Family Jokes
To wile away those last few minutes before breaking the fast, and divert your attention, here are a few jokes I got in my mail today, family kind of jokes that made me smile:
While I sat in the reception area of my doctor’s office, a woman rolled an elderly man
in a wheelchair into the room. As she went to the receptionist’s desk, the man sat there,
alone and silent. J ust as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped
off his mother’s lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man’s,
he said, ‘I know how you feel. My mom makes me ride in the stroller too.’.
As I was nursing my baby, my cousin’s six-year-old daughter, Krissy,
came into the room. Never having seen anyone breast feed before, she was
intrigued and full of all kinds of questions about what I was doing. After
mulling over my answers, she remarked, ‘My mom has some of those, but I don’t
think she knows how to use them.’
*****
Out bicycling one day with my eight-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn,
I got a little wistful. ‘In ten years,’ I said, ‘you’ll want to be with your
friends and you won’t go walking, biking, and swimming with me like you do now.
Carolyn shrugged. ‘In ten years you’ll be too old to do all those things
anyway.’
******
Working as a pediatric nurse, I had the difficult assignment of giving
immunization shots to children. One day I entered the examining room to give
four-year-old Lizzie her needle. ‘No, no, no!’ she screamed. ‘Lizzie,’ scolded
her mother, ‘that’s not polite behavior.’ With that, the girl yelled even
louder, ‘No, thank you! No, thank you!
******
On the way back from a Cub Scout meeting, my grandson asked my son the question.
‘Dad, I know that babies come from mommies’ tummies, but how do they get there
in the first place?’ he asked innocently. After my son hemmed and hawed awhile,
my grandson finally spoke up in disgust. ‘You don’t have to make something up,
Dad. It’s OK if you don’t know the answer.’
*****
Just before I was deployed to Iraq , I sat my eight-year-old son down
and broke the news to him. ‘I’m going to be away for a long time,’ I told him.
‘I’m going to Iraq .’ ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you know there’s a war going
on over there?’
*****
Paul Newman founded the Hole in the Wall Gang Camp for children stricken with
cancer, AIDS and blood diseases. One afternoon he and his wife, Joanne
Woodward, stopped by to have lunch with the kids. A counselor at a nearby table,
suspecting the young patients wouldn’t know that Newman was a famous movie star,
explained, ‘That’s the man who made this camp possible. Maybe you’ve seen his
picture on his salad dressing bottle?’ Blank stares. ‘Well, you’ve probably seen
his face on his lemonade carton.’ An eight-year-old girl perked up. ‘How long
was he missing?’
*****
God’s Problem Now.
His wife’s grave side service was just barely finished, when there was a massive
clap of thunder, followed by a tremendous bolt of lightning, accompanied by even
more thunder rumbling in the distance. The little old man looked at the pastor
and calmly said, ‘Well, she’s there.
The Edmonds Market
The Edmonds Market is one of my favorite things in my hometown, just north of Seattle. Street vendors set up early, and by nine in the morning the market is already going strong. I like to get there early, to get a good choice and – to get a parking space.
It was a wonderful, cool, cloudy morning, but there was no rain. I stopped at Celebrations, a bakery/catering booth, and bought chocolate covered brownies for a gathering later in the day, and an orange/cinnamon roll for my own sinful indulgence. (It was sticky and wonderful!)
All of the people photographed here gave permission for their photos:
The honey man who mixes all his own honeys and brings his bees to pollinate crops for various farmers:
The relish makers – a variety of homemade chutneys, condiments, relishes, made by them from herbs and vegetables they grow:
This lady sells wonderful lotions in divine fragrances – sandlewood, ginger and lime, etc.
This woman and her daughter knit and crochet darling little clothes for babies!
I found these wonderful squash / pumpkins:
There are all kinds of vendors selling flowers, at wonderful prices:
Just outside the Edmonds Street Market is the gazebo round-about, and every now and then, some kids think it hysterically funny to pour a little detergent into it, making it bubble over:
There is a Starbucks by the fountain, with several tables outside to accommodate dog walking patrons:
Guerilla Art at the Gas Works
Yesterday Mom pulled out a clipping from the Seattle Times about an unknown sculptor who had left a collection of fascinating sculptures – papier mache’ with golden highlights – of people emerging from their shells. They were delivered by stealth to the park by by the artist and friends, and left displayed to the wonderment of runners, joggers, walkers and picnicking families who discovered them at the Gasworks Park.
