All of last week, I was thinking I haven’t been this happy for a while. Though I am very much aware that there isn’t one without the other and happiness and sadness are like the two sides of the coin, I was still happy. The days are getting longer, it stopped raining, my garden is looking beautiful, kids are happy doing whatever that makes them happy and I was doing what I do well..seizing each day.

Last Friday my youngest said “mom, you haven’t made mutton curry in a while”

I don’t know the difference between lamb/goat/mutton etc. All I know is one of it stinks when you cook and being a vegetarian, I find it very hard to cook it. But my youngest is very fond of mutton curry. So I bought lamb, keeping my fingers crossed that it isn’t the stinking kind.

Usually, I cook it in Kolhapuri sauce to mask the smell and my child asked if I could cook it some other way as she is tired of eating the same curry.
Hos hard can it be to find another recipe?
I have been collecting recipe clippings since I was 14. So I thought I might as well go through my collection of recipes.
I went through the recipe clippings from Vanitha, manorama etc first.  I turned each of them to read the half story of something or other. Then I went through my collection of recipes from Femina and women’s era magazines. There is even a collection of recipes using custard powder.
My mom taught me to make ice cream with custard powder when I was 12. I had to boil the milk in an aluminium pot. The pot probably was as old as me and had a tiny hole at the bottom. You could hear the milk hissing when it reached the  flame every now and then. I even tried to time it to see if there was a particular frequency..
I was warned in advance to watch and stir the milk often so that it won’t boil over. It was such a huge undertaking and I felt so grown up ! Then once the milk was boiling, I had to reduce the heat, dissolve the custard powder in water and strain it in to the hot milk. This straining part was very important as there were tiny worms in the custard powder !
Amma used to buy the custard powder from the cooperative shop in Kottayam and sometimes, they sold pink custard powder. And I used to wait for Amma to make pink ice cream.

I couldn’t find any decent recipes for mutton curry, so I started going through the handwritten ones. These were the recipes that I collected from my friends and family and even strangers. The first one was Jameela’s chicken curry. I was travelling through Kerala with my sister and her Scandinavian husband. The hungrier he is, the quieter he gets and he resembles a puffer fish, all puffed up..He was already fully inflated by the time we found a place to eat in Cochin..It was near the Bolgatti palace and my sister told the waiter to bring any food that is ready right now and then we will order the rest. He brought the spicy chicken fry, the shop speciality ! I have never seen someone who can change from a crabby annoying self to a kind and gentle giant in an instant. But it happened. My brother in law was so happy, he asked for another serve and another and another..
I had to get the recipe. jameela was the cook and she gave me the recipe.
And as I went through the rest of the recipes, I found a mutton curry recipe.
It was from a restaurant in Hyderabad.
Beautiful eyes and I were in Hyderabad looking for Raymond’s tomb. It was the first time we travelled such a long distance and I was worried of getting caught. Ideally if a girl and boy decided to travel together and visit places, it shouldn’t be a crime. But in India it was.( probably still is) And eventually my stress level was too high that we ended up fighting. I am not sure why we fought. But we did and we weren’t talking. And for lunch he stopped at some restaurant. He ordered food without asking me what I wanted to eat because we were still not talking. I don’t remember what I ate. But I know what he ate. He had mutton curry with naan. He practically licked the plate clean.  When the waiter came with the bill, he told the waiter, that was the best mutton curry he ever ate and I asked the waiter if I could get the recipe. I am not sure who was more shocked.. the waiter or he. But it was a moment we both knew how much we loved each other.
How much I was loved..
How much I miss him.

I am a conscientious traveller ( and yes, I do have my moments of insanity and can drive 168 km one way to eat fish and chips !)
Usually when we travel,we stay in our tent. But if it rains, I prefer to stay in motels because I hate to pack a wet tent, ( Moisture  will inevitably cause mildwew to grow in the tent fabric and cause irrevocable damage).
And the conscientious traveller that I am always look for an environmentally friendly place to stay.
We found a lovely place in Gisborne when we visited NZ few months ago.

I found a copy of “The Ninja” by Eric Van Lusbader in a thrift shop few weeks ago..and it was like a moment caught in time..it was the book I searched for over 32 years.

When I was 10 years old, my mother’s younger brother came to stay with us for a few days. He was a good friend of Kiblo Daniel *and was worried that he would be dragged in to the case by the bungling Kerala police and chose to remain hiding till all the brouhaha died down.

