Sun in Ultra High Definition
You would never know my Kuwaiti friend is such a nerd. She is beautiful, she is gracious, and she is a lot of fun. She also sends me some of the most wonderful e-mail forwards, great stuff, stuff you can think about and go WOW. She knows I am a nerd, and she loves me anyway. 🙂
Today she sent me a link to Fox News where there is an article with new, ultra high definition series of sun shots – they are purely glorious:
At a second link, you can click on play and listen to the transliterated ‘sound of the sun.’ Give it a try. It is awesome.
Punny Humor
MomCat, my great quilting – and punny – friend has a husband who, like AdventureMan, loves puns, the broader, the better. He tells them to our little grandson, and the two of them laugh and laugh.
Baby’s favorite starts with “A grasshopper walks into a bar . . .
Thank you, MomCat, for entertaining us on a slow day . . .:-D
We all need a good laugh from time to time.
ALL PUNS INTENDED
1. Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love and got married. The ceremony wasn’t much, but the reception was excellent.
2. A jumper cable walks into a bar. The bartender says, “I’ll serve you, but don’t start anything.”
3. Two peanuts walk into a bar, and one was a salted.
4. A dyslexic man walked into a bra.
5. A man walks into a bar with a slab of asphalt under his arm, and says: “A beer please, and one for the road.”
6. Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other: “Does this taste funny to you?”
7. “Doc, I can’t stop singing ‘The Green, Green Grass of Home.'”
“That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome.”
“Is it common?”
“Well, ‘It’s Not Unusual.'”
8. Two cows are standing next to each other in a field. Daisy says to Dolly, “I was artificially inseminated this morning.” “I don’t believe you,” says Dolly.
“It’s true; no bull!” exclaims Daisy.
9. An invisible man marries an invisible woman. The kids were nothing to look at either.
10. Deja Moo: The feeling that you’ve heard this bull before.
11. I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day, but I couldn’t find any.
12. A man woke up in a hospital after a serious accident. He shouted, “Doctor, doctor, I can’t feel my legs!” The doctor replied, “I know, I amputated your arms!”
13. I went to a seafood disco last week… and pulled a mussel.
14. What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh.
15. Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says, “Dam!”
16. Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, so they lit a fire in the craft. Not surprisingly it sank, proving once again that you can’t have your kayak and heat it too.
17. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office, and asked them to disperse.
“But why,” they asked, as they moved off.
“Because,” he said. “I can’t stand chess-nuts boasting in an open foyer.”
18. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt , and is named ‘Ahmal.’ The other goes to a family in Spain ; they name him ‘Juan.’ Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, “They’re twins! If you’ve seen Juan, you’ve seen Ahmal.”
19. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him (oh, man, this is so bad, it’s good)… a super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
20. A dwarf, who was a mystic, escaped from jail. The call went out that there was a small medium at large.
21. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to his friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh. No pun in ten did.
AdventureMan Wishes He Were There
I love our road trips. We always catch up on thoughts and pursuits that may seem to trivial in the activities of our normal busy days. It’s a time to talk over dreams, and hopes, and to sketch out some broad outlines of goals and calendars.
“Sometimes I read your blog,” AdventureMan starts off (and I never know where it will go!) “and I think ‘oh what a fun woman! I wish I were there with her having that adventure!’ and then I realize I was there!”
LLLOOOLLL!
People have told me I can make something out of nothing. I think the gift is knowing you are having a good time at the time you are having the good time. 🙂
Saudi Woman Attacks Muttawa
I found this on AOL News
“People are fed up with these religious police, and now they have to pay the price for the humiliation they put people through for years and years,” she was quoted as saying. “This is just the beginning and there will be more resistance.”
(May 18) — An angry young Saudi Arabian woman has left her mark on a religious policeman who approached her for illegally socializing with an unmarried young man.
According to the Saudi daily Okaz, the woman strongly objected to the policeman’s interference and repeatedly punched him so hard that he ended up in the hospital with bruises to his face and body.
The couple, believed to be in their 20s, were strolling through an amusement park in the city of Al-Mubarraz when the policeman asked them to confirm their relationship to one another.
Hasan Jamali, AP
In Saudi Arabia, women aren’t allowed to drive or to appear in public without a male guardian.
For unknown reasons, the man collapsed while being questioned, and the woman jumped in with fists flying, Okaz reported, according to arabianbusiness.com.
No statement on the incident has so far been made by the religious police – formally titled the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice – or by the regular police, the Arab site and The Jerusalem Post reported.
If the unidentified woman is charged she could face a long prison term, as well as body lashes.
