Great News! PIO Update!

Well, after nearly 9 months, eight trips to the Pune FRRO, copies of documents beyond imagining, two Bank Drafts and some help from a friend of Baba working in New Delhi at the Ministry of Home Affairs…

GORI RAJKUMARI FINALLY HAS HER PIO CARD!

That’s right! I’m now officially a Person of Indian Origin.  By marriage.

I cannot express to you how happy Bear and I are to have this whole journey completed and finished.

And to receive it the night before Republic Day just added to our happiness.

Thanks to all that offered continued support and encouragement during this process!

Looks like this is the beginning of a great new year!

Happy 2012!

© 2012 Gori Rajkumari

Advertisements

Shout Out! Blogs that Refer me totally rule! :)

So yes, obviously the power hasn’t gone out…..YET.

I’m currently working on another blog about our 1 Year Anniversary, but till that’s done I thought I would show you some recent referer stats from just a few of my friends blogs.

I love and enjoy each and every one of the blogs I list on my page and my only wish would be to have time daily to read all of them.

Each one of them is unique in their writing style, view on life, experiences and beliefs.  Each one of them is worthy of a view by you today!  Way to go people!  You ALL rule!

So head on over to one of the blogs I list on my page….you might surprise yourself by spending the entire day perusing their topics!

Enough…a story of hysteria between the 3rd and 4th floor.

Enough

I live in a building with 10 floors.  The 10th is reserved for the penthouse and two other flats.  One of these flats had been empty for some time.

About two months ago that changed.  A much older gentleman and his family had moved in to the empty flat on the 10th floor on a Friday evening.  The date was April 30th.  The next day was “May Day” or “Labor Day” as it’s called here in India.  On that day, no ‘day laborer’ would be working.  Carpenters, Plumbers, Electricians, Maids, Construction Crews, etc, would enjoy a well deserved day off.

Labor Day is actually an International Worker’s Day and is celebrated the world over as the day that people began winning labor rights in the work place.  The main focus was on the amount of hours one would work in a given work day.  Till today, many countries celebrate this day as one which gives an opportunity to voice concerns, hold rally’s and parades and to make a statement about working conditions.  Here in Indi, all of that is feasible, but in actuality it is one of the very few days that day laborers can take off from work without the general public and politicians making their lives miserable for doing so.  You see, here in India, national holiday’s only applied to big business and politicians (an unspoken rule).  Labor Day is the free day for everyone else.

So, back to Mr. 10th Floor, upon moving in, they discovered that there was a leak issue with one of the water pipes.  So they called the maintenance crew and asked for immediate assistance, which they got.  The maintenance man told them that the issue was more than he had the experience to fix, however he did a temporary patch that should last until such time that a plumber could look at the issue.

The estimated time till a plumber could arrive?  Sunday or Monday, at the latest.  The maintenance man further gave his personal cell number to call in case of emergency till that time.

Saturday morning, the Mr. 10th Floor made a very loud, obnoxious verbal complaint about the availability of a plumber on site to the Builder.  To which the Builder replied that a plumber IS generally available on the weekends but this being Labor Day weekend, it would be next to impossible to require someone to work.

Mr. 10th Floor was not at all satisfied and stated so, loudly.  Mr. Builder finally told him that he is free to hire an outside plumber and be reimbursed.  Mr. 10th Floor didn’t like the idea of paying for what should be his free of charge.  Mr. Builder tried to explain to him that it was only a temporary payment and gave his personal guarantee of reimbursement.  Mr. 10th Floor said he wanted a plumber in his home, ordered by the Builder, by that evening or “wait and watch what will happen”.  As he stalked away, Mr. Builder followed saying that was just beyond his abilities.

And so the complex thought that this was the end of the issue and we went about our daily business.  The crowd dispersed.

Before I go further in my story, perhaps I should let you in on two pieces of information critical to the understanding of how things escalated from there.

