As I was saying… (Pardon my edit job. Hey, I'm a work in progress.)

It was early April when Abez and I decided to begin to pack. What with the house falling apart on us it seemed like the smartest thing to do. The blender had died, the toaster was toast, the washing machine washed-out and even the indoor plumbing had become suspect. This was just too much! How could we be expected to live without our crisp slices of bread and frothy shakes! But instead of repairing and replacing, my parents answered all our grumbles with "Wait till we get to the UAE." Rather than argue about logic and lack thereof, we set to moving, hoping it would be the quickest route to a restoration of household rights.

The process began with a reduction of possessions. Closets were gutted. After much soul searching we halved our home library. Shoes were sent to the big rack in the sky. Complete strangers were invited to buy extra bits of the three-ring circus that is our life. Survivors were then subjected to one last separation. Things needed in the next one month were set aside, the rest boxed, labeled and stacked. It was like life at it's barest. We dealt with it all with grimly self-satisfied sighs - we were tough. Tougher than this. *looks stoic*

As the date for our departure neared, the packing became more severe. Necessities were given up for adoption. Furniture was dismantled. Life went colorless when the books and electronics were packed away. Even food was not spared our attempt to simplify and shelve – the kitchen gutted. Carry-out from my father's restaurant kept us going, if we could get to it before it was inhaled by the laborers hired to kit us out for our move. Time not spent packing was spent chasing after and hounding uncooperative carpenters, air-headed upholsterers and invasive masons. Slowly Abez and I began to resemble the packing undead, except for the smug looks of self-denial we still wore on our fatigued faces.

By the time May 9 arrived we had been living what my father had called 'the gypsy life' for over a month. The last night in Islamabad was spent on the floor of a friend's house as our goods were finally loaded up in the truck destined to soon reach the UAE. That night we dreamt about the luxuries we'd enjoy at a hotel while awaiting the prompt arrival of our intelligently-packed shipment. After all, we'd been through the worst of it. From rock bottom, it could only get better from here, right?

Wrong. Nothing ever goes as planned. That’s the charm of life.

The container ended its high-sea adventure after 1 month, not 4 days. We stayed only a week in the not-so-luxurious hotel. The rest was spent in our near-empty apartment0. There we lived not only without the inalienable rights to toast, milkshakes, soft laundry and sufficient bathroom-age, but also refrigeration, stove, computer, television, furniture, electronics, books, home pharmacy, gratuitous bedding and wardrobe. How we longed for boxes to stumble over.

The shipment arrived in the witching hours of Abez's wedding day. By the time we'd had everything unloaded and the home somewhat restored, strangely no one noticed the absence of not only the once-mourned household 'necessities' but also now the other basics that had either been pilfered, misplaced or delayed.

As the pessimist-in-chief, it was my job to gripe about our sad situation but I think I was in awe of the softness of our sofa. Abez might have noticed, but she was too pleased with the arrival of her marriage trousseau. The momma could have pointed out our deficiencies had she not had fallen asleep on a deliriously comfortable spring mattress on the floor. Even the lil bro was oddly silent, due perhaps to the freshly chilled bottle of water pulled from our long-awaited fridge that stoppered up his mouth.

Having removed the chickens, lambs, goats, cows and horses from my home; strangely I find it all lovely again.

When I was a little girl I read a Jewish folktale that confused me. It was funny but strange, and I think the moral of the story blew right over my head. Oddly, now, so many years later, I've remembered it, and suddenly it makes sense. I couldn't find it on the Internet so I'll try and re-tell it to the best of my abilities.

*****
A very weary and harried man went to see his rabbi. "Rabbi," he said, "I need your help!"
"What can I do for you?"
"Oyvei, my house, its punishment to be in. My wife, she hounds me all day. I walk in the house and it starts; 'We're out of bread. I need a new dress. Where were you all day? The oldest boy won't mind me any longer. What are you going to do about it?' She yaps and yaps and I never have a moments' peace. Then I have six children rabbi, and they spend all day running in and out of the house, fighting and laughing. That's not so bad. They're mine at least. Then I have my in-laws. My wife's father and mother live with us. Deaf they both are, but talkative too! They sit two feet away and yell to each other. Neither can hear, so half they time they're just screaming 'WHAT?' I can't bear to come home any more. Please help me!"

The rabbi smiled and thought about it. "I have a tried and true system for this. It never fails but you have to do exactly what I say."

"Anything rabbi, I'll do anything!" the desperate man gasped.

"The first thing you must do tomorrow is bring your chickens into the house. Come back to see me in two days."

The man was uncertain but willing to try anything. "Will do!" he agreed.

Two days later, he returned.

Feathers floated down from his shoulders as he steadied himself with a pecked-raw hand. "Rabbi, I've done what you asked. I brought all the hens from my henhouse into the living room. They're getting everywhere, underfoot, in the food, under the sofas. I found an egg in my hat this morning. But I'm going to go through with this."

"Good good, now what you must do is bring in your lambs. You have lambs, don't you? Yes, well bring your sheep and lambs in too. Come back to me in two days."

