Down one flight of stairs to go outside. Down two flights at the Metro. Up by escalator. Up two flights to an office. Down two flights to go outside. Down two flights of stairs to go to the Metro. Up by escalator. Up a flight of stairs to my home, only to find it is locked and I have no key. Down the flight of stairs. Up a flight of stairs at Courage Homes to look for my husband who has the key. Up another two flights to continue looking. Down three flights to go back outside. Up a flight of stairs to go home again.
Eat Lunch
Down a flight of stairs to go back to Courage Homes. Up a flight of stairs to say hello to people. Up two more flights to do some work. Down to flights to go to the inside stairs to go up a flight of stairs to do work. Down a flight of stairs to look for something. Back up a flight of stairs. Down a flight of stairs to go to the outside stairs to go up two flights of stairs. Down and up a few more times. Finally down three flights of stairs to the outside.
Go Home
Up a flight of stairs to my house. Down a flight of stairs to go to a friend's house. Up two flights of stairs to go to their house. Down two flights to go home. Up a flight of stairs to be home. Hopefully I will stay home.
No wonder my legs are tired.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
A Gun Pointed At My Head
Every Friday, I take the Delhi Metro to the US Embassy. I work for a few hours in a thrift store that gives it's profits to different NGOs. I have talked before about the Delhi Metro and how I like it. I especially like the ladies only areas. Like the security that I have to walk through. The line is probably 20 times shorter than the men's line. And we are hardly ever crowded in our metro car. The guys are squished like sardines. But the one thing I don't like is that going in and out of the station is a security guard, behind a pile of sandbags, who is holding his rifle pointed at head level. So I have to walk right past these guys both going to the metro and leaving. I feel like I am risking my life every time I do. Weren't these guys ever told not to point their guns at people?
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Why It Takes So Long To Fold Laundry
I decided I needed to do a load of darks this morning, as Micah's uniform is dark. He only has three shirts and two pairs of shorts, so we have to keep up on the laundry. I put the load in and thought about the drying rack full of clothes that was needing folding. So I went in to fold all the clothes. As I folded one top I realized that I wanted to try it on and see if it fit. I liked the color of it. It was left by someone who had stayed at our house. So I stopped folding clothes and went and tried it on. It fit! So I put my old shirt in the dirty clothes and noticed my pants didn't match. But luckily, the shirt also came with a pair of purple pants. So back to the drying rack I went. I pulled off the pants but realized that they were the really long, tight Indian chuuridar pants that I don't like. So I folded the pants and decided against the shirt too. Back I went to change. This time into a shirt I had already folded.
After changing into the new shirt, I noticed that the book shelf in my room needed dusting. So I searched for a rag, finally finding one. But I got it too wet when I dampened it so it was no good for dusting. I proceeded to look for another rag but I don't know where Steve put the bag of rags. I gave up on dusting for the time being and laid out the wet rag to dry a bit.
I don't remember why right now, but I went into the bathroom with the washing machine and cleaned the floor in there. Then the water started draining out of the washing machine so I got a bucket and gathered some of the water into the bucket so I could use the water to wash the balcony. I poured the water on the balcony and wiped it clean.
I went back and folded some more clothes. The doorbell rang. It was the painter from upstairs. He needed his paint that was suppose to be delivered, but hadn't been. So I called our friends and figured out that the paint wouldn't be delivered quite yet. I walked to the kitchen and put a few dishes away. Then I looked for something to eat. I went back to the bookshelf and wiped it clean and let it dry. The books are out of it now. I pushed the dresser back against the wall after having to pull it out to mop up the water that leaked last night from our air conditioner. I dusted the dresser too. I then dusted the night stand and straightened up. I went back to the folding of the laundry and did a few more folds.
My food was done so I ate it. Now the laundry was done. I brought the damp clothes into the drying room and threw them on the floor while I finished folding. I took the pile of folded clothes into the bedroom and put them on the bed. I went back and hung the wet clothes. I remembered that I wanted to wash the bathroom carpet too. So I put that in the wash.
I will have to put the clothes away now that are sitting on my bed. But for now I need to take a rest after such a busy morning.
After changing into the new shirt, I noticed that the book shelf in my room needed dusting. So I searched for a rag, finally finding one. But I got it too wet when I dampened it so it was no good for dusting. I proceeded to look for another rag but I don't know where Steve put the bag of rags. I gave up on dusting for the time being and laid out the wet rag to dry a bit.
I don't remember why right now, but I went into the bathroom with the washing machine and cleaned the floor in there. Then the water started draining out of the washing machine so I got a bucket and gathered some of the water into the bucket so I could use the water to wash the balcony. I poured the water on the balcony and wiped it clean.
I went back and folded some more clothes. The doorbell rang. It was the painter from upstairs. He needed his paint that was suppose to be delivered, but hadn't been. So I called our friends and figured out that the paint wouldn't be delivered quite yet. I walked to the kitchen and put a few dishes away. Then I looked for something to eat. I went back to the bookshelf and wiped it clean and let it dry. The books are out of it now. I pushed the dresser back against the wall after having to pull it out to mop up the water that leaked last night from our air conditioner. I dusted the dresser too. I then dusted the night stand and straightened up. I went back to the folding of the laundry and did a few more folds.
My food was done so I ate it. Now the laundry was done. I brought the damp clothes into the drying room and threw them on the floor while I finished folding. I took the pile of folded clothes into the bedroom and put them on the bed. I went back and hung the wet clothes. I remembered that I wanted to wash the bathroom carpet too. So I put that in the wash.
