Niyati Tamaskar's Blog, page 4

Introducing England to the Children

Last month we took the children to England for a family wedding and some sightseeing. The 13-day trip wasn’t long enough, and I packed in too much. But then again, I don’t know how to do nothing on a holiday. The whole point for me, about seeing new places is just that – the experience, the seeing of the new place, doing new things, sampling various cuisines. Oh yeah, food is a big part of why I travel.

Notice the headphones aren’t actually hooked to anything

The redeye from JFK to London Heathrow wasn’t terrible, about 6.5 hours of flight time. Kids look forward to the international flights because of the individual screens and numerous movie options. However the first hiccup of the trip happened at baggage claim. Our 3 suitcases and kids’ car seats did not make it across the pond. The app showed our bags were still at JFK. First point of panic was the car seats, can’t really leave the airport without these. The claims agent was quick to find us new car seats and told us to not worry about returning them. Next stroke of luck, the car rental, except this was an upswing. I got chatting with car rental manager and told her about our bags and wedding clothes, she upgraded us from basic to a BMW X1, manual transmission and in black. We were beaming as we drove out of that lot.

Driving on the M1, brought up all the memories from 10 years ago. To be precise it’s been 9 years since I stepped on the damp British soil. And I couldn’t stop smiling. We played a game with the kids from the time we landed: spot the differences. An astute observation by little Aarini- Amma the driving side is on the other side. We drove from Heathrow to our old stomping grounds, Royal Leamington Spa. A stunning Victorian town that lives up to its name was bursting with activity. Pedestrians, bicyclists, coffee drinkers, window shoppers, bookworms – it felt so good to be back!

We checked into our Airbnb, I did a quick shopping run for essentials and we were ready to visit our old neighbors, the Power family. How cool is that last name? Seeing Trevor and Lynda was like nothing had changed over the years. Seeing their daughter, little Amy, changed everything. She was 8 when we left but I remember her from the first time we were introduced, a 5 year old cutie next door. Now she stands tall, taller than me, at 17 and getting ready for college. I got to introduce Amy to my 5 year old, maybe this will be a continued generational bonding?

I will say, we have been blessed with some very good neighbors through the years of relocation we’ve had. My current neighbor delivered both of our children!

We showed the kids our very first home. Explaining to them that in 2 years Caroline Cottage will be 200 years old was very cool.

Our first home, Caroline Cottage est. 1824

The following day, 2 sets of friends traveled to Leamington to see us. Nuwan’s friend from back and his wife and my ex-colleague and his wife. When we had emigrated from England, we were couples without kids. Now we all had a couple of kids. It was so good to catch up and watch the kids bond over superheroes and pretend games. We ate lunch at my favorite restaurant in Leamington, called Kayal. This south Indian restaurant offers authentic Kerela cuisine. It holds a special place in my heart because it was the first place Nuwan and I ate dinner at when we first immigrated to England. Appams, kayal fish curry, prawns and dosas for all; we ate well that day. After food we went to the beautifully manicured Jephson Gardens so the kids could run around.

Jephson Gardens, Royal Leamington Spa

That first weekend in England set the stage for the rest of the trip, it was a wonderful way of introducing England to the children without it being London-centric only. Coming up next; the Cotswolds and yes, the iconic city of London.

Texas Elementary School Shooting

I am struggling today. I would think most Americans felt/ feel that angst. An 18-year-old man (or is he a boy still?) stormed his way into an Elementary School to carry out a senseless destruction of lives. He made this move after first shooting his grandmother, who is now in critical condition. At this Elementary School in Texas, the shooter who I will not memorialize by using his name, killed 19 children between the ages of 8 – 10 and two teachers. The world is going to hell in a handbasket. I do not apologize for my pessimism, I feel it is justified.

According to NPR 98% of all mass shootings have been committed by men. Which only makes me reflect on toxic masculinity. I recently attended a fireside chat with the CEO of Cummins Tom Linebarger and the founder and CEO of Promundo, Gary Barker. Promundo’s mission statement includes, “Promundo-US is a global leader in advancing gender equality and preventing violence by engaging men and boys in partnership with women, girls, and individuals of all gender identities. We believe that working with men and boys to transform harmful gender norms and unequal power dynamics is a critical part of the solution to achieving gender equality.” Gary and Tom discussed what masculinity looks like in some parts of society, how masculinity is portrayed in movies, games, shows; what true masculinity should mean – kindness, caring, consent, emotional intelligence, advocacy and so much more. A conversation that left me feeling hopeful and confident we can amend the path.

