IRMA

Penchant

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We would like to be on opposite sides across various tables but the thing that still binds us together is the penchant to be human. To all my fellow Irma survivors, seriously how many of you could get a wink of sleep in the days and nights it took for the howler to cross the state. If per chance, you were like me and forgot your faith I am sure you remembered all your childhood prayers, be it Hail Mary, Om Shanti or Allahu Akbar. In my part of town, Jacksonville, the power vanished when it was probably 100 mph outside… who knows… the constant commentary of the weather channel silenced now. I did not even know the dodge baller Irma actually came pretty close to us. I walked around with a candle checking to make sure my kids didn’t get blown away. My son said, “Mom you were scarier than the storm….crazy candle lady walking around at 2 am.” Jokes apart, in the morning I discovered the true spirit of the USA that so many of us fell in love with when we got off our boats/planes.

In a world where freedom to choose is the root to so much evil, a simple person can make a choice to be kind….and God how much difference it makes. It makes all the difference between a monster hurricane Irma defeating man versus humanity defeating hurricane Irma. Kudos to every lineman in Florida who worked their behinds to restore power, kudos to every neighbor who extended their generator to the family next door, kudos to every fish market that gave out free ice to everyone who asked and so much more kindness to go around, it is hard to list it all.

In the state of fear we have been living in these days, where blacks fear whites, browns don’t belong and whites feel uprooted, I have seen my entire community come around, all colors and orientations, to clean up debris, open up their homes to evacuees, hand out water and ice, rescue people on boats. These people will probably never be acknowledged but they did what they did because of love. And as long as there is more love than hate in this world (and I have learnt my evacuation route by rote), I will feel safe.

 

LOL

via Wheel

Some days I wish all the wheels in my car were flat…..

12

 

Our Maid Stories

via Relieved

maid

My 10 year old and I have our own takes on everything, here is an example of what I wrote in my journal and what he wrote in his:

Motherish:

As a mother of two boys, high blood pressure is a part of life and so is dodging food meteors and stepping into shoes with GI Joe in them. In my case, the MLU (Maids Labor Union), has framed photographs of my family in their corporate headquarters, as the most dreaded family. Only the bravest, most expensive and/or newest maids venture out to work for us. What is it with boys and aiming right into the toilet pot? Their bathrooms are a mess, their closets probably have raccoons living under the piles of clothes. I set about cleaning the house, feel so good, head over to the shower and when I am back out, the house is back to normal and so is my blood pressure. I just wait for the visit from my maids.  On one occasion we were home when the maids came and my little one followed them to every room asking them if they were evil. He even asked them to go away but luckily my maids hardly speak any English. And when the house is clean and smelling like Clorox all I feel is…..RELIEVED!!

Childish:

The house was under a maid attack!!!!

Our lives are ruined boys!!!!!!!THE BEAUTIFUL STINK OF SOCKS!!!!! THE PILE OF SOFT CLOTHES ON THE CARPET!!!!!!! THE BUILDINGS OF SCATTERED TOYS ALL OVER THE GROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! At least they didn’t touch or move any of my action figures.

2

Minutes

Later

THEY ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!OUR COLLECTIBLES ARE GONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Who takes a collectible off a decent spot (on the floor) and puts them on… get ready………THE SHELF!!!!!!!!!

My little brother to the rescue…he got his little lizard and showed it to one of the maids. She screamed and ran right out of the house…….rammed into mom’s shrubs while backing out (sure reason she is not coming back). And I swear all the boys in the house felt….RELIEVED!!!

Fatherish….Long way to Subway

I had survived a month in this new country. Twenty years, million sitcoms later, I still dread ordering drive through and spelling my name to customer service, thanks to my thick  accent. My kids have a ball when I order french fries and get handed over sprite – EVERY SINGLE TIME.

On our way from Detroit to Chicago. I was tired of pretending to know how to read the map from AAA and all I wanted was some food and a nap. My friend, being a veteran immigrant for 6 months, convinced me to try a healthier option and dragged me to Subway. I rushed to the restroom and by the time I got in line there were a few people between me and my friend. That was my first tactical mistake. New to the country and trying new food begs for help. Specially if you ate curry and rice your entire life.

I see most in the line on the higher side of the scale. In those days the Subway was famous for eating healthy and losing weight. Well…I hardly see any success stories…. wonder where they all eat now.

Having lived in US for a month now, being naive and single, fast food was the undisputed choice. I was trying to find the numbers in the menu. ‘Number 5, medium with Coke’ was easy. But here in subway I don’t see any numbers. With my thick accent I knew I was in for a long conversation with the lady in gloves.

To play it safe I asked for ‘Veggie delight’. Sandwich maker asks me  ‘6 inch or footlong’. Thinking that she was getting too personal, I gawked at her awkwardly. Seeing my clueless expression, she explains, ‘Would you like a 6 inch sandwich or footlong?’. I never thought food could be measured in inches. Anyway, I said ‘foot long’. She asks me ‘What kind of bread?’ I thought to myself, now there were kinds of bread? The only kind I knew was the one in slices.

Then she asks me ‘Cheese?’ This is sounding like a multiple choice test.

Now comes the real food assembly part. She asks me “what would you like on your sandwich?”. I don’t even recognize half the veggies in those bins. Seeing my confusion, she decided to be kind. She pointed to each vegetable and asked me if I wanted it. I said ‘No’ to most, No being the easiest thing to say. She wraps the sandwich.

I pay for the sandwich for which I gave the recipe…..a little disappointed that I was eating something that was neither steaming or smelling. I can actually take apart everything in the sandwich ingredient by ingredient. Human civilization is going backwards I guess.

I grabbed the coke and sat with my friend. Took a bite, choked and reached for the coke to drain it down my throat.

When I reach home, mom calls and surely enough asks what I ate for lunch? I decide to dazzle her with the names of American Subs and what goes into them and what doesn’t…..

After all these years I can’t believe subway is my first choice if I have to grab something real quick. I guess the ‘Eat Fresh’ has caught up with me…