Goa Me Wideshi Randi Ki Chut Mari
I could still see the mountains of paper on her desk, and I could still smell her perfume, the delicate scent I could swear she wore even today. I could remember first walking into Miss Russell’s class that September morning, and then feeling dry in the throat for a full school year. Of course, this wasn’t like the crush I would have on Mrs. Crawford in the eighth grade, when an adolescent boy was trying to sort out all kinds of confusing messages being cross wired by his body and his brain. But this was every bit as magical, and even more so. As a left-hander, I struggled with my printing, forever dragging my wrist through the ink of my cartridge pen, making an unholy mess of every sentence I tried. But Miss Russell was also left-handed, and she taught me a trick or two, taking my hand in hers, showing me how to angle the pen away from the wet ink. I did all the silly things a smitten schoolboy does, volunteering to clean the blackboard erasers, tidy up the classroom. More than one. I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, “Re-calc-u-lating.” You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then if I made a right turn instead. Well, it was not a good relationship ... When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven’t figured out how I lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions, checking bathrooms, and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.The world is just getting too.
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