Off the number of mass shootings we have witnessed in this country it has become clear to me that it doesn’t matter who the President is or who is in the supreme court, it doesn’t matter if the House is Democratic, the Senate Republican or vice versa. Not much has changed in terms of gun laws from the onset of merciless killings.

I cringe when I hear the phrase “thoughts and prayers” thrown around. Sure, you can pray for the families dealing with their loss, pray for their peace, pray for their souls and the souls of the departed. Not departed, more so taken away/ stolen. But then what? We are left to watch history repeat itself as acts of mass violence are committed – again, and again, and yet again. We should have put thoughts into action after the very first mass shooting in 1982. It’s not high time as they say, we are behind the times.

I fail to see a single scenario outside of the military, where a person needs access to an assault rifle and large capacity magazines. The fact that I’m using magazine in a sentence when not referring to a paper publication containing articles, advertisements and illustration; is the sorry state of affairs we are in.

So I end todays post with asking for your help: –

What can civilians do to change gun laws at a federal level?

I recently signed up to be a parent volunteer for a Junior Running Club, they promptly did a background check on me. What needs to be put in place for gun sales to require background checks?

How do we stop gun owners from selling guns to friends and family without any formal process?

And my final, but rhetorical, question: How many babies, children, teenagers, innocent lives must we lose before steps are taken to increase gun safety and reduce gun violence?

Disclaimer: I am pro-second amendment when it comes to a shotguns; pistols built in the 1900s with a 6 chamber bullet capacity; Apache pistols known for their underpowered and inaccurate performance; collectible antique guns displayed in a cabinet with no bullets loaded. I don’t see any place for automatic rifles, I want gunowners to store their weapon (singular) in a safe. Guns must be sold after a background check and a mental health assessment. The Cancer Center wouldn’t let me volunteer the day after I finished treatment because some misguided organization declared that there should be a 6-month break between ending treatment and volunteering. But if I wanted too before- during- or after treatment, I could walk up to a store or pawnshop, phone-a-friend to procure a weapon of mass destruction. That too in pink! (Depends on how you define mass destruction, I define mass > 1 fatality.)

Something’s got to give. Enough is enough.

Building My Dream Network

It’s been a minute since my last post, I just needed to get over the writer’s block. I have a new mentor-mentee relationship, me being the latter of course, that I’m excited to tell you about. I’ve bagged myself a renowned author and networking guru Kelly Hoey. 

Kelly and I go way back. By way back I mean I met her once about 5 years ago. She was a speaker at Indiana Women’s Conference. I attended her session on the Power of Networking. At the end of her talk, I stood in line as did other women to ask questions. After our brief chat, I asked if I could take a photograph with her. She graciously agreed but there was a technical difficulty. Kelly is a tall drink of water, not just figuratively, she is tall tall. I’m going to say a 6 footer and beyond. After a certain threshold everyone is over 6 feet to me. I, on the other hand, am a teacup of a human, standing boldly at 5’1″. Don’t even think of challenging me on that statistic, I have taken pictures at the doctor’s office when they measure height. No not the pediatrician’s office, hold your chuckle. 

So we did take that photo as presented by this piece of evidence. Kelly had her feet at ground level, I was up the third step of the stage. However brief our talk was, Kelly handed me her business card and told me to be in touch. She wanted to know if I was able to implement her advice and if it was effective. I intended on it.

This happened in November 2017.

I got diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer on 2 March 2018. At which point I forgot all about Kelly and everything else because I was consumed, wholly, by this cancer, being a mother to a 3 and 1 year old, and trying to figure out what it is to be an ailing wife at the age of 34. 

Fast forward to last week. Kelly and I had a heart-to-heart and caught up like we were old friends. Here are some pieces of advice she shared with me.

1. Know your audience. 

This didn’t seem like a revelation, I knew my audience, or at least I thought I did. When Kelly asked me who it was, I confidently said all of humanity. But when we peeled the layers of who I really want to reach and finally here’s what I came up with: women of color under the age of 39. This category isn’t arbitrary. It is how the American Cancer Society defines my demographic; adolescent and young cancer survivors between the ages of 18 – 39. That age range and being a non-white female was my audience. Cancer is merely my platform.

