Are you capable....

I am fortunate to be born into a good family to have received education which has endowed me to work at great companies. I am fortunate to be speaking a language which has opened doors for me and allowed me to step out into the world. I am fortunate to have wonderful friends who speak my language and understand my culture, who are non-judgmental and care about me. Sometimes I wonder if I had been born in a broken down hut which was already over run with children. If the only person making money was not making enough to feed me, there was filth, mosquito and disease which greeted me each morning when I opened my eyes. I started my day with a stale piece of roti and murky water and that too if I was lucky and than would run out into the streets and I would see rich people in flashy cars going about their business. I would see cars parked next to swanky,hip restaurants throwing away half eaten food, what would I think. Would I be capable of robbing and killing some one at that time. Will I still have friends who are non-judgmental and helpful?

I wonder if it is circumstance which make a person or the person who makes the circumstances. I mean what if I was the one who had been a flood victim and I had to see my child dying slowly in front of my eyes what would I have felt than, If I had to make a choice and save my self or my child or have to choose which kid to save out of all my children, what would I do? What if the house I had spent my whole life building was the one which got washed away, every thing I owned drowned under vast amounts of water and mud. All my memories, all my life gone....

I think I am all these people, I am the poor kid who is starving. I am the flood victim who is in dieing, I am the child soldier who gets killed. I am the human that is smuggled. I am the baby who dies because of drinking unclean water...., you know why I am all these people? Because I share their DNA they are all a part of me and I a part of them because we all share the core of life.

I believe I am capable of making a difference in their lives because I will do what ever I can in what ever capacity to help and heal; what are you capable of?

Common thoughts by the commoner about the uncommon mango

I call the mango uncommon because in our part of the world it is known as the king of fruit. I had to do some research about mangoes hence I had to talk to my friends and family so I guess my whole article today is basically their thougts mingled with some of my own.

Any one who grew up in the subcontinent knows that summer is all about mangoes. Mango parties, eating them by the canals and specially eating them during the monsoon rains getting soaked. I still dream about biting into the luscious silky soft flesh and tasting the sweet sweet nectar. I have searched high and low for mango varieties from Pakistan here but have always been disappointed. The mexican mango does not quite compare to the more flavorful and sweet Pakistani variety.

I personally believe the right way to eat a mango starts with buying the right mango. For that one needs to go to the big farmers markets and haggle with the farmers. Once the right price has been negotiated the big carats are loaded into the back of the car and bought home, where the mangoes are packed with ice in steel buckets. Ideally every one would plan and all our extended family would pile into cars sitting one on top of the other and head to the Lahore Canal, where we would sit by the banks with our feet dangling into the cool flowing water. The men usually would jump right into the cold waters and start splashing every one whilst the women out of modest requirement sat under the pepal and safayeda trees with their shalwars hitched up. Each one would be issued a mango and we would progress to soften the flesh by kneeding it with our hands and than bite off the top and suck everything out. I can still taste the yummy goey deliciousness. The slight tang of the fruit, the juice would drip down the mouth and at the end we would all have yellow beards and sticky hands.

The next ideal method of eating Aam (mango) was to enjoy it during the torrential monsoons. All of us would come out with all our clothes on and bathe in the cool showers while mom would hand us the mangoes which we would relish. Monsoons, have a kind of magic associated to them in my mind I used to think it was something every country in the world experienced so when I moved to the USA I was quite disappointed for there was no intense heat where I lived and no cool monsoon.

However back to the subject of Mangoes, I think there is only one method of eating a mango which is sucking it but others seem to disagree. They say eating a mango is dependent on the type of mango, if its a tapka you suck it. Anwar Ratols can also be sucked. But langra, doosairi, sindhri are to be cut up and eaten. Some people enjoy cutting the fruit in half and scooping out the flesh, while others just cut it up into flanks with the skins on and eat the fruit off the skin. While still some would go to the trouble of removing all the skin and chopping it into small peices and eating it with a fork. This latter method is employed by people who have little love for the fruit and too much show shaw. Lahori's will tell you that when it comes to the mango one has to just hitch up ones sleeves and dig in, minimum hassle= maximum reward.

Mango seasons also result in mango parties, which have mango ice creams, buckets and buckets of mango fruit and little else. In such times kids are found running around in under wears to minimize sticky clothes. I remember the mango parties we had at our place back home, one in particulat was some ones birthday and all my uncles and aunts were wearing comical hats as they sucked and chewed on delicious, juicy juicy mangoes. The juice dripped over their hands and would make puddles on their plates if they were lucky to be carrying some or on the floor.

I feel my life in Pakistan was entwined with mangoes a lot of my childhood memories revolve around it, perhaps because it was in season during the summer when school was out. My my grandfather had mango trees in his garden and we would go and climb and collect the kachi ambiz (unripe mangoes) eat it with lots of salt and red chillies the sour flavor would make our mouths pucker but we wont let up until we had soar throats and ended up with a hoarse voice.

During the mango season mom would make achar in big clay martabans and we would have kachi keri ke chutni with missi ki roti and sometimes with aloo parathas also. My aunt would make methi aam ki chutney which we would enjoy with daals and parathas. I can still smell the unriped mangoes while mom pounded it with green chilies and salt to make the chutney the heady smell would waft on the sluggish hot breeze though the veranda as the mortar and prestel would go thud, thak , thud thak......

Concordia took a chance on me

Dear Concordia,

I have recently completed my undergraduate degree in Biology from Concordia University, and I would like to relate to you some of my experiences at Concordia. I came to the university in January 2004 as an international student; my biggest shock upon landing in Canada was the massive amounts of snow and the cold cold weather here. Upon arrival I stayed at the Hingston Hall dorms and loved the experience. First of all it helped me to make friends which helped a lot with keeping my homesickness at bay plus my friends helped me to understand and navigate the metro and introduced me to the social scene in Montreal. Next I had to look for a part time job; in this endeavor I was helped by the international students office; so I started to work at the bookstore and as a stock keeper in the labs. In the summer I had the opportunity to work in the residence again as the housekeeping staff because the residence is converted to cheap housing for tourists. During my stay in Montreal due to circumstances beyond my control I was unable to go to see my family and since I came to the city I was unable to go back home but I have to say that Montreal and specially the Concordia community has a way of making you feel like family, the international students office folks were very helpful all along. I suffered from a bout of clinical depression and i got a lot of help from the councelling and development and the heath departments at Concordia. I was encouraged and started to go running with one of the nurses Donna at Loyola campus and my councellor Noreen helped me sooo much that I cannot even begin to express my thanks to her. I was able to come out of my depression and be a happier person and though my grades have been all over the place and I even got failed out of university. I want to say thanks to Concordia for not giving up on me and giving me a second chance. Thanks to all the proffessors in my department who have worked hard to make our university experience a lot of fun and helping us to learn new and intersting things. I had the chance to work with the clients at the centre for the arts in human development at Concordia and I was inspired by their enthusiasm and grit, it helped me to stay in university. It is an excellent effort on the universities part and helps not only the clients who come and learn the arts but also volunteers like us who work with them on many levels. The other initiative I greatly admire, taken by the university is the Sustainable Developement program in place, it has done a lot to educate students and faculty alike and is helping to transform the policies at the university for a better and more sustainable future for all of us to enjoy.

