Air France Customer Service
At long last, my Mom is coming to Pensacola for a visit.
After days of to-and-fro-ing with Mom and Big Diamond, after countless visits to Expedia and Travelocity and Delta, I was able to talk with Andre’ at Air France who, once he heard I was booking for my 88 year old mother, spent an hour with me, finding flights she could handle, (not too early in the morning, not too many stops, wheelchair assists, etc.) finding first class seats and confirming them, making sure Mom would fly in comfort.
“Thank you, thank you so much” I kept babbling, as he clicked and clicked, trying to find days and flights that would work.
“It’s my job” he would say.
The very last time I thanked him, it changed.
“Well,” he said, “when you said the word ‘mother’ then I knew I could not stop until everything was perfect.”
🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂
Air France is lucky to have him. Bravo, Andre’.
Baker’s Ribs and Fried Pies
Texas is a lot of fun! As we are driving through Ft. Worth and Texas, very early on a Saturday morning, the highway closes and all the traffic is diverted off, and then back on. Time for some major work, I guess, and early Saturday morning is probably one of the best times to do it.
Around mid-morning, we start seeing signs for Fried Pies. I have no idea what a fried pie is, so AdventureMan explains it to me, it is a round pie crust with a filling, usually fruit, folded in half, crimping the edges, and then deep fried.
Sounds like a lot of calories, LOL!
Then we start seeing more signs, and we decide it is a good time for a stop at Baker’s Ribs and Fried Pies.
We have to walk through the barbecue section to get to the pie section. Our downfall.
There are a million kinds of fried pies, so we buy an apricot, a peach, and a cherry, and we take a few bites, but we don’t want to eat the whole thing because it will spoil our lunch. Lunch . . . we can’t resist the barbecue. We buy a couple of smoked turkey sandwiches for later, the smell is just irresistible.
These girls were just so nice, and helpful. 🙂
This gal is making the pie crusts:
And this lady has just pulled out a batch of the fried pies (to the right)
Fried pies are delicious, and I learned you have to eat them fast or the liquid in the fruit makes the crust start to crumble. The smoked turkey was even better, maybe the best smoked turkey I have ever had. The sandwiches were a wonder.
Update: AdventureMan says choosing to eat fried pies is part of How Do You Want to Die? and that he is willing to sacrifice the few minutes those bites of fried pie might have cost him. (We don’t eat fried pies; this was an exception. Don’t do this at home!)
Tacos Y Mas in New Mexico
Shortly after our hike up the old volcano, we stopped for lunch in a small town. Sadly, many of the small towns we passed through were shells; old stores, old restaurants, old gas stations, all closed now. We saw this all across the United States, the center of the small towns dead or dying, and most of the remaining industry along the major state roads.
As we looked for something acceptable for lunch, we saw a Subway (‘think fresh!’) off in the distance and we can always settle for Subway, but just before we got to the Subway, we saw Tacos Y Mas:
You’re always taking your chances when you eat street food (this was not a restaurant, but an order-out trailer. The menu was fairly large for a small operation, and they had a steady stream of customers. We ordered the taco lunch special, drove down the road a few hundred yards and came to a rest stop with covered picnic tables, where we had a taco feast:
It was really delicious, but heartburn city later, LOL.
One of the funniest things in New Mexico and Texas were all the signs saying “do not pick up hitchhikers” near all the prisons. LLOOLLLL!
Pat Conroy and South of Broad
I don’t know where to start, telling you how much I like this book. I couldn’t wait for reading time to read it. It never flagged, every page kept me glued. I want you to read it, I want to be able to talk about it with you, but there is so much in this book that I don’t want to spoil it for you.
There are huge themes. There are some very bad people. There are some very good people. Sometimes the very good people can do very bad things, and sometimes the bad people can have some redeeming moments.
