The Cover contest

It's finally here! my book cover design! but good things come in fours, apparently.

so now I have four designs to choose from. And I'm horrible at decisions. So I'm going the desi way. Delegate. I'm throwing the decision open to the public. You, yes you, dear reader will get to have a say on the book's cover design. How slick is that, eh? (and less decisions for me). 

I promise one lucky winner a signed copy of the Book and a baby hamper (that would be a hamper with baby stuff in it, not with a baby in it, just to clarify.), as is the norm in these kind of contests. All you have to do is use the poll at the end of this post to vote for your favourite option. 

The contest is open for a fortnight, at the end of which the final cover design shall be revealed. (or, I shall be forced to make a decision due to a lack of responses *shudder*)

So without further ado, introducing The Book Covers:

OPTION 1:

OPTION 2:

OPTION 3:

OPTION 4:

You might notice that a couple of covers have Rajni 'Arjun'Kumar down as the author. Don't let that throw you or in any way Bias you. I assure you, my surname is not changing any time soon. Even if my publisher thinks I ought to be re-christened. 

PS: If you're wondering how I'm going to pick a winner, it's simple. I shall throw paper chits with all your names into the waste basket. The ones that miss the basket make it through to the next round, where the basket shall be moved an inch closer, and paper shall be tossed again. After much paper -tossing and basket moving, a winner shall be declared. Much like reality shows on the telly. Neat, huh? 

Late Start

...we are what you'd call 'late bloomers'. Maybe we get the seven-year-itch three years later. 

The Mother of all Books: Everything you wanted to know...

...about the book! Well, not everything, You'd need to buy the book for that, you cheeky thing, but it's a start.

Right, so my book is being published. 'Great!' they say. 'But what is it about?' they ask.
Well, the book is about life, mostly. My life experiences. With the Baa Lamb. With Pickwick. (The Holy Terror wasn't in the picture yet). Our experiences as we stumble though parenthood. And finding our sense of humor along the way.
So here's the first of the comic strips describing our many experiences with this book release.

A typical conversation between Sense and the Baa-Lamb

The long road to Heaven

Well, I'm back from my holiday. I ought to feel refreshed. Alive. Invigorated. And I did. Until the plane ride back home. You see, Nice may be a wonderful place to vacation, but who would've though that getting there would be a challenge? Did someone sign me up for the 'Amazing Race' when I wasn't looking? When we planned this holiday, it was supposed to be a straight flight to nice and we'd be sipping Pina Coladas on the beach in no time. World economics and airline buyouts later, we were now headed to Nice  with a stopover in Frankfurt. Still, not the end of the world. We can handle it. The day of the trip dawns and in the flurry of last minute packing I hear the news that the airline staff has called a flash strike at Frankfurt! Noooooo!

Still, the ever resourceful Baa-lamb manages to speak to the airline and we will now take off some hours later with a stop over in Munich. Ha to you, Airline! Righty-ho... Nice, je viens! Sadly, lack of foresight on my part and lack of vegetarian meals in the flight meant that the holy terror (that is what we are calling the younger of the two offspring) was tired and hungry and she wasn't going to take it lying down. at one point, I thought the plane was going down, since she was quite determined to shatter the windows. We finally staggered into Golfe Juan at 2am in the morning. 

The next day, at a fairly sharpish hour in the morning (yes, the holy terror does keep unGodly hours), after a decent breakfast (and a minor mishap which saw the baa-lamb trapped in the lift for a goodish three-quarters of an hour), we contemplated the day's plan. By general consensus we decided to hit the beach 

Toddling off to the beach

The boats at the port

A storm approaches

Right, beach done, the afternoon was begging for a visit to Eze. Eze is a medieval village situated atop a hill, with the Jardin botanique d'Èze crowning it. The view from the top alone was worth the trek up twice (yes, once up carrying the holy terror, and then, having made the mistake of planting her on the ground, once more after chasing after her)

symmetry

Cactii

The view from Eze

Clear seas as far as the eye can see

I know, I should stop with the butterflies

One of the many wonderful art galleries

My plans for a lie-in were foiled second day in a row when this time, just to mix things up, it was Pickwick who was up bright and 'oily. Right, since we were already up, a drive down to St Tropez was the order of the day. I've already marked out the little villa along the coast I want to buy. Just awaiting the Euromillions win now:)

blue skies and blue seas

Day 4: *yawn* wasn't this supposed to be my holiday? Where are my lie-ins? Even the sun was taking a break today! Dragging self out of bed, the baa-lamb consults a train time table over coffee. Today we would cover Monaco and Ventimiglia in Italy (When on holiday with the Baa-Lamb, leave the planing to him.)