We rarely had visitors and it was a big thing for me to have my uncle stay with us. We were told not to let anyone know that my uncle is staying with us. And at home, Amma used to get mad every time we spoke to her brother.
“Stay in your room”,
“Mind your business”
“Don’t you have anything else to do?” were all that my mother knew to say every time I was anywhere near my uncle.

*Karikkan villa murder case and the movie that was based on the case

Who knew a recipe for mutton could bring forth so much of pain !!

My youngest child is very fond of mutton curry. I don’t know the difference between mutton/lamb/goat/sheep etc. But one type among the sheep family stinks when you cook and being a vegetarian I find it extremely difficult to cook it. So it is with great trepidation I buy mutton from the butcher. I always cook it in Kolhapuri sauce to mask the smell. This time my child asked if I could cook it someother way..and when you look at those sad eyes , much as I wanted to say, Kolhapuri sauce or nothing, I couldn’t.

Have a great day
S

Impetus..some times all it takes is an old book you find in a thrift shop to act as an impetus that takes you back to forgotten times.

When I was 10 years old, my mom’s younger brother came to stay with us for a while.
My uncle was a close friend of Kiblo Daniel and was worried that he would be in trouble with the police because of his friendship with Kiblo and chose to remain hiding till all the barouhaha died down.

They say people come to your life for a reason ( and stay a season !)
Sometimes I wonder the reason for some people who have been in my life and I think and I think..

My youngest child is very fond of mutton/lamb. I don’t know which is mutton and which is lamb, but one of it stinks when you cook and being a vegetarian I find it really hard to cook it. So it is with great trepidation I buy lamb to cook. Normally I cook it in Kolhapuri sauce to mask the smell in case I bought the wrong meat ( ie the stinking one!)and this time my child asked if I could cook it in some other way.

I have been collecting recipes since I was 12 and still have recipe cuttings from manorama and Vanitha magazines from that time. So it couldn’t be that hard to find a different way to cook lamb. I was going through my collection of recipes and found a hand written recipe and it took me back to my youth.

I have friends over for coffee and cake on every Thursday ( the only evening I don’t have to take kids for basketball). One of my friend has a child in the same school and grade as my son. And the topic of “junk art”, a project all grade 7 are supposed to do this term came up. My friend’s child did mention about making a subway outlet with junk items found in the house  and that she made it during the 2 weeks winter break few weeks ago.
2 years ago Yaya did the same project. She spend 5 weeks making “red carpet”. Actors and actresses walking on the red carpet for the Oscar.

After my friends left, I was busy making dinner and noticed my son standing near the kitchen and making ‘something”.
“what are you doing?” I asked
“Oh, Making a crossbow” He replied
And I should have known to have at least asked, “why are you making a crossbow? or what are you planning to make for the junk art?”
The thing is, I didn’t ask Yaya what she was making for her project. It was her assignment and she did it all by herself. My logic is simple, their project, they do it.

While we were eating our dinner, my son tells Yaya, “Hey Yaya, guess what I made for Junk art?” Victoriously he brings out the crossbow.
I think, Yaya’s eyes almost fell out of the socket !
“You made a cross bow as a junk art?”

Let me explain something. Most kids ( rather all the kids except my son) make elaborate art works like robots, cold rock ice cream parlour, subway etc and my son is taking a crossbow !
“When is the project due?” I asked
“I think it is tomorrow” he replied
“What do you mean, you think?” I asked
“I don’t know mom, I forgot to check when the project is due”
“where is the task sheet?” I asked
“I left it at school” he replied.
I was so angry with him and told him off for being irresponsible.
He ate dinner and went to the garage.
“What are you doing now?” I asked
“Making a rocket” He replied
“Why?” I asked
“don’t know” He replied.

I was still very angry with him. So I did the dishes and went back to my room.
He had enough time to this project including two weeks of winter break . His sister is very talented when it came to arts and he could have asked her to help him. He left it to the last minute and he can suffer for all I care, so I thought.

But then again, I am his mother and the guilty feelings started to prick my conscience.. I know my son can’t handle music and arts. I also leave everything to the very last minute. Apple can’t have fallen too far from the tree!
So I went back and helped him, warning him that I will never help him again if he left anything to the last minute. He nodded his head agreeing and promised not to leave anything to the last minute. ( this will repeat many times in the next decade, I am sure)
This is what we came up with.
I got him to put sand and water in a container, submerged houses and cars from his toys collection to create the Brisbane flood. He kept the cross bow on one side and the rocket on the other side and wrote, from crossbow to rocket and nature still stumps us.