  1. I am deathly afraid of being stuck in an elevator.
  2. We are supposed to be notified of water cut off 24 hours in advance by the maintenance crew.
  3. I can be a light sleeper.

Nothing remarkable occurred the rest of Saturday or Sunday.  Till Sunday evening that is.  When all hell broke loose.

Sunday evening Bear and I went to bed fairly early.  Around midnight I was woken from a deep sleep by what sounded like a crash outside our third floor window.  Fearing that someone had come home late, rounded the corner of our building too quickly and hit someone on the way out of the complex, I got up and looked out our window.  Nothing.  I opened the glass and screen.  Nothing, I looked right and got my answer.  Someone had not just tipped the large garbage canister at the corner of our building; they had mutilated it against the side of the building.  I looked to the left and saw the same thing had happened to the one at the end of our building.  Garbage was strewn about the drive and front parking spaces.

And then I heard it.  A loud, deep and vicious yelling.  It was in Hindi, but I knew it was also coming from someone severely drunk.  Seeing nothing from our front bedroom window, I went to our side one.  Nothing.  But the sound was coming from that corner of the building.  I went to our guest bedroom and opened the window and screen, but really it wasn’t needed.  I now had a clear view of the drive leading into our complex and the guard-house.  I also had a clear view (and sound with the window open) of Mr. 10th Floor stumbling his way up and down the side drive or our complex and yelling his fool head off.

“APPLAUSE!!”  The pseudo name of our complex.  He yelled it loud, as if he wanted to speak to all of us sleepy residents about some travesty that we must be infuriated to hear about.  Instead, I was just infuriated of being woken up by an idiotic drunk old man in the middle of the night.

“APPLAUSE!”  he yelled “APPLAUSE!  They don’t care!  Water leaked!  My things destroyed!  APPLAUSE!!”

I wanted to finish the work of the water upside his head.  Perhaps he might sleep it off then.  Either way he would be quiet.

That went on for 15 more minutes until he decided to yell at the guards in the guard-house.  Many of them had congregated there when Mr. 10th Floor had started his tirade against the garbage bins.  Now I counted at least 8 of them, standing around doing nothing and watching him advance.

Mr. 10th Floor then spent 30 minutes at the guard-house yelling his head off.  Throwing anything he could get his hands on.  Breaking plastic chairs on the wall of the guard-house.  Shoving the table to the ditch.  At one point, a larger check in counter got too heavy for him when he lifted it above his head in an effort to pitch it across the garden and he almost fell flat on his ass.  I held my breath, almost PRAYING for that to happen.  But alas, he dropped it to keep from falling over and retained his drunken balance.

For another 30 minutes this went on, his yelling between the guard-house and the sides of our complex.  Finally, he made his way inside our building where he proceeded to yell his way up to the 10th floor.  The elevator didn’t escape his wrath either; he banged on it all the way up.  Once on the 10th floor, you could still hear his yelling and ranting and banging.  Then he rode the elevator back down again, doing the same as he had before.  Back up he went, this time getting off on every floor and yelling while banging his fists on the elevator door and inside to make as loud a noise as he could.

I had had enough.

ENOUGH.

I changed my clothes, grabbed my keys, walked past my cell phone (after all, I had my keys and was staying in the complex) and walked out my front door.  By now, I could hear him on the fifth floor.  I pressed the button for the elevator, essentially trapping him on the 4th floor and waited for it to arrive.  When it did, the inside looked like a flimsy metal punching ground with dents and distortions on every wall.  I rode down to the first floor where I kept the elevator doors open and motioned for the four guards standing there to come over.

I “dressed” them down as my father and mother would say.  I prefer high-toned bitching.  Here is a snippet of our conversation.

Me:  “Why aren’t you doing something about Sir?”

Them:  “Nahi Madam, Sir is owner.’

Me:  “What the **** am I?  Chopped liver?  I am owner too.  Make him stop!”

Them:  “Madam, Sir is owner.  We call Builder.”

