Category Archives: Indian

The Indian man

I love going to the asian market. Here is a convo from my last visit:

Scenario: I am trying to find this tea that my Nepali neighbors drink. I have many options. I grab what I think is the proper box and proceed to roam each and every isle until I find someone who I think is from the India region to confirm my soon to be purchase. Three isles later, I spot a man who has a red dot in between his eyes. My assumption…Indian.

Me: Excuse me sir, are you Indian?
Sir: (with quickie-mart accent) Yes I am.
Me: I was wondering if this was the kind of tea you guys drink. I have neighbors from Nepali and I want to make the tea yall drink with the cardamom and milk and sugar.
Sir: Oh yes. It is! This is the good one. How do you know it is? Because when you shake it (as he shakes the box next to his ear)- it makes noise. This means it’s the good one. It is the leaf. If you get one and shake it and it makes no noise then its the powder. You don’t want that one. It is not good. This is the good one. 
Me: So if you were to buy the tea then this is the one you would get? Do you get this kind?
Sir: Yes. You have to shake it though (shaking the box) and if it makes noise then it is the leaf. You got the right one.
Me: Thank you!
Sir: No problem.

I love the asian market.

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She didn’t smell like curry

Yes. I am at the library. The library that I am at looks nothing like the picture above which is in Dublin. My library looks new and smells new and has a bunch of Korean’s and middle aged stay at home moms with their children in it. There is no character and it smells clean. I would rather it look like the picture above. Bailey is looking through a Peter Rabbit book as I sit in the corner blogging, looking like a terrible mother…or wait…I could pretend to be the babysitter. 🙂 Bailey just called me mommy. I have been found out.

So I am at the library because, well, I don’t have internet at my house.  I was bumming internet from a lovely Motorola but yesterday, when I tried to get online, I realized that Motorola was no longer there. So. I don’t have internet. I think this is a good thing. Well, its quite terrible but maybe I need this time.

I am currently listening to a mom negotiate why her 5 year old can check out 4 books but her friend can check out 6 because the friend is going on vacation next week (lucky brat) and the she will get Lindsey’s books. The girl said, “NO!”. The mom then told her that she can get one more if she can find one in one minute. The girl is crying saying she can’t find a beautiful one. The mom is now helping her. That child needs to be spanked. The mother needs to read some Dobson.

There is the cutest little Indian girl, about 2 years old who keeps coming over to me saying, “Bub-ull. Bub-ull”. I am chewing gum and she saw me blow a bubble. Her mom, behind me, said that they just read a book about chewing gum. She is a doll so I keep blowing bubbles with my tiny, old piece of Trident. She has little pink earrings, a pink and black dress, and some flip flops that look like boys flip flops. She has short hair which is half up in a side ponytail. Her teeth are cute and spaced and she is def. a thumb sucker due to the protrusion of E and F (I learned stuff from my previous dental career).

Bailey is running around with a boy who is about 6 and has red hair and eyelashes. He keeps trying to get her to chase him. and she is. He sat down by her and she said to him, “Quit following me!”. That’s my girl.

Alrighty. It’s time for home. Last week was a bit rough. I realized that some pages of a story aren’t always exciting. I am learning some good lessons now. I will not look the same 6 months from now. That makes me smile and at the same time makes me realize that a lot is going to have to happen in order to look as differently as I hope. Pray for me. Thank you for being a good friend if you have been a good friend:)  Peace.