The Village Gate

The perimeter walls around our village home are sixteen feet high, and so is the gate at the front. There is a smaller one for passing on foot within the larger one. When the house was newly built by late husband R, the gate was painted a lighter shade of blue. I didn’t object to the color as long I had finally acquired a home in the village, and what I had inside our home.

Husband’s younger brother A had gotten married, and with A, Mrs A, mother and father in law, their home had no further space left for us (husband, two kids and myself). I was so happy at having my own home to come to, when we made our frequent excursions to our village. It was wonderful to have everything in place. 

The year before last the outside of the house was in a pretty bad shape. Since R’s death in 2012, and myself being away the house went from bad to worse. While buying the paints for the house, unbeknown to me, the painter had slipped in a metallic shade of dark grey color for the gate.

It simply looked awful when I first looked at the new color on the gate. I was dismayed, and angry with the painter at the thought of spending additional money on revamping the color. A day, or two later when I came to pay the workers, the color had dried, and looked different from the initial color. It looked much better, and I was happy at not spending more money on it.

DAILY PROMPT

Gate

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Disastrous 

This day is harried for me. I have yet to gather my things, and pack. My flight leaves in the evening, and I will be reaching Houston at midnight Insha’Allah.


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Made pancakes for the children. I have just finished feeding M5 –coaxing her to eat her pancake, and fruit. I was putting forkfuls into her mouth, and at the same time I was ineffectually brushing her hair.

There were unidentified flakes in her hair. I kept alternating between a comb, and brush to take out the flakes adorning her hair. How she got them — it was a mystery.

This was certainly disastrous.

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Disastrous

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Soil

Son prior to his divorce when he owned his home, went to great lengths planting his vegetable patch. He would test the soil for what it needed to grow the plants. He would buy the top soil, tomato, jalapeño, pepper, squashes, okra, aubergine plants and fertilizer. He would make the proper beds for them, and took great care in planting them. He would faithfully water them.

The end result was failure.

Nothing survived, except for mint and weeds. 

The weeds thrived, and in no time took over the whole patch.

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Soil

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My Moment Of Moxie

The Giant Swing.

Daughter, her family and I went to Lake Compounce on 4rth of July. Son in law had purchased the tickets earlier. A lunch had been booked in the Catering Pavilion. A whole crowd of people were there to have fun. As usual we forgot to bring with us spare clothes in the event of our getting wet.

We waited an hour for a raft ride through the tunnels. Nola and I shared a raft. I had already put my IPhone in FJ’s camera bag for fear of it getting wet, so I didn’t take any more photos except for the one above. FJ took photos with his camera, as he didn’t take any rides, he took care of three years old M5, and kept her pacified on kiddy rides.

Nola and I shrieked our heads off as we got wetter jetting through the dark tunnel with the terrifying force of water. Our clothes were dripping with water, as we got off the raft. Our wet clothes helped in beating off the hot weather, and they dried in the process.We got separated from the children as they wanted to be on all rides, and Nola and I just wanted one, or two more. Next we got on the giant swing. It was fun swinging, rushing through the air. FJ captured a close up of me, hoping to get a picture of a freaked out mother in law, but it didn’t happen.

Next we located the children, and headed towards th Catering Pavilion to eat our lunch. Everyone had developed huge appetite for the sumptuous lunch served.

For our next ride we chose the Boulder Dash. It was again a long wait. I’m never going to have another on like that again. It was terrifying.  I shared the ride with an unknown lady. She dislodge my scarf, and then my visor, when she threw up her hands. I lost my visor as a result, and was narrowly going to miss my scarf as well due to the exuberance of the lady sitting beside me.  I held on to my scarf, as the wind whipped against my head with full force. It was my moment of moxie.

We went to collect a picture of us taken on the ride. I got one as a fridge magnate, and one photo, while Nola got a large picture, and a key ring. We paid for them.


It was evening as Nola, and I finished our Roller Coaster Ride. We waited for the children to join us. It was 9.30 pm by the time we got in the car to get back home.

DAILY PROMPT

Moxie

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Tailor 

One can’t go, and ask a complete stranger from where did she get the shirt she is wearing? Sometimes I do muster up my courage, and overcome my nerveousness to ask the aforementioned question. Often I get a reply which doesn’t really answers my query, and I get disappointed.

I need shirts to wear with pants, and jeans, which are hundred percent cotton, shouldn’t show cleavage, fully cover arms, and cover decently front, and behind. Shirts like that doesn’t exist, or maybe I’m unable to find them. If they are lengthy enough, arms and cleavage are on display, or they are minuscule not covering anything.

In search for shirts, I signed up for sewing letters which offer free patterns. I haven’t been lucky in that respect either, except for getting inundated with unwanted emails. I have to daily find time to delete them, otherwise they keep clogging my inbox.

On my last trip to home country, my tailor made a mess of my clothes worn there. When an occasion arises to wear a shalwar, qameez ensemble, I find myself with clothes badly sewed. Where to find a good tailor? It has become a dilemma.

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Tailor

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Bumble 

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The children TJ, and M4 wanted me to remove a bee who was trying to find a landing space where they sat. She was buzzing over their heads. She wasn’t a Bumble bee. They were distracted by her while they were doing their homework. 

I wanted it to go outside, and was going to pull the patio doors open, when their father (my son in law) came downstairs. I left the bee for his decision. He swatted it promptly, sending the bee on it’s heavenly travels, or to where the bees go after their stay on earth.


DAILY PROMPT

Bumble

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