Unexpected Pleasure
As I was leaving Seattle, my niece, Little Diamond, passed a book along to me. It’s part of our family culture – we read, and we pass along.
When my son was in university, I remember him telling me that I had addicted him to books. His first memory of books was living in Tunis, and when we would be going on a long trip, or when he had done something particularly good, I would pull down a new book from the shelf high up in my closet. Knowing he was approaching reading age, I had stocked up on books before we left.
As a student, he told me that as he approached final exams at university, he would motivate himself by telling himself that as soon as his last final was over, he could go to the bookstore and buy whatever the newest book out was that he was eager to read. Reading – for fun – during his school breaks was his great reward.
It’s that way for all of us. Before any trip, we stock up on good books to read. Before I left Seattle, I stocked up books for my Mother to read! We seek out places like Half Price Books (I do NOT own stock in Half Price Books) and Amazon.com to feed our habits. In our concern against running out of good books, we all have piles by our bed of books we intend to read. Some of my books have been there almost a year – since I moved to Kuwait!
So I accepted the book, Snake Hips: Belly Dancing and How I Found True Love, although I looked at the cover in dismay, and actually took it off for the trip. It’s about a Lebanese-American girl who goes in search of her ethnic roots. While at first I didn’t like her, I kept reading in spite of myself – the book drew me in. Little Diamond reviews the book here, (as well as several others that sound really good.)
This book was an unexpected pleasure – as are many of the books my book-voracious niece reads. The main character in this book has an unexpected wryly objective view of herself, is painfully honest, and you find yourself hoping she will find herself, and true love, in spite of her clumsy attempts.
Horror Movies: Night of the Living Dead
I used to love horror movies. At university, we would gather together late at night and watch the scariest movies we could find. I slept great. None of them really influenced me, none of them frightened me. Or . . . if they did, I guess I liked it.
And then a friend told me to go see The Night of the Living Dead. The Night of the Living Dead is a horror-genre cult movie, by George Romero. It was a low budget movie, filmed (if I remember correctly) in black and white. It wasn’t a smooth film, it had a lot of the same pseudo-authenticity of The Blair Witch Project, shot years later with hand held cameras.
It was a shocking movie. It crossed a lot of boundaries. While compared to the violence of Tarantino, it might appear mild, it was gruesome for its time. Woven through the movie were what we now call “issues.” Black/white issues, marital issues, death taboo issues, subtle incestuous references.
You may never have heard of it, but years after it was made, there were making sequels – Night of the Living Dead 2, Return of the Living Dead, etc. The movie has been re-done, I hear, I have never seen another.
Night of the Living Dead was too real for me. It’s related to Training Joke #2 which really isn’t very funny if you read it closely. it describes a world of “me first” when facing an enemy with whom you cannot reason. It’s supposed to illustrate the benefits of maintaining a low profile when living or working in a country where you may face hostility, but what makes it “funny” is the unexpected treacherousness of one friend to another.
And, as the bear in the training joke, the zombies were not malicious, they were just hungry. You can’t charm them out of their hunger, you can’t intimidate them. They have no compassion, no pity, no feelings whatsoever. Just hunger, a driving hunger, for flesh.
The zombies in Night of the Living Dead were occasionally known by the non-dead humans. Survival was based on recognizing that the zombie was no longer the person they had once known and loved – getting away, or killing the zombie, overcoming the emotions wrapped up in the person the zombie had been before death and re-activation.
One of the things I like about the movie is that they never really adequately explain how this all happened. There is speculation, and there is dealing with the immediate problem, but there is no real resolution as to cause. Just like real life, where we scramble to deal with things, but often, even years later, fail to understand what we were really dealing with.
And I have met a human zombie or two. No, they are not undead, but neither are they really living. About as close to emotion as they come is a curiousity about why feeling people feel as we do, and a mild niggling feeling that they might be missing something. If they are psychopathic, they can appear to be normal, but underneath is a great void. They know who they are. Sometimes, in an effort to feel, they inflict pain, the way a cat will toy with a mouse before killing and eating it. And, just as you can’t blame a cat for being a cat, I think these people are born that way, and can’t take responsibility for what they are – or are not. Scary people. Stay away, far far away.
Blame it on the Rain
(I apologize to Milli Vanilli, whose music and look I really liked, even though they were totally frauds.)
I thought I had it beat. I am getting about six hours of sleep a night, pretty normal, not bad. But . . . wide awake around four every morning – four if I am lucky, 3, 3:30 sometimes. So up at 4 this morning, do you know how quiet it is in Kuwait at four in the morning? Its like quiet-squared. Stopped by the French bakery for some goodies, spent time with a good friend from 8 – 10, we had intended to walk but too much rain! We explored photo management and uploads for a while and then I headed home.
I didn’t intend to nap. The Qatteri Cat got cozy and the next thing I knew . . . I had slept from noon to 4:30, slept like a dead person. Of course now I am WIDE AWAKE. I can’t imagine how I will sleep tonight. When will this end, when will I be back on local time??