“Guerrilla-art in Seattle
In what was advertised as a gift to the citizens of Seattle, a gold-colored sculpture by an unknown artist turned up in Gas Works Park on Tuesday, August 25, 2009. “Anew is gifted to the citizens of Seattle in the spirit of awakening,” the artist wrote in a plaque attached to the sculpture.”
(This is not my photo; this photo is from the Seattle Times Photo Gallery and you can purchase a copy of it from them)
How cool is that? The park officials were all set to pick the art works up and dispose of them, but people started calling in, by the hundreds, “no! leave it there! It is wonderful!” And, amazement of amazements, the city listened, and left the sculptures there.
In today’s Seattle Times is a follow up:
Guerrilla artist goes public; golden man already taken
By Susan Gilmore
Seattle Times staff reporter (you can read the entire article by clicking on the blue type)
The artist who left a sculpture in Seattle’s Gas Works Park earlier this week says she was “amazed and overwhelmed” by the response to the art.
“I spent some time both in the afternoon and evening standing with the crowd, watching their reactions, and I am overflowing with joy,” said Cyra Hobson, 31, in an e-mail sent Wednesday night.
The Seattle Parks Department said Wednesday it will leave the multipiece sculpture in place until Labor Day rather than removing it today, as had been planned.
So Mom and I decided we wanted to take a look, which is a lot braver than you can imagine. Mom has always been active, but she is no longer able to walk as long as she wants to walk – at 86, she hates to accept any limitations, so off we go.
We get to the Gas Works Park and it is another gorgeous day, warm, without being hot, and we walk. And we walk. And we don’t see one single piece of sculpture. People have taken her at her word – they are all gone!
Oh well. We missed an ephemeral moment in time, a great happening, but we still had a great adventure. The view from the Gas Works park (which is – no kidding – on the site of a defunct Gas Works factory, so they turned it into a park for families, joggers, dog walkers, etc.) is phenomenal – at one time, there was a jet, a helicopter and a pontoon plane in the air, a car/boat, several kayaks and a fishing boat in the water, and dogs and children everywhere.
Of course I took some photos to share with you:
This is a “Duck.” Right now it is a boat, but it can also put down wheels and function as an open tour bus on land:
St. Moses the Black
Early early in the Seattle Friday morning, I was doing my readings from The Lectionary when I noticed that today was the Feast Day of St. Moses the Black.
St. Moses the Black? I had NEVER heard of St. Moses the Black.
Here is what it says in The Lectionary:
Saint Moses the Black (330 – 405), known as the Ethiopian or the strong, was a slave of a government official in Egypt who dismissed him for theft and suspected murder. He became the leader of a gang of bandits who roamed the Nile Valley spreading terror and violence. Attempting to hide from local authorities, he took shelter with some monks in a colony in the desert of Scetes, near Alexandria. The dedication of their lives, as well as their peace and contentment, influenced Moses deeply. He soon gave up his old way of life, became a Christian, was baptized and joined the monastic community at Scetes.
And, intrigued, I followed their link to Wickipedia where I read:
Saint Moses the Black (Coptic; 330 – 405), known as the Ethiopian or the strong, was a slave of a government official in Egypt who dismissed him for theft and suspected murder. He became the leader of a gang of bandits who roamed the Nile Valley spreading terror and violence. He was a large, imposing figure. On one occasion, a barking dog prevented Moses from carrying out a robbery, so he swore vengeance on the owner. Weapons in his mouth, Moses swam the river toward the owner’s hut. The owner, again alerted, hid, and the frustrated Moses took some of his sheep to slaughter. Attempting to hide from local authorities, he took shelter with some monks in a colony in the desert of Scetes, near Alexandria. The dedication of their lives, as well as their peace and contentment, influenced Moses deeply. He soon gave up his old way of life, became a Christian, was baptized and joined the monastic community at Scetes.
Moses had a rather difficult time adjusting to regular monastic discipline. His flair for adventure remained with him. Attacked by a group of robbers in his desert cell, Moses fought back, overpowered the intruders, and dragged them to the chapel where the other monks were at prayer. He told the brothers that he didn’t think it Christian to hurt the robbers and asked what he should do with them. The overwhelmed robbers repented, were converted, and themselves joined the community.
