Ever felt like a death row inmate?

Yeah, have you ever felt like a person on death row penalty about to be executed next day? That life, as you know it, is going to end tomorrow? All the things that you take for granted today are no longer going to be possible tomorrow? I have been there and believe me, it is not a very heart warming feeling! Here's how it all unfolded last week.

I had taken a simple Glucose Tolerance Test (GTT) for Diabetes and was pronounced 'borderline'. So, as any diligent doctor would advise, I was told to undergo a more rigorous GTT - one that involved fasting for 10-12 hours prior to first blood draw (fasting blood) and then blood draws every hour for 3 hours with nothing to eat in between. I heard about this test, and my first thought was, "What? 13-15 hours of starvation!That is crazy. There is no way I am going to survive it."

Well, the obedient patient that I am, I went ahead and scheduled the test. Monday morning - 7:30am. Calculating 10 hrs backwards (it is clearly bad judgement to fast for 12, when the mandate clearly stated anywhere from 10-12 hrs), I had to stop consuming food on Sunday evening, 9:30pm. That does seem a reasonable time to finish dinner and wake up the next morning, 7:30am for breakfast. But remember the catch - no food for additional 3 hours after that? That's when it gets downright unacceptable for my tummy - no food (or even the thought of it!) till 10:30am in the morning. Sigh!

Sunday dawned. Hearty, healthy breakfast. Hearty, healthy lunch. All hunky dory. Then starts this sinking feeling that my GTT results are gonna be positive i.e. I may be declared diabetic. That would mean an end to my sweet tooth cravings, my love for all-things-potato, or even the occasional indulgence of fried nothings. Hmm, not a good prospect at all. But hey, wait! Dont I have another meal to go before the test and all that inhuman diabolic fasting?

My mind went into an overdrive. What will be my last meal, if tomorrow (and every day, every meal thereafter) is going to be a low-carb-high-protein-high-fibre diet? It was going to be my very own version of  The Last Supper. And I have to make the most of it. That's when I started feeling like a death row inmate. Think big, think bad. Think super-size meals laden with lard. Sitting there, in front of the TV, all those tantalizing extra cheese pizza and inviting food commericals began to beckon me.

The 'Big Bang Theory' couldnt hold my attention any longer. Of course, I had more pressing and momentous plans to make. Plans that will have a long-standing effect on my psyche; decisions that will alter the course of my life if I am diagnosed with diabetes. The time had come. Tonight.
I promptly started getting visuals (and in some cases, even heightened sensory perceptions) of my favourite sinful foods that I can have for one last time before I leave my tad-imperfect-somewhat-transgressive-mostly-lusty foodie alter ego behind for good.

Well, I could go on and pour my then unstable emotions into words here, but sanity prevailed (no prizes for guessing that it wasnt me; all thanks are due to my level-headed husband) and all I had for my very own Last Supper was regular home-made food, with a little special to boost my plummeting morale - half a serving of the most delicious vanilla, strawberry banana split ice-cream, complete with rich chocolate sauce, roasted pistachios and walnut topping. Culinary H-e-a-v-e-n, if you ask me!

Also, to cut the long story short, I did show up at my scheduled appointment having religiously fasted for 10 full hours, starved myself for a good 3 more hours post that (and survived to tell this tale!) and gave 4 vials of my blood for a noble cause - to determine whether I'm at risk of the monster called Diabetes. And in the end, it was all for good because I am diagnosed with temporary diabetes and need to keep my edible desires in check for 3-4 months to come.

So, lettuce-cucumber-cherry tomatoes-spinach-salad, anyone?

Move... Moving... Moved!

Life is amazing. It is amazing how you get attached to things, people, places, names over a period of time. Well, I cant get too philosophical (it is so not me!), so I will be direct. We had been very stable (read: staying in one rented place) for the last 7 years. Not once did life throw this challenge of  'house move' in those 7 years. And then come 2011, we have moved home not once, not twice, but thrice! Now, that is way too much action for instability-challenged souls like me!

First move - March 2011

We shut shop from UK after being there for 7 years and moved to the US for good as a little adventure (not that we were leading drab lives or needed to infuse a little colour!). But deep inside I know I have left behind a significant part of me there. In the rented place that was our first marital home, in the kitchen that I used to so sincerely scrub and clean, in the living room where we have hosted so many parties, in the lush green porch where we soaked in the summer sun, every single place, thing has weaved and etched itself into the memory foam of my brain.

I also had the privilege of calling some utterly wonderful and gorgeous souls as friends in the UK. We enjoyed together, piled on each other, chatted into the wee hours of night, had girlie night outs, took vacations together, celebrated birthdays and anniversaries by throwing lavish parties, ah, life was all hunky-dory!

And then one fine day in March, we moved. The result - our entire married life and 12 combined years of tangible (and otherwise) UK memories jam-packed-till-the-seams-scream in 4 large and 2 small suitcases. Life can be cruel, at times!

Second move - July 2011

Landing straight into my brother-/sister-in-law's place in the US meant that we had a ready home and a ready family that proved so helpful in cushioning the blow of leaving UK and getting used to an utterly new country. It was a blissful three month period at their place. We bonded, we bantered, we undertook culinary exploits together, we explored new places, got accustomed to the new ways of life and above all, they made sure we were equipped to handle life on our own after the stay at their place. The icing on the cake was spending time with my 2.5 year old nephew who is now the second love of my life (after you-know-who!)

And then one fine day in July, we moved. We may have entered US with only 4+2 suitcases, but this time, apart from those, we had additional 12-15 boxes to set up life in the new unfurnished apartment. Here is how it looked like:

Third move - Dec 2011

The 6 month stay in our downtown apartment was exceptional. It was situated bang in the heart of downtown to walk to all nearby places and yet slightly away to qualify as peaceful as far as the hustle bustle was concerned. The apartment itself earned tick marks in all the right places - secure, posh, spacious, airy, warm, oodles of natural light, storage space, pantry - everything was just perfect. It was like staying in your very own upscale hotelroom. Plus, the apartment had a very good vibe to it - we have received some of our happiest news in this apartment.

For the first time in our lives, we started accumulating material possessions (read: vehicle, furniture, appliances, pots-pans et al) now that we planned to settle down. And like all good things come to an end (to make way for something better!), we had to start planning to move into a bigger space.

And one fine day in Dec, we moved. Can you believe the amount of painstaking packing that we had to do? Here's a pic. There were approx. 50 boxes (14 were exclusively kitchen ones), 8 bags and not to mention the big ticket items that couldnt be packed in boxes (TV, TV stand, sofa, bed, dresser, lamps, paintings etc). It was a massive project, without doubt.

It is amazing to see how much stuff one accumulates over a period of time. Imagine my surprise when I realised I was closer to being a hoarder than being an incarnation of Buddha! Remember, the realisation strikes only when it is time to move on.

Well, so much for having a move-free life for 7 years. I am sure, moving thrice in an year is His way of striking back at us. It is not just the packing, unpacking, repacking rigmarole but also space planning, refurnishing, address change notifications etc - basically, the whole shebang that comes with moving home. Hopefully, all this will come to an end in the near future once we settle down into our own place.

BTW, did I mention, we will be moving again after 7 months? Yeah baby, bring it on!