There’s a Bow on This Blog Post – by Hetal

Saved the best guest post for last! BTW – who knew that these guest bloggers would write about me?? Had I known earlier, this would be a regular thing. Seriously. Anyway – here’s my little, bitty sister’s post…my basic take-away from this was that I taught her everything she knows….so…..anyway….enjoy!

I spent some time this past weekend thinking about what to get Neha for her birthday.

But “itty bitty sister,” you may be thinking, Neha’s birthday was last week. I know, okay? Sheesh. We’re all doing the best we can out here.

Anyway, my presents to her have varied in years in form and function. Some years I really knock it out of the park–I get texts from her on a later date about how much she loves the thing I got her. Some years I get her a card sometime in June. I wonder if she notices how inconsistent I am (that’s a lie–I know she does).

Although it may seem to her that I simply forgot to get her anything, the years I showed up with nothing really meant that I spent painstaking hours thinking about what to get her, got angry, and finally gave up. Is there a way to bottle up that trauma and put a bow on it? Because that shit should count for something.

Unlike many of the people I buy books for, Neha actually likes to read, so when I heard an interview with an Indian American cookbook author who had a new book coming out, I tucked it away. Then, over the weekend, a food blogger I know she also follows on Instagram posted about the book. She raved over it, featured several pages and recipes, and I thought, damn it. Because even though I didn’t ask her, I know Neha saw it. And tucked it away. I know that cookbook is being Amazon Primed to her house as we speak, and that there is a 60% chance that I’ll be unwrapping it for my birthday this month.

Because that’s the thing. If you’ve ever met me, you’ve probably thought about how different I am from Neha. And you’re right in a lot of ways. We’re over a decade apart in age, chose very different career paths, and kinda different life paths. Neha left for New York City when I was six, and really didn’t look back. I don’t blame her. In fact, as someone who spends her days with countless 18-22 year olds, I’m impressed at her bravery and independence at that age. You’ve probably heard some of her wacky stories from college. I’ve heard them all at least twice. And the truth is, I could never have done half those things.

She also knows way more than I do about the important things in life: makeup, wine, and reality tv.

But in other ways, we’re weirdly similar. Same sarcastic humor. Same love for food. Once we showed up with the same-ish housewarming gift for our cousin Sweta and her hubby Wendell. For a while we had the exact same iPhone case–bought separately. I know what Neha is thinking right now: she’s thinking that these ways we’re similar–that’s me taking after her. I’ve wondered about that myself over the years, though I’d never admit it to her face. Has she really had that much of an influence on me? Maybe, maybe not. But if saying so gets me out of having to think about her birthday present anymore, well, pass the bow, please.

Bard Books

I went to go visit the cutest little baby on the Upper West Side of NYC. I would show you a picture but his parents are normal, private people that don’t need to Facebook, Twitter and Instagram every waking moment of their new baby’s life. Instead they are living in the moment and off the social grid. Freaks.
Look at these books I found for the babe. Forget “Goodnight Moon” – cool babies read these…





I went with the fish tale…




They also had Romeo and Juliet…but that’s just crazy.

Book vs Blog


It’s September 3rd… Around 3pm… Do you know where my blog post is?

I should be doing a lot of things right now. Being productive and motherly. Getting dinner started. Exercising. Just kidding.

Instead I’m tucked into bed reading.
Well, reading/snoozing/reading.

I did find time to ask my girl for some cookies. Here’s what I got.


I’m never leaving this bed. If you don’t hear from me….send in a crane to break the wall down and lift me out!

The Isle is full of…

Dear Olympic Opening Ceremonies,

Where do I begin.  I’ll start where you started. Sheep. Actually you started with a short film, but I have literally nothing to say about it. I stuck with you for almost 5 hours.  The sheep were cute. How very English of you. Then began a mixed up, jumbled, mess that included everything from Kenneth Branagh reading Shakespeare (that part I liked) to the Queen jumping out of a helicopter with James Bond.  The only person more bored than me was Daniel Craig.

I really wanted to like it. I didn’t expect China. I didn’t even expect Sydney, Greece or Atlanta.  I even forgave the NBC commentary – oh sorry, that’s a lie – Matt Lauer and Meredith Viera were awful.  And Ryan Seacrest interviewing athletes? What did we do to deserve that? Was Bob Costas tied in a closet somewhere? Could we not find one person actually connected with sports?

Back to the actual ceremony.  I’ll skip complaining about the historical lesson via redecorating the stadium and go right to the worst part.  This may be because I’m bitter about our national heath care – but an entire 45 minute production about how much you love your medical plans seems, I dunno, batshit.

Then – to add to the creepiness – giant, scary balloon type monsters appear to herald all the great literature of England?? What?  No Alice, No Harry or Hermione.  Just Mary Poppins in all black.

Oh Danny boy…

By hour 3 I had given up and given in. I tried to tune to another channel – but I couldn’t do it. I had to watch the whole hot mess.  David Beckham in a speed boat without a speedo on? Of no use to me people. Flying/bicycle riding monkeys, musical mash-ups, and then finally – a predictable, flat-line performance of “Hey Jude”.  Why that song? So the audience could sing along? We are big Beatles fans in our house (huge) and even we were rolling our eyes.  By “we” I mean me. I was the only one hanging on by then. Everyone else had smartly gone on with their lives.

Sorry to be a pisser, as you say. Let me end with some positives.  I loved all the random shots of Wills and Kate. I could have watched an hour of them watching the ceremonies.  I loved the shots of the Queen during the singing of the National Anthem – frowning and wearing pink sparkles. Lovely. Mr. Bean was funny too. And expected. And welcome. And that’s about it.

Please note that this will in no way deter me from tuning in every day until the end. Then I’ll give you another chance with the closing ceremonies. By then I will have watched gymnastics, swimming, archery, beach volleyball, and fencing. I will have forgotten all about weirdo kids jumping on beds and the big multiculty statements you tried to make.  Lucky for you – like most of the world – I have terrible short term memory.

So thanks for the effort.  You didn’t earn a medal and I’m sure you know you screwed up, but we love you anyway.


Crabby blogger from the U.S.

Cookbook Obsession

I love cookbooks, I read them like novels.  Sometimes I even cook from them.  Here’s a few of my favorites.

Just thought you should know.