U is for Unibrow

So today I awoke bright and early to go to Clarksville to get a  physical (medical) exam required for greencard/US immigration purposes. Rebecca picked me up at 7.30 a.m and we were on our way.

The exam was the usual. He checked my reflexes, peered into various orifices, took a blood test bla bla. Apart from being accused of possessing 'skinny veins' (hmph!), everything went off smoothly and nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

After the exam we headed to the mall and checked out a couple of stores. Our tummies started growling so we began searching for a nice place to eat at. But something else caught my eye - Brow Spaaaaa!! 

What is Brow Spa and why did it excite me so? Let me explain.

Ok, so after being used to getting my eyebrows threaded (dirt cheap) in India and finding myself in a country where people have to shell out quite a bit to visit a salon, I found myself in quite a tight spot. In India, I was used to going to the salon every week for something or the other - for a mani-pedi or to wax my arms or to thread my eyebrows or get a massage or a hair spa. But here I realized I couldn't do that anymore. (Well, not until I start making my own money so I can do it guilt-free, without using my husband's credit card) Also, eyebrow threading isn't common and I was pretty sure that salons in Murray did not do it.

For those who haven't heard of eyebrow threading - it's basically a method of shaping one's eyebrow and getting rid of the excess hair using thread. 

Eyebrow hair is not a pretty thing and my deepest fear was that I'd start looking like Bert from Sesame street. 

Never having used a tweezer in my life I found that I had no choice now. So I began sitting in front of the mirror, painstakingly tweezing the tiny extra hairs that were absolutely messing up the shape of my eyebrows. One by one I yanked the little hairs out of my skin (yes, I deliberately make it sound painful and tedious so that you'll feel sorry for me). The end result would never satisfy me but I'd just be thankful I didn't have a big, fat, fuzzy thing pitching a tent and living on my forehead.

So by now you may have an inkling of what Brow Spa is. Yes, eyebrow threading. I ran in, sat myself down on the chair with a big, silly smile on my face, thinking ha, bye bye Bert and good riddance! And, obviously, the salon was run by two Indians furiously speaking in Hindi. I walked out of the salon feeling 10 pounds lighter.

I dread the return of Bert.

My Ponshpop Squarepants surprise

Ponshpop is the middle east's version of Spongebob, just in case you're wondering. Don't believe me? I have proof. Please refer picture below :-P 

I saw that ^ in Egypt last year and (dramatically) gasped in horror. 

So today is my 24th birthday. Mom and Rebecca picked me up after lunch and we headed to Cheri to watch 'Epic' which, let me tell you, is super cute and you HAVE to watch it. It's hilarious! They dropped me back at my apartment after the movie and told me that there was a big surprise waiting for me at home. Rebecca was really excited about the cake she had baked for me and said that she couldn't wait for me to see it :-). 

Jonathan picked me up after work and we headed to the house where my big surprise cake would be revealed :D I was excited!

And whaddaya know! There he was.. all yellow and buck-toothy, resident of the pineapple under the sea, my crabby-patty-eating favorite  *insert drum roll* Ponshpop Squarepants :-D . 

I was so excited about it, as you can imagine.

We then cut a piece off the bottom of the cake and, in one hour, had jointly devoured his pants :-P . 

At the moment his happy, yellow face lies in my crowded fridge, waiting to be eaten by Mr. and Mrs Raj. 

I was Abe Lincoln in geek paradise

To help me continue looking like Abe Lincoln , you can buy me a stove pipe hat here --> http://www.amazon.com/Super-Deluxe-Stove-Adult-Shown/dp/B005L9D4IA/ref=sr_sp-btf_image_1_24?s=apparel&ie=UTF8&qid=1369671755&sr=1-24&keywords=stove+pipe+hat    :-P :-D  It's my birthday tomorrow so you can't possibly refuse! 

Please? 

So on Friday evening, my post box was extra special because it had this in it: 

The place we stayed at was beauuuutiful - http://www.shilohchennault.com/. It was decorated civil war style and each room was named after some civil war personality - Lincoln, Ulysses Grant, Robert Lee etc. We stayed in the Lincoln Presidential suite which had a huuuge portrait of Lincoln and two paintings of the shiloh battles, and old, antique furniture. You can imagine my excitement at all this! 