2. Your impact cannot be measured by the number of followers you have. 

To which I push back, isn’t it though? Isn’t chirpy and instasocial all about the numbers? Kelly reminds me of the ripple effect. I push back again, my TEDx talk has been out for nearly 3 years, and the views I’ve received so far hover around 66k. Forget a million views, I’m not even at 100k. How am I to create awareness of the stigma associated with cancer and eventually break that taboo with no one watching a 13 minute talk? She said we will come up with creative ways of measuring impact.

Next up I will ask about SEO, being a guest speaker on podcasts, and more. I’ll share the shareables on this blog. 

NoVax Djokovic

A Balkan ball player, THE Balkan ball player recently made headlines when the Commonwealth of Aussies refused him entry. What are the Serbian’s only two misgivings? He didn’t provide all the evidence needed for the Australian visa. In his defense there’s a lot to navigate when it comes to immigration forms and it’s not like he has team doing this for him. As an immigrant of 20 years, I have all too much experience with visa rings of fire and I’m happy to offer my services to DJ Tennis.

Trapping Djokovic in technicalities of visa seems like a front for something else. Clearly, the fine folk Down Under are threatened by Djoko’s nonconformist views on medicine. Vaccines are a touch too mainstream and Novak is no sheep, he has voiced that in previous interactions with the press. The man also claims strong, diligent, unwavering prayer can purify toxic water. I’m paraphrasing here but I mean it has to be earnest prayer. I have been praying that the waters of the Ganges get purged and detoxed since the first time I visited the holy river and, well, my prayers haven’t been answered.

Second failing, this 6’2” athlete exercised his right to refuse the COVID vaccine! His body, his choice people. Look I get it, he is a world class, top ranked, number 1, sort of a GOAT, tennis player; the vaccine poses multiple threats. For starters his vaccinated arm would be sore. Can you imagine that for a moment please? Put yourself in this poor guy’s shoes. Spectators and aspiring tennis players rest their hopes on you, Belgradians tattoo your name across your chest, you have a world class medical staff that rallies around you, personal nutritionists, trainers, and you’re worth $220 million, give or take $10 million. No seriously put yourself in his ASICS shoes. How would you manage life’s lofty expectations with a sore arm? It’s not like he is a new mom attached to an infant by the hip all day and breastfeeding profusely to get “antibodies” transferred to the tiny human.

The next and obvious conundrum: he cannot get vaccinated in his right arm because he is right-handed and that is his golden tennis arm. He needs his non-dominant arm to wave to the crowds while he is holding the racket on the right. It’s an absolute racket, the need to use both arms. I should consider myself so lucky that I don’t need my left arm to wave to fans. I have no such pressures in my life.  

The man has been disgraced, restricted to a hotel room, without his phone (hey if Australia is taking away cell phones can we send some of numptees from here, for a social media detox?) and the world watches helplessly. The audacity of Australia to protect her people and not bend immigration rules for a super star has me in awe… I mean disgust. 

Reunite Djokovic with kangaroos and let him play a fair game.

Disclaimer 1: To those who have medical exemptions you have my respect and support.

Disclaimer 2: I have no clue on Novak’s medical exemptions.

To the entire commonwealth of Australia: I’m triple vaccinated and a huge fan of yours, can I visit?

9/11 Memorial

10 years ago Nuwan and I visited the 9/11 memorial. On the 20th anniversary of the attacks, I revisited the photographs yesterday. I’m sharing a few… no big write up, no captions needed.

Newport, More than Mansions

I didn’t know much about Rhode Island. When Jen suggested we visit the smallest state in the United States for our 20-year celebration I thought, why not?! Happily, it checks off another state on my ‘Visit all 50’ bucket list. Jen flew from Duluth, Minnesota to Boston and me from Indianapolis. We landed within an hour of each other, rented a zippy car (read cheapest-available) and embarked upon a leisurely two-hour drive from Massachusetts to Rhode Island.

Newport, for lack of a better description is an affluent white person’s playground. Estate homes, the harbor and ports, the sea of yachts – pun intended, sailboats and rows of speedboats to get to the bigger boats was incredible. I loved how each vessel had a proud name. I saw a ‘Black Sheep’ right by ‘Black Jack’; ‘Foxy Lady’ and ‘Hallelujah Patti’. I wish I had written down some of the other names, because the owners’ creativity made me smile and daydream. If I had a boat I would name it Jhansi it’s the name of an Indian warrior queen from the early 1800s – she was a legend.

Newport is known for its McMansions but I want to share the parts other than the Vanderbilt’s that inspired and marveled me.

