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Two men and a dog.

Let me tell you a story. A story of two men and a little dog.

The front yard fence had been replaced by a newer, sturdier design. Long, horizontal slats of wood had been nailed to posts after careful measurements. But Minnie’s dad was still worried. From her past misadventures, he was sure she’d squeeze between the fence’s pickets and hightail it to the McDonald’s nearby. He wanted to be certain it was corgi-proof. The Handyman — who’d been extra thorough in his estimations — assured him it was. But Dad wasn’t convinced. So he set up a test.Continue reading“Two men and a dog.”

Pillow talk.

I was conversing with my mother-in-law in the kitchen last week as we washed the dishes. And to pass the time and tedium, I took it upon myself to educate her about random internet creeps.

Now, she is pretty worldly and, much like me, enjoys watching people make idiots of themselves. But her experience with perverts and weirdos was limited to 90s era sleazeballs and the odd guy airing his penis in a crowded subway train.Continue reading“Pillow talk.”

Firecracker.

(Photo by Japheth Mast on Unsplash)

My nephew is a firecracker. And not the sedate, sizzling kind. No, he’s the kind who comes wrapped in a tight, trim package, sheathed in fancy plastic and promising simple, wholesome fun for the whole family. He soaks in all the energy around him and lights up like a firefly in the twilight. You think he’ll crackle merrily, maybe even go off with an adorable pop, so you step in close to watch the fun.Continue reading“Firecracker.”

Off my lawn, you whippersnappers!

(Photo by Kevin Lehtla on Unsplash)

Lately, I’ve noticed myself changing and not for the better. I’m crabby even after my caffeine fix, and I frequently catch myself loud-sighing when things don’t go my way. Life’s minor annoyances irk me to no end — looking at you, Mr. Lexus, who thinks it is acceptable to go 50 mph on the express lane, despite my polite honking. I’m not even 40 yet, which means menopause is years away, so that can’t be an excuse. But a tiny throbby vein is setting up permanent residence on my temple, and try as I might, I can’t douse the prickly fire burning in my lower belly. If I was at one of those meetings, where everyone says a few words about themselves, I would go, “Hi, I’m Pavi, and I hate most things, including meetings like this one. Also, stop staring at me, Brenda. What, you’ve never seen a woman show up to work in yoga pants? Sheesh.” Continue reading“Off my lawn, you whippersnappers!”

Silence is underrated – an absurd walk down memory lane.

(Photo by Quino Al on Unsplash)

My sister and I were reminiscing yesterday, mostly about my grandpa and his sheer badassery. A stringy beanpole of a man, grandpa (or Thatha as we called him), was a force of nature. Bright, articulate, and an absolute whiz at crosswords, he introduced us to Shakespeare and Wodehouse, the latter birthing in him a fondness for puns and wordplay. He was loaded with self-deprecating anecdotes — his favorite was the one about how he was napping after a huge lunch when India won independence from the British Monarchy. He loved the sillier side of life and was my best friend and confidante growing up.Continue reading“Silence is underrated – an absurd walk down memory lane.”

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