Dick Cheney and Darth Vadar
As I was leaving Barnes and Noble today (they are out of Orphan Pamluk’s My Name is Red) I heard this on National Public Radio:
(Actually I found the exact quote on The Huffington Post.)
Vice President Dick Cheney cracked a number of jokes Wednesday night at the Radio & Television Correspondents’ Dinner In Washington D.C. Cheney got some laughs when he told the audience that he had asked his wife, Lynne Cheney, whether the label Darth Vader applied to his personality. According to Cheney, his wife said it “humanizes you.”
Don’t you just love a woman with a great sense of humor?
All in One Day
Life is funny, in Kuwait, you are just getting up, brushing your teeth, getting ready to head for work, knowing tonight is date night and tomorrow you sleep in. I’m in my jammies, lying in bed with my computer, watching old Law and Order’s on TNT (sometimes the Olympics just get boring) and winding down, getting ready to call it a day.
And what a day! My long time Army-wife friend and I went out playing – picked up lunch at Ivar’s and took it over to the park to eat, where we found a whole flock of new friends:
This guy was persistent – after we ate our fish, we threw him the fries:
We looked at a house for sale – great bones, significant view, lousy location:
The day was warm, but there was a persistent wind, and at one point, we drove home from the crowded malls in a driving rain. Everywhere, for the next three hours, people were saying “this is October weather, not August weather!”
A great night for Chinese food. T&T’s Seafood is SO Chinese that there aren’t that many things on the menu I am comfortable ordering, and I fly close to the edge of the envelope when exploring Chinese food. I ordered Hot and Sour Soup, Green Beans with shaved meat, and Prawns with Honeyed Pecans. I sat with all the other take-out people waiting for their orders – it’s truly that kind of night. Everyone is talking about the weather. They don’t do a lot of delivery in Seattle; mostly you have to go pick it up yourself:
It was pouring when I went in – clearing when I came out:
Heading toward the coast:
After dinner, I drove down to surfside to take a sunset photo with these wonderful clouds:
Tai-ho’s in Kenmore, WA
“If she didn’t have a refrigerator, Intlxpatr (only she calls me by my real name), what did she do about laundry and diapers when you came along?”
I just looked at her stupidly. That had never occurred to me.
“I remember our next door neighbors had a barrel-shaped washing machine with a hand cranked wringer,” I responded, “but I think by that point my Mom had a more modern washing machine. I don’t know what she was using when I was born.”
Then, over noodles at Tai-Ho’s, where you watch the noodle-maker man in a specially built window, surrounded by Chinese, Chinese-Americans and Chinese-food lovers, we reminisced about our own babies, and laundry services. We were mothers of the hip generation, back-to-nature, and for eco reasons, we used a diaper service, which was considered much more earth-friendly.
“Oh! The smell of that diaper pail!” I groaned. We both moved on to Pampers after a few months with the soiled diaper smell.
We were rescued from any further contemplation of those pungent smells by the arrival of a delicious Hot and Sour Soup, a big bowl, which we divided, followed quickly by the Green Beans with Meat:
And then – one of the specialities of the house, the Seafood Basket, which is served in a basket of those noodles we saw the noodle-maker-guy making, filled with delectable scallops, shrimp, fish, fresh steamed crispy broccoli and water chestnuts, covered with a foam of egg whites – magnificent.
My friend had recommended the Green Beans, but she didn’t know about the Seafood Basket – we just ordered it to see what it was like. After it came, we saw other diners asking the waitress about it and several more came out of the kitchen. It was DELICIOUS.
Tai-Ho Restaurant
http://www.taihorestaurant.com
6312 NE Bothell Way
Kenmore, WA 98028
(425) 485-4020
If you are coming from Kuwait – or elsewhere – and want to eat like a local, you want Tai-Ho’s. It is purely wonderful.
Superlative Day: Gone Fishing
I’ve had some great and memorable days in my life, and this is one of them. My good friend said “Hey, you want to go fishing Friday?” and I said “Yes!” I had to go get a one-day fishing license, and I could add crab for a mere 50 cents, so I did.