The Cliff Walk is a 3 and ½ mile stretch along the cliffs of the island with breathtaking views of the ocean. Jen and I walked from our quaint Airbnb to the start of the walk and doubled over one section which resulted in a 6-mile hike. Parts of the Cliff Walk were a touch dicey. The rugged terrain had us walking across many uneven and wobbly rocks. But the views were breathtaking and I call it a must-do. If you’re looking for zen, this is your zen, many moments of zen. Jen and I sat down several times to soak in the views, the sounds of waves crashing, the musical trickle of water as it retreats, the deep blue sky dotted with clouds that provided shade from the sun and then the nooks that were so silent because of still waters. To me, it echoed my heart and the nature of life.

Since pictures speak a thousand words… here are a few from the Cliff Walk.

Cliff Walk, Newport RI

Something equally enjoyable, less challenging for your physical self but terrible for your wallet is America’s Cup Avenue and Bowen’s Wharf. Jen and I had coffees, ate meals, window shopped and shop-shopped in this area. A lunch we ate at the Mooring Seafood Kitchen was one of my favorite meals in Newport. Jen and I got their signature clam chowder and shared a few appetizers. Muscles in green curry soup was decadent. The tuna tartare was succulent.

On the food topic, another meal that stands out was our dinner at the Red Parrot Restaurant. If you’re in the area you must try their crab cakes! Jen also ordered fried pickles for us, something I hadn’t had before. Fried pickles are good.

A place that came highly recommended by locals is called Pour Judgement Bar and Grill, the name alone had me intrigued. The food hit the spot- Jen had jambalaya and I devoured shrimp tacos and tomato bisque.

A place my bestie and I felt compelled to dine at was The White Horse Tavern. This is the oldest tavern in the United States! Established in 1673 the restaurant had its charm alright, but the food didn’t live up to the high culinary standards Newport demands. Don’t get me wrong, the scallops I ordered were very good, but they overcooked the asparagus. I serve mushed asparagus because I’m not a good asparagus-cook. But that is why I seek it in restaurants and expect nothing but perfection. Regardless, I’m glad we ate there because of the historic significance and our main meals were pretty darn good.

Overall I feel that in Newport is a culinary delight for seafood lovers. Even our meal at from La Costa Lobster and Tacos food truck was (cheap &) good. Lastly, if my descriptions weren’t enticing enough, here’s is a collage of the decadence.

If aimless wandering, art shops, Irish luxury and trinket shopping is your thing I recommend Thames Street. Thames Street offers much that is local. You’re spoiled for choice in Newport when it comes to all things homegrown. One of my favorite stores was Ohanga. It celebrates and grows local artists. To gain costumer confidence they provide an ‘Ohanga verified’ certification. This is a confirmation that they have personally checked on the artist, visited their studio/ workspace and guarantee what you’re buying is local and authentic.

If you think that’s cool, let me tell you about the cofounder. Yunping Chang is a Ph.D. in Civil Engineering (you know I love me my engineers) who decided to up and leave her job at Amazon Robotics to co-found this store. I applaud her bravery. I bought a painting called ‘The Clam Dance’ by the artist Robert Chase. It hangs in a prominent spot in my kitchen/ breakfast area. I say prominent because we removed a walk clock from its spot to hang this painting.

A historical site I really wanted to check out was the Touro Synagogue. This Jewish place of worship was established in 1763 and there is an awe inspiring story behind it of national significance. I will dedicate another blog post towards my experience of Touro, thinking the title could be ‘Touro, a National Treasure’. Stay tuned.

When I think back, even walking around the local college Salve Regina University was a site to behold. Imagine having classes with views of the cliffs, harbor and rocky beaches. The state of Rhode Island did not disappoint – unique with it’s historical significance. For a small state, I mean the smallest state in the U.S., it is grand. Uniquely Newport skirts the vibe of opulence and struggling-artist. Go figure! It’s a winner in my books and I would like to visit Rhode Island again. I want to check out Providence and other cool places.

34 down, 16 to go… there is much to explore.

16 years of being a Sparky

This month marks my 16 year work anniversary. Sixteen years! My career can officially drive now (well at least in the US) yet somehow I don’t feel like I’m in the drivers seat. It mainly comes down to the imposter syndrome. Ever sit in a room full of experts and wonder how you got in? Ever get invited to a panel discussion, look at your fellow panelists and feel you don’t belong? An insightful HBR article said, “Imposter syndrome is loosely defined as doubting your abilities and feeling like a fraud. It disproportionately affects high-achieving people, who find it difficult to accept their accomplishments. Many question whether they’re deserving of accolades.”

