Valentine
Talking with a friend the other day, about being married a long time, we were both stunned into momentary silence by the realization that we had lived with our husbands longer than we had lived with our birth families.
We think of all the forces that created who we are as children, but we forget the years of tumbling around in a marriage that helps to wear off all the sharp edges and smooth the jagged surfaces.
It’s not the boxes of candy or the roses, not even the romantic dinners (no! I am not cancelling!) It’s everything . . . the financial struggles, raising children, building a family life, taking care of aging relations, and, God willing, grandchildren . . . good times and bad times. In the long run, it’s all good.
Adventure Man, Happy Valentine’s Day. Through thick and thin, big guy.
Sectarianism
IRISH PROSTITUTE
An Irish daughter had not been home for over 5 years. Upon her return, her father cussed her. “Where have ye been all this time? Why did ye not write to us, not even a line? Why didn’t ye call? Can ye not understand what ye put yer old mum thru?
The girl, crying, replied, “Sniff, sniff….dad….I became a prostitute….”
“Ye what!!? Out of here, ye shameless harlot! Sinner! You’re a disgrace to this family.”
“OK, dad– as ye wish. I just came back to give mum this luxurious fur coat, title deed to a ten bedroom mansion plus a savings certificate for $5 million.
For me little brother, this gold Rolex and for ye daddy, the sparkling new Mercedes limited edition convertible that’s parked outside plus a membership to the country club…. (takes a breath)….and an invitation for ye all to spend New Years Eve on board my new yacht in the Riviera, and….”
“Now what was it ye said ye had become?” says dad.
Girl, crying again,”Sniff, sniff….a prostitute dad! Sniff, sniff.”
“Oh! Be Jesus! Ye scared me half to death, girl! I thought ye said a Protestant’. Come here and give yer old man a hug!”
Japanese Breakfast
This is for my husband. I know he reads my blog now and then, and I wonder how long it will be before he sees this?
The other night, we were out for our favorite “fast” food, which is Japanese food. Not just sushi, we love miso soup. When I am sick, miso soup makes my throat feel better. I feel like I am eating good health, with all those little tofu squares and that seaweed, I feel like the miso soup will make me better. I also love salmon teriyaki, and chawan moushi, and a variety of lesser known Japanese foods.
And my husband said “isn’t miso soup what Japanese people have for breakfast?” and I didn’t know. He though miso soup and rice, so today I looked it up on Google, “Japanese breakfast”, and here is what I found:
Japanese breakfast consists of steamed rice, miso (soy bean paste) soup, and side dishes. Common side dishes are grilled fish, rolled omelet, pickles, dried seaweed, natto, salad, and more. Actually, you can make any dishes to go with rice and miso soup in Japanese breakfast. As you see in the photo, it’s an etiquette to place a bowl of rice on your left and to place a bowl of miso soup on your right side at the table.
It was on Japanese Breakfast About.com, along with ads for Japanese condoms (they are different from others?), a sushi making robot, a Samurai hotel and recipes for steamed rice, miso soup, natto (fermented soy beans), Nori (dried seaweed), Tamagoyaki (rolled omelet), grilled fish and pickles.
It seems to me that Japanese food is going through an internationalization process – sushi used to be all about rice and fish, and main dishes were simple, often stir fried, but all in all, very healthy. Now, I am seeing sushis with fried stuff in them, mayonnaise (?????), and we were offered a green tea ice-cream for dessert . . . that just doesn’t strike me as Japanese. Is it?
But this is for my husband – in case you really read all the way down – YOU WERE RIGHT. (I am obligated by family law to say that.)
“I’m A Third Culture Kid, Are You?”
Most of those who read my blog are not Kuwaiti, and it is for you that I am writing this post. So many of you who read me are also “Third Culture Kids.” My blogging friend Amer just wrote a post by the above title, and whoa! The responses will blow you away! Please go to I am a Third Culture Kid, Are You? and check in with your story – where you came from and where you are today.
And how being a third culture kid has affected your life. This is one of the best blog entries I have read.
