When Evil Strikes
(the cover of the Sydney, Australia, Herald Sun)
(Photograph from the archive of TIME photographer James Nachtwey, You can see his entire collection, and more at Time Magazine)
The killing of innocents is never right, not when it is committed by the US, not when it is committed by our allies, not when it is committed against innocents, never.
I’ve always loved September, the time of new beginnings, new school years, the fresh breath of Autumn, but I awake the morning of September 11 full of sadness. I have sad, intense dreams, and I am conscious, throughout the day, of the horrors we inflict upon one another. It is a day of great sadness.
It is so sad for me that this one time, I am closing the comment sections. We all have to deal with our sadness in our own way.
Holy Cow! It’s Hard to Explain.
As I was leaving the Apple Market, I saw this display:
which totally cracked me up.
EnviroGirl told me there are all kinds of displays for all kinds of life events – birthdays, new babies, anniversaries, promotions, graduations – if you can think it up, this company will put it out there. Tombstones for a 40th birthday, storks for babies, and this one – Holy Cow! for a birthday.
I don’t know how I would like to get to work and find one of these displays outside on my birthday – I prefer to celebrate quietly, without a lot of fanfare. But every time I see these, I have to grin, so I guess it isn’t all that bad.
What also gives me a grin, however, is how very American this tradition is. I cannot imagine it at all in Kuwait. I can’t imagine it in Germany. Somehow, I just don’t think it would be so funny in any other country, except maybe South Africa, or Australia . . . countries where people don’t take themselves too seriously, and the loss of dignity would not be too severe. It’s just a joke, something a good friend might do.
What do you think? Do you think it is too undignified? Does it invade privacy? Do you think it is funny?
World’s Largest Camel Race
BBC has published photos from the World’s Largest Camel Race, 468 camels in Layonne, Western Sahara.
Wikipedia says:
Western Sahara (Arabic: الصحراء الغربية; transliterated: al-Ṣaḥrā’ al-Gharbīyah; Spanish: Sahara Occidental) is a territory of northwestern Africa, bordered by Morocco to the north, Algeria in the northeast, Mauritania to the east and south, and the Atlantic Ocean on the west. It is one of the most sparsely populated territories in the world, mainly consisting of desert flatlands. The largest city is El Aaiún (Laâyoune), which is home to over half of the population of the territory.
Seafair in Seattle
If you are planning a trip to Seattle, one of the very best times to go, in terms of things to do, is during the Seattle Seafair. Every neighborhood has a parade (The Chinatown Parade – ooops! politically incorrect! The International District Parade is my all time favorite, followed closely by the downtown Seattle Torchlight Parade, held at night), the Blue Angels perform their acrobatics overhead, and the festival ends on a bang – a day long hydroplane race (very very very fast speed-engineered boats) on Lake Washington.
One year, the Torchlight Parade, my Mom’s favorite, fell on her birthday, and we were able to rent a hotel room for the night, right over the street, from which she and Dad could watch the parade. To do so, we had to get on a waiting list, and then to sign a waiver that we understood that the room was just for THIS one night, and that we understood it gave us no rights to that room on any future Torchlight Parade nights. Families in Seattle have standing reservations, year after year, for these precious rooms.
Many people head for the lake for the hydroplane races. My very favorite race, favorite of all, was at my sister’s house, when her husband brought a big TV out to the pool, facing the pool, and we all spent the very hot August day floating on rafts in the cool pool, watching the races. We were SO burned, but oh, what fun.
August is a great month in Seattle, with blue skies and great warm daytime temperatures, cooled by the sea breezes at night. It’s a great time to go to the market (THE Market, the Pike Place Market) and to visit the huge flower farms, the beaches, and beautiful little towns on Puget Sound.
Blue Angels in Pensacola
Today the Blue Angels are performing in Pensacola, over Pensacola Beach. Reports yesterday said it is harder for them to perform over water, because there are fewer “marks” to help them orient themselves.
(No, I didn’t take that photo, it is a Blue Angels PR photo)
Aerial displays have always thrilled me. There was a team that used to perform every year in Doha, too, I think it was a French team. Imagine, having a career as a stunt flier, in one of these powerful machines. Oh, what fun.
Our first worker arrived well before seven in the morning yesterday; fortunately I am still jet lagging and had been up moe than an hour when he drove up. He was followed shortly by the contractor, who took out my range top, in preparation for the tearing out of the kitchen counters on Monday, and later by the tile guy, coming in to measure and give an estimate on what he will charge to put tile on the wall, once the new counter and cupboards are finished.
We are putting in a Silestone countertop in Blue Sahara. It isn’t really blue, it is a variety of sand colors, with some blue flecks, the exact colors of their wedding china.
I looked at granite, but didn’t like all the upkeep, the sealing, the stains . . . someday, when I have a grown up house, I might have marble, which I had in Tunisia and loved, but I always worry about red wine spills. 😉 Meanwhile, I think the Silestone is going to be a great fix. The current countertop is an old white streaky laminate, reminds me of a diner from the fifties. They liked it so much, they ran it right up the wall to the underside of the cupboards.
Dear old friends who live nearby came for lunch, and we went to the Oyster Barn. They loved it. Said “this is REAL Florida!” which I totally love. We had grilled tuna, which had a smokey deliciousness, and grilled grouper sandwich, also looked good. We talked about our days together living in Germany, travelling in France – oh, the fun we had!
