Addition (Toni Jordan)

This is one of the books I picked up just for the heck of it from the 'Recent Arrivals' at the local library. Anyways, who would not want to read a book titled 'Addition'? Do people really hate math that much?!

Addition is all about a feisty out-of-work 30-something primary school teacher - Grace Vandenburg. What is different about her that would make me read the entire story? Why, she has OCD! Oh yea, and not the garden variety. She doesn't have to wash her hands every minute, nor does she have to line up her pens and pencils just so. She is addicted to numbers. They are her friends.

Traumatized by an accident when she was 8; everything she does, she counts. The number of steps to the store (the same one every time), the number of bites to finish her carrot cake (number of bites equals number of poppy seeds the chef randomly sprinkles in top!), etc. And she does have to do certain things by specific numbers. Multiples of 5. Why would anyone like the number 3, she wonders, so difficult to do the math in everyday life! So whether she is getting up in the middle of the night to measure her walls from end to end, or wasting the whole day counting the number of bristles on her toothbrush, she is ALWAYS counting. Else, her world goes out of order and she cannot breathe! You get the picture by now, I guess.

While it may seem like the book is set up to be boring, it is not. The back-story to her OCD roots, the way she gets petrified when her world goes out of order just because all tables at her restaurant are full, her stealing a banana at the checkout counter from the guy behind her (she HAS to have 10 in her basket!) that leads to so much more in her life - are all interestingly written. And the author manages to include some fun numbers trivia here and there. Mostly though there is a side story where she compares herself to Nikola Tesla for some fanciful reason. And those were the parts that just didn't grab me. I did understand her attachment to him just because he counted numbers and he would 'get her', but apart from that, I felt overwhelmed by the Nikola info at times.

Slowly, events happen in her life which make her check into therapy, and what happens from there is what should be left for the reader to find out without me blabbing about it here. But from that point on, I'd say the story is entirely believable and the ending is refreshing.

3 stars/5

P.S. What ARE these Cuisinaire Rods they keep talking about anyhow?

Xen Diary 1

Here I am, toiling away at my Xen event. Gee, what a joyride! Sarcasm, if I may.

Come to think of it, I'm usually an enthusiastic participant in all CI initiatives. But, you hit a tipping point - the one where 'Xen Fatigue' hits you. And I'm certainly not immune. The XF hit me on Monday, and has been coloring my judgement ever since. I'm quiet at the meetings. But more importantly, I'm not jumping around trying to lift things more than twice my size like I usually do! Oh yea, let the others take care of that stuff this time. I'm going to be the dainty girl one might assume me to be at first glance. Just crunch numbers, come up with checklists, do all the pretty stuff.

Better make sure you give me my lunch. Else B can attest for the extreme-opposite-of-sugar-and-spice I can turn out to be.

She did what?

Dee has become a new person. She has reverted to her old self, a la 2000-2005. She is less on the edge (not less edgy though, I'm still edgy!).. less high strung, rather. Its like someone slapped her on the head and said 'You're not you anymore!'. And just like that, the heavens parted.

So much so, that over Desi-Pasta and GeorgianXYZ yesterday, she generously offered to let B share her closet. Yes, THAT Dee.

Share a closet? Seriously?

Yes. Dee will no longer be bothered by such trivial stuff. Of course, she can whoop B's ass and make sure the closet fits her NQ(OC)-BA standards. What is that, you ask? "Not Quite Obesessive Compulsive-But Almost". Still wanna share with? Yes, B says. Plod on.

R.I.P. Saffron

This morning, I was all geek-happy about square root day (today is 03.03.09!) and then things just kept going south. To start off with, people had problems with other people, and said people were arguing for a major part of the morning. Then I was 5S-ing the lab all afternoon. Sore muscles and all, I made a sudden pit-stop at DD on the way back for a Boston Kreme (my first EVER donut craving!). And my pick-me-up, once I got home, was to cook something new and elaborate. Hyderabadi Biryani. Authentic. Cue: Cut to black.

I mourn the loss of my treasured saffron box. Yes, I lost my saffron!!! Unbelievable that I even blog about such a thing, but essentially true. I'd love to take the soap opera tack and blame the maid. But alas, said entity does not exist in this situation.. :)

That little rectangular box, with those precious few strands of saffron that I borrowed from my mom a year ago. Saffron of the highest quality, brought all the way from their days in Saudi. I would often look at it lovingly, as it sat in that little chiller box inside my fridge. Cozily wrapped in a little snack-size Ziploc bag. But I always waited for a big-recipe day to use it. Preferably mom's style Rava Kesari oozing with ghee.

Only, I reached the stage in my cooking where I went to bring the saffron out to soak it in a cup of warm milk, and it was gone. Just like that. No trace. And all the enthusiasm went out of me. Right now, I don't care two hoots about the biryani. Let it burn in the oven. Sigh.