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i don’t share well

September 18, 2015

I think Maya’s caught on to the fact that I do not like to share.

Especially not my food.

Not even with my 10-year-old child.

I know this because she’s been testing me.

I miss London...

I miss London…

Yesterday, for example, we were at lunch, and the instant my salad arrived she asked (with a sly smile) if she could have one of the 5 tiny shrimp that dotted my plate.

Here’s what I wanted to say:

No you cannot have a shrimp. Because you have an enormous burger and fries right in front of you that you’ve barely made a dent in.


Love the Canary Wharf area.

Ali and I get along better than normal there.

And since this $20 salad is the size of my fist, and I will most definitely be hungry 5 minutes after consuming it, and I don’t eat red meat and thus can’t have a bite of your burger, and I try to avoid french fries and thus can’t have some of your fries, I really do not want to give you one of my precious shrimp.

I hope you understand.


Love the Canary Wharf area.

Luckily I shut my big mouth, counted backwards from ten, and then said: “I suppose.”

So yes I lecture her constantly about sharing her toys and food and whatever else. And yes I’m being rather hypocritical and selfish by not sharing myself.

But sometimes I just have nothing left to give and all I want are my 5 sad, overpriced little shrimp.


Not sure why I have such a big head in this picture (literally, not figuratively).

Not sure why I have such a big head in this picture (literally, not figuratively).

I hope that doesn’t make me a terrible person. But if it does?

I suppose I can live with that.

Chipotle in Paris

September 4, 2015

I love Instagram, but will admit that I (like many others) often only share the highlights of my day (mostly good food that I do not cook).

Rarely do you see a picture of my not-so-great moments. But trust me – there are many.

So in keeping with my attempts to keep this blog honest, I thought it would be nice to share some of the not-so-great moments of our trip to Paris last week:

  • Maya refused to speak in French which was a huge part of the reason we planned the trip.
  • After threatening her with her life she finally came up with one sentence, and I believe it had something to do with requesting more guacamole.
  • At Chipotle.
  • Judge me as you wish – I deserve it for letting her eat Chipotle in Paris. But I just didn’t have any more fight left in me.


  • Ali discovered Google Translate’s camera function and spent the trip obsessively holding his phone up against everything saying, “Can I translate that for you?”
  • I wanted to throw his phone into the Seine.
  • Until I needed Google Translate’s camera function to figure out if my prepackaged salad had cheese in it.
  • Yes, I ate a prepackaged salad as I enviously watched Maya devour her tacos.
  • Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such strong principles.
At the Baccarat museum. Which apparently only I enjoyed.

At the Baccarat museum. Which apparently only I enjoyed.

  • It rained and was freezing cold for the duration of our trip. Until the morning we left, of course, at which point it was sunny and 85 degrees.
  • Because of the rain we did a lot of indoor things including a visit to the beautiful Baccarat museum where Ali and Maya yawned incessantly.
  • Maya said she wanted to see the Mona Lisa instead, at which point Ali declared the Mona Lisa “a waste of time.”
  • Honestly, I don’t understand the appeal of the Mona Lisa either so I didn’t fight him (unusual for me). Feel free to judge me again.


I won’t bother to bullet point the status of my hair on the trip (frizzy thanks to the rain), another minor bout of food poisoning (must stop eating smoked salmon), or my constant nagging that Ali and Maya pick up their s@#$ so I stop tripping all over it.

In conclusion I have to admit that I love the escapism of Instagram as much as the next person. But sometimes it’s nice to put things into perspective. Yes?


4 potatoes

August 21, 2015

Since arriving in London two weeks ago, my scone consumption has spiked to record highs and I’ve been eating jam straight up with a spoon.

(If I’m being honest, I actually eat jam with a spoon outside of London too. I began this classy habit as an attempt to replace my chocolate habit and now I’m not sure which one is worse.)


Anyway, in an effort to regain control over the scones and jam, I decided to make a carb-free, sugar-free dinner a few nights ago.

Unfortunately I had no choice but to ask Ali to pick up some potatoes (an acceptable carb in my book) at Marks & Spencer, because Maya and I couldn’t get there before they closed (because we were eating scones, of course).