It is easy to take the creme de la creme of the student lot from high schools and Cgeps and than expect them to do well, as is the case in a lot of universities in Canada and around the world, its a whole different ball game to give a chance to students who are not neccessarily doing exeedingly well in schools. I was always a good student even when I came to Concordia as a transfer student my gpa in my college in the USA was a 3.98 but having to live here on my own for a long time, having to deal with the weather and isolation and being tight on money was very tough for me and hats off to Concordia for understanding that and giving me so many chances and letting me stay and finish my degree.Which i finally did this semester [fall 2008] and I am all set to graduate in the summer of 2009.

Once again i would like to extend my thanks to every one at the International Students office, at the Councellling and Development centre, at the Health Centre, all the faculty and advisors in the Biology Department and the Concordia open door policy for giving every one a fighting chance and not just one chance but in some cases such as my own numerous chances. Now I feel motivated to go and do a graduate degree in a couple of years, to think that at one point in my life I was not even sure I would have an undergraduate degree it is a very big achievement for me and I can not thank Concordia university enough for believing in me.

Thanks Concordia!! I love you

Sincerely,

Fatima Shah

student id #5311748.

My brother my hero

My brother was 2 when he had an accident which caused him to undergo major brain surgery. As a result of which part of his brains frontal lobe had to be removed. This left him in a coma for a month and the doctors told us his chances of survival were minimal at best. If he did survive he ll probably be on a bed unable to do anything for the rest of his life.
He proved them wrong, with my mom exercising him and taking him and doing whatever she could in her capacity, he was able to not only move again but also regain all his functions and now functions as normally as can be expected of some one who underwent major brain surgery 5 time in total to date. He has seizures and is retarded, doctors tell us that mentally he is like a 7 year old. Although he is a goofy, lovable funny 23 year old.
I find it amazing that after going through all that he has been through in his life, he is a very upbeat and gregarious individual. He loves music and laughter and has a lot more empathy than I could imagine. When he found out he was an uncle he sent his favorite toy for his neice.
When we were young, I d get into scraps with other folks who d make fun of him and at times I was embarrassed of my brother. It took me a while to realize that he has a way of making himself heard and loved. In time, the folks who made fun of him became his best buds.
There have been times when I have wanted to protect him, protect him from people and at times from himself too. I guess I have come to accept the fact that what is cannot be changed. He just wants to be accepted for who he is and loved like every one else does. So here is to you my dear wonderful brother, here is to your generous heart. Your big laugh and your goofy jokes. Thank you for being you; for helping me be more empathetic and be able to look deeper than the surface.

Where is Humanity?

The events which took place in a village near Sialkot moved me to tears of frustration and anger. Nowadays the newspapers are full of violence all over the world. Murder, mayhem, hunger, rape and hate.

Today while praying I just felt soo hopeless and helpless and I asked Allah where are you? why are you not helping the helpless and I screamed at him to tell me where he was and than I heard a voice in my heart which said to me. It was not his duty to help and protect us, it was our own duty to protect the defenseless. It was our duty to do help the helpless and the feeble and the weak.

Yes, we all question what can we do in such reckless times, when Humanity seems to have died. I guess the answer is that yes we cannot change the world but we can change our selves give a little bit of our time and energy to do good. Every small thing helps. Mothers can raise their kids to be better more thoughtful individuals. WE can volunteer our time with organizations if not money. Just pull along and do a little bit, because every little bit helps

Where is our Humanity?

A ricochet Bullet at the corner

Pierced through is ribs,

went through the mothers heart.

Blood splewed everywhere

They came in droves

to break their bones,

Broken limbs,

fractured skulls

Brains frying on the side walk

She was left looking at their pictures flashing on the screen,

What was she to do to protect her babies...

Killing, Murder, blood...

Is this the solution ?

Where is our humanity?

In such reckless times

Death seems like a bliss.

Through the eyes of my child

I see a face, it has a mask on it and they are all looking at me. I am wrapped in something warm and fuzzy. It feels almost like the belly lodge and I am placed in the arms of some one. They are soft and kind and feel very much like what I was used to. I hear her voice, the voice I have been hearing for the last so many months and I can smell the same familiar smell. I feel safe, this is my safe haven.

There are so many people staring down at me, oh why do they have to make such weird faces and why do they talk in this funny language. I can understand adult talk perfectly well. I try and tell them to talk properly using their big words but oh what is this I feel an intense pressure and pain in my belly so I start to cry and soon there is a wet sensation and it all feels better. A disapproving face hovers on top of my crib now, it is the nurse she is telling mommy that I have wet my diaper and we need to change me, oh not again. I feel horribly cold, so I cry some more.

Now I am hungry give me food, oh you mean mean people give me food I yell and scream and flail the things attached to me, what are these long things and where is my belly lodge bed, I do not feel the walls around me any more. They laugh that I sleep like a super man well I want my bed back you guys. I hate this crib, I am all alone in it no warmth no safety;oho everything is new and different from what I am used to. Pick me up pick me up waaaah waaaaaah. Finally a light turns on, I see her face hovering over my crib she is smiling. I smile back, she hugs me tight...... I feel safe now. Mommy please keep me safe protect me from the mean mean monsters.

Yes my baby that is a mothers job; protection........

protection of my gift from god.

Halal =sustainability

My younger sister is a tree hugger, atleast that is what i call her. She did her studies in economics with a special interest in sustainable development. She recently got a job and in the interview they had asked her why she was interested in working in sustainable development and my sister who in outward appearance does not come across as a religious person told the interviewer because that is what her religion taught her to do. I had asked my sister why she had said that and she said, well apa Islam is all about sustainability, we are encouraged to live a life of service to others where we are good to the environment and treat all creatures humanely. I thought wow, she is so right i never did look at it quite this way before; yet when I think about it, it is true. We are told not to beat work animals and to treat them kindly, feed them well and give them plenty of rest and not over work them. When it comes to crops and trees we are told not to burn, cut or destroy crops even in times of warfare. When it comes to eating animals there are strict guidelines on how to kill them and not only how to kill them but also how to raise them.

These last few days my friends and I have been having discussions regarding method of Halal and all my research led me to a lot of information regarding how the throat of the animal must be cut, how the blood be drained how things are to be cleaned prior to the killing and after the killing. What verses of the Quran are to be recited etc. However, the things that really piqued my interest was that there is also strict guidelines on how to raise the animal. It must be raised on good vegetarian diet, not be fed ground animal bits. It must be allowed to roam free and it must be treated with kindness and calmed down before being killed. It also got me to thinking that although Islam allows us to eat meat it does not tell us to just eat meat or to eat meat mostly. Cause when we study the life of the prophet and examine his diet we find it to be quite simple and again following organic and sustainable practices. His sustenance was mostly dates, water and sorgham (jowar) flour. He did eat meat occasionally but even than liked to share it with other people, it is a good practice to send some meat curry to your neighbor when it is cooked at home. So here is my beef with whole halal/haram debate. First of all halal is a way of life which extends beyond how we cut and kill our meat. It is also about how we treat them prior to killing them. Halal is also not just about what we eat but also about how we live our lives, it is about conservation about all else. Islam discourages needless consumerism by encouraging us to spend our time and energy wisely in service to other creatures and in spending time gaining knowledge and our expertise in other areas of life. It is about living passionately and in harmony with out environment while inflicting minimum damage to it.