The book from which the term Third Culture Kids comes from is mentioned in an earlier blog entry of mine, Chicken Nuggets and Big Macs and is by David C. Pollock and Ruth E. Van Reken. You can find it at Amazon.com. If you are a third culture kid, you might want to buy two or three – you will keep giving them away. The book is that good.
A Special Birthday in Germany
Birthdays aren’t my favorite days, and in spite of that, I’ve had some really good ones. The best birthday I can remember, ever, came as a gift of sharing that totally blew me away.
I was living in a small German village. Little by little, I mastered enough German to be able to interact with the villagers, who were very kind to me. They included my husband and I in the village events, including private birthday parties, which in Germany, are a BIG deal.
Birthdays are YOUR day. Every woman in the village brings a cake – or two. Competition to provide the fanciest, most lucious cake is keen. The cakes are not overly sweet, but are incredibly full of fresh cream. And of course, it is rude not to try a little of everyone’s cakes . . . all eyes are all watching.
The two women in the village who took care of me were my landlady and her mother-in-law, who lived in a house just across the courtyard. My landlady sang in the village choir, which performed at a variety of locations throughout the year – festivals, local events, schools – and at 50th birthday parties. The 50th Birthday Party was very special. The whole choir would sing JUST for the birthday girl.
It was a very small village. Everyone knew everyone. Some people didn’t speak because their grandmother didn’t speak to someone else’s grandmother. People carried grudges for a long time. Memories were long, and tongues were longer. My landlady’s protection was very valuable to me, an outsider in the village, who might, from time to time, violate customs without even knowing about it.
My husband and I were leaving Germany, after four years in the village. It was around this time of the year, the cold cold of winter in Germany. One evening my landlady came down and asked us to come to her birthday party the next night – our birthdays are only two days apart, and we had often celebrated together. We were delighted for the invitation, as we knew the choir would be seranading our landlady.
There was a lovely catered sit-down dinner. Everyone was in dress-up clothing, and the wine and beer were flowing. We knew it would be our last dinner in the village, and we felt so honored to be included.
And then the choir arrived. The choir master made a speech to our landlady, congratulating her on her special birthday and giving her a long list of good wishes. And then he turned to us, and said that tonight our landlady was sharing her birthday with me, and they would sing two songs for us on our departure.
This was her special day. Her 50th birthday is the day the whole village would honor her. It only happens once in your lifetime. And she shared it with me.
The choir sang “The Gypsy Wanderers”, and truly, it was appropriate for my husband and I, departing for our next life in Doha. From the first notes, I cried. I’ve never minded my vagabond life, but for that brief moment, I regretted not having the kind of deep roots that kept me anchored in one place. I would never have a village singing for my 50th birthday; I had never earned that honor. And my landlady gave it to me, simply, without fanfare, sharing the honors she had earned day by day, living in the village. She gave it expecting nothing in return for it, sheerly for the joy of sharing.
In the Headlights: Added to the Blogroll
I don’t remember how I came across this blog, at some time in December, but I remember laughing my head off. After two months, I find that she still delights me every time I visit. Today at In the Headlights (a reference to a common English phrase “deer in the headlights” meaning that wild-eyed-I -don’t-know-what-to-do-next-so-I’ll-just-stand-here-frozen look) Riannan shares an e-mail from a friend with curmudgeonly rules for 2007, and earlier on the page, shares a site where you can have mittens, etc. knit out of your pet’s lost hair! Dying laughing.
(And no, she is not a relative of mine. I don’t know her! I just like her blog!)
This woman comes across some of the most amazing things. She, like me, is all over the map – salsa dancing, books, great recipes (the latest was Oven Baked Sesame Scallops, oh yum!), stories about friends, some of the funniest signs I have ever seen, and screwball ideas. She can give your day a lift.
What Happens Next?