Moses was zealous in all he did, but became discouraged when he concluded he was not perfect enough. Early one morning, Saint Isidore, abbot of the monastery, took Moses to the roof and together they watched the first rays of dawn come over the horizon. Isidore told Moses, “Only slowly do the rays of the sun drive away the night and usher in a new day, and thus, only slowly does one become a perfect contemplative.”
Moses proved to be effective as a prophetic spiritual leader. The abbot ordered the brothers to fast during a particular week. Some brothers came to Moses, and he prepared a meal for them. Neighboring monks reported to the abbot that Moses was breaking the fast. When they came to confront Moses, they changed their minds, saying “You did not keep a human commandment, but it was so that you might keep the divine commandment of hospitality.” Some see in this account one of the earliest allusions to the Paschal fast, which developed at this time.
When a brother committed a fault and Moses was invited to a meeting to discuss an appropriate penance, Moses refused to attend. When he was again called to the meeting, Moses took a leaking jug filled with water and carried it on his shoulder. Another version of the story has him carrying a basket filled with sand. When he arrived at the meeting place, the others asked why he was carrying the jug. He replied, “My sins run out behind me and I do not see them, but today I am coming to judge the errors of another.” On hearing this, the assembled brothers forgave the erring monk.
Moses became the spiritual leader of a colony of hermits in the Western Desert. Later, he was ordained a priest. At about age 75, about the year 405 AD, word came that a group of Berbers planned to attack the monastery. The brothers wanted to defend themselves, but Moses forbade it. He told them to retreat, rather than take up weapons. He and seven others remained behind and greeted the invaders with open arms, but all eight were martyred by the bandits on 24 Paoni (July 1). A modern interpretation honors Saint Moses the Black as an apostle of non-violence. His relics and major shrine are found today at the Church of the Virgin Mary in the Paromeos Monastery.
I think I would have liked this guy. I’m glad to know about him!
A New Approach – The John School
From CNN World News
NASHVILLE, Tennessee (CNN) — The accused came from all walks of life: Retirees, dads and twentysomethings. An engineer, a business owner and an auto worker. A man in a wheelchair. Men in need of Spanish or Farsi translators.
Brett Beasley, with Nashville’s Health Department, educates men arrested for trying to buy sex about STDs.
About 40 men somberly entered a classroom on a recent Saturday morning. About half of them wore shiny wedding bands.
All had tried to buy a prostitute’s services and were caught by police. It was their first offense, and a county court referred them to a one-day program called the John School. It’s a program run by volunteers and city officials in conjunction with Magdalene House, a nonprofit that works to get prostitutes off the streets.
“Prostitution doesn’t discriminate,” said Kenny Baker, a cognitive behavioral therapist who is the program’s director. “Most of these men don’t have a prior criminal history, so our goal is to help these folks understand why they put themselves in a bad position, to prevent it from happening again.”
Set in a church in Nashville, Tennessee, the John School is led by former prostitutes, health experts, psychologists and law enforcement officers who talk to — and at times berate — the men about the risks of hiring a prostitute.
Prostitution is based on the law of supply and demand. The thinking is: Women won’t stop selling sex until men stop buying.
So Nashville and a growing number of cities are shifting their focus from locking up suppliers to educating buyers. Across the country, about 50 communities are using John Schools. Atlanta, Georgia, and Baltimore, Maryland, are among dozens more cities that plan to launch similar programs by the end of the year. See where the John Schools are »
“It will make them [offenders] see that this is not a victimless crime, and they are contributing to the exploitation of women,” said Stephanie Davis, policy adviser on women’s issues at the mayor’s office in Atlanta. “It’s hurting them, the man, and it’s hurting their families and its hurting the community.”
No comprehensive effort has been made to track the numbers, but experts estimate 1 million to 2 million prostitutes work in the United States. The FBI’s 2007 Uniform Crime Report lists about 78,000 arrests for prostitution and commercialized vice, but experts say those numbers are extremely conservative because many sex workers and johns aren’t caught.
Experts add that easy accessibility to prostitutes and pornography on the Internet are feeding the problem.
In most communities, prostitution has been a one-sided battle focused on the women who offer sex. Their customers, when they are arrested, are usually cited for a misdemeanor and fined.