Me:  Why are you calling the Builder?  Call the police!  He is drunk in public.  A nuisance.  Violating noise order.  Destroying private property.  CALL.  THE.  POLICE.  Or I will!”

Them:  “Nahi Madam, we call builder.”

ARGH!

All the while, you could hear Mr. 10th Floor up on the 4th floor having hysterics, screaming that he wanted the bleeping elevator now and, by the sound of it, either breaking in the elevator door or breaking in someone’s front door.  I pressed the button for my floor (below the 4th) and the elevator started.  And kept going, passing my own floor, as it neared the 4th floor I became nervous of being confronted with drunken Mr. 10th Floor and began to question my leaving the cell phone at home.  Heck, I began to question leaving my home at all.

Between the 3rd and 4th floor, the power went out.  No lights.  No elevator.  Complete and utter darkness.  Me…stuck in an elevator.  With a raving lunatic now putting every inch of his drunken 5’11 frame into breaking in the elevator door above me.  I stood in that pitch black elevator and listened as  pieces he knocked loose began to rain on the top of the elevator cabin.  I yelled for him to stop, that I was in here, that the power was out.  He continued yelling that he wanted the bleeping elevator.  The pieces of metal and concrete got larger.  I began to scream.  Out of fear or anger, I am not sure.

Then the guards got the backup generator running, the elevator turned back on and headed towards its preprogrammed spot of the ground floor after a power failure.  Once it reached and the doors opened, I spilled out.  Sweating, shaking, I pushed past the guards and ran for the stairs.

My worst nightmare come true had turned me into a burning vessel of hatred and anger.  I wanted nothing more than to reach Mr. 10th Floor.  To expel all my fear and anger out onto him.

Dark Phoenix

I practically flew up the stairs and on passing my floor ran into my neighbor who had heard my screams and had come out to investigate.  Seeing me fly by, he followed.  I made it to the 4th floor where Mr. 10th Floor had just had a scuffle with another resident who, fed up with the inactivity of the guards and that his own front door had been dented and nearly destroyed by the old man, had accosted him, smacked him and nearly torn the old man’s shirt from his body.  Another man was there holding the resident back.  A young woman was there holding the arm of Mr. 10th Floor and calling him Aajoba (which means Grandfather in Marathi).  I slowed and walked the last few steps to the landing deliberately, listening to the old man whine over his torn shirt and asking why the resident had accosted him.  He started saying how his things had gotten water damage, how no one would help him or even listen to his problems, how APPLAUSE Builder didn’t care about resident’s issues.

I had had enough.

ENOUGH.

I went to the last step, faced him and said.

“Bas”.  (This means stop).

He kept on.

“Bas!”

He continued.

“SHUT THE ****UP!!!!!!!!”

He stopped.  Everyone turned to me.

“Because of you, I was woken up at midnight on a work night.  Because of you, I’ve had to listen to the ranting of a drunken old man.  Because of you, there is litter all over our complex roads.  Because of you, our elevator needs repair.  Because of YOU, I was stuck in that elevator and fearing for my life!!  Now SHUT YOUR MOUTH and go to bed and sleep it off or so help me GOD I will call the police and have you arrested on the spot for harassment and threat to my life.  DO YOU HEAR ME???”

No one spoke.

I turned to the girl.

“If you don’t take your Grandfather upstairs and keep him quiet, I swear that you will be visiting him at the police station from tonight onward.  If you don’t believe me, try me.”

And like that, the old Mr. 10th Floor man lost some of his height.  He started hemming and hawing but before he could build up steam I yelled “I’m going to count to 10 and I swear you had better be in that ****ing elevator before I reach it!!”  ONE, TWO, THREE….!”

