Monday, September 18, 2006

Desis Debut on The Amazing Race!

And they're eliminated at the end of the first episode. Sigh, how predictable. Literally, as soon as I saw them, I predicted their quick elimination. I don't know how it's among other ethnic groups, but desis are the first to put down other desis. The husband and I critically watched as Vipul and Arti put on their game face, hustling to catch a flight to Beijing, all-aflutter.

Why is it that desis fluster so easily, I mutter to the h, watching Arti wringing her hands while Vipul tried to lay down some bricks. They get so darned self-conscious, they self-destruct, I scowl. But even critical moi had to hand out points when Vipul gamely downed some slimy fish eyes (while Arti made appropriate gagging noises), and when the couple made climbing the Great Wall of China look easy (though the cynical side says the producers just wanted to end their misery asap by not dwelling on their groans).

Then when they were eliminated, they made kissy faces on international TV (dunno about elsewhere, but TAR is simulcast in India at least), proving once and for all to skeptical folks the world over that INDIANS DO KISS!

At least they weren't the first duo to go. That dubious honor went to Bilal and Saeed, a couple of rather stereotypical-looking Muslims.

All in all, Vipul and Arti weren't bad debutants -- and it takes guts to be the first desis on the show. Maybe it'll inspire some more athletic ones to take on the challenge, instead of being La-Z-Boy potatoes and critiquing desis who do.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

A Good Wife ('50s ishtyle)

Just got a forward from a friend that gave me a few moments of mirth and made my husband's day. The email contained a 1955 article from Good Housekeeping titled "A Good Wife's Guide." The story had 18 tips, and I am going to share some gems below:

* Greet your husband with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.

*You may have a dozen important things to tell him but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first, remember: his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

*Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner or other places of entertainment without you. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.

*Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.

*Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

And the final gem:

*A good wife always knows her place.

Of course, the husband thought I should start implementing the above guide forthwith. I told him not to hold his breath.

Monday, September 11, 2006

An Invitation to a Post Mortem

Oooh, I got to play "grown up" today! After months of begging and coaxing and persuading my boss that the magazine really, really needed to include me in the post-mortem of our last issue so I could contribute my superior and unique criticisms, I got invited today! I am a stay-at-home mommy, so this is a Big Deal! It means I get to wear lipstick, short skirt, high heels and port my not-oft-used power briefcase to Office in my homey minivan. I get to be with other Grown-Ups (all much skinnier than me, alas!) and scarf down bagels and swill coffee like any other productive adult of society.

OK, I know I am already a Productive Adult by choosing to be a stay-at-home working mom and all that feminist jazz. I wouldn't bring up my kid any other way. But boy, sometimes working from home just doesn't cut it. I was telling the husband yesterday that my interaction with adults has never been as limited as it's been since I had Raina.

I know other stay-at-home moms who don't work have it even worse. You just got to see the park near our home -- it's filled with SAH moms who feel useless, unproductive or bored senseless. I haven't come across any (though I am sure they exist) who don't wish they were doing for a few hours a week something, anything, that doesn't involve diapering.

Speaking for moi, without those few Grown Up hours of coffee-drinking and conferencing, I'd go stark, raving nuts.