By comparison, prostitutes are often charged with more severe sentences and jailed for months, depending on the offense.
But in Nashville, the johns’ faces are shown on a police Web site.
For decades, Nashville battled prostitution by arresting women on the streets and through stings. Still, the problem persisted, irritating business owners and residents.
In the early 1990s, Nashville’s mayor helped launch the John School with the help of the Magdalene House, public defenders, prosecutors and police officers. Nashville became one of the first major cities in the U.S. to focus on the customers, predominantly men.
Only first-time offenders who solicit an adult are eligible for John School. Johns who pick up minors are not eligible and face much tougher sentences.
“If you get caught again and you get me, I will guarantee to put you in jail,” warned Antoinette Welch, a local prosecutor, in speaking to the men in the class. “I’ve had men cry to me that they will lose their jobs or their wives, but you’re all grown up and you make your own decisions.”
The men listened carefully as Welch talked about their records; many had not yet told their wives or significant others about their arrest.
If the john pleads guilty, pays a $250 fee and completes the course without re-offending, the charge can be dismissed after a year. The money paid by the john goes to Magdalene House; the program doesn’t cost taxpayers any money. John School models in other communities may differ.
A woman who called herself Alexis, a 35-year-old former prostitute with dark hair and bright blue eyes, spoke to the men as the class came to an end. Four years ago, she left the streets and now works at a factory.
By the age of 10, Alexis had learned to barter with sex with her stepfather. In her 20s, she found herself hooked on drugs and selling her body. She was arrested more than 80 times. She was hospitalized after someone shot her on the job.
As she told her story, the men were silent. A few blushed, while others stared at the floor.
“These gentlemen are no different than I was on the streets,” she said. “I think everyone has to look at the void they are trying to fill.”
One john, a father of two with salt-and-pepper hair, found himself near tears after Alexis spoke. In July, he tried to pick up a prostitute through Craigslist. He said he was depressed and having problems with his wife.
“I’m so embarrassed,” he said. “These girls are somebody’s daughters. I have a daughter.”
Some evidence suggests that John Schools are working. A 2008 government study looked at the John School program in San Francisco, California. It’s one of the largest programs in the country; more than 7,000 johns have attended since 1995.
According to the study, the re-arrest rate fell sharply after the school was launched, and stayed more than 30 percent lower for 10 years afterward.
But critics call John School a slap on the wrist. On Saturday, one john abandoned the classroom.
Carol Leigh, who founded the Sex Workers Outreach Project, a group that promotes legalizing prostitution in California, said she doesn’t believe the program is an effective deterrent. Last year, she helped advocate on behalf of a law known as Proposition K that would legalize prostitution in San Fransisco. The proposal was rejected by the city.
“John School doesn’t do that much,” said Leigh, who has worked as a prostitute. “The reality is they aren’t spending that much time on the johns and they will just go and re-offend at other venues. This also doesn’t target the violent offenders who are the real problem.”
Melissa Farley, head of the nonprofit group Prostitution Research and Education in San Fransisco, believes johns deserve stronger punishment like longer prison sentences.
A recent study she conducted among johns in Chicago, Illinois, found that 41 percent of them said John School would deter them from buying sex, compared with 92 percent who said being placed on a sex offender registry would scare them from re-offending.
Nashville officials said they haven’t tracked recidivism rates in their city, but the school’s program director said it’s probably deterring a third of the offenders in each class.
At least one college educated, 47-year-old john’s attitude appeared to change on a recent Saturday.
After class he wrote, “There is no good part. I would rather be with my wife. This was quick but it wasn’t worth it.”
Here There and Anywhere
It’s not like “Here, There and Everywhere” is something I made up and trademarked. No. It was an old Beatles song I liked a lot:
And when I started blogging, I couldn’t think of one area I wanted to specialize in, like news commenting, or recipes, and my life isn’t so fascinating that I can just spin tales and keep you dazzled, so Here There and Everywhere just sort of expressed the serendipity that I wanted, and gave me the space that I needed to tackle lots of subjects – and, more important, to me anyway, to get feedback and input from others who might know a whole lot more than I do about things. I was always ready for things to take a wild jag, and, to my utter delight, they sometimes do. 🙂
It’s worked for me. It keeps life interesting.