"Okay," the man answered.

After two days time, the man returned to the rabbi.

He seemed thinner and his clothes were covered in a fine layer of wool and he smelled something awful. "Oh rabbi, I've done what you said. There's now an angry rampaging ram, a leaky ewe and two skittish lambs running through my home. My wife doesn't know what to make of it. She's about ready to leave me. She says she didn't marry the village idiot to live in a zoo. Oh rabbi, what is this all for?"

"Have patience. You wanted a cure for your house problems, I'm providing it. The last step is this - bring in your large livestock - cows and horses if you have any. If you don't, borrow your neighbor’s. Tell him Rabbi Benjamin sent you. And again, see me in two days."

"I'll do it. Anything to make my home livable again."

One day later the man returned.

"You're early," Rabbi Benjamin said to the now frazzled and sleep-deprived looking fellow. His hands shook and his eyes darted around the synagogue.

"I couldn't wait any longer. Rabbi, I've been a good believer. I've done what you said without fail even though I didn't understand your orders. But now, I think it's too much. With 8 hens, 1 rooster, 1 ram, 1 ewe, 2 lambs, my dairy cow and Yitzhak’s field horse, there's no place to even move in my little house! The wife won't come out of the bedroom and the kids are staying away at their friends’ houses. My in-laws keep shouting to each other between the animals that they knew all along I was no good, but they had no idea I was cracked. I'm about ready to throw myself off a bridge, I can't take it any more!"

"You have been a faithful believer and you will be rewarded. Now do this, go home. Take the horses and cows back to the barn. Return the lambs and sheep to their pens. Gather up all those chickens and put them in their roost. Clean up your house and come back in a week."

"Alright rabbi, I'm a desperate man. I'll do this one thing before I drown myself in the river."

One week later the man returned to the rabbi looking well-rested and pleased.

"How are you doing?" the rabbi asked with a knowing smile.
"I'm wonderful! My house is so quiet and clean without all those animals. I love it! My in-laws are nothing compared to the smelly cattle and my wife, though she still clucks at me, at least isn't pecking and dirtying up the house. My kids aren't half as bouncy and silly as those lambs. It's so peaceful! Thank you rabbi!"

"No problem, free of charge as always."
******

I'll explain this story's relevance in a few if you haven't already guessed.

AWK has tagged me with this mysterious meme. After miles of clickage I finally figured out (sorta) what it's about. Here are directions for the questionnaire and here are me answers.

I could be an athlete - I'd have been an all-star basketball player. Never you mind that I'm only 5'6 and in possession of a laborious lay-up. In woulda-coulda-land I'd be greased lightening with more moves than Pete Maravich and a three-pointer that never missed. If it's too much of a stretch, I guess I could settle for half-pipe blader. Never got enough nerve to launch myself down one of those. Wish I had. Or I'd invent a new sport - roller traffic dodging. I used to do this daily back in the States.

If I could be a chef - I would be a singular and non-obese version of the Two Fat Ladies. Half the fun would be in the one-sided, scatter-brained but completely self assured dialogue, the other half would be in the mad-scientist-style cookery. I'd leave it to my taste-testers to try and figure out what I made with what. *wiggles eyebrows* This is already pretty darn close to reality. For wishful thinking though, I would have loved to be a baker. :)

If I could be a superhero - I'd be the PSYCHIC SMACK! "Faster than an protective brother! Able to school ogling idiots with a single thought! More powerful than a cold shower! Look, over there, it's a cop, no it's a teacher, NO IT'S THE PSYCHIC SMACK!" *whap* On slow days bad drivers, uppity teenagers, rabid women and misbehaving mobs would all feel the awesome chiding power of the Psychic Smack! *KRAAK*

If I could be a librarian - I'd probably be the library's Phantom of the Opera. On my first day of work I'd disappear beneath the floorboards, only to surface on dark and spooky nights to steal more books for my reading lair. That, or I'd be fired in record time for lack of productivity. There'd be little Dewy Decimal System-ing with all those unread books around me.

If I could be a spy - then I'd probably get the greatest use from my generic mug and bag of bad accents. Being only able to speak only one language fluently (English) and another semi-fluently (Urdu) has never stopped 99% of the world from wrongly guessing my origin before so I figure I stand a good chance. As long as my missions are limited to things like crashing diplomatic parties or wig-removal of rival secret agents, and not assassination or seduction, I'd be set.

Now in meme tradition, I pass the stick along to my sista (nepotism HO!), my Hemmie, my Chai (dunno if she does these things), the Devil and Mona.

All the world's weirdoes seem to converge upon Internet cafes. It seems to be their unspoken meeting ground. Except that they're not really 'meeting' each other. They're all obliviously lost to the screens in front of them, each deaf to the world. If only they'd be mute too.

Yesterday there was a man in the back of the cafe singing a Hindi love song in a very loud falsetto. No one thought this was weird. *blinks*

Then there was the guy next to me who was listening to the song that has become the bane of my existence - It's The Time To Disco. I have no idea who sings it or where it's from. All I know is that its music video was on the TV at my salon as I sat getting a new do. How I longed for the freedom to run screaming from the room.

