Taste and See
In Psalm 34 of the bible is this verse that has always fascinated me:
O taste and see that the LORD is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
What do you think God/Allah would taste like?
I imagine a taste somewhere between caramel and French vanilla, something so sweet and tasty you barely have words to describe it, but some might think of apples or peaches or apricots –
what do YOU think?
Poor Witness
I had hoped to miss the worst of the traffic yesterday morning when I got on the highway, but for some reason, traffic was still heavy. Suddenly, in less time than it takes for me to write it and for you to read it, there were silver and red sparkles in the air, a shrieking of tires, and a car two cars in front of me trying to regain control, bouncing between two lanes.
Everything slowed to an almost halt, without – thanks be to God – any further collisions. One car, weaving in and out, had clipped another.
I’ve often been amazed at how closely these cars whip in and out without crashing. I think I’ve just never seen it happen before. That impact sends the car that’s hit totally out of control. By the grace of God, no one appeared to be physically injured.
I wondered if I should stop, but I realized I didn’t know anything. I didn’t even know for sure which car had been the hitter and which had been the hittee. I would be a very poor witness. All I saw was this firework like explosion of silver and red – the tail light, I am guessing. And heard the sickening screech of tires as both cars tried to avoid a more serious collision.
A good witness isn’t someone who is guessing. I continued on. Saw the aftermath of an almost identical accident just another kilometer up the road. The good news is that it slowed down the traffic, made it more meditative. . . life is short, folks. There is nowhere we have to be in that big of a hurry.
WoooooHooooooo CO-OP!
It’s hot. It’s humid. I drive to the co-op for a few small things and holy smokes! I see a spot to park, and it’s near the door! I start to park, and I see the handicapped sign, so I go around again, and find another spot about a million miles away. It’s ok, the walk is good for me.
But as I pass the handicapped spots, a car drives in and out pops a perfectly non-handicapped young woman and her two non-handicapped, fully capable daughters!
If looks could kill!
I don’t want to waste a lot of my time on resentment, so I move on.
This week, here is what I see at the co-op:
Wooooo Hoooooooo! Handicapped spots RESERVED for those who have special needs! Blocked off, so as not to tempt the rest of us! Wooooo HOOOOOOOOO, way to go, Co-op!
“Can You Help Me Get to Bangladesh?”
I have a dilemma. I don’t know how to handle it.
I carry small bills with me, because I am often asked for money. I keep it so I always have money to give to the people who help me get groceries to my car, the people who deliver propane, people who give good service – I don’t mind. Part of the blessing of having work is the obligation to pass that blessing along to others. We know that God Almighty knows where there is real need, and he moves us to give where giving is needed; he gives us a little shove in our hearts.
Yesterday, a well dressed man with a steady job told me he wants to go home to Bangladesh to see his parents. Could I help him?
I understand about aging parents. I’ve made a few trips myself. I totally understand what it is like to be far away when crises strike. We have always had funds set aside for emergency trips, and, by the grace of God, we haven’t had to dip into those funds often.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“I need money,” he responded.
Money for a ticket to Bangladesh – that’s not small change. Along with that thought is the thought that were I to “help” this man, word would get around, and I would have many people knocking on my door for serious help with funds.
I don’t think he wants the kind of help I could easily give – showing how to set up an account and contribute to it faithfully, letting the money accumulate until you reach your goal. I don’t think he wants to do what my parents did with me, and what we did with our son – matching funds. (You save up half and we will match your savings dollar for dollar.) He wants an outright big gift.
In our church, we sing a song that says “Freely, freely, you have received, Freely, freely give.” I’ve always believed that with all my heart, it is like a magnified spiritual Locard Exchange Principal especially for blessings; what you have received you give, and it comes back to you doubled, tripled, magnified.
We tend to give larger charitable donations to organizations that make the money work hard – Medicins Sans Frontiers, African schools, our church fund. I consider a ticket to Bangladesh a relatively large charitable donation, large especially for one individual, one individual who is well employed.
So I ask for your prayers for clear guidance. I am not feeling that shove in my heart.
Three Movies
Most of the time, I work in silence. I have a lot of things I need to think about, and the silence helps me think. When I am ready for some entertainment, I usually listen to BBC. Occasionally, as in the last three days, I turn on the TV, more for background noise than anything else.
