Let's Fall in Love

Some songs stay stuck in your head for a long time.

This is a funny song that I had to post just before Valentine's Day.

Imagining those 'educated fleas', 'lazy jelly fish', and 'electric eels' always puts us into fits of laughter.

 

 

 

Lets Do It

 

Birds do it, bees do it
Even educated fleas do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

In Spain, the best upper sets do it

Lithuanians and Letts do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it
Not to mention the Finns
Folks in Siam do it - think of Siamese twins

Some Argentines, without means, do it
People say in Boston even beans do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Romantic sponges, they say, do it
Oysters down in oyster bay do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Cold Cape Cod clams, 'gainst their wish, do it
Even lazy jellyfish, do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

Electric eels I might add do it
Though it shocks em I know
Why ask if shad do it - Waiter bring me
"shad roe"

In shallow shoals English soles do it
Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it
Let's do it, let's fall in love

 

You may want to hear Ella Fitzgerald smile as she sings this song at the link below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2bvcKvMEMA

 

For Chiyutai

Dear Chiyutai,

Suddenly you are so big, my pet,

And don’t want to be kissed –

In public and in private.

Those moments are now missed –

When you plonked on my lap with your chubby bums

And ate up my face with toothless gums.

You laid my long hair on your eyelids

To shield them from the light’s glow.

I don’t want to tell you this –  

But perhaps you already know.

That I still kiss you goodnight

When you are sleeping tight.

 

 

 

Look Who's Cooking

Anita: 
He thinks I cannot make good tea. So if we are expecting guests, he brews the tea and keeps the cups ready. He tells me to bring the tea tray in when the guests have arrived to seem as if I made it.

Nupur: 
How I wish my husband could only make tea!

Suchita: 
Before my marriage, I couldn't even boil potatoes! My husband taught me how to cook step by step. Now I can cook five course dinners.

Prema: 
When I am sick, my mother-in-law calls up and asks my kids if I did the cooking, if their father cooked, or whether we ordered food from outside. My kids reply that I have cooked and gone to sleep. 
My husband is an only son and cannot cook at all.


Ananya: 
When I was sick, I was rolling out chappatis. My mother-in-law came to see me and was annoyed. She said, "Why are you making chappatis when you are ill, my dear? I have taught my son to make chappatis. You should let him do the cooking and take some rest".

 

A Favourite Poem

Kaija chose a humorous poem for the Class IV project on favourite poems.
She copied it on a sheet in her best handwriting.
It was a poem by Clive Webster and went like this:

Pretty Parents

Dad's got tattoos on his chest

But he's not as bad as mum.

She's got the most embarrassing -

She's got tattoos on her bum.

Kaija drew pictures of a dad and mum with their respective tattoos under the poem.
Then she wrote, "I like this poem because the last sentence is so funny - that the mum has tattoos on her bum. I wish my mum had them too."

 

Bead by Bead

“He’s so young and handsome,” thought the apprentice nurse as she dressed his wounds. It was a bad accident.

The doctors said they would cut off life support if he did not show the slightest physical movement in a week. She put her prayer beads around his ring-less fingers and willed him to live and love.

Every day when the doctors came, she had nothing new to report. On Thursday, she watched as a doctor felt his pulse. Then they both saw it together. A finger slowly moved a bead. And then another. She gave a deep sigh and dreamed.

 

(A story in 100 words based on the true story of a young man from Vasai who worked in the Middle East.)

 

Forever and one day more...

The first time our eyes met and melted

We knew that this was forever

Although we were strangers.

...

With golden rings on wedded fingers

We uncovered pleasures hitherto unknown

As dusk blushed into night.

...

Our arguments raged

The cause forgotten

Yet through it all we mutually belonged.

...

This morning you pushed away my curls

As I traced your stubble

And you said something that made my heart sing.

 

 

 

A Long Silence

Dear Readers, I apologise for my long silence.

Thanks to those who read this blog regularly and prodded me about this silence with gentle reminders to write. Thanks to those who waited patiently for a new post and turned away disappointed.

I lost a good friend recently and I was in mourning.

We had a lot in common – she and I.

As we progress in understanding the world around us, we develop a sense of humour that is not shared by all. We click with those people who laugh at the same jokes. There are not many friends who share this quality with us. We treasure these friendships. To lose one such friend creates a vacuum which takes time to fill.

Most of us define our existence in relation to the people around us.

When we lose someone close, it feels as if a part of ourselves has gone numb.

.....

This was the first Facebook death I have seen since I started using social networking.

My friend read this blog regularly and gave me feedback. She will not read these posts anymore. That hurts.

For a while it had put me off all kinds of interaction on the internet. I shunned looking at the computer screen. My PC gathered dust in the living room corner. However, what bothered me most is that I couldn’t write. Not that I am a celebrity writer or anything but writing makes me feel worthwhile.

You have all ‘willed’ me back to this blog.

Many thanks.