Me: Can you pick up baking potatoes on your way home? They come four in a bag.

Ali: Four what?

Me: Four potatoes.

Ali: In a box?

Me: No, in a BAG. A BAG.

Ali: Hmm. I’ll FaceTime you from Marks.


At this point I should have given up. But in lieu of quitting I decided to employ sarcasm instead.

Me: No, don’t FaceTime me. Or call me. Or text me. As a matter of fact, I won’t look at my phone for the next hour. You can navigate Marks & Spencer. I know you can! Come home with the potatoes. Or not. Either way I can’t talk about it for one more second.


Guess what happened?

  • Ali brought home 4 potatoes.
  • In a bag.
  • I didn’t get a call asking me any questions.
  • I didn’t get a text asking me any questions.
  • He didn’t FaceTime me.
  • I made homemade fries and scrambled eggs. And they were fabulous.

A happy ending for a change?

dirty laundry

August 12, 2015

Last week, while in Los Angeles, Ali received a Fedex from Florida containing his laundry.

Confused? Well so am I.

Sporting Virgin Atlantic's matching pajamas. And good hair!

On our way to London, sporting Virgin Atlantic’s matching pajamas. And good hair for a change!

Here’s what I know:

  • Supposedly another woman didn’t send these items.
  • Apparently Ali forgot his dirty clothes while at one of his ubiquitous conferences, and the Hilton in Orlando so kindly forwarded them along. At their own expense.
  • Not only did the Hilton forward his abandoned laundry, but they CLEANED everything first. At their own expense.
Walking around after eating A TON of Indian food at Masala Zone.

Walking around after eating A TON of Indian food at Masala Zone.

I also know that since Ali’s Fedex delivery, my husband has left additional dirty clothes in Los Angeles and a few pieces in New York (he was there about 24 hours).

We are now in London, where there are piles of identical khaki’s, all of questionable dry cleaning status, EVERYWHERE.

A trip to the involved a taxi driver that nearly killed us all and an almost missed train back to London.

A trip to the countryside…it involved a taxi driver that nearly killed us all and an almost missed train back to London.

I have loads of questions, a few doubts, and lots of complaints (of course) but in order to minimize your boredom, I will just say this:

I have so much love for the Orlando Hilton. So much love.

vegas trip

July 30, 2015

It should come as no shock that I’m allergic to last-minute deviations from Routine and Established Schedules.

That’s why both Maya and I are still so surprised that I randomly decided to take her to Las Vegas this past weekend.

Outside of Caesar's was 105 degrees!

Outside of Caesar’s Palace…it was 105 degrees!

I’m not sure why I did it.

Especially since my lack of planning led to ridiculously high airfare and hotel rates, which troubles the Indian in me to no end.

Also, I’m sure I don’t need to delve into my anxiety regarding airplane travel + Maya’s motion sickness.

The view from our room at the Bellagio.

The view from our room at the Bellagio.

But for once I just wanted to be the fun parent (which I admittedly am NEVER).

— I let her stay up until whenever.

— I fed her gelato knowing she’d get a stomach ache. (This after my sweet cousins took her to M&M World, the Hershey’s store, and fed her caramel popcorn.)

We went swimming at the hotel pool, which was amazing.

We went swimming at the hotel pool, which was amazing.

— I took her to the Cirque du Soleil Michael Jackson show and then to dinner at the shocking hour of 9:30 pm.

— I even threw caution to the wind, bought myself a glass of orange juice for $7.50, and shared some with Maya (I’m very much opposed to kids drinking juice – a post for another day).

In the Bellagio lobby.

In the Bellagio lobby.

But by Sunday afternoon I was tapped out. I couldn’t answer even ONE MORE OF HER QUESTIONS.

So I did what any respectable parent would do: I handed her the iPad (which I am also very much opposed to) at the Las Vegas airport and told her that “Mama’ s going to close her eyes for a little while.”

I guess the moral of the story is that there is a place in my world for orange juice, the iPad, and a bit of spontaneity. Everything in moderation I suppose?


flying solo

July 14, 2015

In about an hour I will be boarding yet another flight to Los Angeles.