Most of the shows I like the best have sharp women as main characters – I love Veronica Mars! I enjoy The Closer, and Crossing Jordan. I love how they overcome their dysfunctions, and how they use their smarts to solve cases. I love it that they screw up from time to time, and have to suffer the consequences, but that they overcome their screw-ups and prevail.
The last three days, I watched parts of three movies. In the first, Braveheart, we were watching Mel Gibson playing Braveheart, but I was constantly distracted by his preening. Have you seen Braveheart? It’s like he is conscious of the camera on him every minute, we the viewers are merely mirrors, absorbing and reflecting his glorious countenance – how annoying! His vanity distracted from a pretty good movie.
Then I watched segments of Dracula playing Ludwig von Beethoven. I am from a family of movie watchers; my son and husband know all the names and rush to IMDb to check out anachronisms, historical inaccuracies, goofs in continuity, etc. All I know is that every time he went to kiss one of those Viennese women, I wanted to scream “Watch your neck!”
The movie was interesting, and they made good use of all Beethoven’s most loved music, and they used it appropriately. Oldman did a good job of bringing Beethoven to life and making his deafness tragic and believable. He also shows the fickleness and cruelty of the audience for whom he made his music.
Then, yesterday, there was Jack Bauer playing Paul Gauguin! In the early parts of the movie, he lived in a luminously violet painted interior, one I am dying to copy. But that is not the point. Jack Bauer is a stoic. Stoicism is great when it comes to playing a guy who has so many bad things happen to him in the space of 24 hours.
(this is also beside the point, but can you imagine being married to a guy like Jack Bauer? Like he would never tell you what he was really up to, the most exciting times in his life are not with you and his children but off protecting the United States of America, he comes back to you addicted to heroin, or totally burned out and just when you have him all patched up again he gets a call that his services are needed, and you don’t hear from him because he is all caught up in his latest adventure and then after 24 hours he comes home again, a total wreck? What kind of family life is THAT??)
As Paul Gauguin, he leaves his stockbroker existence and becomes a starving painter, then a starving painter who somehow makes it to the South Seas to paint some of the most amazingly colored art every created but his facial expression never changes much. Paul Gauguin was all about passion – and it is just too much a stretch for Jack Bauer. He is not a believable Gauguin. He is not even a believable Frenchman. He barely moves his hands! I would watch the movie again, however, just for a glimpse of those violet colored walls.
It must be a problem for actors, especially TV actors who become too closely associated with one role. I had to look up his real name: Kiefer Sutherland. Fortunately, a new season of 24 starts in just three days. If you ever want to feel sorry for Kiefer Southerland, look at his dad’s resume’ of movies: Donald Sutherland. It wouldn’t be easy to live up to that legend.
“Committee” Cracks Down on Education in Kuwait
This is a small article from yesterday’s (October 16) Kuwait Times:
MOE Cracks down on foreign schools:
Kuwait: The council of undersecretaries at the Ministry of Education chaired by Minister of Education Nouriya Al-Sabeeh will discuss after Eid holidays the demands of the committee about the negative effects of some traditions to the Kuwait society.
(Excuse me? What committee is that? What negative effects of some traditions? Could you make this any more opaque? Or is the goal to have us ask these very questions?)
It continues:
The committee demands to stop foreign schools from making foreign trips until the regulations to control these trips and stop mixing girls and boys together have been issued. The committee also demands that foreign schools inform the ministry about any parties they intend to have and the agenda of that party to ensure that the nimistry is present and in order to make sure that the school abides by the MOE’s regulations.
The committee also asked the ministry to implement a plan for segregation among boys and girls in the high school classes, as it is more important than segregation at universities. The committee noted that segregation should start in school activities as a preliminary step an foreign schools should be instructed by this through a circular to be distributed to them.
Comment: Let’s face it, foreign schools have strange foreign ways, including the mixing of boys and girls. They believe it creates healthier relationships down the road when people learn to get along with all kinds of other people at a very young age.
Even now, fewer western families are coming to Kuwait because of the education situation. It is often discussed among expat groups that the quality of education available in Kuwait is slipping dramatically.