High-achieving? The imposter-syndrome-voice in my head challenged that adjective. I promptly shush it and decide to reflect.

In sixteen years I’ve worked in two countries across two continents – the US and England. This sums up to four company-sponsored international moves. In England I worked in the West Midlands, which a teeny tiny version of the Midwest. I don’t exaggerate. The English West Midlands is 0.0004 times the size of the American Midwest. If that makes no sense try this for size – the state of Indiana is 104 times the entire West Midlands. We do it big here.

In the US I’ve worked in three such mid-western states Illinois, Indiana and Ohio. I like to claim that I’m an Indian Midwesterner at heart. While my career was budding, I got married twice… to the same man! Let me explain. We had a Hindu wedding in Mumbai and a Buddhist wedding in Sri Lanka. Because why have one destination wedding when you can have two? Many a work colleagues spent their Christmas in 2009 in India and Sri Lanka celebrating our weddings. To add to that, our first holiday as a married couple was taking a bus load of international friends on a 4 day tour of Sri Lanka. You say honeymoon, we say lets load up a bus and tour the island nation. With marriage came the doubling of our household, as two tiny humans joined the Tamaskar Gallege clan. Financial stability was a big part of the decision behind having one, and then two children. Stability thanks to the dual career lifestyle we were leading. With children, I experienced the nuances, challenges and joy of maternity and paternity leave. When I came back to the workforce full time I made a vow to continue breastfeeding. I pumped breastmilk and ran to daycare at lunch to feed my babies and keep my supply up. All this was made possible by a company that allowed flexibility and valued me.

Feature in Columbus Magazine

Then, as some of you know, life threw us a curve ball with my breast cancer diagnosis. But again my career helped. I was able to distract myself with work during chemo infusions. A decision I made, not because my work demanded it but because I demanded that from my work. I said, “Don’t let me go just because I have cancer. Don’t dis-count me, keep me gainfully employed.” And they did. I can’t tell you how much I needed that for my mental health.

With short-term disability and reduced work hours I authored two books over two years. My books are memoirs not entirely related to work but they are also not unrelated. My work and pride in being an engineer, my colleagues and work-family are in both my books.

Nuwan and I have this debate. He wants to retire young and I want to keep working. I tell him 16 down, 32 to go! He does the Math… we always do the Math, and asks, “You want to work when you’re 70?” I proclaim, “Yes. I will be a classy elderly woman; part-neurotic, part-genius, 100% authentic. I will dress in my business-casual-best and regale engineers with a colorful account of Back in my day we were grappling with a global pandemic that affected all areas of operation as I encourage the youth to innovate.” Nuwan smiles as shakes his head in resignation.

40 Years Young

Unmatched beauty of the soul, you radiate like the sun

Those hazel eyes tell a thousand tales

For my misguided sense of control,

You are the perfect decontrol.

In a world where madness ensues, viruses engulf,

You are my antidote,

Restoring my faith in humanity

You are the remedy.

You are as tough as nails

My anchor and my guide,

A moral compass I depend on

A loyalist I can count on.

Travel and adventure, I binge on those memories

Millennium new year in London, hot air ballooning in Turkey

And sulking as we swam in the not-so-hot springs of Santorini

I think it’s time we took the monkeys to Disney.

A pandemic milestone birthday, how I long to see you

I’m making plans over plans, on how we will commemorate

40 year’s young and this is not a cliché

Darling Priya Tai, you make 40 look young.

I love you.

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Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumbers

Do you get seven to eight hours a sleep a night? New parents are likely throwing a burping cloth or an unwashed milk bottle at me right now. Well you’re not alone new-mom-and-dad. Completely healthy, no extraneous circumstances young adults tend to have a lifestyle that affords them less than the recommended amount of sleep. The result- an unforgiving sleep deficit. Unlike a bank account this negative balance cannot be paid off by sleeping extra over the weekend. It only accumulates

A few months ago, I read a book called Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker, and it was a real eyeopener, pun intended. Walker talks about an experiment where a group of subjects are shown a random sequence of images and asked for simple one-click responses, at the start of the day. The responses were recorded and the group was split into two. Group 1 repeated the same exercise at the end of the day, group 2 was commanded 8 hours of sleep before repeating the same test the next morning. Counter-intuitively, group 2 after getting a wholesome night of sleep did better than the group 1. Just saying, the next time you hear someone say ‘you snooze you lose’, feel free to educate them.

