Rain, Rain, [Don't?] Go Away

Rain. It's what every bride fears but resolutely accepts it's the one thing she can't control. And while a wedding may not warrant intervening in what may be the last undomesticated act of nature remaining, apparently hosting the Olympics does. As Beijing prepares for next week's Opening Ceremonies, it needs the rain to clear the pollution but also doesn't need it to mess up the fireworks. So, here's what they've done about it, according to a Washington Post article:

"The [New China News A]gency reported that since 2001, when Beijing was awarded the Games, meteorologists have been experimenting with "cloud seeding" -- shooting dry ice into clouds to make the water droplets heavier. That allows meteorologists to squeeze rain out of the clouds early, before they drift over the Bird's Nest [the National Stadium], although the technology is said to work only with light cloud cover."

China really is willing to do just about anything to impress the world.

"Verbose"

I have the feeling only Karen, Nancy or Supraja will appreciate this.

As I was sitting on the metro going through the GRE vocab flashcards on my way home, I came across the word "verbose." Finally, I thought, one that I know. The definition that immediately ran through my head was, "Using too many words."

I turn it over and see one word on the definition line: "wordy."

The irony left me smiling until we pulled up to the next station.

The Taste of Success

I just had one of the best dinners ever.

Since the fam is out to a baseball game, I had the evening to myself. I had planned on taking a practice GRE (I know, how boring) since having this place silent is quite a rarity. But by the time I reached home it was a little past seven, and I figured I should think about dinner.

This Monday I read the book "In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto" by Michael Pollan (a book I'd recommend to everyone; it's got diet advice and government gone wrong.) I won't go into the book now, but I will say in a nutshell it confirms that eating healthy (and no, things labeled "low-fat" do not constitute healthy,) is the only way to actually be healthy.

Anyways, I opened the fridge to take stock of what's available. I though of making burji, or spicy scrambled eggs with veggies. But all we had were tomatoes, scallions, garlic and basil. Not enough for burji, but those seem to be the key ingredients for pasta sauce, I thought. I pulled out some pasta and decided I was going to experiment today. Fast forward about twenty minutes and you've got a budding chef with pasta boiling on one side of the stove and the beginnings of some homemade pasta sauce simmering on the other. The thought of looking up a a recipe online crossed my mind, until I realized that would take the fun out of things.

So, I used my common sense and despite some initial reservations, ended up with a frying pan full of a bubbling red liquid. I wasn't expecting my concoction to taste like its thick, bottled, commercialized equivalent, but it was actually pretty good, with a pronounced sweetness I've never tasted in bottled sauces.

I figured, I was so far along, I might as well go all out on this dinner. I set myself a place in the formal dining room with the Thanksgiving plateware and put on the Godfather soundtrack, fitting in with my pseudo-Italian theme. I poured myself a glass of Merlot (which, let's be honest, is part of the reason why I'm so exceptionally happy with this meal right now), and began my meal with a toast to myself. I haven't exactly been feeling well the past two days,
so this self-satisfying evening was just what I needed.

Now for the most important part - the eating. A few bites in and I was pretty satisfied with myself. I think I finally understand the allure of cooking. Not only is the whole process of thinking, washing, chopping, sauteeing and ultimately setting out on the table, entertaining, but a taste of success doesn't get more delicious than this.

Punjabi Pride

I am so happy to be Pubjabi. I only wish I was more in touch with it.

Yesterday I watched the Hindi movie "Jab We Met" with Kareena Kapoor and Shahid Kapoor (who is cuuuute), and my new it song of the moment is the movie's "Nagada Nagada," not just for its crazy upbeat-ness, but because the swirling colors, thumping dohl and energetic bhangra encompass just what I love about my culture.

Every time I see a Punjabi song or Punjabi wedding scene, my face lights up with excitement that my wedding (hopefully) will get to be just like that. Granted a lot has to happen before that day will ever come, but that's a very different topic for a whole 'nother post.

While Kanika didi's wedding had its own hiccups, I still remember when the barat came, banging dohls, dancing family and all. Look at the wedding video and you'll see the smile never left my face. I know I might not be the most in-touch with my culture; the one time I attempted to perform an Indian dance I ended up in the hospital. But that doesn't stop me from having some fierce pride in being part of the loudest, brashest, most fun-loving Indian cultural sub-group there is. Yes I may speak more Hindi than Pubjabi (which doesn't actually mean much, given how broken my Hindi actually is, especially after five months of straight Spanish), but there isn't any other culture I'd want to be a part of. Which is why I'm over-the-moon excited for Rishi bhaiya's wedding in August. (Well, that and the prospect of meeting all his British-accented Punjabi friends :-P).