We met up at 6:30 a.m. and were on the water by 7 a.m. on one of the hottest day’s in Seattle’s summer. As we left the marina, we passed an Eagle. (We thought of you, AdventureMan!)
AdventureMan must have heard us talking about him, because as the sun rises, he calls from Kuwait, eating Felafel sandwiches and ice cream as we watch the sun rise:
And set the crab traps – this is what an empty crab trap looks like. We put turkey legs and old fish heads in the bait box to attract the crabs:
It is a gorgeous morning. As my friends dig out the fishing polls, I admire the mountains and the sparkles on the waters of Puget Sound:
My friend has baited my hook and hands the rod to me. I lower the weight to the bottom, pull it up just a little and – an immediate nibble:
He’s a good size and he’s a keeper. My friend grabs my camera to take my photo with my first fish of the day, I hold the fish up – and just as she is snapping the shot, the fish does a little flip right off the hook and back into the water!
It doesn’t matter – the fish are biting and we are hauling them in. Some are too small; we take them off the hooks and throw them back, telling them to have a good life, grow big and we will see them again, we hope!
After about an hour of superlative fishing, we go back to check the crab pots. They are HEAVY with crab!
You can’t keep any female crab, or any male under a certain size, so any crab you think you might want to keep, you have to measure. You get a HUGE fine if you are caught with undersize crab. As we bring in the crab and the fish, my friend notes them down on our licence records, which have to be sent in to the state at the end of the season, listing fish we have caught, crab we have caught, and how many we threw back.
We catch a couple rock crab – those you don’t have to measure, and you can keep. Most of what we catch is the sweet and delectable Dungeness Crab – my very favorite after Alaska King Crab.
We had just decided to quit for the day – it was getting really, really HOT for Seattle, like 90°F/33°C (and there is an advisory for hot weather, and air stagnation) and we have nearly our limit for crab, and a respectable amount of fish, and we are happy, happy fisherpeople! Just as I am about to raise my line, I get a big bite, and catch the last fish!
Here is our bucket, full of fish. The cooler is full of crab. What a great day to be alive.
Mary Nell’s Secret
“I’m coming in tonight,” says AdventureMan, “but not on my original flight. My flight from Denver to Chicago was cancelled, so I missed that flight. I’ll be on the flight coming in at around 10.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you called; I would have been waiting at the airport!” I replied.
“There’s an e-mail waiting for you – I had (our son) send you an e-mail to let you know,” AdventureMan continues, “I was lucky to get a flight at all – they had re-booked me for tomorrow night! I used Mary Nell’s technique, and they found me a seat on another flight.”
I laughed in delight.
If we are very very lucky, we learn from our friends. I have several friends who are flowers of the South, but Mary Nell takes the crown as the Queen of the South. Mary Nell and I would be on the road to France in a heartbeat, any excuse would do. We had our favorite stores, we introduced one another to new favorites, new villages, new restaurants. Even better, our husbands liked each other, too, so now and then we would hit a very lovely restaurant, the four of us.
Mary Nell is polite and well-mannered. Always. Polite and well-mannered, and she always gets her way. When someone gives her information she doesn’t like, she pauses, gathers her forces, looks them directly in the eye and says the magic words: “That won’t do.” She shakes her head sadly as she delivers the words.
She follows up firmly, “No, that won’t do at all. We have a problem here. (Names what she wants, like the shoes she likes in a color not available in that shop) What are we going to do?” and she looks deeply into the other person’s eyes.
She uses the same techniques on the bullies she counsels in the guidance office, the out-of-control parents, the crazy teacher. They all back down in the face of Mary Nell’s relentlessly polite confrontation.
AdventureMan and I could only watch in absolute astonishment as Mary Nell worked her magic. After a while, we tried it, too. It took a few tries, but – it really does work!
Again, at the airport, as the ticketing guy explains that with the downsized plane, they have had to put my husband on a later flight. “No! That won’t do!” says Adventure Man. “People are counting on me! We have to fix this problem!”
The ticketing guy thought he had it fixed, but this technique forces him to search out new possibilities. Once again, Mary Nell’s technique prevails.
