Sunday, March 05, 2006

Getting centimental




















Dear Marc, this letter is special. It is the 100th I write to you. The standing is now100 – 0. Perhaps this should be enough to make me stop writing you, but it’s become a habit I find it hard to kick.

Today’s current affairs include Bush’s visit to India, dragonfly sex and Joel.

We didn’t notice much about the presidential visit. I was most impressed by his arrival. 3 identical airplanes landed in Hyderabad yesterday. Which hosted Mr. Bush? It was like a game of Magical Cups or whatever you call it, that old street game invented to fool tourists off their money.

The Bush visit also reminded me of his old speech about ”smoking terrorists out of their holes”. The Indian heat did the same to us, smoked us out of our inexpensive cabin and blew us in the direction of a more expensive, AC equipped hotel with pool. Mom, if you’re reading this, we’re OK despite the heat. Don’t worry.

We all sleep better here, and this morning I took a swim under the coconut trees, while tropical birds and butterflies flew over my head. I also saw a couple of mating dragonflies, which added interest to my swimming. I admire how the dragonflies add flight to the exhausting act of insect sex. No wonder their lives are so short.

















Then I had breakfast and read an Indian magazine called New Woman. There was an interesting article on female sexuality. It stated that women who don’t orgasm might go insane or explode. Do dragonflies reach climax? Or do they explode? Perhaps a majority of female dragonflies are insane, what do I know?

Then I had coffee and Anders showed up with Joel. Joel is 10 months old now and he’s going through a period of serious mom attachment. Perhaps it’s a combination of us moving out of our house, going to India and cutting him off the milk. It seems likely. He’s most happy if he’s in my arms.

Every morning I go to my yoga class. On returning I see my son happily playing with his dad and sister. But after catching just one glimpse of me, he starts to cry. Anders calls it a classic case of the Stockholm syndrome, since Joel will accept and even like his oppressor until he sees his usual caretaker.

Isn’t it typical that Joel should be hit with the Stockholm syndrome during the 6 weeks we’re out of Stockholm? I wonder if there is a Kerala syndrome. Perhaps there is one, I imagine it would involve an urge to be living on a houseboat. Or goats or elephants like the ones behind our hotel.

































Right now, the poor kidnappee is taking a short kiddie nap, wearing a nappy. I’m not kidding.
Love 100 times

-e

Ps. Oh, this was the real reason for writing:
I have Joel in my lap while feeding him porridge and mashed vegetables. He has only 6 teeth, undeveloped motoric skills and poor table manners. As a result, all my clothes are marked with mashed vegetables and porridge.

No woman wants to walk around looking like a dirt tablecloth. So my question today is: Would you consider making a pretty dress our of waxed cloth, Teflon or rain cloth? Thank you!

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

dear emi,

i know what u are passing trough...i breastfeed my baby boy until he was 1 year and six montns old. was a nightmare taking out the milk... i think i suffered more than the labor and delivery thing.
he cried days and days, he slapped me and said i hate u...thanks god its over.... but now he is 2 years old and 2 months ans still ask me everiday for the breastfeeding...so good lucky to you!!!!stay calm!

kisses

from Denise

Unknown said...

Glad to see your camera's working again!

Anonymous said...

http://www.janemag.com/fashion/articles/2006/02/20/marcjacobsarticle

Unknown said...

I'm dying for a new Vanja dress! ;)

Anonymous said...

" Joel will accept and even like his oppressor until he sees his usual caretaker" hahaha! you are the best emi. kram kram

Victoria said...

I have been reading your blog for a few weeks now, and I want you to know I really enjoy it. I love your sense of humor and the simplicity in which you write.
:O)
Victoria