Christmas in Kuwait
There are Christmas trees in Kuwait, in the malls, in the stores, and Santa and his reindeer are everywhere. I can remember other Christmases – in Saudi Arabia, in Jordan, in Tunisia, in Qatar – when you never knew if this was a year when Christmas would be allowed or not.
For my family and friends not in Kuwait, you would be amazed what you can find here. I am just showing a tiny bit of what you can find these days in Kuwait:
Or is it Kuwait Airport?
. . . or any airport just about anywhere when Christmas and Eid al Kebir all hit at the same time!
moar funny pictures
What Will Matter?
I am thinking about all the people who are making resolutions for the coming year. I don’t do resolutions – for me, it’s too depressing, I fail so often. I do try to change my behaviors, small changes that I hope will lead to grander changes in the long run. I try to keep things in perspective. I try to make good choices.
AdventureMan shared this writing with me, it is a writing by Michael Josephson called What Will Matter sent out by an organization called Character Counts.org.
What Will Matter
by Michael Josephson
Ready or not, some day it will all come to an end.
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten, will pass to someone else.
Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance.
It will not matter what you owned of what you were owed.
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear.
Soon, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away.
It won’t matter where you came from or what side of the tracks you lived on at the end.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin color will be irrelevant.
So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?
What will matter is not what you bought, but what you built,
not what you got but what you gave.
What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage or sacrifice that enriched,
empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.
What will matter is not your competence but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew,
but how many will feel a lasting loss when you’re gone.
What will matter is not your memories, but the memories of those who loved you.
What will matter is how long you will be remembered, by whom, and for what.
Living a life that matters doesn’t happen by accident.
It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice.
Choose to live a life that matters.
Hotel Glasses “Sanitized”
A good friend sent me the following link. If you stay in hotels regularly, this video will change the way you do things, trust me! It is GROSSSSSSSS!
Fashion Nightmare
One of the classic worst nightmares you can have is where you dream you have shown up somewhere naked. No, I didn’t show up naked. But I can tell you that it was the next best thing, and there was nothing I could do. And I survived it, and I never had that bad dream again.
The priest in our church had asked me if I would take a visiting nun around to show her some of the local spots in Qatar. She was doing work in Afghanistan, getting schools up and running for Afghani girls, and I was eager to hear about her work, and show her some projects in Doha. I had gladly agreed, and had a plan outlined for all the places I could take her.
When I arrived at the church house, wearing my rattiest jeans skirt and cover-up shirt, so as to be inconspicuous as we visited various places in the poorer sections of town, the priest came out and said the nun would be out in a minute, and why didn’t I come in, that there had been a “slight” change in plans and that another woman would be coming too, and she was taking us to a Palestinian project.
I don’t hold it against the priest. He lived in another world, a world so full of God and his glory that he didn’t really have any understanding of the world of women.
The other woman arrived, and she was gorgeous. She was wearing Issa Miyake, she was perfectly and subtly made up, and we were not going to a charitable project, but to a charitable fund-raising breakfast. I had thoughts of killing the priest.
The nun arrived, and she was dressed in a decent pants and shirt; neither of us appropriately dressed but off we go, to a clubhouse filled with dressed-to-the-teeth women and their daughters, raising money for popular causes on a Saturday morning. We were severely underdressed. All we could do was hold our heads high and pretend we didn’t notice. Inside, I was torn between laughing and crying.
Our hostess didn’t seem to see the fact that we were poorly dressed, and was very gracious to us, and in future days, the two of us became good friends. We often laughed about the priest, his goodness of heart and his blindness to some of life’s realities, like giving fair warning of what you are doing so you can dress appropriately. It all turned out OK.
When people come to me and tell me something terribly, horribly and publicly embarrassing that has happened to them, and ask me how they will survive, I tell them what I believe to be true – that most people are so absorbed in their own lives that they barely notice much about others, and that people have short memories. What may seem to be a huge deal today, will be yesterday’s news by tomorrow, and barely remembered in a couple months. By the time a year has gone by, some people will even think it might have been someone else who committed the faux pas.
On the other hand, in the small German village where I lived, there were two families who never mixed because their grandmothers had a huge fight many many years ago (people can’t remember exactly what it was about) but the legacy lives on.
