Back to work again

It has been a while since I have written and uploaded anything. Over the past six months or so there were several things that I could have written but didn’t simply because I did not have the time to do so.
After several years of a self imposed “break” I have once again gone back to work.
The problem is that I had not realized how lazy I had become over the years or how hectic I would find my new routine. On the positive side it keeps me busy.Very busy. The down side of it is that I no longer have the free time to do as I please, when I please or indulge in any of my favorite, if even meaningless, activities any more. All this I have traded for a five day a week’s vigorous work routine that provides me with a paycheck at the end of a month. But the question I keep asking my self is that is it all worth it?  And am I being paid enough?
Considering all the things I have given up I don’t think any amount anyone can ever pay me will ever be enough.
Doing nothing is priceless. Not many people can afford it.

Bidding adieu to an old friend

How do you say goodbye to an old friend; one that has been with you for so long that it has almost become a part of your life?
This friend in question happens to be our old car. Though it is defiantly not the first car we ever had, it is, however, one that has been with us longest. I can not even begin to recall how many priceless memories are associated with this vehicle.
This was the car that took all my children to school on their first day. The entire junior section of the school knew it as “meri garheen garhi” as my son in kindergarten used to call it back then.
Among the check post walas who used to guard the entrance/exit of our residential area, it was known as the barey number wali gari . No need to stop and question who it was and where they wanted to go as was the case with cars that had regular sized number plates. The sentries could see us coming from a mile away and lift the barriers for us.
Apart from putting minor scratches and dents on it, there was a time when I smashed a Honda’s tail light while reversing. Another time I drove it against a truck that had spikes protruding out of its wheel caps. Believe it or not those spikes literally ripped off one third of the left side sheet from the body of the car which then hung over the back tyre to scrape the road behind as I drove the car with its metallic train back home. Needless to say I got more than a few curious glances from the passersby.
Since this was a rare case of car vs truck (and not just any truck , a stupid spiked truck at that) so of course the car was bound to suffer but under normal circumstances its hard body covering withstood most attacks I subjected it to with my reckless driving. That is more than what you can say for these newer model cars whose entire sides simply crumple like tissue paper if something heavier than wind collides with them.
Ever since we moved to Lahore we don’t get to see lot of our old friends very often. Still, a few of them come to pay us a visit every now and then when they pass through Lahore. And the first thing they see as soon as they enter our house is "that old car". So much has changed over the years, so many thing are different, but right there, parked in our garage is something which is still the same as it used to be all those years ago. It is like a blast from the past for all the kids. It reminds them of their elementary and preschool years when it performed pick and drop duty for quite a few of them on quite a few occasions.
Alas it is not going to be in our garage for much long.
It has been sold.
Reason was that it was just getting too difficult to manage.
It had begun spending more time at service stations and with mechanics then at home and with us.
It had also become rather difficult to drive lately. With a stubborn steering wheel and a gear with a will of its own, it was not the easiest thing to take out on the road. My daughter is depressed at it being sold. She has sentimental associations with that car. But she had to give in realizing it had become impossible to keep any longer. To be honest I am a little depressed my self.
I am sure that the new car we get in its place will be sleek, shiny, efficient and more manageable then this one. But will it have the old ones scratches and dents? Will it have years of memories associated with it?
I suppose not, but I guess one can not hold on to things for ever and must learn to let go . It is all part of life. After all it is people and not things that are important.

A culinary mishap

Last night I baked the worst garlic bread of my life.
Usually my garlic bread turns out crunchy and delicious but last night the pieces came out of the oven like hard rocks. You could play cricket with them or even hit a home run if you’re a baseball fan but you could not eat them.
By some curious twist of fate, it is always when company is expected that one or the other of my recipes (even a tried and tested one like garlic bread) ends up in a disaster.
Hats off to some of the brave guests, who, even at the risk of chipping their teeth, attempted to take a bite out of those little boulders.

Eureka

I once read somewhere that the biggest advantage of being unorganized is that you are constantly making new discoveries or, as I have found to my delight, rediscovering old things.
The joy of coming across something you had thought lost forever can only be experienced by the messy. The well organized have no clue as to how much pleasure even a simple random discovery can give.
My latest discovery was made while going though the accessories of a food processing machine that hadn't seen the light of the day for several years.It was a long lost graduated cylinder that measures the precise amount of water to be poured into an egg boiler. I have already mentioned on my blog that with out this cylinder my fancy egg boiler had become pretty much useless.
Well it is not useless anymore.
So soft boiled, medium boiled, hard boiled or any kind of eggs that one could possibly wish to have can now be made to order.
Breakfast anyone?

H Plus

All kids mispronounce a few words when they are little but my daughter was a champion at it. She had an entire list of words that she would twist in her mouth. The funny thing was that her mispronunciations were catchier then the actual words themselves.
For instance Kamra (room) was pronounced as Karma. Chakkar (dizziness) would become Kachar, Chocolate was Chlokate and so on. The best one was perhaps Katchpali which was her version of the word Chipkali (lizard). Since there was an abundant number of those surrounding the porch light during the evenings, the word was uttered with persistent frequency.
I thought she had out grown this habit until she came to me today saying that Nana is asking for an “H Plus”.
And I was like …..What?
Turned out Nana had asked for a Pech Kus (screw driver)
Took me a while (not to mention a consultation with Nana himself) to figure that one out

Still Eight and a Half

It turned out that the reason my daughter had asked for all her toys to be removed was not because she had grown too old for them but because she was sick and tired of picking them up and cleaning the room after having played with them (which incidentally she never did).
So the deal now is that if I want the toys to stay in her room, I am going to have to do the tidying up.
This is what I call taking black mail to a new level.
Since I was cleaning up after her anyway, what makes tidying up now any different from before? The difference is that now I have lost the right to even chide her for being messy.
Boy! these eight and a half year olds sure know how to twist you around their little finger.

All Grown Up

My little girl just asked me to pack up all her toys.........and I am left thinking "where did this come from?"
Has she grown up so much that she does not need them anymore?

She is only eight and a half years old.

I suppose my constantly telling her to stop being babyish was to eventually have some kind of effect, though my intention had been to get her to be a little more well behaved, not discard her childhood altogether.
Nevertheless, after applauding her mature decision I did as she asked. I brought out cardboard boxes to put all her toys in but when it came to actually doing it, I could not do it.(Now who is being immature?)

I know I am being silly but to me those toys are a symbol of her childhood and it can’t be over yet: not at eight and half. I Know she is going to outgrow her playthings eventually, if not now then in a couple of years. It is part of life and there is no reason to feel depressed about it.
And yet I am depressed.
I have two other kids in their teens who have definitely left their childhood behind. I did not feel half as depressed at their time as I do now. Perhaps because in both their cases I still had a younger child following behind to focus all my attention on.

This time I know it’s all going to be over for good. All those hugs, kisses and cuddles are going to be steadily reduced till they disappear altogether. One night before going to bed I will suddenly realize that I have not had a hug, kiss or cuddle all day long. My child has not even once run up to me crying or upset because she no longer believes that I am the only one in the world who can solve all her problems.
My dethronement from the world’s most important person status will be permanent this time.
So what am I going to do?
Simple
I am going to use all my persuasive powers and talk her out of putting away her stuff for now.
I suppose I am behaving like an ostrich, avoiding reality by dunking my head in the sand. But I can’t help it. I can't deal with this reality right now, may be I will able to do in another couple of years (or maybe in another 18 or 20 years) but not now.
Most definitely not now.