Triple Dose » Omar

new beginnings

Asma — Sun, 16 May 2010 19:30:44 +0000

A couple of days ago, I was hired for a new job! It’s a really interesting teaching position, outside an ordinary school setting. In fact, I’m only one of two teachers on staff, and since it’s a new program, I have to devise the program, set up the classroom, and initiate the academic atmosphere. It’s very exciting but not something I’ll talk very much about here, since I don’t want to end up on the radar of my colleagues.

What this means for this blog is…quick food ideas. I finish pretty late, which means I’m going to be home after Omar comes home himself, meaning the speedier I can make dinner, the less I have to listen to him complain about how hungry he is. Kidding! Not really!

dreaming in tomatoes

Asma — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 01:42:03 +0000

Back when we were living here in Montreal when I was a little girl, my dad used to take us to Marché Jean-Talon every time he would pick up my sister and I by himself from Saturday School. Marché Jean-Talon was a big farmer’s market, and in the springtime, there would be barrels and barrels of beautifully ripe fruits and vegetables. As we would pass by, farmers would offer samplings of their selection, and my dad always accepted and got more for us, buying a small bag of what he was offered to thank the seller. I used to beg him to buy more, to go for the big barrel of apricots, plums, apples cucumbers, peppers, or my favourite, tomatoes. I didn’t really want to eat so much of it, nor did I care to stop the seller from pestering us to buy it already, and I didn’t necessarily want to see the smile of gratitude on his or her’s face either. No, what I wanted was far better– I wanted to see the look of shock on my mom’s face when we got home.

And every once in a while, my dad would give in to my begging and I would see a smile sneak past his face. He knew very well what he was doing when he bought that big bushel of tomatoes. He knew that when we got home, my mom would be surprised, then annoyed, and then just confused. What would she do with all those tomatoes?

But my mom was resourceful. She knew what to do with all those tomatoes. She froze them, dried them, pickled them, and stuck them into every meal. They were in our eggs in the morning, in our sandwiches at lunch, and in our soup, salad, and main course at dinner. I have to give her credit–she even cleverly stuck them into our meals without our noticing it.

Now my daydreams take on a similar path as that of my parents. I sit on the bus and I dream about Omar taking our little kids to the market to buy big barrels of strawberries and tomatoes. I imagine how they would take delight in surprising me with their purchases and how we would together experiment with making different flavours of jams and freezing the rest. I think of the bonds created when parents and children share something as basic as food. I dream about creating good memories for life in my kids, of family and food.

serves me right

Asma — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 01:37:00 +0000

On my last job in this school, a couple of kids wanted to know if I was a Habs fan. Now, I grew up in Montreal, so my first exposure to hockey was in the home of the Montreal Canadiens.

Not that I really cared, though.

But then I moved to Toronto and married an avid Leafs fan, one who became “depressed” when the Leafs lost, who screamed criticisms during games and howled when they scored. Yep, one of those men.

So when they asked me if I was a Habs fan, I felt an obligation to my husband, despite the embarrassment of claiming to be a Leafs fan.

That was a few weeks ago.

Today, I sat in my classroom at recess, reading. The boys I had spoken to noticed me behind the closed door. I heard a tap tap at the door and there they were, goading me with a paper pressed against the glass window of the door, saying LEAFS SUCK. I saw laughing, taunting faces at the door, one of them screaming it out to the hurrah of the crowd.

In retrospect, I should’ve stayed quiet.

we’re working, really

Asma — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 00:36:10 +0000

Today’s email conversation between the husband and myself while both at our respective day jobs:

Omar: I’m in class and I smell like cheerios from the morning

Me: cheerios dont smell bad unless they’re in vomit..

O: wow.

M: im just saying, you probably smell good. cuz cheerios dont smell bad.

unless you vomitted recently?

O: ur bad.