Jonathan got talking with the manager and we discovered that he was a brilliant Fulbright scholar to Sweden (omg!) and a Phd grad from Harvard (double omg!). Then we wondered why in the world a Harvard grad was working at a B&B and googled him (it is impossible to even exist without google). Turns out he has quite a past; the deetz of which I will not go into (poor guy). But, honestly, the guy was really nice, a fantastic cook (breakfast was out of this world) so we pretended to be completely oblivious of his *ahem* rather sketchy past. 

  

We visited all the Shiloh battlefields and since it was Memorial Day there were people from the military talking about all the wars fought by the United States over the years, beginning from the revolutionary war of 1775 to the Iraq war. There was also a fire demonstration using weaponry since 1775 to the modern day guns used in Iraq and Afghanistan.  The guy introducing them to the crowd got the year of the revolutionary war wrong and said 1776 instead of 1775. When I pointed this out to Jonathan, I was accused of being waaaaay too nerdy. SIGH. I let the insult slide though because he's absolutely right.

We were also allowed to sit in the jeeps and tanks used by the US during the second world war. HOW COOL IS THAT! 

The guy representing the second world war, on hearing that I was there on my surprise birthday trip, said that my interests were odd for a 'li'l young lady'. Then he excitedly showed me all his hand grenades  :-P .

Dinner was at 'Kokomo's '50's diner' in  Adamsville, TN which is a cool, little diner decorated '50s style that plays only '50s music. They were grilling burgers outside and as nice as it all was we were slightly annoyed in the end because they charged us extra for a burger we ordered at closing time. Hmph! Loved the place though :) .

 Lastly, we visited Memphis to meet the Hart twins who have been Jonathan's friends since he was a little boy. I saw the largest onion rings on the face of the earth in the bar we went to. I swear.. they were monster onion rings!

Literally every second of the weekend was fabulous and I had the best time ever.



Ok, don't forget my hat :D .

Oh, I had to mention this - I was called Meghan again. This time BY INDIANS!!! O.M.G. WHAT. 

Hi, it's (not) Meghan.

I go by that name now.

And no, unlike Krishnaswamimoorthyrajanakrishnan who changed his name to 'Chris' and Kozhiyaliyarani who changed her name to 'Kelly' (LOL), Meghan came about involuntarily. Ok I'm kidding, I don't actually call myself that but everyone else seems to. Sigh, no white folks, I don't blame you for (slightly) messing my name up. It's only natural that you would read 'Meghna' as 'Meghan' since that's the name you're used to. I ignored it in the beginning - somtimes shrugged it off, sometimes politely corrected it, sometimes just let them call me Meghan. 

But the final straw was when we received a beautiful hand-made quilt as a wedding present from a very thoughtful person. I excitedly pulled the quilt out of the box and unraveled it. And there, very legible and clear, written on the quilt were the words 'Jonathan and Meghan - Jan 7, 2013'. Not meaning to look a gift horse in the mouth (it truly is a lovely quilt and all) but come oooon! 

Sigh.

So I've made a decision. 'Meg' is what I'm going to use hereafter. It's simple, a short form of Meghna itself and, most importantly, isn't Meghan. 

"What to do when you sprain your butt"

So my husband and I went jogging last evening and the only reason I forgave him for all the chaos that ensued (him being the root cause of it all) was because he is downright adorable. Like .. like this platypus.

Here's what happened. We recently weighed ourselves and I wasn't too pleased with the somewhat huge number I saw when he stepped on the weighing scale. So last evening I somehow forced him to put his tennis shoes on and shove him out the front door, much to his chagrin. I was, as you can imagine, faced with great opposition and a volley of complaints about how it is simply tooo tiring to exercise after work. Turning a deaf ear to all this, I dished out a few threats about cooking only broccoli for the rest of the week and, fearing broccoli more than exercise, he finally agreed to go jogging with me around "The Loop" which is basically a 2.2 mile pavement that circles the entire university campus. 

He first said that he wanted to warm up. Absolutely pleased by this statement I left him to do his stretches but, on returning, found this instead :

The series finale of 'The Office' was airing apparently. 