My sister was right Halal is synonymous with sustainability and conservation. It is about leaving our planet a little better than how we found it, and if we cannot leave it better; lets try and not leave it in a worse off state.

You should have married a computer

My husband started telling me he wanted to buy a computer the second day of our married life. Oh wait, it was the first day. I was not surprised, since he is a programmer and well I would look at him in quiet amusement barely containing my adoration of this 6 ft "galoot"(I mean this with sincerest affections hubby dear). Thinking its only time before he ll be giving me his 100 percent attention hanging on my every word. Oh, how naive I was.

Well, he bought a lap top and after barely a week with that machine he wanted to buy yet another computer and the quest for the perfect 'puter began. I told him hey, when you buy me a house you can buy your self a computer. The day the deal for the house finalized the first of the many number of puter boxes showed at our door step. My husband came home barely containing his excitement. Like a child on Eid day waiting for eidi he could barely wait to get the box open and examine the motherboard. The mother to the bane in my life. Than more boxes arrived, a tickle soon became a stream ending with a deluge in the form of an HDMI monitor screen.

The next few days were spent among a maze of boxes while the machine was being put together. First it had just been the laptop which was the center of his life. He d come home,barely enter the door and start on the laptop. There I was regaling him with the triumphs of my day which he would half listen to as he read news from all across the world. The final straw came in the form of Stephen Colbert and John Stewart; with food was a daily dose of the daily show. I have asked him on many occasions why he married me. I think if we were in more technologically advanced times and hot hot robots in black leather suits were actually around, girls like me would never have a chance at snagging a husband. He would have married a computer. The other day a friend of mine and I were lamenting this very fact, of how our husbands spend their whole day in front of this terrible tube, come home and plank themselves right in front of them. We dubbed them the other woman in their lives to which her husband said no, she is not the other woman, you are!

Well I am woman enough to admit that he is right, the terrible tube did come into my husbands life waaay before me. He was swimming in its codes long before I arrived on the horizon and writing the code to Writetext.Writeline("Hello World") before we had the chance to be introduced. Another friend gave an iphone as a birthday gift to her husband and right after she took it away because as she put it, it was like shooting one self in the foot.

Hence, I will never give my husband an iphone or a wii console or for that matter a play station for his birthday, a few months a ago a dear friend of mine had to buy a gift for her husband she had enough money saved up to buy him rock band but in the end she decided on not getting him any such thing. As she put it than I wont talk to him for weeks unlike right now where I get to talk with him once every few days.

As my husband is such a computer geek and as I am surrounded by computer geeks in this part of the world I decided the only way I was to have meaningful conversations with my better half was to become at least some what like that hot hot robot. Becoming hot is out of the questions as I am sure my rotund and pleasantly plump figure will never be able to fit into a leather suit. Becoming more computer savvy is still a possibility, so what started off as a conversation starter between me and my geeky half soon became my all consuming hobby. Conversations about computers and programming started me off on the quest to actually learn and figure out the fantastic world of computers and well honestly saying now after my meager experience. I get why my darling is glued to the terrible tube, it really is quite addictive and a whole lot of fun. So to the Richard Geere/Josh Groban/Patrick Demsey/Eric Bana/Shiney Ahuja/Luke Wilson of my life(i.e hubby dearest) all I gotta say is code on dude!!!!

winds of change

I was watching a Tunisian film called satin rouge (highly recommend it) when I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. It reminded me of my time in Montreal, while studying there I had exposure to so many different cultures and people. One of my dearest friend is from Morrocco and watching this movie hearing the Arabic felt like coming home though I do not understand one word of it.

It is interesting to note how life changes. There was a time in my life when I was a die hard romantic, in Pakistan one would never find me without my choorian. My favorite dress was chooridar and Angrakhas, dressing up was so much fun. My sisters and I would spend hours have beauty sessions where we ll put oil in each others hair. Now its been ages since I wore choorian or dressed up, I guess in Pakistan there is always some occasion to dress up, there aren't a lot of such occasions here . When I moved to Canada, life became a frenzy of activity between holding down jobs and school and social life there was hardly any time. There was so much to soak up, the culture and meeting new people. I spent so many late nights at the library or at the local cafes with friends "studying", talking, laughing.

In university we had such an idealistic view of life, my friends and I spent so many hours discussing politics and religions and cultures. We wanted to change the world and sitting around the table we tried to analyze why there were political tensions in different regions of the world. I had the chance to meet people from pretty much every continent. My summer spent working at a short term stay hostel for tourists was a cultural extravaganza. I was working with a Jew whose parents had immigranted from south America, a girl from Burkina Faso, another girl from China, there were a couple of canadians thrown in the mix and a Native. Man, the conversations we had were phenomenal and the people we met were pretty amazing too. There were South Americans, Algerians, Saudis, Americans, Irish, Swedish, people from Eastern Europe. I learnt of Religions I had never heard of and stories from all corners of the world abound when we d sit down for meals. Living there taught me how similar humans are and yet we like to create differences just so we can make these groups and distinctions.

When I moved to Seattle after I got married I had no idea I d miss Montreal so much, the city I was dying to get out of, I had hated the snow there and yet today I wished I could go back and spend the winter there. I love that city because it was there I truly understood who I am and my potential as a human being. It is only when I faced adversity and got to test my limits I got to know that yes, I could survive in trying circumstances. I was able to let go of my preconceived notions about many many things when I allowed my self to experience and step outside my comfort zone. I do miss those days when I shared meals with folks from across the globe, shared apartments and houses with so many different kinds of people. The last house I rented was from a Jewish couple, the neighbours used to call us a UN peace poster they found the idea of moslems and jews living together harmoniously quite amusing, infact when we had met the landlady to discuss renting the place she had explicitly told my sister and me to ask our parents permission if we could move in with them.

Now my life although not as exciting, has taken on a quiet rhythm, my days are spent being a mommy and a wife. The high of my day is seeing my daughter smile and welcoming my husband back home and watching him enjoy the meal I prepared for him. My life has become a constant flow of poopy diapers, laundry, vaccum, tidying up and cooking. I am now the CEO, CFO, Marketing consultant, Nurse, Chef and party planner all rolled into one of the M enterprises. Is this the life I had planned sitting drinking coffee? I don't know----- what I do know is that I am enjoying it thoroughly just as I had enjoyed being an explorer, living on a meager budget, when salvation army was the high point of fashion and home decore was a mish mash of craiglist and dumpster diving.

As the saying goes the only constant in life is change I wonder what the future holds.

To sleep or not to Sleep

Ah sleep sweet sleep; there was once a time in my life when I d put my head to my soft pillow and surrender my self to slumber. Deep in the arms of sweet dreams I would be until the golden rays of the sun woke me up. No more, gone are those glorious days since I joined Mommy boot camp 1 on 1. The instructor Major Alina aka Major cranky pants, who is looking to be General cranky pants real soon is drilling us new cadets harder then usual. Now adays or rather now a nights the routine is some what like this. The General gets fed a bottle of milk and is put to sleep Private Cadet Mommy burps the BIG G and gently rocks her to sleep off to la la land and than hardly containing her joy she rushes back to the Mess hall jumping with joy and screaming I am free, free at last when she hears the BIG G menacing call again. This time private Cadet Daddy goes and get to change poopy diapers and put the general back to sleep. Daddy comes to the mess hall jumping with joy and before we can sit down for a quiet evening daddy recalls he has important office work to do in his favorite room. So there goes private cadet mommys big plans for the evening.......