She never gets aggressive. She never raises her voice. And whoever is working with her knows, with utter conviction, that she is not going to go away until this problem is solved to her satisfaction. Woooo Hoooooo, Mary Nell.
First Dates
There are some advantages to being in Kuwait in the dead heat of summer. One is that even in peak driving time, the roads are far less crowded. Restaurants are less crowded. Shops are full of all the things that go missing when the entire population is in town.
And – if you are here in July, and if you have good Kuwaiti friends with date trees – you get a big bowl of fresh, sweet DATES!
These are unbelievably yummy. I always liked dates, but until we moved to Tunisia, I didn’t know the pure joy of fresh dates. Living in Kuwait when the first dates of the season start ripening – pure bliss.
No, my Kuwaiti friends are very generous, they gave me a great big plate of dates, it’s just I’ve already eaten most of them! I had to take a photo quickly, before I ate the few remaining!
I went to Wikipedia on Date Palms to discover there are countless varieties of dates. They give this lengthy list of dates, and then say that in Iraq there are more than 100 different dates cultivated:
Aabel – common in Libya
Ajwah – from the town of ‘Ajwah in Saudi Arabia, it is the subject of a famous hadith of the prophet Muhammad.
Al-Barakah – from Saudi Arabia
Amir Hajj or ‘Amer Hajj’ – from Iraq, these are soft with a thin skin and thick flesh, sometimes called “the visitor’s date” because it is a delicacy served to guests.
‘Abid Rahim (Arabic: عبد رحيم), from Sudan
Barakawi (Arabic: بركاوي), from Sudan
Barhee or (barhi) (from Arabic barh, a hot wind) – these are nearly cylindrical, light amber to dark brown when ripe; soft, with thick flesh and rich flavour. One of the few varieties which are good in the khalal stage when they are yellow (like a fresh grape as opposed to dry, like a raisin).
Bireir (Arabic: برير) – from Sudan
Deglet Noor (Arabic: ‘translucent’ or ‘date of light’) – so named because the centre appears light or golden when held up to the sun. This is a leading date in Algeria, the USA, and Tunisia, and in the latter country it is grown in inland oases and is the chief export cultivar. It is semi-dry and not very sweet.
Derrie or ‘Dayri’ (the ‘Monastery’ date) – from southern Iraq – these are long, slender, nearly black, and soft.
Empress – developed by the Deval Family in Indio California USA from a seedling of ‘Deglet Noor’. It is larger than ‘Deglet Noor’, somewhat softer and sweeter. It generally has a light tan top half and brown bottom half.
Ftimi or ‘Alligue’ – these are grown in inland oases of Tunisia.
Holwah (Halawi) (Arabic: ‘sweet’) – these are soft, and extremely sweet, small to medium in size.
Haleema – in Hoon, Libya (Haleema is a woman’s name)
Hayany – from Egypt (Hayani) (Hayany is a man’s name) – these dates are dark-red to nearly black and soft.
Iteema – common in Algeria
Kajur – common in Pakistan / India
Kenta – common in Tunisia
Khadrawi date / Khadrawy (Arabic: ‘green’) – a cultivar favoured by many Arabs, it is a soft, very dark date.
Khalasah (Arabic: ‘quintessence’) – one of the most famous palm cultivars in Saudi Arabia, famous for its sweetness level that is not high nor low, thus, suits most people. Its fruit is called ‘Khlas’. Its famous place is ‘Huffuf’ (Al-Ahsa) in the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia (Al-Sharqheyah).
Khastawi (Khusatawi, Kustawy) – this is the leading soft date in Iraq; it is syrupy and small in size, prized for dessert.
Maktoom (Arabic: ‘hidden’) – this is a large, red-brown, thick-skinned, soft, medium-sweet date.
Manakbir – a large fruit which ripens early.
Medjool date
Medjool or (Mujhoolah) (Arabic: ‘unknown’) – from Morocco, also grown in the USA, Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Israel; a large, sweet and succulent date. It is named unknown because who owned it at first didn’t know its specie and thus called it unknown.
Migraf (Mejraf) – very popular in Southern Yemen, these are large, golden-amber dates.
