"THE EID MUBARAK FEAST @HOME in SCATTERED THOUGHTS AND BUSY SCHEDULES

Well, this year was our family’s turn to host the Eid Mubarak Feast this year. With great pride, I can tell you that Mom and Brother had done most of the great hard work. Shopping, cooking, cleaning, dish-washing, table-setting, and so on.
With honesty and shame, I couldn’t do all that they did well. I mean, I did help with most of the activities mentioned above. (Except for cooking, since everybody at home knows what a disaster I can still be in the kitchen.)
I always do. I mean, I know I’m much better at working with words. I’m a tad clumsy, and not always physically well-coordinated. Don’t even ask me about my athleticism. Despite it all, I’m still trying. I still try.

The Funny Exchange with Gyan-ku:

I love all my nephews and niece. Still, I can’t lie that my 12-year-old nephew (Sister’s second son) and I have developed the closest bond with each other. He often says I am his favorite aunt - and always giggles whenever I remind him that I am also his ONLY aunt.
So, this morning, he was fixing his own breakfast in the kitchen when I approached him and started this conversation:
Me: “Gyan-ku.”
Him: “Yeah, Bibi?”
Me: Imagine this. In the future, the twenty-something you visits me or vice versa - and I approach you like this.” (pretends to hold on to a walking stick and staggers, then fakes a croak) “Hi, Gyan-ku.”
Him: (looks horrified at me) “Oh, no. Please don’t, Bibi.”
Me: “Why not? Does the imagination scare you?”
Him: “Yeah.”
Me: “What? You can’t picture me as a crone?”
Him: (shakes his head) “No. You’ve looked just the same to me for the last ten years. About 20s or 30s.”

(By the way, I am 41. Isn’t this boy sweet or what?)

Me: “Aww, you’re so sweet!”

The Flopping Chicken Liver with Herbs and Spices

Unfortunately, we had to cancel one of our menus - a few hours before our guests arrived. For the first time in years, Mom’s chicken liver with spices had given off such a strange, foul smell. It might have been the cool storage that wasn’t cool enough for the liver. (Mind you, it’s been so hot and humid lately that it feels like a giant sauna. Everyone seems to be sweating profusely. The last weather report stated 33 - 34 C / 91.4 - 93.2 F.)
In the end, Mom had to dump the whole thing. It was sad because it wasn’t just the money and the whole ingredients. All her hard work for it had gone to waste, but she tried to hide her emotions. Honestly, I felt sad too.
“Fear of the possibility of food poisoning our guests?” Me and my big mouth. Shut up! She glared at me before replying sternly:
“No, I don’t want them to get diarrhea from this.”
“Ma, that’s the same thing!”
If she ever read this post, I’d be in trouble. Thankfully she’s not too fond of the internet.

Disasters or no disasters, we had to make sure that all our guests enjoyed the feast, felt welcomed, and were entertained enough. So, here’s to another Ramadan and another Eid Mubarak next year.
Aameen …

R.