In Loving Memory of Annabel

So I tried my hand at domesticity and made some desserts for a lunch that I was invited to.

I was actually visiting my Tupperware friend to collect my order and she said we had to stay for lunch and also invited my best friend and her boyfriend over.

How life has changed, the three of us would party up a storm back at university. We were not even remotely thinking of marriage. We all had our dreams, funky clothes, attitudes and packs of cigarettes.

Now here I was: arriving with my Halaal version of chocolate mousse (No Gelatin), and a peppermint and caramel tart made from scratch.

I have to point out that it was much harder than I thought. I mean the double boiler was overflowing because I added too much water at the bottom and I have to save the chocolate!

I didn’t beat the caramel before hand, just chucked the blob into the cream in one go, so I had to “fold” the mixture for like ten years – who needs pilates? It was still lumpy at the end, but who cares! No one noticed anyway.

But anyway, about three hours later with chocolate mousse splattered on the wall and in my hair; and my brother taking pics in disbelief; I had manage to not completely f#ck it up.

My Tupperware friend made three different dishes for lunch and my Best friend provided the salads and sides.

I was like: What the hell?????? What happened to flirting and dancing and being cute?

The only cute thing around there was TF’s 4 year old son and the puppy she calls Black Bastard, since it has no name yet.

At least we still have a sense of humour I guess,

So the trip down memory lane began, and TF pointed out that we had to console her when she got knocked up 4 years back and got married. I remembered that time and remembered how afraid she was to be a mum, and for the first time I could relate.

I am petrified!!!

I am getting married and that usually leads into having a kid.

Kids are fine, except they belong to someone else.

I don’t even have a desk plant. I just know it would die.

I actually had a plant in my apartment in Cape Town. It was called Annabel and I struggled to keep it alive, and then I left it in the care of my friend while away, and she killed Annabel. The truth is……I was kinda relieved…….sick, I know.

What kind of Mother would I make if I was relieved my plant died???

I mean it always starts this way, ordering Tupperware, making dessert, and next thing you sharing recipes and talking about how to clear nappy rash…….

I discuss Yeats, Rumi and Khalil Gibran. I love the ballet and theatre. I want to win an Oscar, or any award…..

I don’t want to exchange it for developmental sets and kiddies plays.

Ok, so maybe I am getting ahead of myself but marriage scares me.

Firstly there is the potential children fear – add mummy tummy and droopy boobs

Then there is the re-introduction into Indian Culture. What if I loose myself? What if I loose everything that makes me different?

My best friend said it can never happen even if I tried, but who really knows?

I guess that this is apart of the journey, its all one interesting rollercoaster of emotions