When I had married private cadet Daddy I had not known of his nocturnal life style, ok ok I lie. I knew about it but like all starry eyed romantics I had thought oh i ll change my man once he is mine. I have yet to make a dent in the nightly routine of sleeping at 4 in the morning and waking up at 2 in the afternoon. Much to the chagrin of my mother who had religiously put us to bed at 9 in the evening and woke us up at 8 in the morning, when she calls me at 1 o clock in the afternoon and finds me a sleep she is not at all a proud parent.

Back to our night time adventures so once the general finally fall asleep and private cadet daddy goes of to the thinking machine I console my self that it could be much worse like my brothers nightly routine for instance which goes something like this. Mom starts telling him to get ready for bed at 6 in the evening by 9 she manages to make him go to his room and start changing into his pajamas, where we turns on his radio host voice and gives us a minute by minute account of what he is doing right now, (these next few lines are in gulabi urdu or urdulish)

"main apna pajama paine raha hoon, aur ab mein nay left wali tang andar dal li hai. Ab mein apni microsoft wali shirt paine raha hoon. Yeh mujhay apa nay di thee, meri birthday kab a rahi hai? Ami mujhay meri birthday par kiya milay ga?" Ami says, " Beta ap abhi jo kaam kar rahay hain woh dehan say karain, birthday ki baat baad mein ho gi" "Acha jee, par meri birthday walay din aap mujay kiya dain gi, Ali haider wali cassette dain gi...... and on and on this continues till 12 at night when every one has given up and gone to bed so having no choice my brother also falls asleep.

The Big G of our boot camp however employs a different method however, she likes to wake up in the wee hours of the morning when all the cadets have finally popped off to sleep and are busy enjoying the dreams of la la land. Full of amazing biryani recipes and delicious curries being served at her now very famous restaurant, which has a 2 month waiting list and has regulars the likes of kings and presidents, while she herself is off on book tours and presiding over iron chef. At preciesly this moment the General likes to let out a blood cuddling scream to let all the neighbourhood know that she is ready for a diaper change and another bottle of milk at the right temperature not too hot and not too cold. Once this has been administered we can rest assured that we ll be allowed sleep for a couple of hours before the next drill begins.

However, between you and I; I am deeply incredibly and completely in love with the general so I cannot bring my self to leave mommy boot camp because just watching her sleep and smiling while she does so makes all the sleepless nights in seattle better. Cuddling up to that little heater is better than a sandal wood fire, Love you my little angel sleep tight.

What did Abraham know that we do not?

We all spend Eid Ul Azha eating meat and remembering the story of Abraham and how when Allah jee called onto him to sacrifice his most prized possession he did not hesitate one minute to sacrifice his son. I was thinking about that story a lot; specially recently when my own child was in the hospital fighting for her life. I thought about how can a parent be so ready to sacrifice his child for Allah and than I thought maybe Abraham knew something which I did not know, so that got me to thinking what was it that he knew that I do not know?

First of all Abraham loved Allah jee a lot and in return Allah jee loved him a lot. As humans we never hurt the ones we love so how can the creator of the worlds be willing to hurt some one he held dear to himself. Allah jee gave Abraham his son, if he had wanted he could have very well not given him a son at all to begin with so why did he ask him to sacrifice his son once he had been born. I think because he wanted to test Abraham;to see if Abraham knew how much Allah jee loved him because only than would he have been willing to sacrifice his son. Abraham knew that Allah jee would never hurt him, he would never do anything to harm his son because he knew that act would hurt Abraham, so in essence I think he knew all along that nothing was going to happen to his child because Allah loved him.

What would He have done?

Well there is a lot of emotion on facebook these days regarding the draw a Mohammad Day. A lot of folks have reported the page and nothing much seems to be resulting from this. Some folks are thinking about boycotting the day and in Pakistan Facebook and other sites are being banned.

Lets all take a deep breath and analyze the situation shall we;

Why is facebook not doing anything about this?

well simply because they cannot, if we are unhappy about that page being present there are lot of people who will view the deletion of that page as an infringement of their rights to free speech and by getting all hot and bothered about that page and changing our statuses and boycotting facebook we are only increasing the curiosity and spreading the word. Instead if we all just calm down and not let that bother us things will cool down in a while or if we do want to do something, lets make a page where we talk about why we love the prophet and talk about his character and all that he has done and invite non muslims to come and become fans and leave their comments for that page.

The person who made that page I am sure does not have any agenda against us. They are just trying to make their point that they feel every one has a right to speak their mind. All this started because of the death threats received by the south park creators for making a cartoon of the prophet. Well you see most of the time in the media here cartoons are being created of all the other prophets and saints so to them it was not different to create on of Mohammad Rasulallah. We should not get offended by this rather take it in our stride and instead of boycots and death threats talk about why we do not make pictures of the Prophet.

So that brings me to the next question why don't we make pictures of the Prophet. We dont make his pictures because he told us not to so people do not start worshiping him like a diety.

As all these events are taking place around me I am forced to think what would the Prophet himself have done and am I a bad muslim because I am not boycotting facebook or being all upset and in face about this whole issue?

When I think about the Prophets life all I see is a Man full of compassion and Mercy. A man who prayed for the people who threw stones at him and injured him from head to toe. A man who showed compassion to the woman who killed and desecrated the body of his beloved uncle. A man who was full of kindness to the woman who would throw garbage on him when he passed by her house and the day she did not throw garbage on him went to find out why she had not done so;upon entering her house he saw her lying with a fever. So he spent time nursing her to health.

So if he himself did not get upset and mad at the people who were mocking him we do not need to get bothered, instead following his compassionate example we need to calm down and talk about the issue, in retaliation we need to find common forums to make ourselves heard and say why we love the Prophet and make others understand and share our love. Most importantly if we truly love the Prophet we need to follow his teaching, learn about his life and spread his message which is not only to do with praying and fasting and other rituals but more to do with mercy, kindness and compassion.

Dress code de-coded

Wanted to share this article written by Yvonne Ridley which a dear friend forwarded to me.

I agree with what she has to say specially the part where she says that people specially men Muslim and non Muslim are a obsessed with the hijab. My two cents about it are this Islam tells women to dress modestly there are probably two or three verses in total in the Quran where the hijab is mentioned in terms of covering up modestly. Piety and being pious are mentioned way more times and piety is indeed a lot more than how we dress.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/10/20/AR2006102001259.html

How I Came to Love the Veil

I used to look at veiled women as quiet, oppressed creatures -- until I was captured by the Taliban.

In September 2001, just 15 days after the terrorist attacks on the United States, I snuck into Afghanistan, clad in a head-to-toe blue burqa, intending to write a newspaper account of life under the repressive regime. Instead, I was discovered, arrested and detained for 10 days. I spat and swore at my captors; they called me a "bad" woman but let me go after I promised to read the Koran and study Islam. (Frankly, I'm not sure who was happier when I was freed -- they or I.)

