Lily’s Blog, Dragon Absconded!
Baking Until I Drop

Let’s recap the last two days.

I think I’m going to do this by theme, except to note that current came back at about 12:20 am this morning and also inform you about the excitement that was going to be yesterday’s post: Iftar at the Airport!.

Very sorry to disappoint…but such excitement and…disappointment.

Water:

We have three big water tanks directly connected to the road water and a smaller tank. These are connected to our house. We also have a pump so that we can get water upstairs, or when there is hardly any pressure yet the tanks are filled, we can get running water. Growing up, we didn’t always get water. So tanks were necessary. Now we usually have even just a trickle. When water goes for long enough, we order it from some trucking place and they fill up two of our tanks for us and we buy drinking water because the bought water hasn’t settled.

Before the start of Ramadan, our pump never stopped pumping. Usually, it’ll just make it’s noise when it’s plugged on and someone opens a tap. But it wasn’t clicking off. Finally the pump man came (hmm into Ramadan, few days after promised) and he said it’s in the pipes. The pump is fine.

I’m not sure what we did then. Use water downstairs. Put on the pump to bathe. Sometimes to wash wares. I really love running water. I think it’s the best modern convenience. I feel like a fish out of water without it.

A week later, we got in contact with the plumber whose son was coming on Saturday.
And didn’t.

So basically, the pump isn’t working and we don’t always have water upstairs and usually a very fine trickle in the taps downstairs. Some days the road water pressure is high and we actually get upstairs. I think, happily, our tanks are filled so the clothes washing addicts can…wash.

Rains and Electricity:

Around 2 pm yesterday, I went upstairs to pray. It was raining but we already closed the windows on the eastern side of the house and that’s where the rain was coming in earlier.

I went into my room, and it looked like someone was *pushing* water under the external door. Just sloshing it in. Either that or the outside steps were deluged. I called dad as I had already closed the TV room windows while he was dealing with the back room.

In the time that I called dad to when he came (not much!), it was going through the upper balusters, pushing through the windows (they’re not sealed to the casing…there’s space). Water is pooling all over my floor. The fiber glass ceiling tiles on some kind of railing system are blowing out and all the collected dust and stinkyness is falling. I move my bed out of the way so we can dry up stuff. I shut down my laptop and move it and all my cookbooks and other precious electronics into the tv room. It’s storming so much that I figure I better shut down the imac in the next room. When I walk back into my room, I ask dad if he took off the lights?

Current went.

So we battle the storm upstairs with mom and my brother coming up to check and see if we need help and then realizing if my room is flooding out then maybe they better check their rooms downstairs. Now, my bed is dusty. All my books have this wet/lint/dust/spots on it. I need to clean clean clean. I’m so distraught. But at least we didn’t lose a roof. The water is pooling so much, dad sticks newspaper in all the cracks and lays newspaper down on the floor (hence my black feet).

But my flooded room didn’t flood out downstairs. Oh no, just the same way the rain came straight in, like vertical, through the porches and into the rooms. Oh my. Our house needs help.

And all this in the dark. It’s not 3 pm. Sunset is after 6 pm. And it’s sooooo dark. And we’re supposed to leave at 5 pm to go to the airport.

Sleeping arrangements that night, brother and family sleep in the big room in which Chennette was sleeping in. I was sleeping in the little bed in the tv room.

Because of all this, my sister-in-law sent clothes she was washing by her parents. She was supposed to go too with the niece and all the things she needed to pack (remember they were leaving the next day i.e. today). But she didn’t go. Finally some time after we left for the airport her mother and my mother strongarmed her into leaving. Shoved everything, bags, suitcases, laundry baskets into the car and went.

Pizza Making:

Well, if you remember, the night before we baked half the pizzas. We wanted them to have fresh pizza for travelling so we were baking four. After suhur, I woke up say just before 12 noon. I was very tired.

Chennette wanted me to take out the dough so it could relax for its 2 hours. I told her HA! I tired. None of that dilly-dallying. We taking it out *now* and we rolling it out and topping and baking.

So, pizza two was in the oven when I went upstairs to pray. I made wudu and then…you know what happened.

When current went, I wondered about the pizzas as there were 2 more to go plus a little one. But we have a gas oven so…I didn’t worry too much. I figured it was hot and as long as it was on the pizzas would bake.

Silly me. I guess our gas oven has an electric regulator thingy. A few minutes after current went, the fire went out and the oven cooled rapidly. So two pizzas baked.

We covered the unbaked pizzas with plastic wrap and put them in the back fridge. Even if there was no electricity, it would still be chilled. Chennette took a couple slices from the beef pizza, gave me a couple slices and we packed up the rest of the freshly baked pizzas for my brother to travel tomorrow. Now, Chennette was going to Grenada to spend a whole week and wanted some pizza. So in addition to the fresh pizza, she took some of last night’s pizzas. And I separated the rest of the old pizza into two, one container to leave home and one container to take to the airport.

Well, as I said current came back after midnight. Almost as soon as we got up for Suhur, before anybody else was up, I put on the preheat and took out the pizzas. We baked those millstones and by the time we were done cleaning up for suhur so were the pizzas and we sliced them up, packed them away and went upstairs. I decided not to sleep as we were leaving on the second airport trip at 1 pm.

Instead I read flood reports in the express (Four families lose four roofs and Killer Rain).

Ramadan 6, suhur 6:

Well, we had the disaster pizza from the night before. As Chennette said, we were so tired and it was so easy and satisfying to chomp chomp on something already there.