The Beach at Ventimiglia

  

more of the beach

Monaco

Ah. The final day of our hols. I have promptly sent the Baa-lamb to the beach with the brats. I finally get my lie-in. 

The less said about the return, the better. The bally airline decides to call a strike again- this time in Munich! after threatening to offload us in Munich and keeping us on tenterhooks, the flight finally took off, hours later. This time, we were well prepared and the holy terror was out like a light, but the two other babies in the flight hadn't read the memo. They more than made up for the deficiency in decibels emanating from the vicinity of our seat. *sigh* I need another vacation. 

Loo Blues

It’s now more than five years since we moved to this city. That is the longest I’ve stayed in one place after my marriage. We are so accustomed to moving around that Pickwick still keeps asking me ‘When are me moving to a new house, Mummy?’  He thinks it’s perfectly normal to move houses like one upgrades mobile phones.

For me this has now become my second home. Not yet my first love, but more like a happy crush one thinks fondly of. But when we came here the whole thing was a bit of a culture shock.  Tiny things, that make you realise that you’re from a completely different world. Take loos for example. Yes, Loos. We wash. Here, they wipe. No really, I don’t get it. Do you say ‘Gee, I’m all sweaty. Let me wad up a bunch of paper towels, wipe my armpits, and a quick dab all over, and Voila! I’m all clean’? NO? Then how the hell is it okay to do that for arses? And there is no concept of floor drains in loos.  How the hell are you supposed to wash the floors of the loos?  And we’re supposed to be the third world country??

Speaking of washing, we, that is, us Indians are obsessed with bathrooms. We need more bathrooms. When we first came here, we went looking for places to rent. The estate agent showed us plenty of houses, mansions even with 5 bedrooms, a reception room, a dining room a conservatory  and one, yes, ONE  bathroom and ONE toilet! I mean what is it with these guys? Don’t they ever need a shower? Oh yes, I forget – all they need is paper towels.

image courtesy:origami-resource-center.com

I still remember my grandmum used to freak  out when she came to houses with  bathtubs. She was used to, well, wells and rivers and such. So when I explained the concept of a bathtub to her, she went ‘chee!  You lie around fermenting in your own juices? That’s DISGUSTING!’ (This is a loose translation for her words from Tamil.  The literal translation would have be banned from blog sites) Thank God I didn’t have to explain toilet papers to her, she would have disowned me.

We have recently invested in a small apartment in India. We are delighted with it. When people ask us about it, we say, ‘Oh, it’s not much, it’s just a 2 BHK, and the proportions are quite small but it’s got TWO BATHROOMS!’

Ballooning in the Cotswolds

"A place of outstanding natural beauty" the tourist blurb says. Well, I was about to find out.
The Cotswolds aren't too far away to drive from London. Took us about a couple of hours to get there, and straightaway, you know that the information brochure does not lie. It was like I was transported back in time. There isn't even 3G in this place! But what it did have was ballooning - and weather Gods permitting, we were about to take off, after eleven unsuccessful attempts at praying for decent weather over weekends.
The snaps simply don't do justice to the amazing beauty we witnessed during the ride.

Hot air to get the basket upright. We then had to scamper in real quick before we were untethered from the station wagon

Looks like an image from Google maps, doesn't it?

Clear skies with visibility right up to the sea!

Keeping us alight

One of the most beautiful sunsets I've seen....

We were treated to a spectacular show by Mother Nature

The man, the moment, all very moving.

We Landed in a field - in the middle of nowhere.  The  pilot had to signal  the balloon chaser (yes, that is his profession, I'm not making this up) with giant flames shooting up into the night sky to guide him. Don't even ask how we packed the balloon up!

who knew landing the balloon and packing up would be more adventurous than the balloon ride itself!

The heart of London

So I attended this photography course over the wee

kend. And all in all it was pretty neat. Most of all it reminded me what was so amazing about the city of London. There we were, right in the heart of the city, and this is what we spotted:

No idea what that contained, but what a pretty colour.

Tre

k

k

ie moment

My attempt at creating movement.

Hail-O, halo

Atmosphere

A heron with a Mohawk