Of those expat families that do come, many are choosing to home-school to avoid the problems developing in the local schools, even the “foreign” schools. It seems to me that local people who send their kids to the better “foreign” schools do so because these schools have a reputation for providing a better level of education than the public schools – is this correct? It also seems to me that if the “foreign” schools are doing better than the local schools, perhaps it is a good idea to keep letting them do their thing, rather than regulate them too closely?
I saw a group of home-schooled kids on the beach recently, having PE. They were playing volleyball, big kids, little kids, boys and girls all together. They were having a wonderful time. They were polite, respectful and modestly dressed. There wasn’t a sign of romance, just good, healthy fun as they played.
A friend who teaches in one of the local schools tells me of little Abdul, whose pencil fell on the floor the other day and he said to her – his teacher – “Pick that up.” She just stood there, half in shock that he would speak to her – or to anyone – so disrespectfully. Abdul looked up at her with those charming big eyes and grinned. And said “You’re not going to pick it up, are you?” She laughed and said “No, you are!” and he did. Little Abdul is learning some strange foreign ways.
Some of you went to foreign schools, either here in Kuwait or elsewhere. What do you think?
Manly Cosmetics
I vacated my bathroom for houseguests recently, and as I was moving my toiletries back in, with wry amusement I noticed how many face creams I have. Creams for eyes, creams for lips, creams for night, creams for going out into the sun, creams for after having gone out into the sun, creams for day, creams for “noticable reductions in wrinkles in 7 days or less.”
(The problem is, seven days later when I am looking for a noticable reduction, I can’t really tell if it is working or not. I look, but I am wondering what I might have looked like if I HADN’T used the cream? I don’t know!)
And I was thinking about men, who have skin, too. Particularly I was thinking about Adventure Man, and what would it take for him to feel comfortable using a skin cream?
First – it would have to have a very manly name. None of this Homme stuff, it would have to imply that this is a product a RUGGED man would use. Like Manly Lather. “Lather” is a word that goes with men, like barbers lather up your face before they shave you. Women use foam, men use LATHER.
Another name I thought might work would be Extreme Unction because manly men like flying near that edge of the envelope, it’s a testosterone thing, and unction means anointing, like with an oil. If you are Catholic, you receive extreme unction just before dying, or before people think you are about to die, so even unction has an extreme connotation.
Maybe Braveheart? Maybe Rock?
Help me out here.
If you are a guy, (please, keep it clean) what kind of names would allow you to use a face cream with dignity?
If you are a gal (and rolling on the floor laughing) what names can you think of that would encourage a guy to actually USE a face cream?
Have fun with this!
The List
“I need to put that on The List,” I think to myself when I discover I am on my last deodorant. Actually, I discover I have already finished the last deodorant, but I think maybe I have one in my travel stuff, and I am right. I also have deodorant in the Seattle stash and in the Pensacola stash, and I usually stop one of those places before going anywhere else, so I feel safe using the travel deodorant.
Once I find something I like, I usually stick to it, until they reformulate it or make it “new and improved” in some way that I hate. I remember that I bought the deodorant when we were going to Saudi Arabia – hmmm. . . . about 10 years ago! I had been there, and I knew they didn’t have this particular kind which goes on clear, isn’t sticky, and has no scent.
Guess I must have overbought (you think?) After reading EniGma’s blog on Expiration Dates I even checked to see if deodorant expires, but there is no expiration date.
It took us nearly 20 years to use up all the dental floss I bought before we went to Tunis. Somehow, I had estimated one roll of dental floss per month, times 24 months. We were still using that dental floss when the drug store that sold it to us went out of business!
I can get most things I need here in Kuwait, but deodorant goes on “The List,” which is things I need to buy when I go back to the US for a couple weeks. I checked yesterday, and could not find a scentless, clear non-gel. I have enough to get me through till my next drugstore expedition.
The List exists between trips, and drives a lot of our stateside behavior. It’s like our own personal scavenger hunt. It’s mostly make-up, underwear/socks, specific clothing (a caramel colored long sleeved T-shirt), cooking goods we can’t find here (Chinese ginger tea), etc.
Last trip, I found the last item on my list on the last day I was there – I had bought a cat groomer for our son several years ago, and his cat loves it. It is like a very long bottle brush made into a rainbow, and as the cat rubs on it, it brushed excess fur out. I never round the exact thing, but I found something like it.
The Qatteri Cat is utterly indifferent. He doesn’t care that I used my last inches of suitcase space for something special for him.