And they were gone.  The granddaughter didn’t even have to pull him that hard.  They disappeared down the hall and into the waiting elevator.  Not another word was heard from them.  Shaking, I turned to the other resident and thanked him for his bravery.  Then I turned to the guards and told them that they were “Bakwas” which means pathetic.  I walked downstairs with my neighbor close at hand.  He admonished me on the way down that my behavior was risky, I should not have done that.  I agreed, but I kept walking, not saying anything.  He asked if I was ok.  I said yes.  I unlocked my door, wished him a good night, thanked him for coming up to make sure I was ok and went inside my home.

I locked the door and put out the lights.  I stood there in the dark, shaking over what had happened and what I had done.

I debated over telling my husband and finally decided that I needed to.  That honesty was the best policy.  That it was better to hear it from me than one of the people who had witnessed it.  I wanted to wait till the morning, but my own keyed up mind and body wouldn’t allow that.

So, I woke my husband up and told him everything.

That night we had a long and involved conversation, which pretty much amounted to him not wanting to change who I am, only asking me to add some things to my being.  Like adding spices to a dish.  He asked me to add a touch more caution and patience to my brew.  He asked me to come to him first when anger brewed that heavily.  He promised to never stop me, to stand beside me and only help me to calm down if I wanted it.  By asking these things of me instead of demanding a change or handcuffed me to our home, my husband taught me to have more restraint.  If not for myself, then for his sake at least.

Around 8am the next morning, as we began getting ready for the day ahead, we came to realize that there was no water supply.  No water for shower, no water for the toilet, no water for cooking or anything else.  We both decided to go downstairs and learn the issue as we also wanted to stop and have a word with the builder about last night’s activities.  I also wanted to show Bear the elevator door on the 4th floor.

By now, the elevator was off and the alternate one had been turned on three weeks ahead of schedule (they alternate every month or so).  On the fourth floor, we found that the walls had damage, one of the neighbors doors was dented and barely closed and the elevator doors were so distorted that you could view inside and down into the shaft itself where damage could also be seen.  My husband stood there, viewing the damage.  Turned to look at me.  Hugged me tight and made me swear to always bring him with me on one of my crusades.  I promised.

We then went to the Builder and Maintenance, where we learned that the water was off due to Mr. 10th Floor and wouldn’t be back on for another hour.  The builder informed us that this was needed so that they could repair the pipe issue in Mr. 10th Floor’s flat quickly and without incident.  I asked him if he was aware of what had happened the night before.  He said no.  We asked him to come with us.  We showed him the damage on our floor and the fourth floor and the elevator.  I told him a condensed version of the night before.

My husband then asked him if it was fair that we, the other residents of our building who had to suffer the night before, that we again had to suffer on a working day with no water.

The builder said that Mr. 10th Floor was an owner and as such had to be helped.  We agreed but my husband asked him if whether it could have been delayed so that the innocent in this farce could have had water to prepare for work.

The builder said it was an issue pending since Friday evening when they had moved in, that their furniture was damaged.  We asked if it would have been damaged had they not kept it in the area of the leaking pipe.  The builder agreed that was the case.  My husband asked if the pipe was gushing water and if the need to fix it couldn’t have waited till 10 when people were done getting ready.

The builder said that all those things were true, but that he needed to maintain the peace.  My husband asked about the maintenance of our peace last night and the lack of it.

The builder said nothing.

My husband said that he would then deduct one day’s maintenance fee from the next months bill.

The builder said if he did, then all our rights would be revoked and then began walking away.

I had had enough.

ENOUGH.

I ran in front of him and blocked his way with my arms.  He could not go past and the elevators were not working.  He was trapped.

“Excuse me sir.  My husband asked you questions in which you did not answer.  Also, I do not like your tone when speaking to my husband.  Now, you will change your tone and your attitude or you will learn just how vocal an American Woman can become.”

He began his excuses to me about corruption and politics and red tape.

“Sir, let me tell you what you SHOULD be worried about.  You should be worried about how many International Newspapers I can contact within one hour to explain the corruption of APPLAUSE Builders.  You should be worried about how quickly I can hail a taxi and go to the police and government offices to learn about the status of your licenses.  You should be worried about a great many things, but worrying over your excuses is not one of them.  Are you ready to speak to my husband in a more respectful manner?”