January Projects
When our son and daughter-in-law were visiting, she was telling me our son has routines he adapts to insure he gets everything done. As she was telling me this, I was squirming in my chair. I am not exactly obsessive-compulsive, but because I could have a tendency to scatter my energies, I do the same thing, I have little routines I run to make sure that the important things get taken care of before I have fun.
One of these routines is to use January to get organized so that I can goof off the rest of the year. I try to get tax things in order, I try to make sure all the paperwork is filed or tossed . . . and I do photo albums for the preceding year, two albums if we went to Africa, which we have been doing nearly every year.
But last January I moved. And then, just about every other month, I was back in the States, either of a wedding or to see my parents. The albums never got done.
So yesterday, I gathered all the photos. Fortunately, I had kept them in different places, so they were not all mixed up. I have to do four albums. For the 2006 family album, I still need to get photos printed, and that alone takes time and organization. The other photos, I just needed to get in order. That took a whole day.
So this is for my friend – you know who you are – with twenty something years of photos she still hasn’t posted. I apologize! I apologize for all the times I told you how easy it is, and to just DO it. I am only one year behind, and already I can’t remember where this photo was taken, why that photo was taken, or what sequence these photos should be in. It is a daunting task, and I am only working on two years. I apologize again, dear friend, I grovel in mortification at my arrogance and lack of sympathy. God, in his mighty wisdon, has humbled me by showing me how fragile my memory is, and how unfounded my pride in organization. Aarrgh! Forgive me!
Where Has Your Purse Been?
I received this forward from a friend. The Shauna Lake referred to is a news anchor with KUTV in Salt Lake City, Utah.
Purse Hygiene
A friend sent me this, I really never thought about how dirty my purse could be until I read this.
Have you ever noticed gals who sit their purses on public rest room floors that then go directly back to their dining tables?
It happens a lot!
It’s not always the ‘restaurant food’ that causes stomach distress.
Sometimes “what you don’t know ‘will’ hurt you”!
Read on…
Mom got so upset when a guest came in the door and plopped their purses down on the counter where she was cooking or setting up the buffet. She always said that purses are really dirty, because of where they’ve been.
Smart Momma!!!
It’s something just about every woman carries with them. While we may know
what’s inside our purses, do you have any idea what’s on the outside?
Shauna Lake put purses to the test – for bacteria – with surprising results. You may think twice about where you put your purse next time.
Women carry purses everywhere; from the office to public rest rooms to the floor of the car.
Most women won’t be caught without their purses, but did you ever stop to think about where your purse goes during the day?
“I drive a school bus, so my purse has been on the floor of the bus a lot,” says one woman. “On the floor of my car, probably in rest rooms.” “I put my purse in grocery shopping carts, on the floor of bathroom stalls while changing a diaper,” says another woman “and of course in my home which should be clean.”
We decided to find out if purses harbour a lot of bacteria. We learned how to test them at Nelson Laboratories in Salt Lake, then we set out to test the average woman’s purse.
Most women told us they didn’t stop to think about what was on the bottom of their purse.
Most said they usually set their purses on top of kitchen tables and counters where food is prepared.
Most of the ladies we talked to told us they wouldn’t be surprised if their purses were at least a little bit dirty. It turns out purses are so surprisingly dirty, even the microbiologist who tested them was shocked.
Microbiologist Amy Karren of Nelson Labs says nearly all of the purses tested were not only high in bacteria, but high in harmful kinds of bacteria. Pseudomonas can cause eye infections, staphylococcus aurous can cause serious skin infections, and salmonella and e-coli found on the purses could make people very sick. In one sampling, four of five purses tested positive for salmonella, and that’s not the worst of it.
“There is fecal contamination on the purses,” says Amy.
Leather or vinyl purses tended to be cleaner than cloth purses, and lifestyle seemed to play a role. People with kids tended to have dirtier purses than those without, with one exception.
The purse of one single woman who frequented nightclubs had one of the worst contaminations of all.
“Some type of feces, or even possibly vomit or something like that,” says
Amy.
So the moral of this story – your purse won’t kill you, but it does have the potential to make you very sick if you keep it on places where you eat.
Use hooks to hang your purse at home and in rest rooms, and don’t put it on your desk, a restaurant table, or on your kitchen countertop. Experts say you should think of your purse the same way you would a pair of shoes.
“If you think about putting a pair of shoes onto your countertops, that’s the same thing you’re doing when you put your purse on the countertops.”
Your purse has gone where every individual before you has spat, coughed, urinated, emptied bowels, etc.!
Do you really want to bring that home with you?
The microbiologists at Nelson also said cleaning a purse will help. Wash cloth purses and use leather cleaner to clean the bottom of leather purses.
My comments: I was shocked and disgusted reading this article. I know that when I bring groceries home, I put my purse on the counter or even (gasp) on the kitchen table. I vow, here an now, to change my ways!
