The life not lived…the ice cream not eaten… and the great, but mysterious plans for the grated Cassava…

September puts me in a reflective mood. I have another birthday, a new school year begins, summer ends, the air gets crisp... And much as I love to watch leaves turn colors, time feels like a slippery, elusive thing – like sand slipping through my fingers at a pace I cannot keep up with; grains that I want to hold on to, but seemingly out of my control… All I can do is brace myself and watch it slip away…

I have a birthday yesterday. I notice my mind travelling to similar thoughts. Yeah… whatever… I tell myself. Several times. It totally snaps the melancholy and also the poetry. Yeah… whatever… Maturity? I wonder. Or “just-not-giving-a-sh** anymore”? Hmmm… Yeah… whatever…

I have a good day. A bike ride, lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant I’ve been wanting to go to forever. Tiny place (James Beard nominated), and they make only two pho or soups daily. My family would have been otherwise reluctant, I milk the birthday card. I take an afternoon nap. My dog curls up on the sofa with me. And of course, I find a wine with my name and age (!!!). Life is good. There is no time for wistfulness.

 

This morning, I wake up tired and sore. I have been attempting to savor every last drop of summer and my body seems to notice – unhappily, begrudgingly. “Live each day like it is your last”, they say. But, they fail to mention anything about the next day when you get up sore and want to sleep for three days straight.

Yeah… whatever… I open the freezer to get frozen berries for a smoothie and notice how limp and watery the bag is. My eyes widen and continue to widen as they take note of watery puddles in the freezer. I open the fridge side. Nothing is as cold as it should be. The refrigerator ghosts have changed the temperatures and they won’t let me change them back. In the fight of ghosts versus human, this human has sadly, no victory to report. The freezer temperature stays at 41 and the fridge temperature at 67.

Everything my yeah…whatevers were trying to dismiss, stands before me in a metaphorical mess. Parts of my life not lived, that could have been delicious, if savored, stare back. Three tubs of delicious ice cream, look shriveled and unhappy, sabudana wada packet that (I swear) looks at me accusingly… shelves and shelves of food, headed straight for the garbage bags.

The puppy, of course, is going crazy. She licks a drop of dripped ice cream, realizes it’s the best thing ever and bounces around herself looking for more.

No, no… don’t put that in the bag… I’ll clean it up for you! It won’t be any trouble at all.
Smells of all sorts descend on her and she’s tries to help clean it up, and sulks when I won’t let her.

See…you should have let me pull that salami straight out of the grocery bag…It’s all going to waste!!

I continue to find things I have not seen in ages and chuck them in trash bags. My dog noses my knee, noses the bag, and makes tortured Chewbacca sounds as she watches me throw the wild caught salmon. This deluge of smells is torture.
No! I can’t watch this happen anymore! That’s the grilled chicken from last night – WOMAN…are you crazy???

I tell her I am just as sad as she is.

I stare at a small, flat packet tucked beneath a bunch of things, “grated cassava”. I stare at it some more. I have no idea when I bought it, what I had planned for it, or even how it tastes. I don’t think I have ever used it in my cooking. It sounds exotic and delicious, even if I am clueless why it is in my freezer.

Resigning to the fact that some things will always remain mystery, I continue with the cleaning. 

Apart, from the mess and the work it involves, I realize all my yeah…whatevers… can no longer shield me from the truth. That of impermanence and time fleeting, and uncertainty and not knowing when something will be gone, and all the wonderful things we set aside for later that simply languish or are forgotten…

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No, I still don’t know what is wrong with my fridge. But I now understand this, from its contents.

Yes, that freakin’ sand is going to slip through our fingers. So, if it represents ice cream, eat it up, don’t save it for later. Even if it means all three tubs. Call me, if you need help.

Throw away that tube of anchovy paste, the minute you or your kid, grimace at its taste or smell. For it’s taking space of a yummy, happy something. Same goes with the vegan mayo.

Ask yourself if you need to have three cartons of milk going – two hemp (one vanilla, one regular) and a regular whole milk. Same goes with all the different teriyaki sauces. Shoyu, tamari, and soy sauce are all same – one will suffice. Last known, you were not considering opening an Asian restaurant.

If you’re never going to use that delicious looking, organic tahini, find someone who will. Better yet, get them to invite you over, when they make something delicious with that delicious looking tahini.

No. Buying a giant bag of chia seeds does not assure good health. I understand you have to actually consume them.

Same goes for the flax meal, acai juice, umeboshi plums… They do not sit tight in the middle shelf and impart good health, each time you open the refrigerator.

Don’t go the Indian grocery (or regular grocery) store hungry. Those packets of frozen masala dosa that you drooled over and thought how easy, will return home with you, only to sit cozily next to their identical twin boxes.  

If your freezer looks really full, it probably means it is. You will never find that wild caught salmon – and your dog’s unhappy whimpers and eyes, watching you throw it away, will haunt you forever.  

And finally, don’t wait too long to make that delicious cassava something. You may not remember what it was going to be. Make that absolutely delicious cassava something right away, while you’re still excited about it (and may have gone to some specialty store to find it) and savor every last, delicious morsel of it.

Now that part, you may actually remember.