Get a couple of small action figures and chase them around the table with ice cubes. Burn the menus for warmth.

That's all I needed!

Miracle Man, you are my hero.

I'm takin' the copies and pushing the parody. If I hear crickets...so be the crickets. I can adapt.

But I shall not be spurned in my pursuit of fun, gorramit.

2005 = Beej's year for fun...dammit.

eta: Ginger just choked me with laughter.

That's IT. Even if the crowd won't go along, I'm chasing action figures around with ice cubes.

hahahahahahahHa!

vw! When do we get pictures of your new 'do?

When I feel like taking them, which I’m thinking isn’t going to be today. The color needs another day to tone down a bit, me thinks.

OK, well, I feel like something scraped off someone's shoe, mentally.

Nora, that’s awful and wrong. I’m so sorry! I don’t blame you for wanting to go home (which you’ve probably done by now).

Hey! Guess who just got a promotion and a 10% raise?

Yay! That’s fabulous! Congratulations!

{{{Deena}}} just ‘cause. I was actually thinking of making some apple crumble tonight. Then I remembered that my apple peeler/corer/slicer is on the fritz. So, make a pie and eat some for me, k?

Okay, you've convinced me. Apple pie it is; and if Greg questions me when I eat half of it, I will say I'm sharing with Cashmere and vw.

Beej, I wish I could see that. It sounds very funny.

Hey, I need some pie too.

Okay, I'll let Greg, Kara and Aidan share a quarter of it. The rest is for us.

I hope that's enough.

I was actually thinking of making some apple crumble tonight. Then I remembered that my apple peeler/corer/slicer is on the fritz. So, make a pie and eat some for me, k?

Now I want apple crumble/pie which I don't have. I do have a banana loaf my mum gave me at Christmas which is much yummy. Guess I'm headed there.

Go team Nora!

Do not be denied, beej!

And glitter and chocolate for the rest of you because I have no pie.

12/18/04

12/23/04

12/26/04

What is there to do in India? Shopping, of course. You go into the cities of Navsari and Surat. The former is smaller, more of a glorified marketplace. The latter is where my dad went to medical college. India doesn't know the meaning of the words "liberal arts education."

Houses in the city are a little better than those in the villages, though they're similar stylistically. Very flat, rectangular. Hard. But of course, there are also places you'd use words like "derelict" and "tenement" to describe.

Stores are all adjacent to each other, as if you threw a bunch of strip malls together and created a maze of unmarked roads and alleyways between them. They are about the size of small storage facilities. Signs above each establishment proclaim in Gujarati and sometimes English. Buy clothing, shoes, groceries, snacks, electronics. See a tailor. Visit your bank.

On the streets themselves, vendors sell fresh fruit or trinkets. Boys walk around peddling maps of India. Beggars hobble along. One man painted up like Krishna travels with his musical cohort and sings in front of stores until they give him money to leave. This is in addition to the cows, goats, dogs, boars, and donkeys roaming stray. You might catch someone riding a camel or elephant. And don't forget all the motor vehicles hurtling down these narrow roads.

Perhaps the most interesting shopping experience is that of buying clothing. Be it sarees, suits, shoes, or glasses, Indians put the "service" in "service industry." The luxuries I hear are afforded those rich enough to shop on Rodeo Drive are commonplace, almost as a matter of necessity. The stores have little space to display their wares, so instead, they show them to you personally. Here, how's this color? One size smaller? Do you want to see this with a different color shirt? Shoes drop from a hole in the ceiling. Look at this, this is top quality, genuine leather. Oh, this color will look best on you. Is this for a wedding? Oh, then definitely get this one. Back and forth they go, showing you new colors, new designs, new styles. Plus, they give you filtered water. Some will even get you soft drinks and chocolate from the convenience store across the street. A small expense for a possible sale.

(The current exchange rate for the dollar is between forty-three and forty-four rupees. This means the rupee is worth less than 2.5 cents. As a result, goods cost hundreds and thousands of rupees (inclusive of all taxes). Many things are cheaper, yes, but not all. The major discrepancy comes when buying food and drink. You can get a bottle of Coke for eight rupees--less than a quarter. This Coke, like all soft drinks, will be made with sugar, not my beloved high fructose corn syrup, so it will taste a bit different. A little funny, really, and not necessarily better. Limca, though, is the shiznit. It puts all lemon-lime drinks in America to shame its strong citrus kick. The bottle does proclaim, however, that it contains NO FRUIT. Cookies and candy? Between five and fifteen rupees. This phenomenon also extends to actual meals. Tonight we were able to feed (overfeed, actually, since we brought some home) seven or eight people really good South Indian and Chinese food (with drinks) for about eight bucks.)

As for the actual sale, a little haggling is not out of the question. No one scans anything in; the bookkeeping is all done by hand, on a little pad. They may quote you different prices based on how you look. If you look like you can afford more, why not bump the price up a few hundred rupees? You're none the wiser. If you or a family member are a regular customer, you're more likely to get away with what my dad pulled at a chappal store. The chappals my brother and I liked were pretty expensive (three times what he expected to pay). My dad lightly complained, and the owner showed him (continued...)