CATapulted

After blogging very early this morning, I was about ready to take a power nap before Yums woke up for the day.  Unfortunately, I couldn't even get a minute's worth.  A constant meowing kept me wide awake.  The sound was coming from somewhere close, and after investigating a little, I found the source to be the window air conditioner in my room.  My first thought was that the cat's trapped inside it.  Yums woke up ten seconds later and after the morning routine we went downstairs to see what the cat was hollering about.  Downstairs, it was like everyone had spotted a flying cat or something; my khala, the two maids, and the baba (gatekeeper) were all huddled outside the kitchen door staring at something in the sky.  As I approached the door cautiously, Yums nestled on my left hip, curious as ever, the morning's bone-chilling breeze carried with it some of the conversation that was taking place outside. 

"Good.  It's being punished."(Khala)

"Baaji ab kya hoga?" (Baba asking what's going to happen now)

"Magar yeh upar kaisay pohnchi?" (Maid asking how it got there in the first place)

That's when I saw it.  It really was a flying cat, or it had been.  The cat was sitting on the concrete ledge above the air conditioner of my room.  It looked as if it had either flown up (totally impossible) or it had somehow climbed the drain pipe beside the air conditioner or the one hanging from the air conditioner's vent.  Khala was completely apathetic towards the monster that ate her birds.  When I mused out loud that if it were to jump down, or more likely fall, it would probably die, this is how she responded:

"Let it fall and die." (in not so many words, but yeah.)

Mukkafaat-e-Amal, as we call it in Urdu.  Poetic justice.  Nobody can escape it's wrath.  The pigeons that the cat had climbed up to eat in the first place had flown to another ledge and were now twisting their necks from left to right in amusement. 

I kind of felt bad for the feline bird killer.  Had I stayed a bit longer at my Nani's today, I would've definitely tried to help it.  Come to think of it, the poor cat has had quite a history at Nani's house.  It's been hanging around for over six months now, trying to emotionally blackmail some food out of us.  I've snuck some milk to it on Nani's orders but Khala has a strict "don't feed the cat" policy, so we try to ignore it mostly.  She's right too.. this cat isn't just hungry, it's downright GREEDY!  I remember throwing it some french toast in an attempt to get Yums to eat it too.  The cat pounced at it and gobbled it up, hungrily muttering something under its breath.  After that it longingly watched every bite that went into my daughter's mouth.  Eight hours later Yums threw up and thus began the stomach virus saga.  Not that I'm blaming the cat for it.  We've thrown chappals, water, oven mits, and even black pepper at the cat to try to scare it away from whining outside the door, but so far nothing has worked.  The cat's new target is the baba.  We've heard him yelling in pashto at the cat, and asked him what it was about only to find out the cat had licked and slobbered all over his dinner.  Once it even drank up his chai as he took a quick bathroom break.  We've tried numerous times to bag the cat and release it somewhere far, far away, but it somehow always finds its way back home, if home is what it would call our humble abode. 

Since I've been writing this post in breaks, I have just received word that the cat is no longer on the ledge.  It must've finally figured out how to get down.  Maybe it jumped onto the roof, which was a shorter leap than to any other structure, and also a smarter one.  Perhaps it attempted to leap ledges like Aladdin and then go for the big tree in the back and succeeded...or failed.  I have no way of knowing until tomorrow morning, but until then, here's to our very own short-sighted, persistent stray and its poverty of intellect!

The Best Squeeze in Town

My khala has a thing for fresh juices.  For as long as I can remember, she's been squeezing the life out of all citrus fruits, and any others she can get her hands on.  Where most people would remember their childhood and young adult years filled with comfort foods and the aroma of freshly baked goods, I associate mine with juices.  I think my khala has juiced everything under the sun - including cabbages!  One kind of juice she has stocked in her deep freezer all year round is lemonade.  Oh. My. God.  Her lemonade is to die for!  She's figured out the ratio of acid to sugar that makes you want to set your glass down after the first sip, throw both your fists into the air and scream!  It's heaven in a glass.