Mgmaget Ayuob – from Hoon, Libya
Mishriq (Arabic: ‘East’ – مشرق) – from Sudan and Saudi Arabia
Nabtat-seyf – in Saudi Arabia.
Rodab – from Iran, they are dark and soft.
Sag‘ai – from Saudi Arabia.
Saidy (Saidi) – soft, very sweet, these are popular in Libya.
Sayer (Sayir) (Arabic: ‘common’) – these dates are dark orange-brown, of medium size, soft and syrupy.
Sekkeri – (lit. sugary) Dark brown skin; distinctly sweet and soft flesh, from Saudi Arabia.
Sellaj – in Saudi Arabia.
Tagyat – common in Libya.
Tamej – in Libya.
Thoory (Thuri) – popular in Algeria, this dry date is brown-red when cured with a bluish bloom and very wrinkled skin. Its flesh is sometimes hard and brittle but the flavour described as sweet and nutty.
Umeljwary – in Libya.
Umelkhashab – Brilliant red skin; bittersweet, hard white flesh (Saudi Arabia).
Zahidi (Arabic: ‘[Of the] ascetic’) – these medium size, cylindrical, light golden-brown semi-dry dates are very sugary, and sold as soft, medium-hard and hard.
Why Women Should Vote
“Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.”
When I got this in the mail this morning, I had to smile. The woman who sent it to me is now in her 90’s. She was a mentor to me as a young woman, and she was a pistol. She taught me, over and over again, that women can do anything they put their mind to doing – that nothing can hold us back except ourselves. She’s a pistol. I want to be like her when I grow up. 🙂
It is always a shock to me to know that women in the United States have only had the right to vote for less than a hundred years. We take it for granted. We shouldn’t. We should make our vote a mighty force.
WHY EVERY WOMAN SHOULD VOTE
This is the story of our Grandmothers, and Great-grandmothers, as they
lived only 90 years ago. It was not until 1920 that women were granted
the right to go to the polls and vote.
Thus unfolded the ‘Night of Terror’ on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at
the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson
to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow
Wilson’s White House for the right to vote. The women were innocent and
defenseless. And by the end of the night they were barely alive. Forty
prison guards wielding clubs and their warden’s blessing went on a
rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of ‘obstructing sidewalk
traffic.’
They beat Lucy Burn, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head
and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air. They
hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed
and knocked her out cold. Her cell mate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was
dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the
guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching,
twisting and kicking the women.
For weeks, the women’s only water came from an open pail. Their
food–all of it colorless slop–was infested with worms. When one of the
leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a
chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until
she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was
smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won’t vote this year because–why,
exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote
doesn’t matter? It’s raining?
Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO’s new movie
‘Iron Jawed Angels.’ It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women
waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my
say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.
All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the
actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote.
Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege.
Sometimes it was inconvenient.
My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women’s history, saw the HBO
movie , too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked
angry. She was–with herself. ‘One thought kept coming back to me as I
watched that movie,’ she said. ‘What would those women think of the way
I use–or don’t use–my right to vote? All of us take it for granted
now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.’ The
right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her ‘all over again.’
HBO released the movie on video and DVD. I wish all history, social
studies and government teachers would include the movie in their
curriculum. I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women
gather. I realize this isn’t our usual idea of socializing, but we are
not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock
therapy is in order.
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a
psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be
permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor
refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn’t make her
crazy. The doctor admonished the men: ‘Courage in women is often
mistaken for insanity.’
Please, if you are so inclined, pass this on to all the women you know.
We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard
for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic,
republican or independent party – remember to vote.
History is being made.
Alternate Breakfast
Just before she skipped town, one of my partners-in-crime (girlfriends) gave me a packet of fresh home-made granola. I’ve been eating it as a breakfast alternative to the raspberry-blueberry-Activia smoothies I am addicted to, but I am eating sparingly of the granola, trying to make it last until she will come back and make me some more!
It is SOOOO good, and I don’t know how she does it, makes something good for you taste so good!
My New Buddy
Just days before Sporty Diamond’s wedding, Big Diamond introduced me to a new friend – a Lumix, a Panasonic camera with a Leica lens.