And apparently transcribing is a very strenuous task. I sat next to a man the other day who was writing out something from tape that was so difficult that every few minutes he was given to letting out a huge gurgling sigh. It was odd the first time, and scary the tenth. We all just gave him his room.

One day I found I was the topic of one of the many Internet dialogues one overhears. The woman beside me was talking to her significant other in Somalia. She must have been hurting for something to say, because she kept describing everything in the cafe - the people, what they were wearing, who was looking at what. Being right beside her, that included me, and the work I was doing. She practically read him my screen and then proceeded to describe me as well. Hey lady, my Arabic is bad, but not THAT bad.

It's not all bad though. The other day I witnessed a very funny exchange that basically trashed my brother's explanation of the smoker's creed.
"Hey, can I bum a ciggy?"
"Have you fallen from the sky?"
"What?"
"I'm not rich enough to give out my ciggies to anyone but special people. Unless you're an alien or a fairy, shove off."
"Oh."

Then there have been the countless times I've glanced over and seen priceless conversations on the screens of men beside me like...

"Hello."
"LEAVE ME ALONE YOU CREEP!"

"ASL please. Anyone want to friendship me?"

"Hot guy looking for camera chat." (Aforementioned 'hot guy' is in fact a fat thirty-some-year-old with acne. Perhaps by hot he meant suffering from the heat.)

"GO AWAY!"

"Don't you love me?”

And the crowning oddness? The man beside me is reading my blog RIGHT NOW. No joke. He musta found it cached in the history. Craptastic.

*sneaks out*

I’m so happy! I prolly shouldn’t blog like this, as it’ll ruin my rep as someone capable of only two emotions - pissed and amused - but that won’t stop me. I just found out that two of my bestest friends – whom I share with my darling Abez - are going to make it to her wedding! Subhanallah!

*clicks heels in joy*
*breaks out the red carpet*
*gets all weepy*

Friendship really is a naima (mercy) of God. It’s amazing how completely unrelated and often vastly different humans connect to become friends. And once that bond is formed, they provide the support, comfort, joy, criticism, advice and reassurance that makes life that much easier to live. I’ve tried living without it, and believe you me, it all grates. You can manage, but without friends you begin to look rather worn around the edges.

But what can you do to repay the kindness of friendship? As someone who has been on the receiving end of amazing generosity and support, I often ask myself that. The best you can do is attempt to pay it back in kind and remember the examples of those great people when you get the chance to reach out to someone. And pray for them. Yep, I can't get five blogs in without subversively suggesting prayer for all that ails ye. It’s also the best service you can do for a person - pray for them to be blessed and ask God to show them mercy.

That said, I'm gonna plug my buds at 'home' and here and ask that you guys remember them in your duas.

Crayon - the woman who is probably single-handedly responsible for my inability to stay at my goal weight. She has provided a firm shoulder to cry on and an always overfull dining table to help us forget our woes. Thank you woman, you're the standard I endeavor to.

Chai - There are very few people in the world who can make me laugh out loud; and when I say laugh, I mean an uncontrolled loud honk. Chai did this every time she could break away from her superstar schedule to entertain we poor bums. She's that funny. And if I've ever sat in a posh restaurant, it was on her tab. Jazakallah.

Iman and Dodo - Some people, their mere presence enough leaves you feeling relaxed and well. Iman has that soothing affect. On the flip side, the un-bird brained Dodo, with her humorous complaints of old-age (she's still a teenager), obesity (she's pocket-sized) and stupidity (she was on the dean's list), gave us the chance to commiserate and compare battle scars (you think you're dumb, wait till you hear what I did last week!)

Hemmie - This girl rocks. No seriously, she does. Think Unsinkable Molly Brown plus sprightly Lahori kurri. She meets all of life's slings and arrows with a wry smile. There's no keeping her down. She also managed to put a fear of God and a respect for female drivers in the mind of my lil brother. That takes some doing.

The ZIMS - Dunno if they read this blog, but I hope they do. I just want to say thanks girlies for trusting me and giving me a chance to be an elder sister instead of the obnoxious brat I am at home. I pray you're all doing well.

Bev and MK - For letting us be humans and for being human yourself. :)

These are the folks I miss in my lil old Isloo. Here in the UAE, amazingly enough, I've managed to find some equally awesome folks.

Knicq - The Bhai. That's his title. I can't begin to enumerate all the small and big kindnesses he's shown our family and he brushes off our many thank yous. Instead, I just ask that you all pray that Allah shower him and his lovely family with blessings and mercy.

BiL: Thanks for trying. I know I'm nuts, but every rose has it's thorns. I'm Abez's.

Baptized Lucifer: She's the devil. Harhar. Not really. Actually she's a very intelligent and sensitive woman who's had the graciousness to answer all my weird questions about life here. And you know me, I can ask some weird stuff.

Mona: For helping me forget all the drama in my life with her own humorous hangamas. It helps to know other people are going through the same stuff. And for making me laugh when I really needed it. :)

Ok, that's your dua list people. Hit those prayer mats!