7 Million Muslims
In today’s Kuwait Times is an Independance Day message from the American Ambassador, Richard LeBaron, in which he states:
Numbering some seven million, there are more Muslims in America than in Kuwait, Bahrain, Qatar and the UAE combined. In our more than 1,200 mosques that stand peacefully alongside churches and synagogues, you will find congregations as diverse as America itself. . .
I had no idea. I know in the Seattle area there are many mosques, many Moslems; Seattle is a city built on the energy and hope of new immigrants. But I had no idea we had seven million Moslems in the USA.
If you want to read the full text of the message you will have to buy the paper – it’s not on the website.
No Accounting for Taste
My Mother once joked that the definition of good taste was someone whose taste agreed with your own. Her house is all smooth, modern, elegant lines, while mine is all old, antique and semi-antique. She has clean lines and clear surfaces, and I am guessing that to her, my decor is cluttered. (Not that she criticizes me.) We just have different tastes.
My husband and I also have different tastes. Often, his eye will alight on something, say like a Masai shield 7 feet long, and he will say “wouldn’t that be great in our house?” and my response is “yes! In your den!” He calls his den The Adventure Man Museum, and says that the only thing the Tarek Rejab has on him is that they have had a couple more decades of collecting. But he is still working on it!
He LOVES these trees. He keeps threatening to buy a couple for our yards back home. I mention little things like shipping expenses. . . . or maybe he is pulling my leg – ya think?
So far, we agree that they look great in context. I am not so sure they would do so sell in a rainy climate.
And this is what I love:
You used to find these everywhere in the Gulf, even in the cities you would find them in the diwaniyyas. This is the only one I have seen since I came to Kuwait, and it is in a museum. I remember being out in the beit-as-shar in the desert (for my non-Arabic speaking friends: tents, literally, House of Hair because the tenting was woven of goat and camel hair.) I remember the sound of the metal clanging as the coffee was ground in the morter, I remember the smell of the wood fire when the coffee was brewing, and I remember the coffee being poured through branches that kept (some of) the grounds out. I miss that ceremony; I miss the sounds and smells and taste, because out in the desert coffee tastes different. It wasn’t that long ago – but I never see them anymore.
Do you?
Happy Birthday, Big Diamond
You were the one with all the courage, you were the one who never understood the word “no.” With your big, sunny smile, you went ahead and did just exactly what you pleased.
“Watch me! Wheeeeeeeee!” you shouted as you jumped out of the swing, breaking your arm.
“This is how you do it!” you yelled, sliding on the ice down the long wooden walk, falling and breaking the other arm.
Nothing stopped you. You look the impossible in the eye, and you spit.
And all these years later, you still do! You are the most amazing woman, indominable, unstoppable. You set a high standard for all the rest of us, with your energy, your clarity of values, and your generousity of spirit.
And today, your birthday, will also be the christening of your first grandchild.
How amazing, how wonderful. You are in my thoughts, dear sister, and I wish I could be there to celebrate with you.
Travel Karma Failure
I have really good travel karma – most of the time. Even when things go wrong, something good comes out of it. And before you read any further, you must know that during this trip, I had a really good time, surrounded by friends, good conversation, a lot of laughter and a very understanding husband – it had a happy ending. But this was a serious travel karma failure.
Oh, I had planned to carefully – fly out early, my friends pick me up, we loll around the pool catching up, grab a bite to eat, and eventually they drop me off at my hotel where I hook up with my husband.
Only this is what I saw on my way to the airport:
And this is what I saw as the plane was delayed – and delayed – and delayed again:
And this is what the airport looked like as more and more planes got delayed:
After – literally – hours, we board. We are rolling away from the airport when a guy a couple seats up from me says . . . something . . . to the stewardess and the guy across from him. As the plane continues rolling, I watch the guy across the aisle get up, go to the galley and make a phone call. The plane keeps rolling rolling rolling, but . . . rolls to a stop and all kinds of vehicals come out to the plane.
They all have a discussion:
But you know this part of the world, everyone has an opinion and wants to be heard. Back and forth up and down the aisle. The entire Qatar soccer team weighed in on this one:
Somehow, it all got resolved. I get to Doha – not early morning, but six at night. I’ve already told my friends to forget picking me up in peak traffic time, but I would see them the next day – we already had plans. But the topping on this perfect day is that my suitcase didn’t come. People were sent looking here and there, and another hour passed.
No suitcase. No explanation, but they assure me the suitcase is still in Kuwait. Get it here, I tell them, I need it. Send it to my hotel. And I rush to duty free to pick up some face cream and mascara and lipstick – you know, the essentials. When I get to the hotel I realize I have nothing, but the gift shop, thank God, has very large T-shirts I can sleep in, a hairbrush, a toothbrush and even underpants.
My greatest fear, as the suitcase continues to NOT show up, is that I will never see it again. It is a great suitcase, and inside it is my computer power cord. Normally a balanced, easy going person, I have bad dreams, angry dreams, frustrated dreams and I wake unrested, and wanting clean clothes.
My husband, not normally known for his patience, was very tenderly patient with me. I think he was more than a little bewildered to see me so bent out of shape. It was probably funny – if you weren’t me.
For three days, for every event, I wear the same clothes. Three days. The bag finally showed up this morning – still at the airport – just in time for my return trip to Kuwait.
Now that, my friends, is a SERIOUS travel karma failure.
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Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 