We meet the main character as he is about to begin his senior year in college. On the day we meet him, his life changes. Several new people come into his life. Two orphans. A beautiful sister and equally beautiful brother. A black football coach and his son. Three rich kids kicked out of the best private school in town for doing dope.
There are two ‘characters’ who are not people. One is the city of Charleston, SC, and there are entire paragraphs in this book which will make you fall in love, through Pat Conroy’s eyes, with this complicated, beautiful city. Another is Hurricane Hugo, which is as destructive as Charleston is beautiful.
South of Broad covers a time of tumult and change, and you see it through the eyes of of Conroy’s endearing characters. Times changes, society changes and change comes hard for those who stand to lose the most. Conroy deals with segregation, integration, child abuse, suicide, gay sex, economic discrimination, and psychiatric illness, a psycopathic criminal, who happens to be the father of two of this friends, and a hurricane.
For me, what was most engrossing was the complicated question of who is righteous? It’s what I want to talk about with you. Who is most like Jesus? (LOL, give examples) Which characters would you expect think themselves closest to God? Do you think they are? (Be prepared to defend your opinion.) What is a good parent? In this book, who do you think was the best parent?
If you decide to buy this book, please buy a copy with the Reader’s Guide in the back – an interview with Pat Conroy and questions that help you think about the book. I’d like to share with you a segment of the interview which I found so brightly illuminating:
. . . . I found the Parisians rarified, vigilant, hypercritical and fabulous. They had made themselves worthy of the great city they lived in. They oozed style and they ate like kings. . . . The Parisians seem special to both the world and themselves. Then it hit me: My God, they are like Charlestonians.
As I see it, you can take out Charlestonians and substitute Kuwaitis. Or New Yorkers. Or Romans. In fact, just about every society I have visited have their elite, who consider themselves rarified and special, and fight to keep themselves so.
So not only is the book dealing with spiritual righteousness, but also with themes of entitlement and deprivation, bullies and the bullied, parenting, self-fulfillment, and the very real and over-arching theme of friendship and the power of a close circle of friends.
I don’t want to tell you too much. I loved this book. I’m still thinking about it. I hope you’ll read it and think about it, too, and then come back and tell me what you’re thinking. 🙂
Edmonds, Washington Street Gardens
In a time where states and counties and cities and towns are cutting back, I am infinitely grateful to my little home town that they find the resources to maintain the street gardens. In the town, you find huge baskets of flowers hanging from poles along the main streets (one of which is called Main Street, in true small town fashion). These are from the street level gardens; they are so beautiful.
Nearby, two of our favorite stores are side by side:
Woo HOOO, Half Price Books is having their annual Labor Day Sale, 20% off everything in the store. Like we need more books. 😉
“Why Are Barns Painted Red?”
This is what I love about long road trips with AdventureMan. We have hours together in the car, and you just never know where the conversations will go.
We saw a lot of barns. Most of them are red.
“Why are barns red?” AdventureMan asked. “Like we just accept that barns are red, when we are kids and we are told to draw a barn, we reach for the red crayon, why is that? Why red?”
So we looked it up at the next wireless stop and found the answer on Wiki answers:
Centuries ago, European farmers would seal the wood on their barns with an oil, often linseed oil — a tawny-colored oil derived from the seed of the flax plant. They would paint their barns with a linseed-oil mixture, often consisting of additions such as milk and lime. The combination produced a long-lasting paint that dried and hardened quickly. (Today, linseed oil is sold in most home-improvement stores as a wood sealant).
Now, where does the red come from?
In historically accurate terms, “barn red” is not the bright, fire-engine red that we often see today, but more of a burnt-orange red.
Farmers added ferrous oxide, otherwise known as rust, to the oil mixture. Rust was plentiful on farms and is a poison to many fungi, including mold and moss, which were known to grown on barns. These fungi would trap moisture in the wood, increasing decay.
Regardless of how the farmer tinted his paint, having a red barn became a fashionable thing. They were a sharp contrast to the traditional white farmhouse.