Lately, I'd been worried about the effort she put into her lemonade.  I cannot count the number of times I've seen her sitting (or sometimes standing) with a huge bowl full of half lemons, squeezing away with a handheld citrus juicer.  She said her regular citrus juicer was too big for the tiny lemons we get here in Pakistan.  It looks tedious, and I'm sure it is.  That's why I suggested she buy a steel citrus juicer, the kind professionals use.  I was passing by the Abdullah Shah Gazi Mazar the other day and saw a juicer on a cart that caught my fancy.  I rushed home and explained the contraption to my khala, who was immediately interested.  We talked about logistics - where would one buy something like that?  Would it last if it wasn't made with stainless steel?  Where would you put something that big?  These and many more questions no doubt made both of us lay awake at night.  Finally, my khala went out yesterday and got herself one.  Unfortunately, it was far from what we had fantasized about.

Khala explained that there had been two types of juicers in the market (I think she said she got it from Saddar) - one with a lever, and the other with a wheel.  She had gotten the one with the lever because it looked like less work.  She quickly sliced every citrus fruit under the roof in two and set up a juicing station. After the first squeeze, the excitement in her face turned into disappointment.  It juiced the orange, sure, but not to my khala's preferred extent.  I gave it a go, but same luck.  We set it on the floor and applied even more force, but yet again, it left some pulp unjuiced.  We're not ones to waste in our house, so this posed as a big problem.  If indeed that was the extent of squeezing this juicer would do, it was a failed investment.

Khala then took out her trusty Kenwood citrus juicer and did a comparative squeeze.  I couldn't take a picture to compare the two empty covers of the orange but the difference was significant.  Kenwood had juiced the orange, pith and all.  That's what we were hoping the big juicer would do too, but alas, such big dreams for something locally made.  Tomorrow is another day, though.  Khala has a new theory about how to juice lemons in the steel citrus squeezer - something about filling up the bottom steel cup up to the rim with halves of lemons and then pressing the lever down.  I hope she's right, but we're keeping realistic expectations this time around.  

So, I think this was an unsuccessful experiment.  We're now faced with the problem of storing this useless piece of equipment - hiding our failure somewhere it wouldn't constantly salt our wounds.  The thing is bigger than normal cabinets are, though, so I have no idea where we'll put it.  I suggested selling it to a juice shop, but what juice shop doesn't already have a juicer, right?

Oh well.  I'm just glad this experience hasn't weighed down my khala's juicing spirits.  She made an awesome (and by awesome, I refer not only to the taste, but the quantity too!) batch of fresh orange juice last night, albeit having to use her Kenwood.  What was the moral of the story, you wonder?  Well, it could be to adhere to tradition.  Or it could be to try new things, but be pragmatic about outcomes.  Or it could be my favorite - don't trust anything with the label "Made in Pakistan" on it!

Somnolence

I missed Fajr prayer again.  With that  being the first thought that popped into my groggy mind upon coming to this morning, I was dread-stricken and disappointed in myself.  My eyes hadn't adjusted to the caramel light filtering through the curtains, and everything was still blurry, but I could tell I had overshot prayer time by quite a bit.  As I lay still, trying to focus my eyes on the ceiling, I realized I couldn't move, and that the feeling of dread was perhaps not due to a farz missed but due to a presence that was posing an immediate threat.  I saw the outline of a woman with a towel or a scarf wrapped around her head, standing at the foot of my bed.  I tried to squint in an attempt to see who it was, but obviously that didn't work.  Another wave of dread washed over me as I realized that my door was locked and nobody could have gotten in.  Within nanoseconds the woman "flew" closer, and stopped inches away from my face.  I heard the deafening sound of wind charging at me with hurricane speed, and felt like everything around me was vibrating.  I still couldn't see who was floating above me, but I could feel a million wisps of cotton squeezing me from all sides.  Like a reflex action, I started reciting whatever verses from the Quran I could think of at that moment, and almost immediately everything became quiet.  Only the ceiling, tinted with mellow light, lay above my face.  Was that a dream?  I thought to myself, stopping the verse recitation for a second.  Almost like an answer to my question, the woman reappeared and the hurricane resumed.  I closed my eyes and recited the verses one more time, this time completing them without taking a breath.  When I opened my eyes this time, I really opened them.  I blinked the room into focus and realized I had only just opened my eyes. Everything I had experienced before this had been a dream.... or had it?  I still couldn't move, but it was due to fear.  Dare I look around the room to see if anyone really had been there?  I decided not to, because it was easier to ignore something I had not actually seen yet with wakeful eyes.  I turned towards Yums, pulled the blanket over my head, and recited more verses until I fell asleep again. 