Having said that, I rarely ever get sick. My theory is that I have lived and travelled in so many places with questionable hygeine that I have developed resistance to many of the bacteria that bedevil us. I would guess that eating out puts me more at risk for food borne problems than any other behavior.
While I am a sushi supporter, I have to warn my fellow aficianados that raw fish is one of the WORST carriers of bad bacteria, microbes, and parasites. Sushi eating is a risky behavior! Sushi on a buffet is even worse because it has been exposed to more microbes, sneezes, contamination. So if you choose to eat sushi, use protection! Know your sushi maker and practice safe sushi eating.;-)
Spicy Peppers Attack Cancer
The BBC reports today that a link has been discovered between spicy hot peppers and cancer cell death. Click here:How Spicy Foods Kill Cancer
In short, the article states:
“Scientists have discovered the key to the ability of spicy foods to kill cancer cells.
They found capsaicin, an ingredient of jalapeno peppers, triggers cancer cell death by attacking mitochondria – the cells’ energy-generating boiler rooms.
The research raises the possibility that other cancer drugs could be developed to target mitochondria.”
Buried deep in the article is the disclaimer that no one believes eating a lot of hot spicy peppers will either prevent nor cure cancer, and that peppers as a part of a diet that includes a lot of vegetables and fruit are recommended.
A New Take on Big Rocks
A couple years ago, there was a similar forward about Big Rocks. This is a variation, but a really good one. I especially like the ending.
A MAYONNAISE JAR AND 2 CUPS OF COFFEE
When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours
in a day are not enough, remember this story about a mayonnaise jar and 2
cups of coffee.
A professor stood before his philosophy class with several items in
front of him.
When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty
mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the
students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the
jar. He shook the jar lightly and the pebbles rolled into the open areas
between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was
full they agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar .
Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the
jar was full and the students responded with a unanimous “yes.”
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and
poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space
between the sand. The students laughed.
“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to
recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the
important things- your God, your family, your children, your health, your
friends, and your favorite passions — things that if everything else was
lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
“The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house,
and your car.
“The sand is everything else — the small stuff.
“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room
for the pebbles or the golf balls.
The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the
small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to
you.
“Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play
with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out
to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and
fix the disposal.”
Take care of the golf balls first — the things that really matter. Set
your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented.
The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that
no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of
cups of coffee with a friend.”
Diamond Chip
Is there anything sweeter than a new baby? Diamond Chip isn’t even one week old.
This is his quilt:
Transitions
This week, my Mom bought a new bright red, lightweight suitcase for her trip next week to Portland. We went to the train station yesterday to buy her ticket. She can get on the train here in our little home town and off the train in Portland, Oregon. It’s her first trip all by herself in a long time. She will meet up with her brother and friend in Portland.
Little Diamond is presenting at a conference this week, and then will head back for Seattle en route to her apartment in Beirut. She is SO excited.
Mom and I will go see Precious Diamond and her little Diamond Chip this morning after dropping Mom’s car off to be serviced. Precious Diamond is experiencing that huge transition called Motherhood. Whew! I remember that one! No one can tell you ahead of time how your life will change, how utterly and completely a tiny infant can become the center of your world.
And I am packing up in anticipation of my own transition back to Kuwait. I am flying a new route, as I had to reserve my flight so late that my regular route is totally booked. More take offs and landings, fewer hours. Go figure. I am guessing that with all the holidays falling in the same time frame, I am competing for seats with Eid travellers as well as Christmas/New Years travellers.
See y’all soon.
Seattle Earthquakes
This is for AbdulAziz. I had just posted my Pacific Northwest Bouillabaisse when I read his comment on the Seattle Houseboat Culture, and his experience with a Seattle earthquake.
In 1996, we bought a house in a Seattle suburb. We had been living in Florida, and I never liked it. In the Tampa Bay area, it was always too hot, too humid, I never felt like I had my normal energy. I was so delighted to get back to the Pacific Northwest.
“No more sinkholes!” I told my husband. “No more hurricanes! You’re going to love Seattle.”
We had just moved in. I was in our bedroom reading, my husband and son and a visiting friend were playing a board game in the living room and all of a sudden the game seemed to be getting a little rowdy. They must be wrestling or something, because the house was shaking. But the shaking got more and more violent, the entire house was shaking back and forth on its foundation. I could hear my husband in the dining room telling them to stop, and then realizing that the chandelier was swaying so violently because it was an earthquake.
That winter, the day after Christmas was a huge snowstorm, all the electricity went out for several days and we were totally snowed in, cold, freezing cold, no heat.
My husband has never let me forget it. I have photos of him, out in his big coat and fur hat, shovelling the acres of snow off the drive so we could get over to my parents and . . . shovel more snow.
“No hurricanes!” he taunts me. “No sinkholes! But earthquakes and snowstorms! Welcome to the Pacific Northwest!”
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