Tag Archives: highway

Egg

While returning to our city home after a few days stay in the village, my late husband R would stop at the Bakshipul Kabab shop on the way to Peshawar. There was a huge rush on this shop while there were few customers at the other shops in the vicinity selling kababs.

My only contention with dear husband was to buy less rather than more which he was prone to do. He would buy enough kababs which could last for an army. I like fresh food. I don’t like storing in the freezer. The fresh ones tasted much better. I disliked them when taken from the freezer to be heated, and served. It created a mess in the frying pan. They wouldn’t remain whole, and if I heated them in the microwave they tended to be dry.

One other thing which I didn’t like was the shop bought kababs had too many eggs added to the meat. It was like eating eggs not meat.

A time came when R stopped buying. Why? A new highway got built which was a shorter, and swifter route to the village. We stopped using the old motorway, and having kababs from that place became a thing of the past.

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Egg

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Pest

As soon Son sits in my car, he turns the fan full blast, and then the AC. What happens when I sit in his car as with the recent journey to Fort Worth? We just got back. I am roasting in the back seat with IB (grandson), Son is pulling onto the highway, but the AC hasn’t been turned on. 

I’m perspiring, and getting mad at him with each passing minute.I vow to myself silently– he is going to get the same from me when he gets into my car. But there is one thing I can say with certainty, I will never behave the same way.

My contention is: if a person expects a courtesy from you, it is only right that the same courtesy should be extended to you.

Yesterday IB wasn’t smelling nice, more like rotten Apples. His explanation was that he had not  washed his feet, and changed his socks. Today I made sure that he took a shower. I washed his feet myself, while he kept giggling. I dried his feet, and made sure that he was wearing clean socksby putting the socks on his feet myself. He was running barefoot in the hotel room, and I was getting concerned about germs.

I was thinking will he do the same for me if I’m unable to wash my feet? No! I don’t think so. I iron Son’s clothes, but in my lifetime no one has ironed my clothes except when I had maids to iron them. Will Son iron my clothes? The answer is again no. I’m definite he will say there is no need to do so, why can’t you wear them without ironing? He will think me a pest


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Pest

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Tourist 


Atchafalaya River
My son, and I travelled the 1,288.7 miles from Charlottesville, Virginia to Houston, Texas for three days. I had to keep S awake (he would doze off), so that we didn’t end someplace else. We had to leave our fasting (Insha’Allah cover the absence after Eid), it was impossible to travel while fasting — more so for S as he was driving. I would keep on passing anything to munch — Tostitos, lemon pops, biscuits, almonds, raisins, chocolates, so that his eyes won’t close. He wouldn’t take coffee or tea. He could barely keep awake. At one rest area he took a nap to chase away the sleep fairies who were adamant in making him sleep behind the wheel.

There were lovely places which we could have visited, but there wasn’t enough time to play tourists. He had to be back before his leave expired. Before he came to get me, he had a once a month visit from his two youngest which the court allowed him. He couldn’t miss that. Then he came to get me, and help with my packing and getting the truck.

Along the way was the long bridge (18.2 miles) Atchafalaya Basin Bridge on 1-10 the Louisiana Highway. It wouldn’t finish, as we rattled on in our truck. 



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Tourist

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Breaking the Law

Think about the last time you broke a rule (a big one, not just ripping the tags off your pillows). Were you burned, or did things turn out for the best?

Today’s prompt brings to mind our driver Bilal. We (my late husband R and I) had to stay in Rawalpindi for R’s chemotherapy. We had rented out a suite. We had a bedroom, sitting, and a dinning area, a bathroom, dressing room, and a small kitchen. I would cook R’s favorites, so that something could pass down his throat. Mostly they were soups. It was our home (for one and a half year) away from our home in Peshawar.

The chemo sessions took 15-21 days. We would go back home for two-three weeks, then come back for another round.

The minute we were on the highway, Bilal changed into another person. He would be speeding over the limit. We would be literally flying on the road. My chief worry was having an accident.

When he would go over the speed limit, and keep accelerating, I would tell him to slow down. Few minutes later he would be doing it all over again. I was fed up with telling him the same thing again. My sick husband had to suffer my cries, and Bilal’s disobedience. My heart used to be in my mouth watching Bilal chasing a car ahead of us, and banging into it.

Short of finding another driver, I didn’t know what to do? No other driver was willing to stay away from his family for two to three weeks at a time. Besides my husband thought him trustworthy enough as not to run away with our car, or do any abduction of us.

We put up with Bilal for quite some time, till we found another one to take his place. I am thankful to God for surviving Bilal’s antics.

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