I love reading the paper in a foreign country. It often reveals a different way of thinking. Often I am mystified; there is a context in which the article is written that you may “get” while I do not. As I read the Kuwait Times there are many times I wonder “what happens next?” Rarely do we get any follow up, rarely do we know the ultimate outcome of these incidents. These are all from today’s paper(24 Jan 2007):
1. The ‘Other’ Woman
A woman after suspecting her husband of infidelity, decided to keep tabs on him, and followed him to a spring camp in the Jdailiyat area and was shocked when she found her fears had turned into reality when she caught him red-handed in the arms of the ‘other’ woman. The wife immediately summoned police who rushed to the camp and also found out that he was under the influence of alcohol. In a fit of rage, he also smashed the police car’s windowpane to smithereens. He was referred to the relevant authorities.
My comment/questions: Infidelity is a painfully personal kind of behavior. Why would the police be called? Would you call the police if you want to salvage a relationship, or bury it? Does involving the police help in a divorce settlement? Will the husband normally be shamed and repentant, or angry and defiant? Are there processes to help a husband and wife save their marriage? And what happens to the other woman? Does it depend on who she is and what her nationality is? And wouldn’t a wife be afraid to confront her husband in that situation, would she be placing herself in physical danger?
2. Daughter Reveals Affair
A 47-year old Kuwaiti woman lodged a complaint with Mubarak Al Kabeer police that another Kuwaiti who works for the National Guard had several sexual intercourses with her 16 year old daughter in her own room, whenever she went out on errands. She said that her daughter confessed to her and revealed her affair our of her fear that she might be pregnant after which her lover might dump her. The man is being summoned for further interrogation.
My comment/questions: Why does it matter how old the woman is making the complaint? Why is that on the public record? If the girl is pregnant, what happens next? Can she raise her child as a single mother here in Kuwait? Is there a possibility that the girl will marry her National Guard lover? If not, what are her chances for marriage? Can she continue school if she is pregnant?
3. Mother Accused of Kidnapping
A 60 year old Arab lodged a complaint with Jabriya police that his 55 year old Iraqi divorcee had kidnapped their two sons. He produced a court order that authorized him custody of the boys and that their divorced mother showed up in his absence, along with her older sons from an earlier marriage and took the boys away. The father filed a kidnap case against his ex-wife althought Kuwaiti family laws do not under any circumstance permit accusing a mother of kidnapping her own children, even if the father had the legal custody rights.
My comment/questions: Why list the ages of the complaintant and his wife, but not the ages of the boys? How can the father file a case, if Kuwaiti law specifically states a mother cannot kidnap her own children? Do the boys have any choice of which parent they would want to live with? If the wife is 55, isn’t it likely that the youngest “boy” is around 15? (I would think it’s pretty hard to kidnap teenage boys.) Do parents often have heated contests over their children in Kuwait? Does shared custody work here?
BBC: Dog Owners Lead Healthier Lives
(See Statistics: “Lies, Damn Lies and Statistics” below for perspective. Ask “who did the study? What was the purpose of the study? Who profits?”)
This article is from today’s BBC News online. You can read the whole report here.
Dogs can provide companionship
If you want to live a healthier life get a dog, research suggests.
The companionship offered by many pets is thought to be good for you, but the benefits of owning a dog outstrip those of cat owners, the study says.
A psychologist from Queen’s University, Belfast, said dog owners tended to have lower blood pressure and cholesterol.
Writing in the British Journal of Health Psychology, she says that regular ‘walkies’ may partly explain the difference.
Dr Deborah Wells reviewed dozens of earlier research papers which looked at the health benefits of pet ownership.
In some cases, the social support offered by an animal is greater than the support than another human could offer
Dr June McNicholas
Health psychologist
She confirmed that pet owners tended in general to be healthier than the average member of the population.
However, her research suggested that dog ownership produced more positive influence than cat ownership.
As well as lower blood pressure and cholesterol, she said dog-owners suffered fewer minor ailments and serious medical problems.
There was also the suggestion that dogs could aid recovery from serious illnesses such as heart attacks, and act as ‘early warning’ to detect an approaching epileptic seizure.