“To see resistance from a woman means a lot,” Wajiha Al-Huwaidar, a Saudi women’s rights activist, told The Media Line News Agency, The Post reported.
“People are fed up with these religious police, and now they have to pay the price for the humiliation they put people through for years and years,” she was quoted as saying. “This is just the beginning and there will be more resistance.”
“The media and the Internet have given people a lot of power and the freedom to express their anger,” she added. Whatever the religious police do ends up all over the Internet, she said, which gives them “a horrible reputation and gives people power to react.”
Under Saudi law, women are not allowed to drive, be seen in public without a male guardian and socialize with unrelated men.
A decision to open the country’s first co-educational university last year was strongly criticized by a senior Saudi cleric, who was then fired by King Abdullah, The Post reported.
Missing Dottie
My Mom sent an e-mail today about an old friend, she’s not doing well. She lived next door to us in Alaska, and would take care of me and my sister when Mom needed to leave us with someone. She was older, so we weren’t really friends then, but we became friends as adults, years later, when AdventureMan and I moved to the Tampa Bay area and my friend and her husband lived just blocks away.
I’ve been missing my old friend; twice when I moved, she was there, the big-sister-I-never-had, helping me to move in while AdventureMan was far away. The first time, she loaned us her truck for several weeks while we settled and searched for another car. When I moved back to Seattle, she cleared out my overgrown garden, and then unpacked all the china and crystal and washed it and put it away in the cabinet. She was so much fun.
Through the years, she loved life and lived it to it’s fullest. She loved her time living in Egypt, and in Ramallah, and she travelled and sailed just about everywhere in the world. She exercised and watched her weight. She passed all the best books along to me, and kept up with the news. She was fit and active, and engaged with the world around her.
Statistically, and in all probability, she would never have seemed a risk for Alzheimer’s. I’m still angry about it. This should never have happened to her. It isn’t fair. She should be laughing, enjoying her grandchildren, dancing, swimming, sailing, running, biking, cooking, entertaining – all the things she loved. She DESERVES better. And I guess I am angry because I am selfish, and I want her to be around for ME. And I know that all this is stupid and childish, I should just accept and be calm, but it’s just so unfair and it makes me so angry. She is still in this world, although we don’t know for how long, but then again, she isn’t, not really, she is not a part of this world any longer, she just exists. It’s not right and it’s not fair and Alzheimer’s is a robber and a thief.
Señor Driving
You get a reduction on your insurance rates if you take the safe driving classes for seniors. AdventureMan still isn’t all that comfortable with being a senior, so he calls himself “señor,” which is ‘Mister’ in Spanish. He tells people we are taking “señor” driving classes, and everyone looks at him like he is a little nuts.
Well. . . he is, actually. More than just a little. And now he has the time and energy to be a full time nut, and more power to him.
The “señor” driving classes were actually all right. We learned some things we didn’t know, and we met some interesting people, one, a retired New York fireman, and his wife, a retired nurse. They invited us to go eat seafood after class, and we learned all kinds of things.
On our way back from the ladies room, his wife leaned over to me and whispered “Is he helping you?” I laughed. I knew what she meant. “Yes!” I whispered back, “So far, so good!”
Living in Kuwait and in Qatar, most of the people were younger than us. Countries with all kinds of imported labor put upper limits on workers, so they don’t have a lot of old guys kicking the bucket in their countries. You can get exceptions to the rules in certain jobs, and we had a lot of good friends around our ages, thank God, but here in Pensacola, we feel like YOUNG older people – there are so many older people, and so much to learn. They are all really good about sharing their tricks for survival, and we find that keeping our ears open is a good thing.
Ketchup Entry
“It’s been five days since you blogged,” my friend wrote to me. “Isn’t that some kind of a record?”
Well, no.
Back when I went to Damascus for Christmas, it was also the Eid al Kebir, and I was gone for a week and everyone was so busy with their own celebrations that no one really noticed. 🙂 Well, maybe my Mother. 🙂
This time, it has to do with AdventureMan.
AdventureMan became semi-retired this last week. He and the Qatteri Cat flew to Pensacola, where we met up and now the three of us are staying in a hotel while our heroic contractors are battling to have us in the house by April 15th. Will we make it?
The Qatteri Cat was totally freaked out by his long long trip to the United States. First, for all my annoyances with KLM, we have to tell you that they are totally superb when you are shipping an animal with you. At every stage of the journey, they kept AdventureMan informed on QC’s progress, and he was in great shape when he arrived, except that he was really, really scared. He didn’t understand any of this, the long flight, all the noise, the vibration and then the hotel room full of strange smells of a 1,000 previous guests. (If you are a cat, you can smell things we can’t even dream).
