February has always been a favorite month. I am a fan of any month that involves a holiday that promotes chocolate and love, yes, even if it is a holiday mostly about selling cards. At least it guilts us into pausing and telling those we love how we feel.
In addition to hosting Valentines’s Day, the month of February is birth month to two of the most creatively talented and amazing people—my sweet Masan Marie and my darling Dad. Masan was born February 14th, 2009, which Dan was thrilled about because it meant he was off the hook for Valentine’s Day plans forever. (That first Valentine’s Day while I was recovering in the hospital with our new love he got me a huge Whitman’s sampler on the 15th for 50% off. Yum!) My kind, generous, wildly talented, sweet father was also born in February, and is a leap year baby, so he gets to celebrate on his actually birthday this year.
Besides the births of wonderful people, another reason February is fabulous is that it’s a short month, which meant that when I was right out of grad school living in Morningside Heights making $32k a year with $60k in grad school loans, I was usually able to make my paycheck stretch until the end of the month (usually).
And one final reason I heart Feb is that at the end of this February, Dan and I will be going to Bengaluru to find housing and schooling for the gals. It has been a dream to go to India literally since I was 5. I feel like we have won the lottery. Some people cringe when they hear where we are moving, but we are truly thrilled.
When I was 5, my best friend who conveniently lived across the street, would visit her relatives in India almost every summer. Her trips sounded to me like grand, scary, hot adventures in an exotic land. Her house felt a little bit exotic too, at least to a white girl with some Italian/Scottish/English accents but no real culture other than American, living in Virginia—the smells of her mom’s amazing cooking, her parents’ accents, the saris her mom would wear to parties (lots of parties) and the way that they would talk to each other in Hindi and I wouldn’t know what they were saying, but it sounded like they might be mad (and I was hoping that it wasn’t about me using all the henna to dye my hair again). Besides getting a taste of her Indian culture, the best part of going to my friend’s house was that her parents would let us watch soaps and MTV after school (we didn’t have cable at my house, and even if we did I would never have been allowed to watch MTV). And I would get to eat leftovers from last night’s meal or last night’s big Indian party, which often involved orange rice (I am not even sure this is an Indian dish since I have never seen it on a menu at an Indian restaurant, but it’s rooted deeply in my soul as the best ‘Indian’ food I have ever had)—my favorite food growing up besides my mom’s tuna noodle casserole. And I remember fondly many a conversation about Hindu gods vs. Jesus, like they were superheroes in some complex Barbie or G.I.
-Joe plot. Neither of us was able to convert the other.
I started this post 2 days ago, and it’s interesting in a foreshadowing kind of way that I entitled it, “I Heart February” since this morning I was in urgent care for an EKG. I had mild chest pains last night and this morning so Dan insisted I go. Honestly, I think a day off is all I really need, but I went to get checked out anyway. And all is good—probably just pulled a muscle from all the coughing from this week-old cold and cough that everyone seems to have. Again my body is telling me it’s stressed. And I am trying to listen–I’m writing! I’m processing! Stop falling apart!
Brooklyn Mama in India 