistle and 30 minutes later, I was totally smitten when I saw that it had converted a stubborn organic yam into the perfect pulp that was eagerly gobbled down by Nibbles.

Forget sliced bread. I can’t imagine life without this spiffy device!