Subway sandwich dates

It's that delicious tingle in my mouth from Jalapeno peppers, the smell of pickle and the salty taste of Monterrey Cheddar bread that draws me to a tuna Subway sandwich.

Prepared fresh, to eat fresh, the sandwich is what I consider one of the only health-conscious food on college campuses.

The best part of the foot-long delight is sharing it with a significant other.

My sandwiches went through life chapters.

* I used to share them with my friend R, who went to school with me freshman year. We often met up for lunch and triumphed through lunch-picking, ingredient shopping and munching.

* Then I went through a sister-sister bond with the sandwich, sharing my sandwich with fewer spices.

* And now I share the sandwich with my husband, who doesn't like a lot of fast food. I successfully convinced him to give up oily McDonald fish-fillet's for a fresh tuna sandwich.

I can remember a few times we have shared our meal:

While I was pregnant I secretly craved a sandwich for the life of me, although my doctor preferred me to be on liquids at that time. We took the chances of me puking out my lunch. It was a good risk.

After giving birth and being left on scarce meals, I was hungry! My family made meals; mushy rice with vegetables, which I didn't particularly like. One day my sister-in-law asked if I wanted anything to eat, and I quickly said no, making a mental note to send my husband to a Subway.

And today, we shared a refrigerated Subway sandwich.

It reminds me of our journey through parenthood - starting with pregnancy, to the delivery room, to after birth. What a beautiful journey with the tuna Subway sandwich.

Anonymous

What is wrong with freaking people calling me anonymous?

Anonymous - no name and no identity.

Who are you? What do you want?

I've been getting these calls, last Friday and today. They called at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. Today the person called about 15 minutes ago, twice.

Didn't hear any voices, but I did hear buttons being pressed as the person examined if I was still on the line - I put my phone on mute like them.

I wonder, are you reading this too? Gees.

Twisty turny feeling

Twisting, turning...about to puke over nothing.

You know that feeling?

I think I'm nervous.

I've been feeling like this all day. I feel like something wants to come out. Something needs to be released. Maybe I need to scream.

I don't know what it is.

I have been falling far behind. Digging myself into a hole. Thinking way past my abilities.

Need to write a 1,500 features piece on my friend. Then another introduction about a city. Then an article critque. And study for my exam on Saturday. And study for a quiz on Monday.

Sigh.

Stress, the name of life.

Today I've been in the kitchen long enough to hate the look, smell and taste of it.

Just want to puke it all out.

It was just a dream: funny dreams.

Remembering my home in Florida

It was late at night.

I volunteered to close the doors to the white car with Lamborghini doors, that were left open a while ago. The windows seemed like they were palettes that had to be pressed into their spots.

The smell of flowers were intoxicating. Orange, red and bright flowers were bunched together in bushes. Recently bathed in the water sprinklers, the flowers smelled of wet earth and leaves.

"Silsila yeh chaahath" from the Bollywood movie Devdas played in the background.

A 19-year-old neighbor, or family member came behind the car and took a van to the masjid. It was pitch black. He was wearing a sleevless jersey.

My husband walked passed me, jumped into the van and said he'd come back and take care of the car.

Another neighbor toyed with his car, in the shared parking lot. The van took off to the masjid. The neighbor left.

I thought I could take care of the car.

Suddenly it became really dark. I shuddered from the darkness and the cold. No more headlights from the van, no more sprinklers.

I ran.

I ran all the way home, to my small two-bedroom apartment. It resembled my home in Florida. I screamed the whole way and heard monkeys echoing my scream. (God knows where they came from).

I shuddered.

(And woke up)

--- --- ---

The robber and "us"A lady danced and hopped around a courtyard in a South Asian neighborhood. She would pause with words she sang, emphasizing facial expressions as she moved her hands with her song. It reminded me of a frog leaping around.

She stopped and headed to her under-furnished clay and concrete home. My sister-in-law and I were invited to her empty living room. Barred windows overlooked the middle of the courtyard which was shared by neighbors.

She pulled out a huge shiny gold necklace from her closet. It was beautiful.

I asked my sister-in-law if it was really gold, as I couldn't put together the elements together without confusion and astonishment: large gold necklace in poor woman's home.

"It looks like a piece from a wedding set," I said.
"Probably," my sister-in-law replied.

I couldn't believe she was selling it.

The woman, desperately needing money, didn't seem to mind and insisted my sister-in-law could pay her back later.

As we walked home on the dirt path, we saw a man carrying a large cart with big round wheels walking in the opposite direction. It looked like a cart that needed a cow to help pull it, without a cow.

Suddenly a man waving his hands wildly was running up the path behind the cart-puller.

He seemed in a hurry and without a destination.

In fact, he was coming towards us.

"What a shame, the guy doesn't even move out of his way when he sees a thief running past him," my sister-in-law said.

"A thief?," I asked.

"We must stop him or else he will loot the whole neighborhood," my sister-in-law said.

"Okay," we encouraged each other and prepped ourselves for the encounter on the path.

Running past us into a backyard, the thief hid. We followed him.

"You know what you're doing isn't right," I said to him.

Protesting he said, "Yeah you're right I'm not going to do anything," and throws a $5bill at me.

"Omygosh you see this guy has a five-dollar bill! Not taka (lesser currency). Look at his nerves," I said to my sister-in-law.

We walked back to the front of the house, saw more dollar bills scattered on the floor. I picked them up thinking we can donate the money to the mosque since we didn't know who they belonged to and it would be wrong to keep stolen money.

Suddenly I remembered.

We were walking around with gold on us.

I tried to stuff the bills under my coat.

"That looks obvious you're hiding something," my sister-in-law said.

"Your tall figure and overly stuffed jacket looks fishy."

"You're right, we better get out of here before he robs us!," I said.