And, when I get back to Kuwait, as I am unpacking, sometimes I think to myself “I wonder why I thought I needed this?” I find that I have an entire drawer full of candles I don’t use, cocktail napkins I don’t use, and shelves of books I need to give away or donate to a local library.
The reverse is that while I am shopping here, I also have a list, mostly a mental list, trying to find unique gifts to take back to people in the US. I have found a few things here, but locally made gifts are getting harder and harder to find.
My list is getting shorter. Mostly now it is dental appointments, well woman, etc. Maybe a new caramel colored, long sleeved t-shirt, surely a stop at the Lancome counter, but the less the list, the more time to just relax and enjoy the trip.
“Something More Serious”
I remember clearly the first time I ever felt old.
I had discovered a Lancome product, Renergie, that I loved. I have always been good at trying to keep my face “moisturized,” and had graduated up to Lancome from good old Oil of Olay. We were living in Germany once more, our son was about eight years old, and I think they formulate Oil of Olay differently for different customer bases; the smell was different in Germany (and even more different in Qatar! I think it has a sort of cumin undertone!) but I had found this Renergie stuff that glided on and smelled good and wasn’t oily or sticky, so I liked it. It was expensive, but we had a little more money now and I felt it was a splurge.
My Renergie was running out; I needed a replacement. I happened to stop by the Lancome counter at a time when there was a Lancome representative there who asked what I needed. I told her I was looking for the Renergie that I loved.
Simple question, right?
The Lancome representive stops, and looks at me closely. There is this long, uncomfortable pause as she continues to look at me. I’m frankly annoyed.
“My dear,” she starts, “You need something more serious.”
Something more serious? I’m thirty-five years old! I have not yet got any wrinkles to speak of! My skin is in great shape!
All these thoughts rush into my head as the saleslady continues to look at me seriously, and to move toward some heavier creams, which I HATE. I’m still dealing with that one word – “serious.”
I need something “serious.”
It was so devastating to me that my reaction was almost physical revulsion. I think my legs went week and shakey. Looking back, I suspect that it is part of a sales pitch, a script devised to move the customer up the scale to more and more expensive products. I think I even sensed it then, but the truth is, when someone says something like that to you, it damages a vanity that you didn’t even know you had.
I don’t think I bought anything that day. I think I stumbled out of the store and went to pick up my son from his karate lesson and sneaked back at a time when there was no Lancome lady there and bought what I really wanted – the Renergie.
But the damage had been done. Now, when I put the cream on my face I was looking in the mirror for whatever the saleslady had seen that indicated I needed something more “serious.”
It wasn’t long before I humbled myself and went back and asked what the representative thought I really needed, and we agreed on the light form – the lotion – which also went on nicely and smelled good, because how it smells really matters to me. I don’t care how good it is; if it doesn’t smell good – to me – I can’t wear it.
She moved me up to Primordiale, which I wore for years until the next Lancome representative looked at me and said brightly “I bet you would love Absolue! It will get rid of those little crow’s feet in no time!”
We all have weak spots that we don’t even know we have. If you are a man and you have read this far, you will laugh in your superior way, thinking this is just a piece of fluff. To you I say wait until your son beats you in those family wrestling matches for the first time, beats you fairly. When our son would wrestle with his Dad, I would say “I hear the antlers clanging in the forest!” as they fought for who would be the king. To you I say that the sad day will come when you are no longer the biggest bull moose in the forest, and you, too, will have that sad, humbled feeling I got when I was told I needed something more “serious.”
The advertisers of this world know our weaknesses. I am willing to bet the Lancome ladies have a script they use, to press our buttons, to expose weaknesses we don’t even know we have. My husband brings home a Men’s Health occasionally – have you ever noticed, every one of them is the same? There are articles about making your abs flat, taking vitamins and reviving your sex life – in every issue! They know where we feel bad about ourselves before we even know it, and they are making a lot of money off of our inadequacies!
And no, my friends, I don’t have any answers. Even while I know that these things are the vain, inconsequential things of this world, even while I know that this is all passing vanity, even while I try to resist, I succumb. Sometimes the temptations is too great and my spirit is too weak to stand up to their insistence that I need something “more serious.” This blog entry is merely my meager attempt to fight back.
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