But I have to admit I sometimes get a twinge of proprietary feeling about the name. One time BitJockey sent me a reference to a blog – a Kuwait blog! and the author had a name so similar that if it was a coincidence, it was a very eerie coincidence. It sort of totally annoyed me, but I didn’t want to give the blog any attention or thought at all, and actually, so far ignoring it has pretty much worked for me, too.
But today, in my very own home town, I saw this big orange van:
“Oh!” I said! “Oh, Look at that van! It says ‘Here, There and Everywhere’ on it!” and my Mom said “Oh, that’s the Here and There and Anywhere Grill” and we order things from them all the time. They are only here on Wednesdays. After two or three weeks,” she added, “I get a little tired of the food and then stop for a while and start again later. They have really good food.”
I love it that Mom is stepping out, taking college seminars, ordering from the Here and There and Anywhere Grill, doing her physical therapy, keeping active.
“How can I help you, Mom?” I asked, and she had a good list ready. At the end was “Buy a new chair” so today we went searching for the perfect chair. In one store, we were the only customers so the saleslady suggested we push Mom around the huge, cavernous store in a dining room chair with wheels. Only problem is Mom has to hold her feet up off the floor, it’s not like a wheelchair with a base you can rest your feet on, but she was a really good sport, except for the one time maybe I was moving too fast and I hit an edge of carpet and almost dumped her by stopping too abruptly.
She found a totally great chair, one I don’t think my Dad would have approved of at all. I love it that she made the decision herself, and bought the chair and it is going to be delivered tomorrow – a gorgeous cherry RED leather chair. Wooo HOOOO on you, Mom! 😀
(You are going to have to imagine the cherry red part; the only photo I could find online is black.)
Beautiful Flower’s Crab Cakes
Sometimes, the absolute best day happens and you had no idea it was going to happen – you didn’t plan for it to happen, it just sort of came about.
One of my two very good friends in Seattle is Beautiful Flower. We don’t call her that, but that is what her legal name means. After having lunch together in Ivar’s, a place we have haunted for years, we visited with my Mom and then she said she wanted us to go back to her house and make crab cakes. She and her husband had the good fortune to have caught their limit in nice fat crabs this last weekend.
I knew she was having guests from out-of-town, and I am a pretty good crab picker, so I said yes, besides, she has a new recipe from her daughter for crab cakes, and she says it is almost entirely crab, and it is a really good recipe, you can really taste the crab. Oh YUM.
So we put our aprons on and she put down a huge black plastic bag (if you’ve ever cleaned crabs, you know it is very messy work) and got out the hammer and the crab-crackers and the crab picks and away we went. She had four good sized crab – and it didn’t even take us half an hour to clean those beauties, giving us more than a pound of sweet, delicious fresh crab meat. We were talking so much we didn’t even notice how hard we were working!
Her daughter arrived, and they started putting together the crab cakes – just wrapping the crab mixture in panko, the Japanese break crumb coating.
We had a lengthy discussion about the right way to fry crab cakes – Beautiful Flower uses olive oil, but her daughter prefers straight butter. I love the taste of butter, but use mostly olive oil with just a pat of butter for the flavor. I think she used a mix, but we were all talking so fast I didn’t really pay attention as I should.
As my friend was frying up the crab cakes, she was telling us that she and her next two sisters all had names that started with “beautiful” but that when the fourth sister came along, her mother named her “too many girls!” Fortunately, the nurse at the hospital writing down the name wrote down “Proud girl” instead of “Too many girls” (they sound sort of alike if you aren’t listening too carefully).
My friend also told us she went to visit her mother in the hospital with her grandmother, her father’s father. When her grandmother discovered that her mother had another daughter, she was so mad she left my friend – 6 years old – and didn’t even visit her mother!
My friend, 6 years old, had to try to find her mother in the hospital and give her the food they had brought. But it was the middle of winter, and the nurses had covered up all the new mothers, from head to toe, so my friend couldn’t find her mother! Finally, somehow she found her and fed her, and then – at 6 years old – she had to walk 5 miles back to her house alone, because her grandmother had left her there! She said she didn’t talk to her grandmother for a long time.
Her daughter had never heard that story, had heard her mother’s sisters call the one sister “Lo Moi”, but didn’t know that it meant “too many girls!” The family still call the youngest sister “Too Many Girls” even though her legal name was Proud Girl.
