Wo(a)ndering thoughts!!!

So, there I was, at a Thai joint with a bunch of people I know—let's call them The Acquaintance bunch . The mood was high, the chattiness was maximum, and the orders were... complex. The majority in the group(not me), of course, were getting the Vegan Fried Rice , because it's 2025 and we're trying to be good to the planet (and probably our colons). But everyone also needed a unique, bespoke spice level . We're talking a Scoville-scale rainbow of requests. We waited an appropriate( nice way to say we waited for a long time) amount of time, which is to say, long enough for the conversation to move from small talk about the weather to details of the future travel plans. This is an image of a feast my dear friend cooked for me when I visited her- Kindness to the core.  and many eternities later.. The  Nervous Waiter arrived, plates in hand, looking like a bomb disposal expert trying to decide which wire to cut. She held up two plates of identical-looking rice and meekly a...

It's that time of the year again , we celebrate women in so many different forms—the strong ones, the calm ones, the brave ones, the creative ones, the protective ones, and the fierce warriors. We celebrate all the qualities of a goddess, a Lakshmi. But honestly, growing up, this festival was mostly about treats and school holidays. I never really saw myself in any of those powerful figures. I was a shy kid, and I certainly didn't see anyone who was "vigorous" or "furious" being praised as a "good girl." PC: Google images It felt like women who showed anger or bravery were always told to just calm down, as long as it wasn't a family issue. If it were a family problem, they were told to be quiet to keep the family's business behind closed doors. And as for the creative women?! They became invisible; it is considered their creativity as part of the everyday household work, and they are never truly celebrated. The older I get, the more I see ...

Growing up, books and I had a purely transactional relationship. They were a means to an end—I'd read my textbooks and notes, and that was it. The idea of picking up a book for fun felt like extra homework, and who wants that? My aversion to reading was so strong that it took a desperate need to avoid eye contact with strangers on my daily commute to finally pick up a novel. My first real dive was Sidney Sheldon's Tell Me Your Dreams . It was an absolute game-changer, a gateway drug into the wonderful world of fiction. It completely hooked me, and suddenly, I was a full-fledged reader. Since then, I've dived into everything from gritty non-fiction for a dose of reality to fiction that's a one-way ticket to another universe. Nothing beats fiction for a good escape, where you can lose yourself completely. Some characters become part of your soul, making you laugh, cry, and inspire to see those places in real life, and some make you angry the way the characters are portray...

Welcome to the latest episode of "Things My Son Thinks I Broke," where the situations are tiny but the reactions are massive! My theory is that whenever A has a free day, he must create some miniature-sized drama to ruin the day, and I am, of course, the unsuspecting co-star. This particular Saturday was supposed to be a fun day—no sports for the first time in eight months, a beautiful sunny winter day, and a road trip with a packed lunch and snacks! What could possibly go wrong? PC:Google image Turns out, me trying to get ready is what goes wrong. I get ready and come out to see that G was giving A a serious dressing-down. This was my first sign of trouble since arguments are usually my territory. I quickly discovered the crime: apparently, the Eiffel Tower was broken. Not the real one, mind you, but a cardboard replica A had built five years ago. He was furious, and I, in a moment of maternal brilliance, decided to lie. "I didn't break it," I said, " alt...

You know, I thought by now, after years of paying the bills with my respectable career, I'd at least get some street cred from the resident tiny peasant. Especially since, you know, I work in IT . You'd think that would be enough to earn me the coveted "IT girl" badge of honor from my teen, but apparently, my offspring operates on a different planet. My daily struggle involves my son, Little A, relentlessly "BOYSPLAINNING" me on using computer. Yes, you read that right. He boyplains abbreviations (he literally said E-games is Electronic games) to me, a grown woman who has, in fact, used a computer before. He'll rattle off keyboard shortcuts like I've been living under a rock since dial-up was a thing. "Mom, you just hit Ctrl+Alt+Delete to, like, fix everything!"   Yesterday was a particular highlight. I was meticulously crafting some design on Canva, and Little A, lost his patience, was hovering. Apparently, my navigation speed wasn't u...

You know, I always thought "connecting with friends" meant, like, talking to them. But apparently, for Lil A and his crew, it means a virtual linguistic app  Duolingo . Last year, they started this whole "streaks and points" obsession, and I just figured, "Hey, whatever keeps them off my lawn, right?" Then came the fateful winter break, a mere month ago. Lil A, with the cunning of a seasoned cult leader, convinced me to join his Duolingo dominion. I, a skeptic of the highest order, figured I'd humor him. Just see what the fuss was about. Big mistake. Huge. I've been sucked into the green owl's vortex, people. Obsessed is an understatement. It's like finding long-lost relatives, but instead of awkward family dinners, it's me aggressively conjugating verbs in Spanish and attempting to decipher Korean honorifics. Spanish, in particular, has become my illicit lover. I was just doing it, lost in the rhythm of "hola" and "g...