Apparently he was.  He and Bear worked out the issue and got everyone’s water turned back on until 10am when they could continue the repairs on Mr. 10th Floor.

Bear and I also learned that Mr. 10th Floor’s leak wasn’t as bad as all that and only got worse due to his own usage of a pipe that he could have easily avoided for the weekend (having four other sources of water in his flat).  We also learned that instead of moving his belongings to another room, he kept it stacked near the faulty pipe.  And that he had spent the entire weekend calling and cursing anyone he could.

We also learned that Mr. 10th Floor had gone around to all the neighbors professing his innocence in the weekend debacle, that he had requested help on Friday when he moved in and was refused and ignored, that he had over an inch of water on his floor, that he was being blamed for damage he did not cause and that he had been accosted by the guards on Sunday during a midnight walk he took.

I had had Enough.

ENOUGH.

So Bear and I told everyone and anyone about what had happened that weekend.  About the drunken rage.  The broken guardhouse furniture.  The tossed garbage.  The elevator scene.  Everything.  We also told them what we had learned from the builder, the maintenance man and the building plumber.

It was even discussed in the next homeowners meeting a week later.

Mr. 10th Floor did not put in an appearance.

Mr. 10th Floor is rarely seen anymore.

Mr. 10th Floor only goes out late at night and quietly scuttles to the garden area to have a walk out of the sight of the building and guards.

Mr. 10th Floor has lost his maintenance, pool and gym rights for not paying his fees for the last two months.

We are all hoping that Mr. 10th Floor will be moving very soon.

And while I felt vindicated that I had been right in calling out Mr. 10th Floor’s lunacy.  While I felt righteous when I had demanded the builder speak to my husband respectfully.  While I felt powerful and in control.  I also recognize one crucial flaw in all of that.

You are never 100% any of those things in India.  There is always going to be someone more influential.  Someone more powerful.  Someone with more strings to pull or more clout to fling about.  Someone more vindictive.  Someone crazier.  Someone unpredictable.

And that while the old me could get away 95% of the ‘in your face’ justification in the US, the new me had to realize that doing so in India wasn’t always going to be the wisest or safest course to take.  I had to realize that I was in a foreign country with different laws of the land, different means of upholding those laws and a husband that I must not only protect but also live rightly for.  I couldn’t be that single girl vigilante so much anymore.  And trying to be one in India would be a 24/7 job right now.  There is injustice everywhere.  Towards people, towards animals, towards culture, religion and law.  While one person can make a difference, it’s HOW they make a difference that counts.

It’s time to learn a new way of having had Enough.

July Gloom….aka Come back Wedding searchers!

Tanking Stats

For over a week now, my numbers have been bottoming out.  I mean, really tanking here people.

So I started to do a little research to find out what I could do to improve my views.

And then I asked myself why.

So I answered, because I like the attention….JEEZ.

So went back to my research.

Apparently I got the most views when people when searching the internet for Wedding, Wedding Cakes and Wedding Cupcakes.

But they aren’t doing that anymore.  Why you ask?  Because it’s July now and most people get married before the end of summer to escape the heat and still have some vacation in some glorious place that may be still too hot but at least comes with a beach.

Now I’m being found by people searching for topics such as Superman, Norman Rockwell, Ever After, Ever After Dress and Dill Pickles.

Yes.  Dill Pickles.

So I decided to not let you Superman, Dill Pickle, Ever After searchers down.  No siree, here at Gori Rajkumari, we like to keep all our searchers coming back for more, to bring you into the Gori Rajkumari fold.

So for your information…..

Indian Superman

Here in India, Superman is still Superman and everyone loves him.

In Honor of June Brides at The Saturday Evening Post

Here in India, most have never heard of Norman Rockwell and have no idea what the Saturday Evening Post is.