See what I would have missed if we weren’t making crab cakes?!
Beautiful Flower’s Daughter’s Recipe for Really Good Crab Cakes
1 lb crab meat
2 Tablespoons + 2 Teaspoons chopped fresh chives (or green onions)
2 Tablespoons + 2 Teaspoons chopped fresh dill
2 Tablespoons finely grated lemon zest
salt pepper (we left it out because crab is naturally salty)
1/2 cup panko
Shape crab into patty, roll in panko, place on cookie sheet until ready to fry. Fry in lightly oiled/buttered pan until golden brown. Eat!
Crab cakes served with Beautiful Flower’s Daughter’s Homemade Plum Sauce:
(When I called my friend this morning to thank her for the wonderful time, I told her that I had a crab cake for breakfast, and they are as good cold as they are hot and she laughed and said she was having a crab cake for breakfast, too. What sheer luxury! Crabcake for breakfast! 🙂 )
Irrelevant Clothing, Shoes and Scissors
It doesn’t matter how long I have been living in the Middle East, it doesn’t matter how many times I have made the trip back and forth, I never seem to get it quite right.
I knew it was going to be less hot in Seattle. I knew it. And still, I didn’t pack a single pair of closed toe shoes, a single pair of nylon stockings, and only a couple long sleeved things. It doesn’t matter that I have lived in Seattle, that I know Seattle, when I am in the middle of the heat and humidity of August in Doha, I lack the imagination to think clearly about the coolness of August in Seattle. I have a lot of lightweight cotton dresses . . . hmmm, so irrelevant in Seattle.
I keep a storage locker here. It started when we moved our parents from their big house to a 2 BR condo (with a water view 🙂 ) and Mom had separated out some of her treasures to divide among us movers. The problem was, I didn’t really want to take them with me (bulky and I would have to bring them back) and I have already imposed on the sister who lives here with a bunch of my stuff, so I finally decided to rent a storage locker. I discovered as a landlord, it actually comes off my taxes. I still have to pay for it, but it isn’t a total loss. I keep Seattle supplies in the locker, too.
When I went to the locker yesterday to pick up some more long sleeved stuff, and my Seattle hairdryer, and my Seattle make-up and living supplies (dishwashing soap, coffee filters, paper towels, laundry soap, etc.) yesterday, with my Mom in the car, nothing went right. My code didn’t work. I had to go inside, leaving my Mom sitting in the car, and it took them a while to work out what was wrong.
(“We don’t have seven number codes! . . . .Hmmm, , mmm, , , yeh, it says you have a seven number code all right, . . .. so here is your new code . . . )
And the new code didn’t work either.
They opened the gate for me, I went to my locker, and with my Mom sitting in the car, discovered my laundry soap had leaked during the time between visits, and with my Mom sitting in the car, I had to clean it all up AND dig out some relevant clothing, and some wrapping paper for gifts I need to send, and scotch tape and scissors (yes, I keep all the things that I frequently use in the locker so I don’t have to buy them again and again and again.) I also grabbed the bag of cosmetic items – like shampoo, toothpaste, my Seattle toothbrush, etc.)
My poor Mom! Remember her? She is still out there sitting in the car!
(The code didn’t work on the way out, either.)
So after all that sitting in the car, I treated Mom to a trip to Trader Joe’s, a place we both love. I picked up sugar snap peas; I just eat them like candy, instead of candy, they are SO good, and some sushi for later on, and Mom picked up things that were really bad, like triple gingersnaps and a wonderfully fragrant new Rosemary Tree.
On the way home, she said “you know you have some stuff in the guest bathroom” and I assured her that I did not, that it was all my middle sister’s stuff, and she said “No, Little Diamond looked at it while she was staying here and said it was yours, that it was stuff you use.” Hmmm. Little Diamond said that?
So when we got back to Mom’s house, I checked the cupboard, and there was one of those zipper bags like (ahem) I always use, and inside was . . . yep. Another hairbrush. Another Seattle toothbrush. Scotch tape. Scissors. My particular make-up back-ups. Shampoo. I brought it with me, and I had two almost identical zipper bags full of Seattle supplies. I can only imagine that sometimes when I get here after all those hours of traveling that my mind is just so addled I am not thinking.
