Debbienho !

  Photo Credit: Cheezburger What I’m watching Hey, I’m a simple girl. The World Cup is on, I watch it.  And, like, I’m not even that enamoured by football (please ignore all previous posts that hint at the contrary), but there’ve been some really good games! My favourite so far? Easily the fixture between Spain and Cabo Verde. I’ll be one of the quickest to write off a goalless draw as a boring, annoying match, but honestly! If there ever was a match that perfectly captured the feeling of frustration, it would be this one. Spain: incursion, after incursion, after–you guessed it–incursion. And yet they didn’t even get an offside goal in because of the immovable object that was Cabo Verde’s defence, especially the crazy good man in goal, Vozinha. It was a beautiful picture of duality: Spain all attack, Cabo Verde all defence, frustrating every Spanish effort. For World Cup debutants to hold former winners to such an exciting draw, it deserves an honourable mention.  Also, I...

  What I’m thinking About that title. Could you? How would you define ‘list’? I tried and I came to a gathering of…thoughts? An itemized sequence? A compilation…of things? Yes, because compilation is so much simpler a word than ‘list.’  Anyway.  The Guardian put together a list of what they called the 100 best novels ever written (you can check it out here ), by asking over 170 critics, authors, academics. It’s an interesting list. I’ve read some of the books on it. I like a few of them. (I love Pride and Prejudice! I’ve read it more than once, and even read modern retellings.) I read some of them and at the end I went, ‘Um, okay.’ I’m surprised some of the ones I thought would be there aren’t there. (Oddly, I started reading the one that hit number one around the same time the list appeared. Oh, I’m not cool or much of an intellectual. I just wanted to read without actually reading, and I had that audiobook, so.)  Looots of things have been said about the list. It’s...

  What I’m thinking Not gonna lie, I’ve got a lot of vices. One of them is tennis.  Bruh. I’ve ridden the highs. The Miracle in Melbourne had me flying about my living room. I’ve felt the crushing lows. I once witnessed a defeat so crushing, I carried physical pain within me as I moved, as if my heart had actually imploded. It was necessary, after all, because it taught me to just watch a lot more casually, enjoy the game, not attach myself to any one player. It doesn’t stop me from talking to myself about it a lot though.  And this year’s French Open has left me with so. Much. To talk about.  (You’re welcome to scroll away from this section if tennis/ sports talk isn’t your cup of tea, but I will make it quick and keep it nice, so thou mayest humour me and stick around.)  In one breath: Most of the favourites have fallen. In a few, much longer exhalations: I did not expect Rounds 1, 2 and 3 to annihilate so many top seeds. With Carlos Alcaraz–one of the top tw...

  What I’m thinking Question! Which do you prefer: squats or lunges? Wrong. The right answer is neither. We don’t like pain. Unfortunately, some pain is necessary. So here’s the deal. Research by these guys and these other guys (there are many other guys too, but I really want to get to the end of this sentence) explain that as if having to deal with men isn’t enough, women are also more prone to osteoporosis. As we get older, our bones weaken more quickly. Bone density does a disappearing act. Bone brittleness shows up with a cheery ‘ Heeyyy!’ Enter, lower back pain. Exit, correct posture.  We get to fight this through resistance training. I don’t mean cardio. Most of us already are familiar with cardio. We walk to most places, we climb stairs, we clean our rooms, we sweat it out to Afro-beats, we chase after our toddler nephews when they steal our headphones, we swat at flies. There are those disciplined enough to go on early morning runs. That’s all nice, but resistance t...

  They’d left the keys there to taunt her.  Naa lunged. Stupid.  Like the first thirty times, the chains on her ankles tensed, snatching her back. Pain tore across her body as she slammed into the dungeon’s icy wall. She wheezed through chattering teeth. The glowing orange manacles around her wrists continued to shrink, their sinister laugh echoing in the darkness.  She chuckled. Her tummy cramped. ‘I’ll need a long beauty rest after this.’ Wind whooshed in through the window slats, carrying sounds of distant brass harmonies and beating drums. The coronation!  Seven days. That was how long the strongest–or most stubborn–magic wielders could survive before the manacles fused with their skin, sucking all their ability. It had been six days since Jasim threw her in, clearing the final obstacle to his coronation tomorrow. Naa’s chains rattled as she scrambled to her feet. She could not hang around for another day.  If she could just reach the stupid keys! ...