We ran all the way, straight home!

That's what makes him who he is: important men in my life

These will be easy, there aren't too many guys in my life!

He's 28. He's of medium height and build. He likes to joke around but seems like the serious type around people his age. He's quiet, shy and patient. He taught me how to be a family person. He's caring and understanding. He's alert. He's compassionate to helping others.

He's 12. Almost 13. He's tall. He looks like me. He's funny but he's quiet. He talks with his shoulders. He looks Korean. When he was a baby, he was chubby. I used to hold him in my arms, make him laugh and train him how to cry. He's become quiet a young man. When he talks, usually he makes me laugh and I learn new things.

He's 5. He's adorable, critical, loud and jumpy. He screams for fun. He has a contagious bubbly giggling laugh. According to his brother, "everyone knows him." In other words, he was popular since he was born. When he broke his leg everyone, young old serious funny came to see him. He likes to help others. He's a leader. He can speak two languages. He cares about others' feelings. He's a family guy.

He's 49. He's funny. He can have a conversation with anyone. He's sensitive. He's the third son in his family, but he acts like the oldest. He loves free stuff. He won't eat candy, cookies or American food unless it's offered to him. He's patient. He likes to cook chicken with potatoes. He's cultural.

He's 4 months. He's googly, cute and adorable Mashallah. He giggles. He's does the puppy-dog face. He goes to strangers. He can lift up his chin. He's 2-feet tall. He has Mongolian birth marks. When he's hungry, he shoves his whole fist in his mouth. He cries to talk. He hasn't learned how to walk.

Photo credit: livingthedash.tv

Jacket, phone, car problems

(Kaboodle.com)

Jacket: My jacket looks like it's crawling with white bugs. It's disgusting.
Fairly, it needs a trip to the dry-cleaners, badly. Only problem is, it's my only winter coat and I need it almost everyday. Arg.

Phone: Why in the world do we need our phones somewhere, anywhere and everywhere? With the rise of phones in our pockets, barely anyone wants to use the pay-phone and pay a few cents, nor do people share/ offer phones unless it's an emergency.

I've blown throughthree phones in the past two years. I'm sick of phones. Too bad I'm a journalist. I need one.

Car: I broke one, borrowed one and now I'm car-less.
Getting to classes is a hurdle. It goes a little something like this:

Husband: When do you have class today?
Me: The usual, I have to leave around 1:15-1:30 p.m. My class starts at 1:55 and I can't be late.
Husband: Oh okay. So how are you getting to class?
Me: I don't know. I'll ask him (my brother-in-law) I guess.
Husband: Oh okay, let me know.
Me: K.

An hour or two before class...

Me: So are you going to be able to take me to class today?
Bro-in-law: Um let me see.
Me: Okay, well if you're not, I can/ will ask my parents.
Bro-in-law: Let me see.
Me: Okay let me know.
Bro-in-law: Okay I'll take you.

After coming home from class...

Husband: What time did you get home today?
Me: 4:30 p.m.
Husband: Oh how did you get to school?
Me: Bro-in-law dropped me off
Husband: How did you get home?
Me: My dad dropped me off.
Husband: Oh okay....we need to get the cars fixed.

YES we do.

The End.

That's what makes her who she is: important women in my life

She's nearly 64. She likes to cook and can't stand when things aren't clean. If you want to please her, you must do as she wishes, however you can get around it when you need to. She's old. She's young. She's strong. She's loving. She's lovely.

Cooking for her five sons, even if it's at 7 a.m., makes her happy. She will wait altruistically for everyone in the house to eat before she takes a bite. Even then, she will ask whether we did the same, as her example leads.

She's 27. She is daring, curious, ambitious. She takes opportunities by the horns and says no to defeat. She lives, she laughs, she dreams. She doesn't take no for an answer. She has an answer to everything. She's my friend, the person who keeps me in check. She's someone I'll never forget.

She reminds me to be strong, tells me when I'm wrong, and keeps me focused and headstrong. She helps me, trusts me, and gives me a friendship I need.

She's 19. She likes to draw. She is full of sweet. She can't make decisions without consulting everything. She does many things. She is more mature in ways - than me. She can tell the difference between wins and defeats. She laughs hard, has a soft heart, and is balanced even when she falls to her feet.

I've never seen a day that she couldn't pick herself back up. She's determined, strong, optimistic, full of faith, full of life and aware of her hereafter.

She's 37. She takes things easily. She likes to be right, but she has confidence in learning new things. She is understanding, compassionate, rewarding. She's someone you'll miss if you don't see her in a few days. She reminds everyone of someone they know. She brings joy into a room. She always has an answer. She likes to read. She likes to laugh. She likes to be there for everyone for anything.

She's bright, beautiful, helpful, inspiring, wonderful. She's young and fun. She makes it okay when things are going wrong. She's interested in happenings. She's mature, clever and determined to hold things together.

She's 27. She has a beautiful life which she's surrounded with her family and friends. She's inspiring. She's quiet, she's loud. She's silly and proud. She's understanding, mature and optimistic. She has practical solutions for sticky situations. She's a mommy. She's caring, she's daring. She makes it okay to be wrong. She's strong. She writes, she reads. She takes a stab at everything.

She's an older maturer version of what I'd like to be.

She's 20. She's creative. She's imaginative. She's stubborn and silly. She draws the crowd, is happy and loud. She's there for advice. She's mature. She's a kid. She's a part of my past, a little distant from my present and has kept a place for the future. She's beautiful. She's pretty. She's the life of the party.

She's strong, determinded and helpful. She likes a good plate of chicken and potatoes. She's forgetful. She's fashionable. In some ways, she's the opposite of me - or I'm the opposite of her. Sometimes, she's perfect.

Can you guess who's who?