मेरा दील है पउका पंजाबी

Now that's what I call customer service

Dell may not make the best computers (or so says my brother), but what they possibly lack in construction, they more than make up for in customer service. And for that reason I'll probably always remain a Dell girl. Now, I've encountered more than my fair share of problems in the three years I've owned this laptop, but each time a Dell customer service rep has patiently walked me through how to fix it, whether it took thirty minutes or two hours.

A Dell contractor just left my house after replacing my monitor, whose left speaker hasn't been working for the past few months. While those five minutes were nothing but routine for him, my eyes were wide with trepidation at the way he was ripping out parts and yanking out wires. It was kind of like watching your child undergo surgery. I mean, both are treasured, indispensable and store a lot of memories, right? Anyways, for someone as computer hardware illiterate as I am, the speed and precision at which he was moving left me pretty amazed. Of course, the only thought going through my head while he actually was at work was "Please God please let that not have been the wrong...ooh I didn't know my keyboard was that floppy."

But, I'll assure you the ending was indeed a happy one, and now my volume meter can sit comfortably lower on the scale, instead of permanently at the top as it used to. Plus I now have a brand new, fingerprint-free monitor. Let's see how long it actually stays that way though. Too bad Dell doesn't also have a special home cleaning service.

Holiday Weekend

For someone who claims to enjoy writing so much, I sure as heck don't do enough of it, as evidenced by my failure in updating this blog. I promise you, it's not because of a lack of topics; I've got a list about two miles long of cosas...er, things, to write about (one of which is how it feels to leave Spain behind.) But, I figure, enough with coming up with excuses, because my thoughts aren't going to write themselves, and just about every vacation's memories have been lost due to my laziness.

For the first time in two weeks, I am faced with a day sans obligations. Last weekend we were on vacation on Chicago, and this week has been full of work and socializing in the city. Not that I'm complaining, of course. It's just that I've learned to appreciate much more the prospect of sleeping past 10 a.m. that is greeting me once I finish this entry.

My birthday was just amazing. Our office treated me to lunch, and as I bit into my half-pound sirloin burger, I realized I hadn't done that in quite some time. The interns got off around 2:15, so Megan and I were touristy and just walked around snapping photos of the Capitol and the Supreme Court before meeting up with the office for happy hour, where I underwent the rite of passage of being carded (and passing, obviously.)

That evening brought us to a tapas restaurant where me and 12 friends snacked and sangria'd the night away. Not only was I so happy to see and celebrate with the friends I hadn't seen in half a year, but two of my newer friends, one from Spain and the other intern in my office got along swimmingly with everyone else.

The next day brought us to America's birthday, and this year some friends and I finally decided to ring it in in the heart of it all - the nation's capital. So we wandered the city until we finally made our way down and secured a spot on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, three hours before the show was to begin. And although I knew the whole time that I was doing this mostly just to say I had, there were moments when I was seriously questioning my sanity (right around when my butt went numb from sitting on a ten-inch wide marble step with my back and legs getting soaked from the water droplets dripping off our umbrellas.) And after some near flare-ups with angry people around us yelling at the crowds to move out of the way, the fireworks began and any resentment was pushed aside.

Despite the fact that a huge cloud or smoke plume was blocking half the fireworks, they were still pretty impressive. I never knew fireworks could be that humongous or that loud. I do think the entire thing would be more worth it if the weather weren't so wet and you came with a picnic meal, and gave yourself more than three square feet of space in which to spread four people, but hey, I did come out with a story to tell.

Today Jenna and I met up with our friend Mary from Spain. After lunch it was back to the Mall, where we saw the Vietnam, WWII, Jefferson, FDR and Lincoln Memorials. (Just a friendly reminder: When walking around D.C. in the humid summer months, no matter what, keep a water bottle handy.) After Mary left, Jenna and I watched the pilot episode of West Wing, a show I can't believe I didn't watch before and am excited to dive into.

That's enough of the "Dear Diary" business for now. Tomorrow I promise I'll have something more substantive to write about, but for now, all I can think about is finally closing my half-drooping eyes and not opening them for another twelve hours.

Birthday Wishes

Getting a phone call from family on your birthday isn't out of the ordinary. But when it's your younger cousins calling from a phone booth 7,300 miles away and 10 hours ahead, you realize how nice it is to have people who care.

Exactly one year ago, I was celebrating my 20th birthday with my relatives in India, who I hadn't seen in four years. My cousin Sumegha, whose birthday is two days after mine, and I had a joint celebration, and low-key as it was, I couldn't have wished for anything more. And even today is shaping up to be another pretty good birthday, that phone call has just made the birthday smile etched onto my face a little wider.