ON BORROWED TIME

We have to talk about something for a quick second. That second is right now ... not in 120 seconds.

Indian time. This is a real thing.

First time I discovered it ... we're pulling up to a wedding. I am FREAKING OUT because we're late. Late as in bride is probably walking down the aisle late. Yet boyfriend is just going about his business (aka trying to find cheap parking) as if it's no big deal. And then he realizes why I'm anxious ... "Oh no, it's an Indian wedding ... we're on Indian time." I roll my eyes. Except he's right. All around us are people strolling around, taking their sweet ass time.

Only problem is that Indian time also applies to non-indian events. Case in point, boyfriend goes solo to the last wedding and I get this text ...

BF: What time does the wedding start?

ME: The time on the invite.

BF: But what time do I have to be there?

ME: Like 10 before to sit down?

BF: Shit. Gotta run and iron shirt

Here comes the bride, all dressed in white ... oh hey, glad you could join us, now sit down.

TOO MANY COOKS IN THE KITCHEN

And by too many I mean "more than one." I've realized why it took me so long to learn to cook - I really hate that feeling of someone watching over my shoulder telling me that I'm gripping the knife wrong. Just try learning to cook from your mother ... it'll happen.

Now try learning to cook from your boyfriend's mother.

Boyfriend's parents came into town and instantly threw me into "cooking school." After all, boyfriend needs his favorite dishes prepared. Plus side ... I've saved about $500 on cooking lessons and feel a little more like a woman. Down side ... I was on my feet for thirteen hours listening to someone tell me I was holding the knife wrong and feeling like less of a woman for most of those hours.

I am now the proud owner of many cards scrawled out by hand while trying to figure out what a "handful of red powder" translates into for a recipe. Hands off to boyfriend's mom for not rolling her eyes too many times when I asked "so that was how many teaspoons of what spice?"

Things I didn't know before this past weekend :

- we have different names for pretty much every spice. Which is great since I can't get them straight in english in the first place.

- Indians think Americans can't handle spice. Which is probably true.

- there's another word for saute and when I use the word saute it seems to be offensive.

- I now know why boyfriend has a sodium problem. "Just a little more salt..."

- "butter is good for your digestion" (if they ever find out I'm trying to be vegan I think it'll be over.)

Ahhhhhh parents in town ... anyone want indian food? We have seventeen frozen containers in the fridge. Just hands off my samosas! (see blurry photo ... all made fresh by hand)

YOU KNOW YOU WANT ...

My cell phone case. It's made for saris but hey, a pair of jeans can use some jewels too!

IN THE BEGINNING ...

There was a girl from Connecticut. She had red hair and freckles, burned easy and thus always smelled like SPF. She celebrated things like Christmas, the easter bunny and St. Patty's day. She spoke broken spanish from the days of AP class with Senora Hughes. She had a large, crazy family ... she always imagined she'd meet her prince charming in the form of someone else with most of these qualities. Not because she liked the qualities, but because that's mostly who she met. Maybe, having moved to LA, he would hide the matzo instead of eggs.

How wrong she was ... cue magical music as we cut to present day where I sit typing away in my Cali apartment.

My man is Indian. He's all the things I've ever wanted ... blah blah blah ... he also comes with an entirely new culture to learn. So this is my journey as I try to figure out these muddy waters we call "the melting pot" but I lovingly refer to as "my plan to have a mixed race baby."