All my friends know that I have the absolute ability to kill any plant by mere association. But that doesn’t stop them from helping me in my quest to have a garden.
It all started with me telling a friend in Canada that I was working in my garden and had to run inside to get my phone and that was the reason I was panting like a rabid dog and nothing else!
“Garden?” She asked with all the subtlety one can muster before asking a murderer such a trivial question.
“Yes, garden, with real plants and real flowers” I replied.
“Oh my !” She replied.
“have you talked to a landscape artist?” She asked
I have heard of many kinds of artist, but landscape artist was not in that list
“What do the landscape artist do?” I asked
“Oh my” she said
I thought I would tell her to shut up if she said one more “oh my”
 Now, my friend is a well known Interior designer.. ( she designed/decorated or whatever you call the job she does  houses for Malaysian elites) So I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her to shut up when she really is trying to help me.

Few weeks ago, she called me to tell me that she managed to get an appointment with Ms. Daisy ( not her real name) a landscape artist in Brisbane, who is usually very busy and will not see every Tom, Jane and June! In other words, I was warned that it was a privilege to meet Ms,Daisy and not screw it up.

So I went to see Ms. Daisy.
The first question Ms. Daisy asked
“What kind of garden  do you want?”
Hells Bells ! How do I know that?
You should have seen the myriads of disgust/disbelief expressions on Ms. Daisy’s face when I told her the simple truth..” I have no idea, what kind of garden I want”
Things went rapidly downhill and eventually Ms. Daisy suggested, I look online, find the garden I want and then make another appointment !

And on the drive back home, I thought what kind of garden I want?
Ideally, I would have loved something like Claude Monet garden in Giverny or the Buchart garden in Victoria..But whenever I buy a pot of plant, I take such good care that I forget to water it. In the event I remember to water it, I do such a terrific job to drown the poor plant. ( How was I to know that you don’t water succulents twice a day?) and in the event the plant survived the initial neglect/ over enthusiasm and actually grew an inch, then I get all excited and try to propagate it by either cutting it in half or splitting it in the middle. Not many survive this part,. and if it did, then I do the one thing that absolutely guarantee a sudden demise. I apply fertilizer !!

Well, for me gardening is  not just about killing plants, it is all about supporting a huge industry.
Let me explain
Each time I buy a plant and then kill it, I support the guy/gal who planted the seed, watered, etc, the guy/gal who works at the nursery, even the guy at the recycling factory where the pot ends up. If I don’t keep buying the plants, how will all these people live?
See the burden on my shoulder?

So the kind of garden I want? Simple..anything that can last  a month under my love and care…beyond that, the industry will suffer and I can’t do that, Can I?

Totally vain post. Read at your own peril..

I go through this right after winter solstice every year.. as the days get longer, I start to panic..

Soon, it will be summer and I will be spending a lot of time at the beach..and all I want is “washboard abs”

Ideally, I should say, I am proud of my body. Three kids later, I still weigh the same as I was when I was in my 20′s. I should also say my flabby belly is part of my motherhood experience.
I could..but then I see other moms with flat abs !!
So what is my excuse?

Let us start with Gym. My sisters probably have life membership at the gym. They are systematic and dedicated. One sister even runs full marathons. Me on the other hand dreams of running, and when I think I should go for a run, I take a book and lay down in my hammock with a glass of wine..for there is still  tomorrow!!!
I am not going to spend money for a gym membership because more than anyone, I know myself. and my level of motivation ! I think the money wasted for the gym membership could buy few bottles of red..economically speaking, wine brings much more happiness!
I thought of buying a treadmill..but then again, I already own two sets of towel racks and don’t need a 900$ worth towel rack.
The last time, when I cribbed so much about my flabby abs, my sister got her trainer to plan a ‘simple’ set of exercise for me to do at home..It involved, huge gym balls, dumbbells, some elastic ( not sure what it is) ! Needless to say it was a wasted effort ! ( not on my part, because neither my sister nor the trainer understood the key word “simple”)

So here I am, few weeks away from hot summer days..swimming, surfing..
This is my plan
I am going to do 100 squats..( not one shot la..I do 10 squats x 10 times), knowing very well that squats won’t give me washboard abs..but it is the only exercise where I don’t need any equipment, don’t have to lay down  and is easy to do..So at least I can console myself that I tried..( even if I am targeting the wrong set of muscles..I should still get brownie points for trying, No?)