There are other types of moments too. You know the ones when you are stuck in rush hour traffic with a car full of tired, hungry, grumpy kids who seem to be doing whatever they can to irritate each other be it breathing too loudly, talking to me or, heaven forbid, looking out of someone else's window. These moments happen more than I would care to admit but they make you grateful for the calmer moments that follow (like those in the fig tree) and they can always be worse like when they include a screaming baby or like the time when, stuck in rush hour traffic with the same grumpy children, one of them starts vomiting violently in the back seat and, in addition to the rush hour traffic, there is an accident up ahead so all the vehicles around you are either gridlocked or are moving at a snail's pace and there is no way that you can maneuver to an outer lane to let the vomit happen on the side of the road. Instead you listen to the waves of it hitting the upholstery behind you while desperately searching for something to contain the mess at the same time as trying to offer soothing words to comfort the child whose stomach contents now coat half the car. Moments. They help you appreciate the more mundane aspects of life.
So, last night I got to appreciate how smoothly things have been running around here because, wowzers, it sure hit the fan for a moment. Or two. Mehran invited some of his friends over for dinner and asked me to make Khoresh - e- Sabzi (Persian lamb and herb stew). Right. No problem. Everything is fried up as it should be and placed in the pressure cooker with ample water. The kids are outside playing and I am wearing Maryam. The guests arrive as random vegetables are being passed over the fence by the neighbours kids which my kids are delivering to me. Mehran announces that he is going to take his guests to visit his mom and dad. They will be back in half an hour. Sure. No problem. I start the rice, turn down the stove and head next door with the kids to find out what is up with the veggies. The children were a bit vague on the details. Twenty minutes later we return, or shall I say attempt to return home, as Ruhi went to open the door and having failed to do so, handed me this:
a broken key, by which both doors are locked. It is at this stage that I detect a pungent burning smell. I head around to the laundry room door secretly praying that our Indian neighbours, with the gorgeous cooking aromas that have tortured me during more than one pregnancy, have finally burned something. Here I realize two things. 1). That the freezer is bloking the door and there is no way to enter through the crack that isn't even big enough for Maryam to get through and 2). The Indian neighbours perfect reccord of sumptious, exotic, non burned food is still in tact. The horrific stench permeating the neighbourhood is, in fact, coming from my kitchen... naturally. I canvas the house searching for an open window or another way in. The window in the girls room is open but despite my best efforts the roller shutters and interior screen do not allow me, or anyone- for that matter -to gain entry. I am starting to feel a little desperate because, although there is officially no fire, some nasty smoke is starting to billow out of the kitchen. I borrow the neighbour's phone to call Mehran while waiting fir the piercing wail of the smoke detectors to go off. Within 10 minutes Mehran arrives home with guests in toe. The situation has not improved but at least we are able to get in. Dinner is ruined. The kids are hungry. Mehran is not happy. The guests are politely standing in the driveway because at least they are able to breath from that location. At times like this my policy is pizza. I made a salad. Which I did NOT burn (thank you very much) and Mehran went to pick up dinner. I would love to say that that was the end of the drama for the evening, but alas...twas not. The next "moment" came when Mehran opened a bottle of sparkling grape juice for the guests...lets just say there were multiple showers involved and his friends may think twice about accepting another dinner invitation to our house. I am still finding sticky patches in unusual locations. But I have to say... I love the moments. They are what make life interesting.
