momos on Unsplash by @whaleitsjessica
Mom: (phone rings 5 times) Hello?
Me: Good morning!
Mom: Who is this?!
Me: (hurt and kinda pissed) it’s me, Mom
Mom: Who’s me?
Me: Zain. It’s Zain your daughter. How are you?
Mom: Oh. What’s new?
Me: Well, I had a birthday yesterday and didn’t hear from you and Dad.
Mom: Huh. Well happy birthday.
My own mother didn’t recognize or remember me on my birthday. That did it. Never again.
I started the annual “Zain’s Momo** Pitch-In Birthday Bash!” and invited everyone I knew to party down with me. My friend Bruce offered to help me make momos for all the guests. Big Bruce was 6’4” and 350 (maybe more) and a great momo maker.
The first momo bash was such a huge hit, people called to ask me if they could come and bring friends the next year. 10 years later, I decided to call it quits. That last year, when everyone raised a glass to me, I made a little speech from behind the couch with co-cook Bruce at my side.
Bruce said, “It’s been a great run, Z” as he grabbed me and dipped me.
That is he attempted to dip me. But instead we fell behind the couch with a resounding thump. The entire room went silent. No one moved. And then, tentatively, the conversation started again. Did anyone come behind the couch to see if 98 lb. Zain was crushed by 350 lb. Bruce?
Why no, they did not.
I popped up from behind the couch like a nervous prairie dog. Not hurt but shaken. Bruce’s wife Theresa came around the couch and we both surveyed Bruce kneeling on the floor, trying to stand up. “I guess I lost my balance,” he panted. “You almost killed her,” Theresa said as she and I started laughing and couldn’t stop.
But I had to wonder. What on earth did my friends think I was doing back there behind the couch?
Maybe they thought I was dead and were having such a good time they didn’t want to spoil anything by having to deal with a crushed and bloody host. But wow, it was certainly a memorable birthday.
**Momos are small steamed dumplings filled with meat or veggies.
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