Back home in London, I kept my word about studying Islam -- and was amazed by what I discovered. I'd been expecting Koran chapters on how to beat your wife and oppress your daughters; instead, I found passages promoting the liberation of women. Two-and-a-half years after my capture, I converted to Islam, provoking a mixture of astonishment, disappointment and encouragement among friends and relatives.

Now, it is with disgust and dismay that I watch here in Britain as former foreign secretary Jack Straw describes the Muslim nikab -- a face veil that reveals only the eyes -- as an unwelcome barrier to integration, with Prime Minister Tony Blair, writer Salman Rushdie and even Italian Prime Minister Romano Prodi leaping to his defense.

Having been on both sides of the veil, I can tell you that most Western male politicians and journalists who lament the oppression of women in the Islamic world have no idea what they are talking about. They go on about veils, child brides, female circumcision, honor killings and forced marriages, and they wrongly blame Islam for all this -- their arrogance surpassed only by their ignorance.

These cultural issues and customs have nothing to do with Islam. A careful reading of the Koran shows that just about everything that Western feminists fought for in the 1970s was available to Muslim women 1,400 years ago. Women in Islam are considered equal to men in spirituality, education and worth, and a woman's gift for childbirth and child-rearing is regarded as a positive attribute.

When Islam offers women so much, why are Western men so obsessed with Muslim women's attire? Even British government ministers Gordon Brown and John Reid have made disparaging remarks about the nikab -- and they hail from across the Scottish border, where men wear skirts.

When I converted to Islam and began wearing a headscarf, the repercussions were enormous. All I did was cover my head and hair -- but I instantly became a second-class citizen. I knew I'd hear from the odd Islamophobe, but I didn't expect so much open hostility from strangers. Cabs passed me by at night, their "for hire" lights glowing. One cabbie, after dropping off a white passenger right in front of me, glared at me when I rapped on his window, then drove off. Another said, "Don't leave a bomb in the back seat" and asked, "Where's bin Laden hiding?"

Yes, it is a religious obligation for Muslim women to dress modestly, but the majority of Muslim women I know like wearing the hijab, which leaves the face uncovered, though a few prefer the nikab. It is a personal statement: My dress tells you that I am a Muslim and that I expect to be treated respectfully, much as a Wall Street banker would say that a business suit defines him as an executive to be taken seriously. And, especially among converts to the faith like me, the attention of men who confront women with inappropriate, leering behavior is not tolerable.

I was a Western feminist for many years, but I've discovered that Muslim feminists are more radical than their secular counterparts. We hate those ghastly beauty pageants, and tried to stop laughing in 2003 when judges of the Miss Earth competition hailed the emergence of a bikini-clad Miss Afghanistan, Vida Samadzai, as a giant leap for women's liberation. They even gave Samadzai a special award for "representing the victory of women's rights."

Some young Muslim feminists consider the hijab and the nikab political symbols, too, a way of rejecting Western excesses such as binge drinking, casual sex and drug use. What is more liberating: being judged on the length of your skirt and the size of your surgically enhanced breasts, or being judged on your character and intelligence? In Islam, superiority is achieved through piety -- not beauty, wealth, power, position or sex

I didn't know whether to scream or laugh when Italy's Prodi joined the debate last week by declaring that it is "common sense" not to wear the nikab because it makes social relations "more difficult." Nonsense. If this is the case, then why are cellphones, landlines, e-mail, text messaging and fax machines in daily use? And no one switches off the radio because they can't see the presenter's face.

Under Islam, I am respected. It tells me that I have a right to an education and that it is my duty to seek out knowledge, regardless of whether I am single or married. Nowhere in the framework of Islam are we told that women must wash, clean or cook for men. As for how Muslim men are allowed to beat their wives -- it's simply not true. Critics of Islam will quote random Koranic verses or hadith, but usually out of context. If a man does raise a finger against his wife, he is not allowed to leave a mark on her body, which is the Koran's way of saying, "Don't beat your wife, stupid."

It is not just Muslim men who must reevaluate the place and treatment of women. According to a recent National Domestic Violence Hotline survey, 4 million American women experience a serious assault by a partner during an average 12-month period. More than three women are killed by their husbands and boyfriends every day -- that is nearly 5,500 since 9/11.

Violent men don't come from any particular religious or cultural category; one in three women around the world has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in her lifetime, according to the hotline survey. This is a global problem that transcends religion, wealth, class, race and culture.

But it is also true that in the West, men still believe that they are superior to women, despite protests to the contrary. They still receive better pay for equal work -- whether in the mailroom or the boardroom -- and women are still treated as sexualized commodities whose power and influence flow directly from their appearance.

And for those who are still trying to claim that Islam oppresses women, recall this 1992 statement from the Rev. Pat Robertson, offering his views on empowered women: Feminism is a "socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

Now you tell me who is civilized and who is not.

hermosh@aol.com

Yvonne Ridley is political editor of Islam Channel TV in London and coauthor

of "In the Hands of the Taliban: Her Extraordinary Story" (Robson Books)

A man is a king in his castle

Out of curiosity today I went on Google and punched in ' just another day in the life of a housewife' to see if my blog comes up, well it does not. However, some very hot housewives blogs certainly show up.

The real issue at hand today ladies and gentlemen is, if man is indeed a king in his own castle? did you folks see the advertisement for Dodge Charger Man's last stand. In this advertisement the narrator starts off saying; he will wake up at 6 30 am, he ll eat his fruit, he ll shave, he ll clean the sink after he shaves. He ll listen to his better half's opinions of his friends and her friend's opinions of his friends. He ll keep quiet when she does not want to hear no and he ll carry all her beauty things and on and on-----. However, he ll drive the car he likes cause that is man's last stand. It got me thinking these men who work all day, make money for us to spend however we please.Who do not get to question us on how we spend that money; don't have a lot of say when it comes to the house. How to decorate the house and where to keep their stuff. In my house my husband has two boxes and two drawers with his stuff in it. There was a time when I was a student and not living with him, in those days the house had his stuff all over the place now adays all his car tools are in one giant box in one closet and all his other manly gagets are in another box. I think man is no longer the king in his castle he has been demoted to a lowly knight.

The women however, are the Queens, cause we get to choose the color co-ordinates, have satin cushions and red bed spreads, orange sofas and crimson cushions. The man cave has been sent down into the basement if he is lucky or out into the garage or shed. The house that once had a manly smell now smells like lavender; the bathroom has potpourri, open any drawer and you ll be greeted by the cheery smell of roses. Flower motifs and candles abound and the shower no longer has soap it has grapefruit body washes with aloe Vera and Jo Joba oils. I know a friend who no longer carries a purse cause all her stuff is now carried in her husbands jean pockets, I remember watching an episode of scrubs once where the ladies were discussing how to dress their better halves and having them wear cargo jeans was good cause then they carried all the ladies stuff. In the advertisement however, they end by saying that men will drive the car they want to drive. I guess I can agree with that cause all the folks I happen to know, did win on their last stand and bought the car they wanted if the wives liked it ;)

more on dressing your guy and getting rid of his unwanted clothes next time....

B+ ---- cuddle up with life.

These days i am reading a book called learning to breathe by Alison wright, i highly recommend it. In it i read a quote I really liked so I ll put it up here.