Ever After Dress

Here in India, Ever After is a good Drew Barrymore movie with a pretty Ever After Dress at the end and to be honest the shoes look like they were made in India.

Pataks Sweet Lime PICKLE

Here in India, a Pickle is not just a Cucumber anymore.  Now it’s Mango, Chili, Lime, and Mixed.  It’s also not dill.  Dill pickles are excessively hard to find here and if you are feeling excessively sorry for Gori Rajkumari because of that fact, stop…stop feeling sorry and just send her some Dill Pickles express mail please.

PS:  You could let the Fall Brides know that searching for wedding cakes now wouldn’t be amiss for me.  I mean, ordering ahead of time is a good thing, right?   Thanks. 🙂

And now, for something completely different…

A blog, whose content is told strictly through the use of pictures.  Enjoy.

Wedding Madness!

clockSo I have like….what?  Three days left?  Counting today?  To get stuff done?  Not even that actually as I can’t really do anything on Saturday because that’s when everyone is getting together for our Haldi/Mehndi ceremony dinner thingee.

Baprey.  (Meaning “Oh God…help me”)

I’m so tired I can barely stand, but I have a few hours this morning to rest so here I am, not resting.  My mind is going a million miles a minute.  So I figured that I would sit down and write to all of you about what’s been going on.

Sidenote: I sat here for a full five minutes with this blank stare on my face trying to remember what all I’ve done since last time I wrote.  There’s so much I think I overloaded my brain for a few minutes.  Reboot was required.  System crash.  Full restore in progress.  Restart in 5…4…3…2…

1)      Last Thursday I went with my friend S to pick up my Wedding Sari and Top from the tailor.  The work she did was absolutely stunning and I couldn’t have asked for better work to be done.  It was at Poshaak in Artesia.  If you’ve ever in town, stop by there.  They are kind and carry excellent quality clothes.  Little expensive, but if you have the money, definitely the better purchase.

2)      Friday I ran a bunch of errands, including paying for the Decorator.  She usually only does weddings that are $25,000 and above but she liked Bear and I so much that she is decorating on a small scale for us for around $1000.  Check out their site here.  They are called Ethnic Essence and their decorating skills for Indian Weddings are AMAZING.

3)      Saturday and Sunday Bear and I ran around trying to take care of a million things at once.  We bought his shoes (see below) and picked up a few things that the Pundit asked us to gather for the wedding, like the Sindoor (this is red powder like substance that Bear puts in the part of my hair to signify that I am a married woman).  I still have more that I need to get, like the Paan leaves, puffed flattened rice, small red dupatta (to tie me to his dupatta, it is done right before we take our walk 7 times around the fire…it signifies that we are together in all things), a coconut and a few other things (there is a nut that we have to get too but darned if I remember it’s name without going and looking at the paperwork and I’m too tired to get up).   Also, my friend S took me to buy things for my hair…decorative pins and the like.  Bear and I also were up till 2:30 in the morning cleaning his apartment and throwing away things left behind by other contractors who once stayed here.

Indian Shoes

4)      Monday I don’t remember what I did.  Oh wait, yes I do.  I ran my butt off finishing the cleaning of this apartment.  Going grocery shopping.

5)      Tuesday morning I went to the airport to pick up my Brother and his Fiancé.  I took them to a rental car place which was in the most inconvenient area imaginable.  Then we drove back to Bear’s apartment so they could take a nap before driving up to San Fran to visit some friends.  I continued to clean the apartment, and then woke them up.  Then I got cleaned up and ran to the airport again to pick up my Father, Stepmom, and Aunty.  Brought them back to Bear’s apartment and Bear and I cooked dinner for them (Opo and Aloo subji) and then I drove them to my sister-in-laws house where they spent the night (got back to Bear’s house around 10:30 and passed out).