He is OK now. He has a short memory.
Meanwhile, AdventureMan and I have been doing the business of getting ready to get settled, and at the same time, AM is jet lagging. I tell him I think he is catching up on months of sleep deprivation, and he says he thinks it is just jet lag. It makes me happy to see him sleep.
Today, we went by the house so I could pot a cherry tomato, a very special heirloom tomato that I found at the Emerald Coast Garden Show this last weekend. It is a black cherry tomato, and I have never seen one! I have sent for some other heirloom seeds; I love cherry tomatoes and grape tomatoes, tiny little tomatoes with intense flavor. I love to mix them all together with some green onion tops and just a little lemon-y vinaigrette dressing, maybe on some lettuce. YUMMM!
Anyway, AdventureMan likes gardening, too. He comes by it honestly, both his grandfathers gardened. One of them had chickens, too, and grew peanuts, and corn as well as a garden full of vegetables. I garden on a much smaller scale. Mostly I plant things that will take care of themselves – lavender, rosemary. Here, in the mild climate of Pensacola, basil becomes a perennial (I saw that in Kuwait, too, at our Kuwait gardening friend’s house) and I have planted some bougainvillea, which I am hoping will be hardy enough to weather an occasional cold winter or two like the last one.
When we got to the house – and this is Sunday, in the heart of the Bible-belt deep South – the ceiling and drywall people were there, working on a ceiling. We were surprised to see them there, but we know they are all trying really hard to get us into the house as soon as they can.
I was thinking AdventureMan was going to kick back and take it easy, but it hasn’t turned out that way – we are up and at-’em every day, and we have accomplished amazing things. More about some of that in future posts.
Just wanted to let you know I haven’t forgotten about you – just haven’t had the opportunity to sit for very long to organize my thoughts.
Barbie Turns 50
LLOOOLL, my sweet Kuwaiti friend is also sharp, with a sharp edge, and sends me some of the funniest things I have ever seen: Barbie Turns 50, LLOOLL
About a year ago, when I first moved back to Doha, I decided to use up a bunch of pink scraps that had collected over the years – baby girl quilts, friend quilts – pink isn’t my favorite color, but I hate waste. I chose a pattern I thought would be easy, but then . . . I started playing. I always associate pink with Barbie, you know, that Pepto-Bismo pink? Bubble-gum pink? And then I thought “What if Barbie got an edge? What would Barbie look like in real life, the light innocent pinks of girlhood? The hot passion of teen-age crushes? The elegant reds of romance and the purples of betrayal? What would she look like when menopause hits?”
I ended up taking a lot of time, finding just the right colors and trying them out in different places. I grouped similar pinks in different areas, with a light rent down the center – aren’t our lives often divided by events? As it turned out . . . I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of Barbie growing up, becoming a real person, and experiencing all the things women experience. Maybe men too, but I wouldn’t know, LOL! (I still have a pile of pink scraps left over, aaarrgh!)
Places I’ll Remember . . .
I’m not very good at being sad. Today is one of the saddest days of my life. I’ve been weeping all day, and I’m not one of those women whom the camera loves when they weep. My throat gets thick, so clogged with emotion that I can’t talk clearly, and my eyes get all red and swollen. My cheeks get all blotchy. I hate it, my eyes are leaking, and my nose is running. I think I’ve got it all stopped, and it all starts up again.
Most of the house is packed, the kitchen cupboards cleared out and all the goods not going with us distributed. I weep as I pack my bags. I weep as I take out the garbage. I weep as I load one last load of wash into the washer.
“What is it in particular?” AdventureMan asks me, as I weep, yet again, as I start to write this entry.
“It’s the end of an era,” I choke out, and the tears start rolling once again in spite of all my efforts not to succumb.
“We’ve lived our lives as nomads ever since we met,” I continue.
“It isn’t like we want to live in Doha forever, Doha is changing, too, old friends are leaving.”
“It isn’t like I love packing up and starting over in a new place.”
“I shouldn’t have scheduled to leave on a Friday after church,” I philosophized, but it’s too late now. The waterworks started in church and have turned on and off with ever fresh goodbye.
I steeled myself to smile cheerily at my oldest friends, knowing we’ll meet up again – a wedding, a retirement, a gathering of old hands. But small things defeated me. The friends who switched their normal place in church and sat beside us. The communion hymn “Lord of the Dance” sung as a duet. One of our friends provided our very very favorite meal for lunch. The priest blessing my travels and sending me on with the prayers of the people. The difficult ceremony of saying goodbye to the people we love in a place which has nurtured us, spiritually and socially.