Ramadan 7, iftar 6:

Halwa (for dad and sis), dates (dad and sis), Assorted pizza (all of us), leftover chicken and linguini from two nights ago (Chennette and dad), water and juice. We had rituals (two house brew coffees and one hot chocolate – me; forgot to tell Chennette no whipped cream). And I bought Chennete an apple walnut muffin, us two dark kit kat and me a twix and a sugar cake (which the parents split).

Dad and I reached the airport with Chennette at about 6 pm. Dad went to park the car, I left Chennette in line with dates and I went to secure a table. I even took pictures. They’re on my camera. I’m trying not to stress myself out. Eventually dad met me after passing by Chennette and it was time. Guy who works there asked us if we broke fast and we were like not yet! So we did.

And then decided what to do. I had a water bag, a food bag and Chennette’s carry-on. So dad took a bottle of water for her and went upstairs to the prayer room. Soon after Chennette joined me and tried to eat my beef pizza for which I chastized her as she put it there for me and she had in her container and if dad wanted that slice then he could have it.

Eventually dad came. He caught someone else praying. So, I went upstairs, took pictures of the Republic/Welcome home Silver boys display and came down to find one slice of pizza left, it wasn’t beef and dad eating the remaining chicken and paste. And there was my hot chocolate. After buying some snacks we left and I slept on the car drive home and we returned to a dark house and an aching, limping mommy. Sister-in-law was by her parents and brother at the masjid, prepared to lead the last Tarawih even though he didn’t want to (packing, tired, beat).

Ramadan 7, suhur 7:

Mom and Dad: Toasted dhalpuri and avocado
Brother: BBQ lamb and fries
Me: Sahina and some BBQ lamb and fries and banana.

Well, all the pizza was done as mom, sister-in-law and niece at some point in time had it. Brother brought his family back at about quarter to midnight to no current. My sister-in-law covered me up (and I offered to take niece of her hands. Hmm. Was I lucid? I remember this. But what was I going to do with her when she wanted to go on the floor and play…and discovers all my electronics, hmm???). Half hour or so later current came. Sister-in-law came out…did you move the fan from your room on to you? Me: Yes. Her: Okay. I don’t remember much after that.

I put up the pizza to bake but I wasn’t feeling hungry. I was feeling kinda sick and stuffed. This isn’t a good sign. I didn’t know what to eat. So, I took out the sahina. And my brother was having lamb so I had some of that. Sigh.

Miscellany:

Before 10 am, mom was feeling queasy, upset and wanted to throw up so she broke her fast.

Before 12 noon, so was I. But, I guess I’m stubborn. You see, a few years ago, I got sick. Not hospitalized or anything but it was horrible. And it was a month or two before the start of Ramadan. I fasted one day in 2004, five in 2005, fifteen in 2006 and 2007. Each of those years we paid fidiya for me and this one too. I do intend to make them up but I am unsure when. I hoped this would be the year I fast them all (you know what I mean). So for many reasons I was reluctant to break the fast.

• I was fasting. Nobody who is ever fasting wants to break the fast. Which isn’t smart healthwise. Sometimes you have to.
• Two, I didn’t want to break my fast just because I was eating badly.
• Three, I was scared that if I were sick and broke the fast it would mean I wouldn’t be able to fast again. I was scared that I’d be forever scared of fasting. I never used to be but since 2004…it has been hard. But I always try. In 2004, I fasted the first day and then couldn’t make it. In 2005, I fasted maybe once or twice a week. In 2006, it must have been 2 fasts, 2 no fasts. In 2007, I thought I was doing better, I fasted 3-4 days but then woud have to take the same 2-4 days off and so ended up with the same number as in 2006.

So, after almost curling up in a ball in the shower and crying I broke my fast (with my niece sitting on my lap! oh lord I’m smart!) with some hot banana soft drink. And then was at a loss. What to eat.

And still I felt sicker and sicker and sicker. I left the breaking of my fast tooo long.

I was thankfully bathed and changed already to go to the airport to drop off brother, sister-in-law and niece but wasn’t sure how I would make it as I was in such pain. I didn’t even know how mom would make it. I didn’t want them worrying. Leaving me behind and worrying that I wasn’t okay. The torment my mom would go through (mentally) ie leaving sick daughter at home or not saying goodbye to baby boy. I mean I knew which she would pick (HA! I woulda picked it if I could).

So I lay down on the couch, resting and mom came and checked on me and…in response, I lifted my head up, bent over and…well…do I have to spell it out? There went suhur. And I still hurt.

*sigh*

I slept from 1:30 pm until 4:00 pm and felt *slightly* better but not really.

I just woke up from a sleep from 7 pm until 9 pm and feel almost infinitely better. I’m very positive. At 4 pm even the thought of cleaning out my room after the storm made me sick. Now, I can think about it rationally. It won’t be too hard.

Still, after throwing up, it’s kinda hard to figure out what to eat. Everything seems kinda…doubtful.

I have to take care of myself better.
Mom and I might have been eating okay foods for other people, maybe even okay foods for us The food might not have either been a problem. But our various sicknesses combined with the stress of my brother’s family packing and leaving can be an almost lethal combination. That plus all events detailed above. We have to know our own limits. Like, I have to stop waking myself up and deciding to bake EVERY SINGLE DAY. I almost went down for suhur this morning to make feathery banana pancakes. Well, most likely I’ll not be fasting tomorrow so maybe I’ll spend some time telling you how my ideal day of Ramadan should go.