As European settlers crossed over to America, they brought with them the tradition of red barns. In the mid to late 1800s, as paints began to be produced with chemical pigments, red paint was the most inexpensive to buy. Red was the color of favor until whitewash became cheaper, at which point white barns began to spring up.
Today, the color of barns can vary, often depending on how the barns are used.
My dad and grandpa have been farmers their entire lives and they used to tease us kids that the barn was red because it was the most noticeable when the snow was falling sideways and you could barely see because of the sleet and hail.
Sunday in South Dakota
We were on the road out of St. Joseph by 7:09 a.m. and I was driving. Conditions could not have been better – few cars, we zip from Missouri into Iowa, up into South Dakota, turning west at Sioux Falls, where we learn that South Dakota has a speed limit of 75 mph, wooo HOOOO!
We have been watching all the American farmland – we’ve seen a lot of farmland:
Once we got into South Dakota, we began seeing signs for the Corn Palace. You may not have heard about the Corn Palace, but it is built every year from corn, by local artists, and is a big deal in Mitchell, South Dakota. We can’t drive by Mitchell without going to see it; it changes every year, but is always . . . hmm . . . sort of spectacular, in a very corny sort of way. It really does grow on you.
So we exit the highway to go see the Corn Palace and discover that it is also a big street festival this weekend, so it was really a fun place to be as I was snapping a few photos of this year’s Corn Palace decorations . . .
And then we ran across town to visit the big Cabelas so AdventureMan could buy a new hat:
There are dead stuffed animals everywhere, displayed . . .
From there, some of our joy of arriving in South Dakota paled as we slogged all the way to Wall. It’s my fault. I had found a town called Kadoka, at the head of the Badlands Loop, and I was sure there would be hotels there, but since we don’t really know where we are going to land every night, I hadn’t really checked or made any reservations.
It gets worse. AdventureMan carefully got all the AAA information for our trip, but then somehow left the travel books by his side of the bed. I was supposed to get an iPhone so I could find places and make reservations as we travelled, but I never got one, mostly because no one ever has any. So sometimes AdventureMan will tell me to look it up on my iPhone and sometimes I will tell him to look it up in the AAA books, but that is a really, really bad idea when we are both tired and wishing we had a place to stay.
So I did what I often did, and prayed for a miracle.
I feel kind of bad wasting God’s time on my frivolous needs, like a nice place to spend the night, when he has a lot of more important things on his plate, but in desperation, I flat out prayed.
And a miracle happened. When we drove into Wall, we went left, and there were some little cabins and a man who wanted to show them to us. They were brand new, and utterly clean, and full of charming attention to detail, with a great big good bed, and TV, and wireless internet and . . . well, everything, including a discount. Now that, my friend, is the grace of God, a miracle, a prayer answered even better than anything I could have asked for.
We love the Badlands. This is our second time in the area; it has a weird, ascetic kind of beauty. It is the passion and fury of weather and seasons against natural elements and stone loses. Tomorrow we will drive through, and end up at a spa in Hot Springs, SD, where all these hours of driving will be massaged away. You can check it out here: Red River Rock Resort Hotel and Spa. Come visit the Badlands. Come stay in these lovely cabins and drive through the haunting environment.
Just How Emirati Do You Have to Be? (Mixed Marriages)
Thank you, Little Diamond, for sending the article from The National. I totally love this article, and hats off to it’s author, Sultan Al Qassemi.
Mixed marriages bring strength upon strength to the UAE
Sultan Al Qassemi
Not too long ago, I boarded a plane in Dubai bound for the United States. There were a number of Emirati families on board, some of whom I recognised and greeted. After a 14-hour direct flight, we descended from the plane and made our way to passport control.
One Emirati family walked towards the line for US citizens and, in my naivety, I almost told them they were standing in the wrong queue. I hesitated, correctly it turned out. They were American citizens and obliged to stand in the US citizens section.