And one young woman painted a watercolor for us of our new grandson.
It is a stunning watercolor, I can hardly wait to have it framed. There is something very special in it – I have a friend who knits, but is constantly telling us how badly she knits. She knit a blanket for the grandson, and it was COLD in Pensacola, and that blanket was used over and over again. The blanket is in the lower left corner of the watercolor. 🙂
It’s going to be a long trip to our new life. We are going to a happy place – sunshine, but not so much heat. Humidity and lightning, but also four seasons and seafood. Our son, his wife, our grandson. All these are happy things. Our new house, a new life, closer to our families. All good things.
I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my Palestinian friend, like my sister, and she shared all her children with me through these years of friendship. Saying goodbye to her was horrible. We know we may never see one another again. Her daughters assure me they will help us correspond; they will help her use modern technology to stay in touch. 🙂 I don’t know when I will ever see her again . . . and it breaks my heart. I guess I kind of thought she would come visit me. “No,” she said sadly, “no, I will never have the right papers to visit you.” Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how devastating are the restrictions on her life. And I’m just a friend. She hasn’t seen her own father, in Palestine, for years. Sometimes they can meet up in Egypt. . .
I’m not the first expat to leave here. One good friend left Doha last summer, she led the way. We all know that leaving the nomadic life is charting new territory. We’ve had a lot of fun, we’ve loved (most of) the expat experience. We know it’s time. It’s just the inner twenty-five year old is not ready.
AdventureMan’s company keeps saying “when you’ve had a break . . . ” and AdventureMan laughs and says “I’m not taking a break, I am RETIRING!” His company is savvy; they know that three months down the road the domestic life may get a bit old for these high testosterone kind of guys and they will invite him back for a special project or two. He promises me, if it is Doha or Kuwait, I can come with him. Even just a week or two, to see old friends . . . I’ll take it!
Thanks be to God, for creating us, and for giving us this wonderful life we were created to live. Thanks be to God for all these great adventures, for the exotic, the sights and smells and sounds, and for the eyes to see and the ears to hear. Thanks be to God for the generous spirited friends called to his life, who have shared the path with us. And thanks be to God for this outlet, this blog, where I can share the good, the bad and the ugly with friends from all countries who have ever lived as strangers in a strange land (even when that ‘strange’ land is the USA, LOL!) Thank YOU, friends.
Beirut Breakfast
One of the first things that happened when I came back to Doha was my friends took me to breakfast at the Beirut. When they invited me, I was puzzled. The Beirut, as I remember it, was a place on Shara Kharaba (Electricity Street) where you drove up and guys in baseball caps came to your car and your ordered and they brought the food.
My friends are conservative, and fully covered, abaya and niqab. I could not imagine them sitting in an all-men kind of place.
But no, they took me to the NEW Beirut, down in the Souq al Waqif, and oh, what a treat! Everything, all the good foods they always had at the Beirut, only now you could sit at a table and eat! There is a family area upstairs (with a very nice restroom, by the way) and downstairs all the bachelors eat (meaning any male without a female with him) and then there is outside seating which is great when you are meeting up with western friends.
Today I was meeting up with one of my very best friends, a souk buddy, who enjoys just roaming and experiencing as I do. Actually, she had an agenda, and that will be the next blog entry, but we have been friends for a long time. Partners in crime. We egg each other on.
Most of the time we would order felafel (little balls of cooked ground chickpeas – garbanzos – and parsley, deep fried – sort of like hush puppies) and fool – beans, and hummous, with oil or yoghurt or meat. I would see guys eating bowls of stuff, though, like cereal bowls, only it wasn’t cereal, it looked maybe like oatmeal. We asked what it was, and they said it is like breakfast chickpeas and hummos with fried bread – fattoush – with yoghurt over it. So it sort of is like oatmeal, only it isn’t oatmeal. It is called Fatta.
Oh. My. Friends.
All my years in this part of the world, and I didn’t know about Fatta. Instead of forcing myself to eat oatmeal, I could have been eating Fatta.
This is SO delicious. So delicious that I beg you, if it is horrifyingly fattening, please don’t tell me. It has beans, and the fried flatbread, and toasted pine nuts, and slivered almonds, all covered with a coat of yoghurt and a drizzle of really tasty olive oil. It is so unbelievably delicious; if it were equivalent of oatmeal, this is what I would eat every day for breakfast for the rest of my life, it is so good.
But I have the bad feeling that anything so delicious is probably not so good for me. I have the feeling that it is called Fatta because it will make me big and fatta if I continue to eat it and enjoy it as I did today. Oh YUMMMMMMM.
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