I will have to put the clothes away now that are sitting on my bed. But for now I need to take a rest after such a busy morning.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Riding the Metro
The Delhi Metro is the city train or subway system here. It is only a few years old so it is still a novelty for some. I have been using it lately to go to different parts of the city. Our new house is close to a Metro stop so it makes travel easy.
The Metro has a car that is just for women. Like the Delhi buses, the Metro can get packed full of people. So they have made an area that women will not be pressed against men and will be safe from the eve-teasing.
There is also a separate security line for women as you enter the station. Sometimes the line for men going through security is 50 long. Whereas the ladies line is one or two. So the Metro is great for women. We get to buzz through security and rush to our spacious car for a pleasant ride to our destination.
There is a fine on men if they try to ride in the "ladies only" car. I think it is like 1000/-. The other day I saw a guy riding in the car and the young lady next to me took out her big camera and took his picture. Not sure why. She took about 5 shots of him looking directly at her. It was very obvious. She did close ups of his face and full body shots of him standing there. He made no move. Then the lady next to her tapped on her shoulder and pointed to the sign that said, "no photos". And the young lady said, "I know." It was odd that she was so concerned with the guy who was in the wrong car (not bothering anyone) and yet she disregarded the rule of no photos so blatantly. Boy, talk about taking the log out of your own eye first.
The other thing I like to do on the Metro is look at the size of peoples' heads. I find it quite interesting that there are some really odd heads. So I ride, usually standing, and stare at heads.
People are staring at me all the way because I really stick out, being a foreigner. I find they look at my feet a lot. Probably because I wear the cheapest flip flops and they all have nice shoes on. They probably think I walked out of the house with my house shoes on. They happen to be the most comfortable shoes I have.
Loving the Metro!
The Metro has a car that is just for women. Like the Delhi buses, the Metro can get packed full of people. So they have made an area that women will not be pressed against men and will be safe from the eve-teasing.
There is also a separate security line for women as you enter the station. Sometimes the line for men going through security is 50 long. Whereas the ladies line is one or two. So the Metro is great for women. We get to buzz through security and rush to our spacious car for a pleasant ride to our destination.
There is a fine on men if they try to ride in the "ladies only" car. I think it is like 1000/-. The other day I saw a guy riding in the car and the young lady next to me took out her big camera and took his picture. Not sure why. She took about 5 shots of him looking directly at her. It was very obvious. She did close ups of his face and full body shots of him standing there. He made no move. Then the lady next to her tapped on her shoulder and pointed to the sign that said, "no photos". And the young lady said, "I know." It was odd that she was so concerned with the guy who was in the wrong car (not bothering anyone) and yet she disregarded the rule of no photos so blatantly. Boy, talk about taking the log out of your own eye first.
The other thing I like to do on the Metro is look at the size of peoples' heads. I find it quite interesting that there are some really odd heads. So I ride, usually standing, and stare at heads.
People are staring at me all the way because I really stick out, being a foreigner. I find they look at my feet a lot. Probably because I wear the cheapest flip flops and they all have nice shoes on. They probably think I walked out of the house with my house shoes on. They happen to be the most comfortable shoes I have.
Loving the Metro!
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Still Weaning
I know I wrote a year or more ago about the weaning process. Micah is ten years old now. I have been working on weaning him for the past year or so. But today I found myself enjoying the closeness so much that I thought about just forgetting about the process all together. I love snuggling with Micah.
Well before you get all grossed out, let me also add that I am not talking about breast feeding my 10 year old son. I went over that on my blog here I am talking about his mole habit. Since he was a baby he has held a mole on my neck. It is his security comfort. So today, he was feeling sick and he reached for the mole. I have been trying to stop him from having the mole during the day and only letting him hold it at bedtime for comfort. But today I just let him hold it and enjoyed the closeness again.
Micah is a very cuddly person. He likes to be touching. If he sits next to me, he sits so that we are touching. Touch is his love language. Touch is not my love language. In fact, I feel hot when someone touches me. So for me to let him touch me, I have to be in a good mood. If I am irritated, I make him move away. But it makes him feel bad. But the mole is a different thing. He can hold it and I like to feel his fingers on my neck. He loves that silly mole so much. He likes to look at it, or kiss it, or just rub his arm on it. I know, weird. I looked online to see if there are others who have a mole obsession and they do. The only difference is that usually they stop before they are 10.
Well before you get all grossed out, let me also add that I am not talking about breast feeding my 10 year old son. I went over that on my blog here I am talking about his mole habit. Since he was a baby he has held a mole on my neck. It is his security comfort. So today, he was feeling sick and he reached for the mole. I have been trying to stop him from having the mole during the day and only letting him hold it at bedtime for comfort. But today I just let him hold it and enjoyed the closeness again.
Micah is a very cuddly person. He likes to be touching. If he sits next to me, he sits so that we are touching. Touch is his love language. Touch is not my love language. In fact, I feel hot when someone touches me. So for me to let him touch me, I have to be in a good mood. If I am irritated, I make him move away. But it makes him feel bad. But the mole is a different thing. He can hold it and I like to feel his fingers on my neck. He loves that silly mole so much. He likes to look at it, or kiss it, or just rub his arm on it. I know, weird. I looked online to see if there are others who have a mole obsession and they do. The only difference is that usually they stop before they are 10.
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