I was a never say die, kind of person. I mean, very little fazed me, since the day I had first confronted a math problem that went something like : A train leaves spot A travelling at the rate of 140 miles\hour. Train B coming from the opposite direction is travelling at 180 miles \ hr. When would a bird flying at the rate of 80 m\hr, fly over train A and train B ? The sadistic second part of the sum, in case you got the first half right, would go something like : When would the two trains meet ?! You get my point ?If that dosen't send a tender ten year old into hysterics what would?
Having encountered and skirted around sin, cos, tan, and after flirting with the Volume of cylinders and such like sums, I emerged from school, knowing how valiant little kids actually are. If you put your mind to it, I was sure, there would be a solution sooner or later. So one should concentrate and remember to pack a comic or two to bide the time until someone figured it out for me.
So, like I was saying math was good for me. It taught me resilience, strengthened my belief in literature in which I topped.
As life went by, many challenges came my way. Everytime I set out to master something and couldn't ? I learnt something that I could. Take cycling. Easy as pie I told myself. Looking at the kids zooming by me in the park, I happily climbed aboard mine, and mastered it too. So long as the training wheels remained. As soon as I was able to legally therefore, I got my license and yesiree! I became the proud owner of a car ! The youngest around too ! And all because I couldn't ride a bike.
My ultimate challenge came in a moment of madness, when caught in the first flush of love, I invited my rather formidable mother in law to be, over for dinner. Mind you, she was up there somewhere in the echelons of formidable cooks, and had rejected many a girl for her beloved only son, because they had fallen short where culinary talents were concerned. Did I mention, that cooking was one more talent which had taught me the fine art of being a culinary journo ? You see, I loved food, but to my chagrin I was a dyslexic cook. Everytime I girded my girdles and entered the kitchen, I ended up ordering out for food.
Love, however had me determined. Surely I could cook one single meal, one simple meal, for the man I loved and was determined to marry.
Turning a deaf ear to his entreaties, banishing him from the house, I set upon my task. I sweated and toiled for the best part of the morning and believe me, I did it. Or almost.
The crusted chicken pie was perfection itself. No mother holding her firstborn in her arms, must have been prouder than I, as I held it cradled in my arms. Happily I turned to put it back in the oven, when the door bell rang. Alas, I leapt back startled, the pie slipped from my hands, and in spite of last second pyrotechnics on my part, there it lay on the floor, looking more like an upside down pudding than a pie. Throwing the towel in the sink and the apron on my head, I collapsed wailing, much like the pie had.
"Need some help? " asked a benign voice. There, standing before me was my mother in law. "Perhaps never to be," my stunned mind rejoined.
So, I ended up happily married to the man of my dreams. "She loved you the minute she saw you," said my relieved beloved. "She was assured of her continued supremacy in the kitchen." By a long shot, I would never be a threat to her in her beloved domain, the kitchen. Which I was more than happy to surrender to her. We were great together. My mother in law and I. She held her sway over the kitchen, while I compiled a cook book of her amazing recipes, all the while happily munching into her equally awesome walnut brownies.
Having encountered and skirted around sin, cos, tan, and after flirting with the Volume of cylinders and such like sums, I emerged from school, knowing how valiant little kids actually are. If you put your mind to it, I was sure, there would be a solution sooner or later. So one should concentrate and remember to pack a comic or two to bide the time until someone figured it out for me.
So, like I was saying math was good for me. It taught me resilience, strengthened my belief in literature in which I topped.
As life went by, many challenges came my way. Everytime I set out to master something and couldn't ? I learnt something that I could. Take cycling. Easy as pie I told myself. Looking at the kids zooming by me in the park, I happily climbed aboard mine, and mastered it too. So long as the training wheels remained. As soon as I was able to legally therefore, I got my license and yesiree! I became the proud owner of a car ! The youngest around too ! And all because I couldn't ride a bike.
My ultimate challenge came in a moment of madness, when caught in the first flush of love, I invited my rather formidable mother in law to be, over for dinner. Mind you, she was up there somewhere in the echelons of formidable cooks, and had rejected many a girl for her beloved only son, because they had fallen short where culinary talents were concerned. Did I mention, that cooking was one more talent which had taught me the fine art of being a culinary journo ? You see, I loved food, but to my chagrin I was a dyslexic cook. Everytime I girded my girdles and entered the kitchen, I ended up ordering out for food.
Love, however had me determined. Surely I could cook one single meal, one simple meal, for the man I loved and was determined to marry.
Turning a deaf ear to his entreaties, banishing him from the house, I set upon my task. I sweated and toiled for the best part of the morning and believe me, I did it. Or almost.
The crusted chicken pie was perfection itself. No mother holding her firstborn in her arms, must have been prouder than I, as I held it cradled in my arms. Happily I turned to put it back in the oven, when the door bell rang. Alas, I leapt back startled, the pie slipped from my hands, and in spite of last second pyrotechnics on my part, there it lay on the floor, looking more like an upside down pudding than a pie. Throwing the towel in the sink and the apron on my head, I collapsed wailing, much like the pie had.
"Need some help? " asked a benign voice. There, standing before me was my mother in law. "Perhaps never to be," my stunned mind rejoined.
So, I ended up happily married to the man of my dreams. "She loved you the minute she saw you," said my relieved beloved. "She was assured of her continued supremacy in the kitchen." By a long shot, I would never be a threat to her in her beloved domain, the kitchen. Which I was more than happy to surrender to her. We were great together. My mother in law and I. She held her sway over the kitchen, while I compiled a cook book of her amazing recipes, all the while happily munching into her equally awesome walnut brownies.
describes you doesnt it..!
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