[image error]Routinely sleeping less than 6 or 7 hours a day compromises your immune system. If you think of diet, exercise and sleep as three pillars of our health, Walker goes one step further proclaiming that sleep is in fact the foundation of the other two pillars. I’m not the one to argue, I’m all about a getting a good sleep. This might be because we have been parents twice over now, and know how wretched sleep deprivation is. But another reason I buy it, is because after having major surgery, when I got home all I wanted to do was sleep. Un-medicated, deep sleep. I wondered what was wrong with me. My cousin (who is a doctor) reassured me that sleep was a good thing, it was what my body needed to heal. Lots of water and abundant sleep. And I did just that.

In the mid-60s a high school student named Randy Gardner ran an experiment on himself where he stayed awake for 11 straight days and some-minutes. It is the longest record of a human voluntarily going without sleep (and without the use of stimulants). Gardner’s physical and physiological inadequacies included everything from slurred speech to an expressionless appearance, at one stage he forgot what he was doing a moment ago. Decades later Gardner began to experience insomnia on a nightly basis. Overall the effects on Gardner were so dire that the Guinness Book of Records has stopped listing records for sleep deprivation to discourage further attempts. To put things in perspective Felix Baumgartner ascended to the very outer reaches of Earth’s atmosphere in a capsule wearing a spacesuit. He then got out of that capsule and did a free fall back down to Earth, breaking the sound barrier, traveling over 600 miles per hour. The Guinness Book of Record deems that as an acceptable feat but sleep deprivation because of its deathly consequences is barred.

My favorite part of Why We Sleep was the discussion on REM sleep and our dreams. What we perceive as nightmares are in fact therapy for the brain. Reliving painful experiences or projecting outcomes that may not have occurred is a way the brain copes with trauma. I saw this concept repeated in the book I’m currently reading called The Body: A guide for occupants by Bill Bryson. His research shows that our dreams are often disturbing because it is a mechanism for our amygdalae to unburden itself.

I urge you to either procure the book(s) or read excerpts, you’ll find that the research is fascinating and argument compelling. We need a good night’s rest, every night, for 7 – 8 hours with a healthy dose of REM sleep (children need more, babies even more). And if this new-age jargon isn’t for you, and you’re all about all-nighters and increasing work output and human efficiency by reducing sleeping hours let me quote ‘I have confidence’ from Sound of Music

“Strength doesn’t lie in numbers, Strength doesn’t lie in wealth. Strength lies in nights of peaceful slumbers…” Fraulein Maria gets it.

Goodnight, sleep well.

A Hairy Situation

Salons across most parts of the United States and the world have been closed due to covid19 pandemic. This has created a need for hairstyling at home, from the untrained masses. And boy has it been fun to watch. I am seriously impressed by the likes of my sister and other cousins giving their toddlers a stylish shag. I attempted one haircut for my son but the uneven feathers he was left with had Nuwan convinced that I am not qualified for the job. So, for the past two months Nuwan has let his mane grow, wild. I made several offers, but he wouldn’t bite.

In the meanwhile, I have seen social media posts of friends that go for that austere military look but come out practically shaven after getting too enthusiastic with the clippers. Hairstyling is serious business. I hope barber’s tips go up after the lockdown is lifted.

The great state of Indiana has decided to reopen salons with restrictions and rules to follow. Nuwan promptly got an appointment with Earl, the barber. Earl is running extended hours; the appointment was for 8:45 pm, that is late for Columbus lifestyle. With dinners done, kids bathed and tucked into bed Nuwan was ready for his makeover.

Here’s a glimpse of the new world order. The barber only takes in 1 customer at a time, you’re not supposed to occupy the waiting area. Nuwan stayed in his car, in the parking lot till Earl called him on his cellphone saying he was ready. The customer is instructed not to touch anything other than the chair you sit on. Nuwan didn’t even touch the door handle, the barber opened the door for him. The cape is single-use only and was thrown in the wash basket after Nuwan’s haircut. And Nuwan paid in cash, no card machines and pushing of buttons. The barber also took his PPE seriously, as we all should, but umm he did look like an aspiring SWAT member.

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Yes, I wonder why Nuwan would rather have G.I. Earl use sharp objects near his head than me?

Nonetheless, I present to you the work of Earl, the barber.

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The cousins have already asked what kind of magic does Earl do, Nuwan is looking younger and slimmer in the ‘after’ picture.