This is because Maya is already in LA, and Ali is currently at a resort in Florida doing”work.”

I have mixed feelings about this journey:


– I didn’t have to pack for anyone except MYSELF. And since everything I own is black this took about 5 minutes.

Packing for one....

Packing for one….

– I calmly hailed a cab on the early side, and thanks to TSA Pre-Check, I had time to write this post.

– Maya is not with me and thus I am not on vomit-watch.

– Ali is not with me and thus I am not on technology-watch (his favorite thing to do is to FaceTime the second the flight crew makes an announcement that the doors are now closed).


– Maya and Ali are not with me.

It took an hour to get to the airport thanks to traffic and rain. But I didn't mind because I wasn't on vomit-watch....

It took an hour to get to the airport thanks to traffic and rain. But I didn’t mind because I wasn’t worried about anyone getting car sick…


So they both drive me absolutely bananas – if they didn’t this blog wouldn’t exist.

But the last few solo weeks in NYC have made me realize that when I don’t have to manage their lives I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF.

How sad is that?

I’m thinking I’ll use the next 6 hours and 36 minutes to investigate the possibility of a new hobby….


July 10, 2015

Each time I leave Los Angeles I think, “There are so many pretty girls here. I should really make more of an effort.”

My trip a few weeks ago was no exception, and I returned to NYC thinking:

– I really need to buy some makeup.

– I should stop being lazy and get a professional to regularly blow dry my hair.

– Maybe I should go shopping? It wouldn’t kill me to wear a dress once in a while.


Stopped by Saks...bought nothing but took this pretty picture...

Stopped by Saks…bought nothing but took this pretty picture…

And so, all full of inspiration and motivation (plus it’s Ramadan and I have nothing BUT time), I set aside a few hours last weekend to do all of the above. Here’s what happened:

I stepped into Sephora. I immediately felt overwhelmed. I asked an employee to direct me to the lipsticks with the fewest chemicals. She vaguely pointed to the opposite end of the store. I walked a mile through mascara feeling more overwhelmed. I tried on a few lipsticks praying that people didn’t double dip. Everything seemed garish on me. I needed an expert but couldn’t find anyone available to help. I decided to stick with my $2.99 Eos lip balm.

Conclusion: I tabled the makeup for another day.

I decided to get my hair done. But then I realized I had nowhere important to go, and the humidity would surely ruin any attempts to tame my frizz. Did it make sense to subject my hair to such torture? Do girls get their hair done just because? Should I take the $50 and buy books instead?

Conclusion: I tabled the DryBar visit for another day. And went to Barnes & Noble.

Stopped in Rockefeller Center...bought nothing but lots of people and pretty palm trees....

Stopped at Rockefeller Center…bought nothing but encountered lots of people and pretty palm trees….

I went shopping. I hit Bloomingdale’s and after what seemed like hours I finally found a cute Vince shirt. It wasn’t a dress but it contained color so it seemed like an acceptable substitute. I couldn’t get myself to pay $325 for it though so I hung it back up. I found a pair of Theory pants that fit perfectly. I loved them. They were black. I decided I needed another pair of black pants like a hole in the head.

Conclusion: I tabled the clothes shopping for another day.

I decided to look for a new bag instead. Something low-key. One that didn’t scream a logo. I found a bag fairly quickly! I wondered if I’d found the bag too soon. Was I settling? Should I look at other stores? I tried it on 50 different times. I carried it around the store as I contemplated. I nearly pulled out a pen to write a list of pros and cons.

Conclusion: I bought the bag.

My new, hands-free bag...

My new, hands-free bag…don’t let my hair fool you in this picture. As soon as I stepped outside and into the humidity I could see it in my peripheral vision…

I’m hoping my new bag will help camouflage the circles under my eyes, the melasma that seems to get worse each day (the dermatologist said I can thank Maya for this lovely gift), my hair (I have no words in this humidity), and my all-black, all-the-time ensembles.

I’m headed to L.A. again in a few days so maybe more inspiration is in store?

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