i smell it.

its nearly 2 am, my brain is on overdrive mode again, catching up on admin; and mulling over the politics i had to deal with today. and true enough, bedtime came and bedtime went, and i am still wide awake and unhappy about not being able to fall asleep. took a sleep aid, waiting for it to kick in.

then i smelt it. its gonna rain tonight.



A mother’s kiss


We attended Hermes’ surprise birthday party tonight; I’ve never manned the BBQ pit ever; and it was actually really fun. Can’t quite get the smell off me; despite my very rigorous shampooing, but I like it.

What touched me most, the whole evening was this: Hermes was rather overwhelmed by the fact he had a surprise party and took a moment to get his emotions under control. He bent over, covering his eyes, to gather himself. His mother walks over and kisses him on the back of his head, says somethings that only he heard, and kissed his head again.

If I could have video-ed that moment for him I would have; except I didn’t have my phone with me.

How poignant, how lovely, his mother’s kiss. A blessing; a comfort for the soul. That scene resounded in me, deeply, deeply. What a touching moment. Alas, my words do that scene no justice, but those of us who had the privilege of witnessing it, should count ourselves lucky.

You are very loved, Hermes. I hope this feeling remains with you the rest of your life; that is my birthday wish for you. I wanted to document this; so that if you didn’t realise how much that scene moved me, you’d realise it now.

I had a chance to speak with her briefly; and I mentioned to her in that conversation that she should be so proud of you, of the man you’ve become. I am so glad, so glad that you’ve allowed me to see that.

:) happy birthday, friend.

Last legs


Simba, our golden retriever is on his last legs; which is an apt description, because well; this morning he decided to stop walking. Yesterday he came out for a walk; today he decided he’s not going to. Today he also decided not to eat, or drink, or get up to pee. He’s in somewhat of a dream-like state; takes a long time to respond when we touch him (he is deaf and mostly blind); but generally peaceful. We’ve put him in the dog house, because of the bowel-emptying while lying down. He is not really responsive; and somewhat delirious.

The vet tells us it’s matter of time, he’s just old. We’ve all come to terms with it, really. We’re trying to let him go naturally, in his own time. But we have also made an appointment with the vet on Monday; for a consult with the option of euthanasia, after we have a final discussion and a review of his internal organs.

I believe the vet knows best as he is possibly the most objective person in this whole mix.

It is really about quality of life to me, emphasis on Quality, not Life. I respect That a lot of people are morally opposed to euthanasia; heck I don’t think there is an end to this debate. I don’t really want to go into it.

Simba stole my heart as a twelve year old; when he came to live with us three to four years back. Champion bloodlines, dome-shaped skull, baby soft fur, they told me. Skin condition, constantly surrounded by flies, weak stomach, meant to be euthanised at that point, they told me. But when I saw him, my heart fell in love with that soulful eyes; and that paws-around-my waist hug. Every time he does that I wonder if he thinks himself a man (blond, short, and hairy) having a dance with me. I knew I had to take him home.

He is non-intrusive; he mostly keeps company with mango; and is probably one of the few dogs that has had the chance of running down the CTE and survived it. Last year, both retrievers ran out when the gate was carelessly left open, and could not be found at their usual runaway haunts. The next day, the SPCA called to tell me they traced the two down (microchipped) running on the CTE. Only managed to catch them cos the big one got tired and sat down in the middle of traffic. Thank God for keeping them safe.

It’s been a lovely few years with Simba. I know Dogs have no souls; but I’ll like to think there is a special place in heaven for them; or at least, in my heaven.

Take it easy, Simba; you are loved and safe.


my two a.m.s

He thought about this for a second. “True. But if you never really make friends, you probably don’t have anyone to be your 2 a.m. Which would kind of suck.

I just looked at him as he stirred his soup, carrots spinning in the liquid. “Your what?”

“Two a.m.” He swallowed, then said, “You know. The person you can call at two a.m. and, no matter what, you can count on them. Even if they’re asleep or it’s cold or you need to be bailed out of jail…they’ll come for you. It’s, like, the highest level of friendship.”
― Sarah DessenWhat Happened to Goodbye

i consider myself lucky and blessed to have my two a.m.s; the people who i know beyond a shadow of a doubt will leap over rainbows and scale clouds to get me, at two a.m. wherever i am, in whatever circumstances i find myself in.

thank you, thank you, thank you.




where did the weekend go???

my weekends seem to have gone into some kinda time-warp device because it was just two minutes ago that i was counting down to indian food on friday night.

i had something planned for monday morning, but for the life of me i cannot remember what. my icalendar also tells me there’s nothing.. but i know there is. i just dont remember what. i just hope the consequences of missing said meeting isn’t too dire.

it is a rather misty morning, here at tamarind. i wish i were in a rowboat, out on a lake.

two months, and hundreds more to go.

hello sweetheart,

its been 2 months. we’re really awful date-keepers; we forgot about it last night till after dinner. One first month was spent sleeping on the living room floor in Cherie’s house, taking care of a sniffling Quentin and a refuse-to-sleep Evan. Last night was spent driving the two overtired-and-cranky bubs home.

dinner tonight? Indian Food, then we live it up and hit Mustafa. :) Man, life in the fast lane. wait till we tell everyone the exciting lives we lead.