6)      Got up at the ungodly hour of 6:30 in the morning to drive my Dad and Stepmom to the rental car agency to pick up their car.  Got a call from my brother in San Fran that his rental car had broken down.  Started pulling out my hair and noticed that it was turning silver (at least it’s better than white or grey).   I stopped and picked up Darkest Brown hair color to fix that.  Afterwards, stopped at the Bakery to order the 60 plus cupcakes in our wedding colors.  Half of them are chocolate with cream colored cream frosting and little red roses on top.  Other half is vanilla with red icing and little cream colored cream frosting roses on the top.  The Bride and Groom cake is still the Mango flavored angel food cake with fresh Mango’s and Strawberries inside.

7)      The rest of Tuesday I rested man.

8)      Wednesday was my Dad’s birthday, so we all went out to lunch at Lucille’s.  We had them sing and bring Dad a birthday treat.  Also, here (yesterday – Wednesday) it was Raksha Bandhan.  This is a holiday in India where a girl gives a boy (usually brother and sister, but also cousin’s and good friends) a Rakhi.  A Rakhi is a bracelet made from colored string and beads and other things that the girl then ties to the boys right wrist.  A small puja is performed and the girl and boy feed each other sweets.  Then the boy gifts something to the girl.  He also must protect her for the rest of her life.  My friend S’s husband is my Babba (father in Hindi because he bosses me so much so I nicknamed him this to antagonize him) but mainly he is like my brother.  I care for them all very much.  So I gifted the Rakhi to Babba again this year, as I did last year.  S helped me with the Puja so this time it was done properly.  Babba seemed to enjoy it very much.  Then I came back and colored my hair.  It is now almost black with red highlights.  Very pretty but much darker than I thought.  Bear LOVES it.

9)      This morning, I slept in.

10)   This afternoon I go with S to get the food we need for Saturday night’s Haldi/Mehndi party.  Haldi is thisMehndi is this.  S will be cooking up a storm for that night and we will have about 20 people there.  There will be Mehndi music and dancing and family and food and so much fun!  And I have to sit for MOST of it!!!  Siiiiiiiiigh.  Oh well, I’ll just make Bear bring me food and drink!  LOL

11)   Friday Bear has off from work and we are going to Artesia AGAIN to get the final list of items from the Pundit (see above #3) and to give information for the Bride and Groom cake to be picked up on Saturday late afternoon.  We also are picking up fake flower decorations for the Mustang that my dad is getting to take Bear and his brother to the wedding in.  Fake because it’s cheaper and they will be on the freeway and real flowers won’t stand up to my Dad’s method of driving.  LOL I’m also going to get my pedicure and manicure done.    We then will go to my apartment to get the rest of the things that I have kept there.  My Manglasutra, his Sherwani, the Wedding jewelry (necklace, tikha, ankle trinkets, my shoes and a few other things).  Then we will go to Costco for the plates and napkins and glasses as we are cutting costs by providing disposable utensils instead of having the caterer cart his things there.  That would be more expensive and he is trying to help us cut costs.  We also have to stop and buy my makeup for that day as I need something that won’t wear off from the heat of the fire of my own crying (and I know I’m gonna…I’m getting all emotional now thinking about it).

12)   Saturday I’m doing NOTHING and this is where my friends and family take over.  They will do all the food and ceremony preparation.  I’m just gonna sit there and do nothing…for ONCE!  Hehe  Except eat.  I’ll eat.  J

13)   Sunday I’m getting Married!!!!!

Well, I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading my to-do list because that’s what this really is.  I knew I was going to forget something, so I figured why not turn it into a post so you can see what I’m up to and I can remind myself what still is left to do.

I’m including a video from one of my favorite East meets West movies.  I just like the fact that Sayeed from Lost is in that movie and I get to see him dancing in a Sherwani.  J  Plus it’s a fun song and we will probably play it Saturday night.

Till then, I probably will be going nuts.  So take care and I’ll write sometime next week!  Much love to all!  Have a fabulous Weekend!