"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin----- But there was always some obstacle in the way, something to be gotten through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last it dawned on me that these obstacles were my life. " Alfred D. Souza

Life;

Standing by the seashore breathing the salty spray

Let the wind catch in your hair; play with it.

Running wildly into the waves;

listening to the seagulls song.

Catch the snow flake on your tongue

laugh so hard that you feel your sides bursting.

Hear the bubbly laughter of children

smile at a stranger

tell a friend they are needed

Love, DREAM, hope and Wonder

See the ripples in the pond the breeze makes

Wish on a shooting star, watch a blooming rose.

This is what life is

Dont forever be looking in the shadows

looking out the window

keep wondering if the grass is greener on the other side

things have to be a certain way before life can begin

this is your life, right now, right here

cuddle up with it, live it to the fullest.

Happily ever after-----

Credits roll and the hero rides with his heroine into the sunset on his faithful steed. Really? Cinderella finally marries the Prince and they live happily ever after, or do they? Does she drives him crazy with her obsessive compulsive cleaning? Does sleeping beauty drive her guy mad, insisting on sleeping at a certain hour every night? Does Rapunzel want only salads; is Snow White afraid to go to the beach for fear of blemishing her skin?

I guess it's for the best that in our love stories the hero and heroine always die at the end. I mean if Heer and Ranjha had actually married, pretty soon Heer would be shouting at Ranjha for spending too much time in the fields and not giving her any attention; Ranjha would be retorting, "Well you are no belle from the fields yourself; look what all that butter has done to your thighs."

Love, weddings and marriage: what is it all really? Is is for real or just ideals we have been made to believe to keep the human race going. Many folks argue how can you live with the same person for their whole life? Seeing the same face gets boring, right? And in a few years you'll know each other like the back of your hand, and will be completing each others' sentences.

So much hype is created around weddings: the wedding day has to be perfect; the bride looking resplendent in the most expensive clothes one can buy. Bejeweled like a Princess, she will be the "it" factor at the occasion. I remember finding weddings to be magical when young, and brides to me were the most beautiful creatures. Lots of money spent on food and clothes; it is after all the start of a new beginning.

There is a difference, however, between the wedding and marriage: wedding is a fantastic fantasy; marriage is real. Marriage is the bond you will share with a special person for the rest of your life. Why do people marry? This is a question I've often asked myself. For starters, it's nice to know that someone knows you like the back of his hand, he knows what you like and what you don't; what color your tooth brush is; someone who loves you even when he comes home and sees the house in complete disarray, dirty dishes in the sink and you sitting writing your blog.

It's also nice to know their idiosyncrasies and rituals, the fact that no matter how much salt you put in a dish he will always add soy sauce to it :D It's nice to have someone to talk to in the middle of the night when you cannot fall asleep; to share ridiculous food facts with; to fight over why he cannot solve Turing's halting problem (because in life all problems can be solved, only if you try hard enough, right?). It certainly is a wonderful feeling to have that someone we can trust completely, in front of whom we do not need to be anyone other than ourselves.

Being married is like living with your best friend for ever and ever, like a perpetual high, and feels simply amazing when we love someone and are loved. And that in it self is GGGRRREAT!

The amazing cow, Rab ka Shukar adda kar bhai, jis nay humari gayee banayi

I will start to post an article weekly; on food and nutrition. In these articles I plan to talk about the biology and chemistry of a particular food, its history and how it is produced today. At the end of these articles I will be sharing a simple recipe with my fellow readers.

Lets start this scientific culinary journey by talking about the Cow. Around 30 millions years ago when the earth's moist warm climate became arid, this change led to increase in the grass lands which could grow quickly and produce a lot of seeds, during dry spells these plants were fibrous and dry. It was during this time that the horse like animals decreased and the deer like animals the ruminants survived and evolved. These animals are able to survive on less nutritious plants like dry grass and hay; there multi chambered stomach allowed for better digestion of cellulose and they are able to squeeze out the last drops of energy out of their food. The cow is part of the ruminant family, so it can utilize plant like hay and silage which are useless to humans. The cow's stomach is house to many microbes which help it to digest its cellulose rich diet. The nutrition absorbed by the digestive system of the cow are later used to manufacture milk.

Milk is amazing because its designed to be a complete food, its the sole sustaining food of the calf so its a rich source of many essential body building nutrients; specially proteins, sugar, fat and vitamin A,D,E,K and B and Calcium. All milk carries the same sort of nutrition the relative proportions vary from animal species to animal species. Milk is not rich in vitamin C or in Iron. Humans are perhaps the only creatures who drink milk after infancy but as the enzyme which is required to digest the milk sugar lactose decreases after infancy it is not surprising that most people are lactose intolerant and cannot stomach milk efficiently. Being Lactose intolerant is the norm rather than an anomaly. Most Northern Europeans underwent a genetic change thousands of years ago which allowed them to produce lactase(lactose digesting enzyme) through out life and therefore they are generally not lactose intolerant, however most people of Asian and African descent are. The best source of milks nutrition for lactose intolerant people is yogurt.

Lets talk briefly about milk chemistry. Milk is the food of the newborn so dairy animals must give birth before they can produce significant amounts of milk. The milk is produced by the mammary glands which are an astonishing biological factory with many different structures geared towards the production and storage of milk. Some components of milk come directly from the cows blood from the nutrients it digests and others like proteins, fats and sugars are assembled by the glands secretory cells. and than released into the udder. Do not be fooled by the milks bland appearance its a very complex liquid full of vitality; especially when it is fresh there is bacteria as well as white blood cells and other enzymes in it. Pasteurization decreases this vitality, more on pasteurization and homogenization next time.

Milk is slightly acidic having a pH of 6.5 to 6.7; it has the sugar lactose in it which is made up of the sugars glucose and galactose. It has two main types of proteins called caseins which make up the largest portion of the milk proteins. There are four types of casein proteins which are collectively knowns as the caseins. There are numerous other smaller water soluble proteins in milk which are left behind in the whey when the caseins coagulate in the curds and therefore are collectively known as the whey proteins; Lactoglobulin in the most common whey protein by a large margin; whey proteins make up about 20% of the total proteins by weigh.

Milk is an emulsion of butterfat globules within a water based fluid.Each fat globule is surrounded by a layer of phospholipids and proteins which help to keep the fat globules separate and not aggregate into larger molecules of butter fat grains, they also protect the fat globules from the activity of fat digesting enzymes found in the water portion of the milk. The fat soluble vitamins like A, D, K and E are found within the fat globule portion of the milk. Caseins proteins aggregate around an atom of calcium phosphate to form casein micelles; the opaque white color of milk comes from the light being deflected by the fat globules and the aggregated large casein protein particles.

In the next article I will talk more about the milks nutrition and its production. The history behind industrialization of milk and about the rise of pasteurization and homogenization. Now for the fun part

Todays recipe.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day so before you rush out that door try this simple yet delicious and energizing smoothie.

Strawberry Banana smoothie. makes about 2 8 oz cups

1/2 cup low fat vanilla flavored yogurt

1 cup 1 or 2 % milk

2 tsp natural sugar free peanut butter

1 cup strawberries

1 banana

2 tsp whey powder (optional)

ice cubes

blend all these ingredients together and enjoy a delicious glass of wholesome goodness.