After I was forced to do a bit of chastising, it became this 

So we finally (heavy emphasis on the word 'finally') set out on our run. Our goal (well, MY goal) was to walk 4.4 miles because we really needed the exercise. The past few weeks have been filled with nothing but good food and good-er drink(s) (even though I tried making myself feel better by drinking diet coke more than anything else). Funnily, as soon as we set out he had a sudden burst of energy and enthusiasm and completely agreed with me about the 4.4 miles. "Let's start running!", he said. "Wow, ok", I said. And we began running. Surprisingly, I tire out quicker than he does when we run and he tires out quicker than I do when we walk. I have NO idea how anyone can get more tired from walking than running. But my husband is a special man :P . So we ran and walked, ran and walked, ran and walked. We finally reached the end of the loop and we now had 2.2 miles left to go. I turn around to look at him and he gazes at me like this

 I immediately know what's coming. "Can we go home, pleeeeease?". Argh, how can anyone say no to that face. Gets me everytime! "FINE!", I say in exasperation, "We'll do the rest later". And we begin to walk home. I'm actually pretty tired out by now and want to stroll home leisurely. But another burst of energy hits him and he starts screaming "LET'S RACE HOME! LET'S RACE HOME! SPRINT!" . What! Lose to my husband?! "Never!", screams my silly ego. So we begin sprinting and soon we both get tired and start walking again. As we approach the house, I cheat and start sprinting without telling him and reach the door first. 

Pain shoots through my upper thigh and, there's no other way of saying this, my butt hurt. And it hurt bad! I open the door and collapse on the floor screaming "My butt! My butt!" . Jonathan is torn between concern and mirth and immediately googles "What to do when you sprain your butt" (This post should really be an ode to google. Jeez). Google said "rest your buttocks for 2-3 weeks". 

So that's what my (insert B word) are currently doing. 

Resting. 

And no, you are not allowed to laugh at me :P .

Conclusion : My husband is a pain in the butt ? :-) 

I like my own shoes, lady.

So my mother in law threw an Indian party for me when I first arrived in Murray to introduce me to all the Indian folks who live here. There was a lovely little cake laid out on the table, made by my sweet, sister-in-law, that read "Welcome Megs". I was wearing Indian clothes and everything seemed to be going great until the final guest (insert angry-glare emoticon) arrived.

Her bright red pants initially appealed to me because, hey, who doesn't love a pair of red pants, right?

I had just finished dinner, had heaped my plate with chocolate cake and was just about to dig in when she sauntered into the room and, very casually, said to me, "You have big shoes to fill".  I looked up at her wondering what in the world she was talking about. She continued, "Your mother in law. She's amazing. I don't know how you're going to fill her shoes".

Pause.

Wait. WHAT?

Before I could wrap my head around what she was saying she began speaking again, "She is so organized. If I were you I'd be intimidated to marry Jonathan because he'd expect you to look after him the same way his mom did. You have very big shoes to fill."

By this point I was seeing red. And no, I don't mean I was staring at her pants. :P

My father in law interrupted before she could continue furthur and said, "If you think Bella is organized, you haven't met Meghna or her parents". To which Mrs Red pants responded saying, "WELL, maybe her parents are but.." (and she nods in my direction) "I don't know about her".

At this point it is safe to say that the chocolate cake in my mouth was being angrily ground to pulp as I stared at her, trying not to say something mean.

Gee thanks Mrs Red pants. That's exactly what a newly wed wants to hear.

Ok ok, let's break this down. Why did I get so mad? Simple answer - I just got married. And for someone who just got married I've been doing a darn good job of being a wife. And some lady who doesn't even know me has completely poo-poo'd all that and has already concluded that I am going to be inadequate. Which I know isn't true. Her callousness and ignorance are what led me to completely blow my top. Not once did she bother finding out if Jonathan was looking after me well. All that mattered was that the man had to be taken care of and babied.

So unfair.

Should I have let myself get upset over this? I don't know. But I did. Because (and I wish I could've told her this but alas! Social etiquette demands otherwise)
a) I'm a great wife. Well, at most times :-P .
b) It's not my job to be my husband's mom.
c) I like my own shoes, lady.

May day!

Happy May day folks!


Cannot believe it's already May. I left India around TWO months ago. Whaaa!