Many people who hear this story immediately assume that the mother was a foreigner. Not only is that incorrect – the mother is a true-blue Emirati – but she also works in the UAE government.
In the past week, I was reminded of this by an article in The National relating to mixed parentage. The Grand Mufti of Dubai, Dr Ahmed al Haddad, made controversial comments questioning whether there should be restrictions on Emiratis marrying outside their nationality.
In truth,a substantial number of talented Emiratis have been born to mixed marriages, a point that Dr al Haddad’s comments did not seem to take into consideration. According to one person who was present at the panel discussion, Emiratis from mixed marriages may have “mixed loyalties”. So are they Emirati enough?
Well, let us take a look at some of these Emiratis to find out. Ali Mostafa, the director behind City of Life, is the product of a mixed marriage. City of Life, which depicts contemporary life in Dubai in a powerful and realistic fashion, has become an international ambassador for the UAE after opening in Australia and Canada with a screening scheduled in Washington DC. Is its director Emirati enough?
Omar Saif Ghobash and Yousef al Otaiba, the UAE ambassadors to Russia and the United States respectively, both have foreign-born mothers and yet they serve the UAE with as much attention and dedication as any other Emirati ambassador. I have written before about how Mr al Otaiba has worked tirelessly on behalf of the country, in particular on the nuclear 123 agreement with the United States. Mr Ghobash speaks six languages and was heavily involved in bringing New York University to the UAE’s capital. Are they Emirati enough?
Razan al Mubarak is also a product of a mixed marriage. Her late father, like Ambassador Ghobash’s, gave his life for the country. Ms al Mubarak, in her roles as assistant secretary general of the Environment Agency – Abu Dhabi and managing director of the Emirates Wildlife Society, is busy protecting the country’s wildlife on both land and sea. Is she Emirati enough?
At Abu Dhabi’s strategic investment arm Mubadala, the chief operations officer, Waleed al Mokarrab al Muhairi, also happens to be chairman of Yahsat, Advance Technology Investment Company and Cleveland Clinic Abu Dhabi. But perhaps most importantly, he is credited with being “one of the principal architects behind the Abu Dhabi 2030 Economic vision”. And yes, Mr al Mokarrab comes from a mixed family.
Wael Al Sayegh is a writer, poet, translator and founder of the consultancy firm Al Ghaf, which delivers “inter-cultural induction programmes to multinational organisations serving the region”. Mr Al Sayegh has spoken to many multinational corporations about UAE culture and offered a Dubai perspective to foreign news outlets, including the BBC, during recent high-profile criminal cases. Is he Emirati enough?
Sarah Shaw, an Emirati whose biological father is English, currently works at the General Secretariat of the Abu Dhabi Executive Council and is a huge supporter of Emiratisation. Is she Emirati enough?
Other Emiratis from mixed families who have made substantial contributions include the director general of the Dubai World Trade Centre, Helal Saeed al Marri, the film director Nawaf Janahi and the columnist Mishaal al Gergawi, among many others.
There are examples in my immediate circle of Emirati friends who genuinely care about this country, not despite one of their parents being foreign born but perhaps because of it.
Should the UAE, and specifically Dubai, known for being hospitable and welcoming to people of all ethnicities, backgrounds and cultures, make our very own citizens feel unwelcome?
The truth is the UAE is a richer country because of these individuals of mixed backgrounds. What we should concentrate on is strengthening the ties that people have to this great nation. I have previously suggested military service for Emirati high school graduates, cultural immersion and social volunteering as ways to build civic participation.
Frankly, it would be insulting to question the loyalty of Emiratis who are born to a foreign parent. It is also unfair, un-Islamic and ultimately in this case un-Emirati to generalise about people of any background. The Emirates is a vibrant country of many colours – only seeing a single shade excludes too many of its strengths.