It hardly felt like a real camera. I have lugged around Nikons most of my life, Nikons and their lenses and a variety of super films to capture that special moment. The Lumix felt like a toy.
“Just try it,” she laughed confidently.
Within minutes, she was in on her phone and computer, ordering the same model for Sporty Diamond and myself. That was five years ago.
In January, as I was doing one of the sunrise series, something whirred and clicked and jammed, never to work again. I didn’t worry too much, I had a smaller model of the same camera I bought to use in my purse. I knew I would need another one, but I had time.
When she visited, Little Diamond mentioned that exactly the same thing had happened with Big Diamond’s camera, and we figure maybe it is some kind of planned obsolescence.
Or an excuse to buy the newest model!
While back in the USA, I picked up the newest telephoto model of the Lumix. Without any additional lenses, this little camera goes from 18mm – 574mm. The zoom is so powerful that I can’t always hold the camera steady enough without a tripod, but it also has all the latest shake-reduction technologies. Actually, it has technologies I haven’t begun to master. I thought I would know it all, having had the same camera, but so much has been added in the last couple years, I still have a severe learning curve in front of me.
My sister has the same exact camera, so we can help each other out when we figure out some new capability.
I am not one of your more serious photographers. I don’t bracket my shots; I don’t do a lot of planning before I shoot. Most of my shots are shots of convenience – I even have the camera out on the seat while I am driving, in case I see something at a stoplight. Certainly in case I have a road problem, or in case some idiot drives next to me in the emergency land. I need a camera mostly for family moments, for our African adventures, for my daily Kuwait experiences and for those odd moments that capture my attention.
I am more of a documentary photographer. I grab whatever shot I can get, and delete delete delete all the excess photos. I do love getting to know the camera, and finding out what it can do. What I love the most about this camera is the great big huge zoom, the tiny, light body, and the bright, clear photos it takes under the worst conditions.
I have another buddy, a good friend who has really been there for me while I am jet lagging. The first morning – she knows I am up early – she called me and said she was on her way to the store, did I want to come? I was already getting dressed to go to the store, so I said yes. The truth is, when you are ten time zones out of whack, you are probably better off not driving a whole lot.
Yesterday, once again, she helped me run a couple of significant errands, things I really needed to do and she sacrificed a morning with her husband to help me out. That is a friend, indeed. Not only is she a lot of fun to be running errands with, but when I grabbed my camera and said “that’s a shot I’ve wanted and never been able to take because I am always driving!” she slowed down and let me have the time to take the shot. She didn’t even mind. Now THAT is a friend, indeed!
Nowhere else have I seen bulldozers up in buildings. I can’t imagine the building being destroyed was constructed with specifications supporting the weight of a bulldozer in mind. I can’t imagine what the bulldozer operator must have in terms of life insurance – or, well, too bad, I can imagine he considers himself lucky to have a job that allows him to send some money back home. At least this bulldozer is only three stories above ground – the last one I saw was eight stories above ground. And the driver didn’t even have a construction helmet on.
It is blazing-white-hot in Kuwait right now, but thanks be to God, there is no dust today, and the humidity is relatively low.
Conversation in the Background (Fiction)
“Hey, ‘Bama, how’s it going?”
“I am so fried, Hilary. Hey, you looked great at the congressional hearing today. Who prepared your questions? They did a great job.”
“Thanks. You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?
“No. Are you?”
“I don’t need a lot of sleep, remember? I’m there to answer the phone at 3 a.m.”
(Mutual laughter)
“Hil, my team is going to hit you tomorrow on your candor issue. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Is this necessary?” (she sighs)
“C’mon Hil. One of us has to take second place. You’ve given this a great fight, but I’m beating you everywhere.”
“It ain’t over ’till it’s over. Anything can happen. And I have Bill in my corner.”
“That’s a mixed blessing.” (They both laugh)
“You can stop any time, you can have the #2 slot on MY ticket. Besides, you really do look tired. You can sit back for four years, learn the ropes, and then we can talk about your presidency in four years – or so.”
“I don’t think so, Hil. Hey, good luck. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Night, ‘Bama.”
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