And then you’ve been ready with your ‘I told you sos’.
Obsessivemom needs a break
And then you’ve been ready with your ‘I told you sos’.

Notes from an almost-empty-nester
There really is something special about a first time.
This year I did it again but without half the enthusiasm. I managed a spot registration just a day before the run and went in without any preparation at all.
I won’t even go into the reasons for the lack of enthusiasm that seems to of late, cloud almost all things I used to love. The important part is that I did manage to push myself to complete 5kms. The moment the first warm up Zumba song rang out I knew I was going to have fun, even though I was sorely missing my last year’s buddy who has since moved to a different country.
I have to say this – Ladies, if your city hosts the Pinkathon go for it at least once. It offers a valuable message: Choose a healthy lifestyle, do not ignore your fitness, make time for it. That’s something most women are likely to forget, specially once the kids come along.
If that doesn’t pull you in, go for the fun of it. It’s a party out there. The Pinkathon is like the happiest, most amazing carnival ever. Women of all shapes and sizes run this marathon. Heck! you don’t even need to run – a jog or a walk is good enough. It is currently hosted in 8 Indian cities – Pune, Bombay, Delhi, Chennai, Ahmedabad, Guwahati, Bangalore and Hyderabad.
I would have liked to go for 10 Kms like I’d resolved last year but that didn’t happen. However, since I’d been walking/jogging on and off, this was quite effortless. Last year it marked the culmination of my fitness efforts, this year I am hoping it marks the start of it.
Oh and did I mention the brand ambassador remains hot as ever? Well he does.
Here are some pictures from the event.
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| Brand Ambassador Milind Soman takes the stage. Please note how dark it was when the event began. Waking up early was the toughest part. |
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| The cancer survivor ‘sheroes’ being felicitated. They ran the 5kms with us. |
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| The young ones… |
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| …and the old. |
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| The royally dressed up ‘dholwalahs’ |
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| Our flagoff by the man himself. |
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| The sari brigade |
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| On the trampoline just for fun. |
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| After the run |
As we walked around we spotted a bunch of people hard at work. A gentleman approached us and introduced himself as Kumar. Before we knew it he had handed the kids plastic containers and they were following him around watering plants, looking at birding ‘nests’ hung up on trees and listening intently as he chatted on about afforestation and the need to spend time with trees.
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| THAT’S HOW IT’S DONE |
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| HARD AT WORK |
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| UGH! PLASTIC |
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| INVITING THE BIRDS |
I was a little taken aback because I had not planned on making this a regular affair at all. “Once a week,” I offered tentatively.
“Twice,” he said. “Make it twice and see the difference in the children, in their eating habits, sleeping habits and in the way they perceive nature”.
They found a tiny man-made pool….
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| HOW DEEP RUN THE WATERS? |
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| ROCK A BYE BABY 🙂 |
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| FOREST TREASURES: SOME MAN MADE SOME NATURAL |
We intend to keep going there. Twice a week remains our aim. With Diwali vacations round the corner it’ll be a regular haunt.
NOTE TO SELF: Look around more often. Explore the ‘dead ends’. Step out more. Look for the greens – a garden, a park or (if I’m lucky) a forest. There just may be more green treasures waiting to be discovered.
That’s quite how my memories are stored – here there and all over the place – the good ones and the bad ones all mixed together so it is almost impossible to separate the two. When I pick one up another one comes dangling along and I have no idea which one it might be. A small inconsequential one, might be jumbled up with a large important one like an inane remark someone made years ago at an office party, or the clothes a friend wore a decade ago at a school social or some random interaction at the bus-stop between two people I don’t even know.
Then along comes someone and I begin to dig into this chaos to find something to say. If that someone is a mere acquaintance I’d be tiptoeing around in my head thinking ‘which is a safe memory I can share?’. The conversation will be stilted at best.
However if it’s a friend, I pull them all out pell-mell without worrying. The conversation then comes spilling forth, without a pause, one thing leading to another, stories, thoughts, feelings, emotions all together. And if you’re my kind of friend you’ll probably be doing the same till we’re struggling to get in a word, completing each others sentences, agreeing and disagreeing vehemently, laughing hard, probably annoying people around us and then wondering where the time went.
If we were having coffee … I’d tell you how wonderful sisters were. I’d tell you about the marvellous week I just spent with mine. Then after I realised how I’d gone on and on about what a rare treat it was to have S here and what a terrible pity it was that we did not live together, I’d probably ask you about yours. I’d enjoy listening to you because I’d find us in your sister-tales. Then you and I together would shake our heads in amazement, wondering how little sisters went from being complete pains when they were young to such soul mates when they grew up.
If we were having coffee … I’d probably complain a bit, for which coffee session is complete without some grumbling? I’d grouse about how H decided to fall ill just as S landed and kept us housebound much of the time. But then I’d also tell you about those endless chat sessions we could indulge in talking, arguing, agreeing sometimes and agreeing to disagree at others.
If we were having coffee … I’d moan about not being able to catch The Intern together as we’d planned. But then I’d also tell you about the film we did manage to watch on the tele. And I’d tell you how we sprawled on the ground laughing together as she wiped off imaginary sweat from microwaving popcorn.
If we were having coffee … I’d share with you what fun it was to team up with her to tease the twins. And I’d tell you how we almost choked on our food laughing at them as they got more and more worked up.
If we were having coffee … I’d tell you about our coffee shop adventure – how we drove away from at least four of them till we found one that was suitably empty. And then laughed at our penchant for brink-of-bankruptcy coffee shops that nobody else went to.
If we were having coffee … I’d probably seem in a bit of a rush now that she’s gone and all the tasks that seemed so inconsequential till she was here suddenly seem to rush up and inundate me with their urgency. Yet I’d sit down for that cup of coffee because I need a bit of comforting and I’d be consoled with your presence. Then I’d send up a thank-you prayer for a family full of friends and friends who have turned into family.
What would you share if we were having coffee?