It also makes me feel a little weird that Little Diamond knows me so well that she can identify MY things with just a glance at the contents of the plastic bag, LLOOLLLL! I am that predictable?
On my way over to my Mom’s, I had stopped at the local Fred Meyer’s, a Target-like local store I just love. Now that I am in Seattle, I see things differently. I see things I can hardly resist, like something in me feels like getting ready for the winter, but then, Thank God, my sterner self jerks me back just as I am reaching for:
Look at those socks! Look at those colors! I can barely resist, they are such a hoot! but then . . . where would I wear them? Even if I were abaya’d, people could see my bright polka-dot chartreused ankles and it would draw unwanted attention . . . . maybe just around the house . . .
But no . . . around the house – look at these!
Thick, fuzzy sleepers, only $16.99, like we wore when we were kids, only these are for grownups, and oh! look at that zebra print! The cheetah! They are almost irresistable!
And so irrelevant in Doha!
Another Layer of Glitz for the LuLu in Doha
Here is one thing to LOVE about Ramadan (for non-Muslims). If you wait until all those who are fasting have finished rushing home to break bread (actually water and some dates are the traditional and best way to break the fast and raise the blood sugar levels gently), while they are enjoying Ftoor – the breaking of the fast – the roads are OURS! We are KING OF THE ROAD!
And the restaurants, and the Malls are empty! You can get anywhere in Doha in minutes! And, really, minutes, maybe even an hour, is all you have before the night roads start to get really really busy with people making Ramadan calls on one another, heading to the mosque for evening prayers, taking Mom and sisters to the Malls to check out the Ramadan sales, etc.
As we were heading down D-ring, AdventureMan – and you have to know, this is why we have been married for 36 years, we share the same sense of what is important – AdventureMan says “Look at the LULU!” and I look, and I am instantly busy digging out my camera while AdventureMan is saying “You’ll have to be quick, you’ll have to be QUICK! I don’t know if I can find a parking spot and I can’t slow down too much without getting hit in the rear!!”
(Honestly, when they put up an extra layer of glitz on the already neon-tarted LuLu, they owe it to their neighborhood to put in a photography lane for all the gawkers like us!)
The LuLu is one of our favorite places. When our guests come – especially from Europe – they love that the LuLu has all these exotic soaps from India, fresh fresh pistacio nuts, fresh walnuts, spices and spice mixtures they have never heard of (of which they have never heard, 1001 🙂 ), and upstairs, Arabic school notebooks, and a fabulous sari shop, and . . . well you just never know what. Our European friends also like the prices at the LuLu. When we take them at night, it is all lit up in Red, Green and Gold NEON, it shines so bright you can see it from the sky when you take off, if you take off in the right direction and if you are seated on the right side of the plane. 😉
But ANOTHER layer or neon? The LuLu has really gone to town!
I clicked away as AdventureMan shouted “Hurry! Hurry!” No time to focus, just click, click, click and hope that one or two will show up.
A LuLu, for our non-Arabic speaking friends, is a beautiful perfect pearl, and some of our friends call their daughter LuLu, a nickname, not her real name.
(With special thanks to AdventureMan, who made this post possible. 🙂 )
Ramadan Mubarak 2009
(image from Islam101/Ramadan)
Greetings and best wishes from AdventureMan and me to all of our Muslim friends, fasting and purifying themselves during the Muslim month of Ramadan. May your fasting and your prayers bless you abundantly, and may the month build your spiritual wholeness in every good way.
Friday, during our church service, our priest asked the congregation if any of us had literature explaining why the Muslim God was not the same as the Christian God. We all looked at him in shock. Not one person raised his or her hands.
Then he smiled, a great big broad grin and said “Good! There is only one God, and our Moslem brothers and sisters worship the same one-God we do.”
His sermon was on one of the “hard teachings” of Jesus, teachings even those closest to him had trouble understanding. That there are not exceptions to the rules, that the rules apply across the board, to us all, to all creatures God created. When the Jews, the chosen ones, rejected Jesus, they had allowed a focus on the laws to take the place of the spirit of the law – that we love God, and that as a part of loving God, we serve him by loving and serving one another, regardless of divisions, of denominations or sects.
May all the blessings of the true spirit of Ramadan be yours, my brothers and sisters.
(Yes, Purg, you ARE my brother. 🙂 )
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