This is a complete breakfast as you are getting protein from the peanut butter, milk and whey powder and yogurt. Calcium from the milk, yogurt and whey powder. Vitamins and carbohydrates from the fruits. Antioxidants from the strawberries and instant energy from the bananas.

see you next week with more :D

References:

Biology concepts and connections by Campbell and Reece 5th edition

On food and cooking the science and lore of the kitchen by Harold McGee

Prevention- Healthy Woman

Milk- Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milk

Dreams

Dreams that weave;

their silky webs.

Soft and tangly

webby and sticky

Dreams that drone like flies

buzz in your head

make you cry;

on a lazy summer afternoon

Dreams like blue bottles

smashed against the shores of conciousness

their bellies full of juices

lost forever

Dreams like noisy children

sitting, standing laughing on the bus

Dreams like soapy bubbles of the dishwasher

Dreams which are loud

some which are quite

like the gentle breadth of a sleeping child

When we steel someones dreams

we rob him of his all

He is alone now

Left with wide vacant eyes,

no hope no dreams

Nothing-----

This poem was inspired by a quote I had read by Carrol Spinney (big bird)

The most important lesson I've learnt is that first you have to dream, and than you have to believe in your dreams; that is the only way for them to come true. There will be set backs and disappointments, but do not let them deter you from your plans, your beliefs, your dreams. Dare to dream if you don't your dreams will never come to be. Imagine your world the way you want it to be, than try to make it that way. That is what big bird teaches on sesame street, and that's what I've learnt from playing him. Dream on -----

Mr Khan you may be on to something

I am sure every one has seen the you tube video of Mr Shahrukh Khan talking about the controversy of the former Air Chief Marshall's picture in some Indian Ads and Pakistani players not being choose in some other incident. I agree with his statement that we should not let politics come into sports, the way I think we should not let political rivalries come into anything and in fact it is us who have the power to change the political climate if we change our views.

I think it is human nature to distrust anything that we do not understand. All our lives as kids we have been told over and over how India is not a good neighbor and they are out to get us and don't want us to survive as a nation, as a child I used to think all Indians are bad people, than one day I remember in Pakistan we were visited by two south Indians from Singapore. They were the guest of one of my uncles and I remember being truly fascinated by them, it was only on Doordarshan before than; that I had seen ladies in saris with bindis on their heads and being young and naive I had asked my mom how come they are in our house are they not bad people and she had said no beta, no one is bad; all people are good.

Cut scene to 2004 when I had moved to Montreal to pursue my studies, according to the rules at university no students were allowed to stay on campus during the summer and being the poor church mouse of a student that I was back than, having very little money and knowing no one in a new place I had no where to go to. I remember going to a lecture on dinosaur remains where I had seen a desi sitting amongst the crowd, just seeing someone who looked like me was such a relief for me. I think only a person who has had to go and live some where completely foreign where you know no one can understand the feeling of joy that comes with seeing some one whom you can relate to. During the course of the lecture I got to know her and found out she was a student from India studying biology as well. I had mentioned how I was searching for summer housing and missed home and my mom's cooking. A few days later I saw her again and she invited me to her house as she did not live on campus and cooked me a delicious meal complete with hand made rotis I was completely blown away here was someone I hardly knew who was showing me such a lot of generosity she told me that I could stay with her during the summer and wont have to pay any rent or utilities just split the grocery bill with her I had remembered being skeptical at first but having no choice had taken her up on the offer. She had helped me acquire a summer job and had gone to lengths to celebrate my birthday by baking me a home made cake and inviting her other friends. I was missing home so much that day, it was my first birthday away from home and having some one who went to such lengths to take care of me was a great feeling.

When I had moved in with my desi friend I had had some distrust and I remember her joking with me one time, hey i am not going to kill you I promise. Over time living with her and meeting her friends I had realized how much I needed to learn about the Indian culture and its history and it was not at all what i had seen on TV for so long. So Mr Khan I agree with you, lets keep an open mind and not let politics color our judgement we folks who are fortunate enough to live in countries where we have the opportunity to meet people from other nations should use this opportunity and try to break down the barriers through communication. Friends let us embrace our neighbors and let go of our preconceived ideas.

Between a kick and a stretch

I got a new tenant recently whom I 'll hopefully be evicting in the first week of march if all goes well. This young lady is god,s gift to me and she very stealthily rented out my belly and than slowly took over my heart. First she took a small space in the basement of my heart and mind and than slowly but surely she took up more and more room and bought in more and more of her stuff until she felt that she owned the belly lodge. The belly lodge previously was occupied by stomach, liver, kidneys and other anatomical structures, these days it is occupied by the one and only Baby Alina who likes to kick up her heels and dance to some Bollywood tunes in the middle of the night I am sure she can beat Malika Khan's dancing number chaiya chaiya on the top of the train any day. The new tenant has a very specific dietary requirements she abhors chicken but loves potatoes and mangoes and milk. Loves to have cheese pizza from Pizza hut in the middle of the night, if Pizza hut is not available papa Jones would do but for what ever reason papa Jones refused to give her the pizza last time she went there because they only deliver after 10 and even if you are in the shop they cannot let you carry out the pizza because as the sign says they can only deliver so who cares if the economy is in taters and businesses are scrambling for customers if the door says delivery only after 10. Don't come in and ask for no pizza to carry out cause we want to blow money on gas and come to your house and give you that pizza. Ahem sorry had to have that rant I am still mad at those silly guys hope their wives get pregnant and want pizza and don't get any than they ll know what is coming to them.

So as I was saying the tenant is an avid dancer, basket ball player a very persistent foot ball player who play is the center forward for her team so she practices by kicking consistently for two to three hours every night and when she is tired she likes to rest by sticking her big toe in between the ribs and thinking about life and its many mysteries. If i get lucky and manage to get her to sleep Baby decides it needs to do yoga and does the sitting snake and standing cobra and rolling dog in my tummy.

Even after all this the funniest part is that I cant seem to get mad at this little angel who keeps me up at night kicks me black and blue if i sit for longer than she likes or eat something she does not want. Having children is a miracle not only because of the human being growing inside us but the feelings that grow with it, its indescribable amazing wonderful and great. Oh how I wish I could put it in words.

eulogy to the purple car

After writing my previous blog about the cars, I received a phone call from my husbands friend. This friend he is one in a million I tell you cause I don't know many people who would get employed by the likes of Microsoft and would willing leave all that dough to go and pursue the life of a poor student and live in the icy frigid temperatures of the east coast to pursue a PhD in computer science. This fellow really loves his computers that is all I can say, more on the love of gadgets and men next time. The other amazing part about this guy is that he is a real clean freak and he is a good cook and on top of all this he has the heart of an elephant, never for all the time that he was here was his house door ever locked, anyone and every one who landed on the west coast came to his house first. Folks were forever, sleeping or eating or watching television in that house. He is also the most loyal person I know cause who else would call and speak his mind about how angry he felt because I had insulted his beloved car, which he no longer has,when he should have been studying for an exam the next day. So here are the necessary corrections, the car was a fire bird not a thunder bird, it was a convertible which clocked a pretty impressive speed very quickly infact I think it could have easily substituted for a time machine if Steven Spielberg had seen it before the Delorian and it would have been the purple time machine which would be the famous back to the future car and not the black broken down Delorian we all saw and loved. The car was exchanged for a black racing bike and not a yellow mustard one infact there is no color in car color language called mustard yellow. Plus the previous bike owned by the purple car owner was the color of racing yellow, what color is that you ask it is the one next to the marathon pink on the color spectrum ask any artist they ll tell you. Yes; most importantly the color of the car is navy blue ehem ehem ehem no comments.