This wasn't the first instance of sleep paralysis I've had.  I've experienced this disturbing phenomenon once before, 6 years ago.  I remember the first one involved me hearing a banging on the door and someone trying to violently open it, and a presence pressing down on my lungs.  I remember being just as scared, and just as paralyzed.  I also remember I had been exhausted the night before, just like this time around.  Had I been a tad bit more superstitious I would've credited this to a supernatural experience.  However, I've always been rational enough to consider physiological reasons behind these occurences.  Sleep paralysis is fairly common, and happens to anyone who's on a cocktail of stress and lack of sleep!  This is a sign for me to get more snooze time, but I hate sleeping during the day, and once Yums is asleep at night I can think of a million things I need to do.  That said, I really don't want to experience sleep paralysis again anytime soon... physiological or not, its one hell of a freaky thing!  I'd rather dream about rainbows and waterfalls.  Okay, not really. If you're wondering what I do dream about at night, it's what my next cake/cupcakes will look like................... teehee!!!  One minute detail about last night, or er, this morning's dream keeps tugging at my brain though.  Every time I've dreamt of ghosts or evil presences in the past, and recited Holy verses, it's never worked.  Usually the ghouls just smile and come closer, and I make a concious effort to wake up before they cross that last stretch of distance.  So how come today it worked almost like magic?  Hmmmmm...... I really do need more sleep, don't I?

Have a good night, and don't let that old hag get to you! :p

The Carjacking Virus Bakes Again

So it's been a while since my last post, but a lot has happened since then.  I'm too tired at the moment to chronologically arrange all events but here's a gist of what went on this past week or so. 

Yums and I both caught a nasty stomach virus.  It was more bearable than a flu or a cold but it just plain sucks to get sick at all, especially with a sick child! I really don't know how to keep the tiny ugly germs at bay.  I guess when your kid starts going to school there isn't much you can control in that department.  I used to be quite the germophobe, avoiding any sketchy eateries (which is like 80% of the places here), not sharing common straws, and washing my hands like possibly over ten times a day.  That's all in the past though.  Well, okay I still don't like other people's saliva on my food or drink, but I'm quite chilled out now.  My friends had predicted I would be spazzing out with my kids, walking around with them in plastic wrap.  That really isn't the case. I do make Yums wash her hands before eating anything or sticking them in her mouth or nose, but I let her explore almost anything she wants to.  Also, I can't be a spazzed out germophobic mother when she's off to school, so I kind of have to be okay with the possiblity of her coming home with cooties and such.  And so she caught something from school and very conveniently gave it to me over the last weekend.  We survived it though, clearly! :) And I finally lost a few of those pounds that were being stubborn and not shedding while I was on my diet!

Last week I also discovered a hard truth: I can't make a living out of stealing cars.  Worst comes to worst, I know I won't have to turn to that ever.  I can't.  My cousin was visiting us last week, and he locked his keys in his car.  I happened to come home just in time to save the day... or so it seemed.  I'd seen a friend open my car door with a wire coat hanger once when I had locked my keys a few years ago.  I reassured my driver and the baba (Nani's gatekeeper) and told them they don't need to go get a mechanic, that I know how to take care of this.  I ran upstairs and got a wire hanger and quickly untwisted it into a smaller hook and ran back down to try what I had seen that man do.  My khala patted me on the back, my nani seemed impressed.  Even the baba and my driver raised their eyebrows.  My cousin pulled off the rubber edging on the window and we drew our breaths and stuck the hanger in.  After fumbling around for nearly fifteen minutes without luck, the baba and my driver went to get a professional, and I felt like I had let everyone down.  The mechanic, once he'd arrived, applied the same technique, but I didn't stick around to see what I was doing wrong.  The only consolation I had with that failure was that I am such a good soul, I couldn't even pop a lock on a car! Yeah, right.