Stress-busting
Dr Wells said the precise reason for the benefits was not totally clear.
“It is possible that dogs can directly promote our well-being by buffering us from stress, one of the major risk factors associated with ill-health.
read the rest here.
My comment: I hate a study that says dog owners are healthier than cat owners, but they say that the regular walking might be a factor. Have to admit, that is true. I have a leash for my cat. When I tried to put the body harness on him, some primitive switch deep inside switched on, and the Qatteri Cat went bat-crazy, clawing, biting, twisting, hissing . . . never tried it again.
We tried walking a cat once – we’ve been told it can be done. Our experience we called “taking the cat for a drag.” I’ve never met a cat who would happily take to a leash.
And I never met a dog who wouldn’t go for a walk with great enthusiasm. They wiggle with uncontrollable delight when they see the leash, wiggle so hard you can barely get the leash attached. They bolt out the door, sniff the air, and prance as you race to keep up.
You see life differently when you walk a dog. It’s all “go! go! go!” and then all of a sudden it’s “Hey! What’s this? Some dog peed here! Woooof!” You really do see the world in a blade of grass, when you are a dog, or a hedge, or a pile of cat poop. (“No! No! You can’t eat that!! No!”) Their love of life is infectious, and probably even the stop and go kind of walking you do with a dog is better than no walking at all.
Winter Comfort Food: Cornbread and Chili
The recipe for cornbread is right on the cornmeal bag. I bring back medium grind cornmeal (I like Bob’s Red Mill 100% Stone Ground Whole Grain cornmeal, found in the Health Food section of the stores that tend to carry it) when I travel, but I have also found cornmeal in a variety of grinds in Kuwait from time to time. You want to buy cornmeal in a store with high turnover, because it gets bugs if it has sat too long in a warm environment. I store mine in the freezer, and pull it out when I need it.
The secret to truly excellent cornbread is using a cast iron skillet. As the oven is heating, you stick the skillet in. When the oven has reached 425 F/220 C, you pull the skillet out and pop 2 Tbs butter in. Let it melt, and pour in the batter.
As my Southern husband reminds me “it isn’t Southern unless you start with a stick of butter.” You can try it with a stick of butter (1/2 cup) if you want, but I want to live a long HEALTHY life, so the 2 TBS are enough for me.
Cornbread
2 TBS butter (melted in skillet)
1 Cup Cornmeal
1 Cup Flour
1/2 tsp. Salt
4 tsp. baking powder
1 egg
1 cup milk
Measure the cornmeal and flour, salt and baking powder into a bowl, add egg and milk and mix until smooth, but don’t mix too much. Bake in a buttered skillet at 425 F / 220 C for 20 – 25 minutes, until golden brown on top.
I also put some butter on top when it comes out of the oven, and spread it as it melts.
Chili
500 grams / 1 lb ground beef
1 chopped onion
2 cans red kidney beans, drained
2 small containers tomato paste
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp masa harina (this makes it real, but I don’t know if you can find it in Kuwait)
2 – 5 TBSP chili powder
4 cups water
Brown ground beef in medium large pot, drain beef in colandar. While draining beef, brown the onions. Add beef back into pot, add tomato paste, salt, cumin, masa harina, chili powder to taste, and water. Stir well, bring to a boil and then turn to lowest heat and let simmer 2 – 4 hours. Add more water if it gets too think or it starts burning on the bottom. The long slow cooking makes everything tender, and blends all the flavors.
Cornbread and chili
Break cornbread into small pieces in bowl.
Cover with hot chili. Beans and corn are a complementary protein, so you can feel very virtuous eating this – besides, it just smells SOOOO good after those hours of simmering. To add even more healthiness, add some grated cheddar cheese over the top of the hot chili. YuMMMMMMM.
In the South, people break up their cornbread into a glass, and fill the glass with milk. My husband assures me it is delicious. I believe him, but because I didn’t grow up that way, it looks gross and I can’t even watch him eat it that way. But comfort food is comfort food, and if it works for him, I don’t have to watch!
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.
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