So sorry purple, i mean navy blue car where ever you live and work these days you were a joy to have around and I feel badly if I hurt your feelings, I am sure the neighbors miss your musical numbers and the phut phut as you rolled down the rolling streets of Redmond cause your owner certainly does :D and honestly so do we from time to time :)

Dad and his girls

The other day my father calls me and he is totally distraught, I got worried for a few seconds. First I got worried that he called me cause he almost never calls me, i call him and tell him what is going on in my life and he pretends to listen after which he usually says shoo off now i need to work, or here talk to your mother. Well he called me to tell me that his princess "The Cadillac" had been sold to the highest bidder; that car had been standing in the garage taking up space for almost a year now due to a seized engine, just last week my sister had called me to tell me that the cadillac had been sold at the junk yard. I was flabbergasted, that was not possible dad would probably sell one of us before he sold that car really. Just as i suspected when i called home my sister candidly informed me that no the car was standing where it always did under the shelving unit in the garage. This time round he had actually sold it to his most trusted car mechanic who has taken off numerous cars off of our hands before; with the promise that he was to buy a new engine and fix the car and use it for him self. I used to think that car would probably stand in the garage even after we all are gone, it would be written down in his will that the car be donated to a museum or at worst have it own trust fund.

See my father has always had a passion for broken down cars, i still remember as a child when he d bring home an old old model from the junk yard and than try and repair. There was the black mercedes with the hole in the bottom, the cetron with the hole in the roof which had an umbrellas in it. The volkswagon which had a mind of its own and only started when it wanted to and the all time favorite, the mustard colored mercedes which was so loud that neighbours confused it with a dump truck.

Well my dad says men who take care of their cars, take care of their wives and daughters too. I say if they have time after taking care of their cars they might take care of their wives. I never will understand the fascination men have with cars, one of my husbands friend had a purple colored monstrosity he was very very possessive about. It was a Pontiac Thunderbird he had rigged up so it was louder than a supersonic jet, it was colored the gay color of purple and one could easily mistake it for Barney the dinosaur and he had the back seats taken out. When that baby rolled up people shook up and took notice. That car was probably the longest running add on craiglist when it was put up to be sold, not so much cause no one wanted to buy it, but because the seller was very particular whom the car was going to be sold to, it was like giving a daughter in marriage. The match had to be perfect and she had to be happy with the fellow. Finally some lucky dude got it in exchange for his mustard yellow bike and some cash.

Same is the case with my father and his Cadillac he has finally married her off along with his first born his precious van and now he is only left with two of his precious princesses and his daughters. Lumina refuses to run more than 10 km without bursting a tire and sonata well that car has had every one of us learn how to drive on it so its gone from a sedan to a Suzuki Mehran in a matter of a few years. I have hope now because if he can sell the Cadillac he can sell them as well. He was quite jealous of the fact that now the "daughter in law" (bahoo rani) as he refers to moms car will be standing in the garage; the queen bee had been dethroned as to speak.

Advice for husbands

I got this really funny e mail from my father the other day and I thought I really must share it with all my dear friends and most importantly their husbands, it is a good thing non of them play golf. The way golf has taken a turn from being a sport of gentlemen to being the sport of gentle men to the sport of men who frequent gentlemen's clubs.

so here it is advice men aught to sit up and listen to

ADVICE FROM A RETIRED HUSBAND:

It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.

My name is Jim, Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, June. When I retired a few years ago, it became necessary for June to get a full-time job along with her part-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed. Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf club about the same time she gets home from work.

Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the 19^th hole at the golf club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home-cooked grub when I hit that door. She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner.

I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed..

Another symptom of ageing is complaining, I think. For example she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But, boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean). I like to think tact is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half-finished mowing the lawn. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while.. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support June. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy. Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your ageing wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile After all, we are put on this earth to help each other.

Signed,
Jim


EDITOR'S NOTE:
Jim died suddenly on February 7 of a perforated rectum. The police report says he was found with a Calloway extra-long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II golf club jammed up his rear end, with barely 5 inches of grip showing, and a sledge hammer laying nearby. His wife June was arrested and charged with murder. The all-woman jury took only 10 minutes to find her Not Guilty, accepting her defense that Jim, somehow without looking, accidentally sat down on his golf club

The reason I felt compelled to share this advice was for one more reason, yesterday a group of us friends got together to watch a movie after a day of window shopping at the restaurant depot; why were we shopping there is another tale i ll tell you at another time, however, we got together at a friends place to watch a movie and as every one was really hungry the girls were assigned the task of preparing something to eat. So all us females were in the kitchen just as hungry as our respective husbands cooking and cleaning while they sat and tactfully let us know how hungry they were and were so in need of nourishment; that waiting one more minute could result in fainting spells and such. After eating once more they sat and discussed important worldly matters while the women were assigned the job of clean up. Hmmmmm, golf clubs anyone :D

Mommys lemon tree and than some

My mom did figure out what to do with those extra lemons, she made marmalade which according to her got shipped and grabbed in two days and now there is a whole new batch waiting to be cooked and canned. According to her she does not have enough to do, so atleast making marmalade will help her stay busy. But just to recap this just a short list of all that she does do; works two jobs, house work, taking care of a special needs kid, making the layette for my baby, crocheting afghans and such, planning birthday parties, listening to endless phone calls from her two errant daughters and taking care of a house hold full of people and yet she feels she does not have enough work. Mommy you are a trooper !!!!!

Mommy and her Lemon Tree

My mom is an amazing woman, she has time to take care of a house, a husband, three kids who stay at home one of whom is a special needs and keep track of two errant daughters; who are off to one adventure after another. In addition she holds down two jobs and has enough time to garden; while i have my hands full with just being a home maker.

So the other day my sister let me in on a little secret they are on the verge of committing murder, they are thinking of chopping down the dastardly lemon tree in the garden. Which has been fruiting all season; i mean the tree just wont stop, first all the fruit was taken down and juiced and stored, next time the fruit was distributed to friends, family and even to some foes and now that no one is willing to take any more of fruit, my mom has been busy finding new ways to use lemons. A few months back this had been the case with her fig tree. There was fig jam, fig preserves, fig bread, fig pudding you name it she figged it. Now dad and the little uns are planning to hi-jack and chop down the lemon tree before everything has lemon in it. Ami had tried to sell me on the idea of bringing back lemons in my suitcase, mind you my mother is a formidable woman and disagreeing with her requires a lot of gut. Very gingerly I dissuaded her from the idea and now the last i heard she was busy finding new recipes for lemon bars to use the lemons on.

As I said my mom is an amazing women she does not give up, she never gave up on her kids and i am sure she wont give up on her lemon tree until something good comes of it and as far as dad and the kids go with their plans, I ll tell them this you can chop down as many orange trees as you want but don't you chop down that lemon tree.