(The author, Sultan Sooud Al Qassemi is a non-resident fellow at the Dubai School of Government)
Day Two, Mostly Missouri
Day two started early in Arkansas, and I cajoled AdventureMan into telling me university stories as we drove into Missouri, where we stayed the entire day, driving north, driving west, and driving north again, the whole day. AdventureMan spent a lot of time in this area around Memphis while at university, and hung out at Beale Street with his other music and blues loving friends. The early morning highways were a delight:
Just outside St. Louis, we crossed the great Missouri:
We like to stop at least every couple hours, buy a coffee, stretch our legs, take a rest stop. Around lunch time, AdventureMan saw a sign for 2 Dudes BBQ, and we couldn’t resist the name and the fact that it was only two blocks off the interstate. We found it without a problem:
It had our kid of menu – simple, and the food was the same – simply GOOD.
AdventureMan had the pulled pork sandwich with cole slaw and beans – ALL good:
I ordered the smoked half chicken (that was the smallest chicken they had) and it was smokey, cooked, and moist – it is really really hard to get all three. Plus, while I normally go for the really spicy sauce, the Two Dudes normal barbecue sauce was both vinegary-tangy and sweet, and knocked my socks off. (I didn’t eat the bread) and the cole slaw was apple-y tasting with poppy seeds – oh YUMMMM.
Outside, I caught one of the dudes grilling up some ribs, and he laughed when I asked if I could take his picture, and said “sure” and even arranged the ribs for me:
If you are driving on 1-70 between St. Louis and Kansas City, you will find the Two Dudes BarBQue at exit 193, in Warrenton, MO. You will see signs, follow those directions. 🙂
About an hour up the road, in Fulton, we saw the Visitor’s Center across from where we were buying gas, and AdventureMan had a burning question he needed answered: Was this where Winston Churchill had made his “iron curtain” speech, and was this why they had a museum devoted to Winston Churchill? The answer, from the delighted and helpful ladies, was ‘yes’.
Fulton also has this moving and meaningful monument to fallen heroes – one of my weak spots.
We skirted Kansas City, zipped past Fort Leavenworth, where we had a wonderful year back a long time ago, and landed in St. Joseph, birthplace of Jesse James, where we found a hotel with a great pool so we could kick back and kick some laps, kicking out all those kinks and aches that driving all day can bring.
After dinner, mostly lettuce (LOL) AdventureMan helped me get a photo of this wonderful ice-cream vendor; I adore this old fashioned kind of commercial art:
And then we had a great adventure, trying to find the historical center of St. Joseph. We found the center, full of stately and gracious mansions and impressive and imposing old buildings, most in fairly good condition, and we found a lovely city park, down by the river, where the sun was setting . .. and you know me, and sun, and water . . .
Too soon, we had to leave, the mosquitos were eating me alive. I actually bought repellent today, but did I remember to put it in my purse???
Looking for Ebonics Masters
I haven’t heard a word about ebonics for a long time, and then this, in today’s AOL News. I had thought it was one of those flash-in-the-pan things, here today and gone tomorrow. Have not heard a serious word about ebonics in, literally, years.
DEA Seeking Ebonics Experts for Narcotics Investigations
Allan Lengel
Contributor
(Aug. 23) — If you speak Ebonics, the federal government may have a job for you.
The Drug Enforcement Administration wants to hire people fluent in Ebonics to help monitor, transcribe and translate secretly recorded conversations in narcotics investigations, according to the website The Smoking Gun and DEA documents.
The Smoking Gun reports that up to nine Ebonics experts will work with the DEA Atlanta Division after obtaining “DEA Sensitive” security clearance.
Ebonics, or “Black English,” generally is defined as a nonstandard form of English spoken by African-Americans.
According to the job description, Ebonics experts will decipher the results of “telephonic monitoring of court ordered nonconsensual intercepts, consensual listening devices, and other media,” the website reported.
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Early Voting in Florida