So I wonder, how does it work in Kuwait?
The Little Princess
My maid/housekeeper was away, back in her own country, and her substitute can clean, but is hopeless with entertaining. I have about 25 guests coming, good people, and I am not too worried, but I am a little behind schedule pretty much the entire event, as I try to greet guests and make them welcome, get the food out, keep the food coming, keep the coffee and tea ready and and and . . . you get the idea.
As the event neared to a close, one of my friends, the little Princess, is right by my side, clearing dishes, rinsing, bringing things from the salon to the kitchen – and this is a woman we all kid, we call her the little Princess because her husband adores her, and she never has to lift a finger.
“You don’t have to do this!” I exclaim, knowing once the last guest is gone, I can take my time, and it will all get done.
“”But you look so tired!” she exclaims in return.
I am puzzled. I don’t feel tired.
“I don’t FEEL tired,” I respond, and she says “But you have no lipstick, and your hair is all tangled . . .” and I realize to my utter horror that in my focus on getting everything ready for my guests, I forgot to put on any makeup, or to do my hair. I FORGOT!
I am still laughing at myself, partly in HORROR. How could I forget to comb my hair???
Pathetic and Divorce
When I saw this cartoon in the New Yorker, I laughed out loud. I have a friend whose husband is leaving her. No, that is not a laughing matter. He wants to be young again, he seeks (to no avail) younger girlfriends, and she has discovered he has a page on MySpace where he tries to make himself younger and cooler than he really is.
He is about to be wifeless, desperate to regain his lost youth, and pathetically eager to attract young women who really prefer hot young men. The “EEEEEEWWWWWWWWW Factor” is just too horrendous to contemplate.
He also has two teen aged sons. I can’t imagine how they must feel when they see Dad is leaving Mom, and has his own MySpace page.
Ya gotta love the The New Yorker.
Kuwait Camels
When we used to drive around Qatar, we would see camels out roaming everywhere. I imagine it used to be that way in Kuwait, too, until the Gulf War, when the retreating Iraqis seeded the deserts with explosive devices. Even now, every month a shepherd or two loses a limb to an unexploded piece of ordnance in the desert. We don’t just jump in the car and go out exploring here – sadly, it’s not safe, or it’s only safe when you are with people who know where it is safe and where it isn’t. We have friends who tell us, with a sigh, about the beautiful places they would go to see the wildflowers, but no more.
Now and then we will see a camel in a large, empty nearby plot of land, under the sparse trees, sometimes a mother with a baby. Most of the time, I only see camels when I go to shop at the Sultan Center in Al Kout. There is also a very large fresh vegetable, chicken/egg, meat and fish market there, and when I see these unsuspecting and unconcerned camels in the back of a truck, I have a bad feeling that they are destined for the meat market.
Mom’s Rosemary Tree
One of my philosophies – no, no, don’t run away, this isn’t all that deep – is that things have a way of working out. No matter how too horrible everything can get, things work out, this passes, and in today’s hurried, bustling, transitory world, even the worst events fall into oblivion much of the time.
Mom phoned with a request – Lowe’s was having a sale on Rosemary trees, only $8.97, could we get one for her? She likes to have a sweet smelling Rosemary tree outside on her balcony. We went to Lowe’s immediately, first thing in the morning, and . . . they were already gone! There were more expensive ones – like double the price – but all the on-sale ones were already gone. Honestly, there must not have been very many to start with.
(You are probably asking why I didn’t just go ahead and buy it for her anyway. It’s not allowed. She gives her daughters envelopes of money and when we buy things for her that she has asked for, we have to pay from out of that envelope, or she won’t ask us anymore; it’s a matter of pride.)
From that day on, I kept an eye out for Rosemary trees (just maybe 16″ high), Home Depot, Fred Meyer, some of the larger local floral shops – nothing, or double what she wanted to pay.
Then, on my very last day in Seattle, I took Mom to Trader Joe’s. We all like Trader Joe’s, who carried foods and candies and cookies and wines that other more conventional grocers don’t carry. Mom needed to stock up for all her Christmas guests and Christmas entertaining. And there – for only $8.64, not even on sale, was the perfect Rosemary tree. It smelled divine. Here it is, safe in Mom’s basket:
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