Besides all the drama, I got my first two official orders for Little Miss Muffin.  The first was my grandmother, who ordered a Red Velvet birthday cake for my khala, and the second was my friend G who ordered a dozen mini Red Velvet cupcakes and a dozen mini Caramel Mocha cupcakes.  After completing the orders and finally having them picked up, I felt such relief.  It always feels good to create something yummy... it's cathartic.  I couldn't take pictures of G's finished order, except for the Red Velvet Cupcakes, but they were pretty much the mini versions of what I've posted on this blog before. 

So the business has been jump started, the stomach virus has come and gone, and I've established career boundaries - all in the last ten days or so.  Oh and did I mention Yum's playgroup is having three weeks off for the winter? I really don't get why... it's not like the brains of toddlers need a break from all the hardcore studying, right?  I mean, it's just playgroup, man! Oh well.  Thank goodness for the impending arrival of la grand-mère et le grand-père! :p 

Falsafa-e-Falsa

I haven't been spending the last few summers in Karachi, much to my dismay.  It's not that I miss the scorching heat, the swarms of disease-carrying mosquitoes, or the sticky, sweaty feeling one gets just minutes after taking a shower.  I miss the falsas.  You read that right. Falsas, or my tiny spheres of joy, come into season just as summer starts, and for, quite annoyingly, a very short while.  They're intoxicating!  I remember having them for breakfast before I left for college, then buying some during break from a fruit vendor outside our campus, and then coming back from college and digging into my stash at home before and after lunch.  I don't think I've been that obsessive about anything else (apart from green tea, recently).  So you can imagine how heartbroken I always am when I get to Karachi and the falsa season is way past over.

 This year I had my fair share, even though I had, once again, missed them by a mark.  God bless my awesome Khala for freezing some for me!  Even after they were gone she had gallons of frozen falsa juice that lasted half as long as it would have if I hadn't been in the picture.  My falsa consumption hasn't stopped there, no, no! I don't know whose idea it was to plant a falsa tree some time back, but that darn thing is STILL giving fruit!  Yums and I occasionally stop by it and look for dark purple ones among the tons of green ones that pop up every week.  Obviously, my daughter shares the same appetite for falsas as me.  In fact, all the falsas we pick from our falsa tree end up in the party in her tummy.  *Sigh*  The things a mother has to sacrifice...

When I told my khala that I was still having one or two falsas (yeah, that's all Yums lets me have, can you believe it!?) these days, she was surprised.  She didn't believe that falsas would be growing in this weather, but they're very much there!  I took some to her a few weeks ago for proof.  After all, seeing is believing, but eating is a whole different level of palpable belief!  So why is my falsa tree still bearing fruit? I don't know.  I've looked for answers everywhere, and besides some Christian story about a cursed fig tree, Google has nothing to offer me!  Perhaps I haven't had the patience to look through all the search results, or maybe I'm typing in the wrong query, but for now, I'll just call it my falsa miracle.  The falsas are there because I want them to be, and the tree will continue to bear fruit as long as my (and Yum's) insatiable appetite for it exists.  Isn't that a doctrine of philosophy as well?  Everything that exists does so because it's perceived by someone's mind.  Don't be alarmed, I'm not converting to a mentalist or anything, just playing around with some possibilities.

Anywho... all this talk about falsa makes me wonder what they would taste like in cupcakes.  I'll surely post about them when that does happen.  That is, of course, when Yums lets me hoard away enough to bake a batch!  For now, I'll leave those of you hoping to satiate the hunger in their eyes with a photograph of the mini strawberry scones I made many months ago.  Strawberries don't come close to my love for falsas, but a berry is a berry no matter what angle you look at it from!

In case you want more information about falsas (to be further convinced about how awesome they are), you can find it here.