Bill and Wendy's ickcillint adventures

Our tiny baby granddaughter slipped into the world without fanfare on August 17 th , three days before her father, Richard’s birthday.   As she had been cozy as a bug in a rug inside her mother, Julie, she was nearly a week overdue.    We’d all been dying to meet her and she finally arrived. She is beautiful. This year, 2012, is a year of fertility for us.   We had 2 grandsons born already this year; one in March and one in May and we are expecting another grandson in December.   So, our little Penelope, is our little flower amongst all these boys. Flower in Tamil is Pu (sounds like Pooh).   Even before she was born, I had decided to call her Pu as a nickname as I thought of her as a flower amongst a pile of rough and tumble boys.   However, a derivative of Penelope is Poppy and all along, and unbeknownst to me, her parents planned to call Poppy.   I think Poppy is absolutely perfect for her.   How serendipitous that it is the na...

Judge and the Mongoose that inhabits our garden have made friends.  Initially, mortal enemies, we were convinced that the mongoose would make mincemeat of our cat. However, such is not the case.  Judge likes the Mongoose.  The Mongoose largely ignores Judge's gestures for friendship, but seems unbothered by the cat. Strange bedfellows.

Nallur Kovil Festival began this month.  This Hindu celebration lasts for about one month and is filled with all sorts of festivities and events.  So, we decided to check out the morning events.  Unfortunately, the morning events begin at 4:30 am. So on Friday morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed, camera in hand, and drove to the Nallur Kovil on the motorbike. The air was warm and fresh and immediately, we felt rewarded for being so disciplined. On Temple road, we were greeted by lights, music and swarms of people going to and from the temple. Mothers and children, families and men all moving toward the temple to pray, meditate, and roll. Yes, roll.  The events we saw on Friday gave a new meaning to Holy Rollers and made us realize that this must be the origin of the expression.  Men rolled in the sand moving around the entire temple grounds.  Bare chested with sarongs knotted at the knees to keep from revealing anything private...

I have a new man in my life.   His name is Willy.    Willy Nelson. Bill appears to be undergoing some radical change.   He has decided after 40 years of conservatism to become a radical, hippy dippy dude. He is letting down his hair and growing out his stubble.   Now, in fairness to me, he did discuss his decision to make these changes with me. Who am I to say what he can or can’t do with his hair?   I am always changing my hair styles and the colour of my hair and he is always wise enough to  keep his mouth shut.   However, I did have one stipulation: no pony tail.   I am not dictating what he can and cannot do. On the contrary, he has perfect freedom to have a pony tail if he wishes.   He just won’t have this wife. We don’t know if we like it or not.   The beard is through the worst of the growing out stage. For a few days I couldn’t even look at him, he reminded me of my old dad when he was too tired and too old to sh...