Fairhope and Panini Pete’s
‘What are we up to today?” one of the Doha reunion visitors asked as we sat around the breakfast table at the Shiny Diner.
“I was thinking a drive into Alabama,” I threw out, “Or is there anything you have heard of you would like to visit, or re-visit?”
“I’ve never been in Alabama before!” one guest enthused. “I could cross it off my list!”
We dropped one friend off at the airport, said our farewells, and headed into Alabama. For those of you who are thinking it might be a long trip, Pensacola is close to the border; 20 minutes later we were in Alabama.
“Where are we going?” the remaining two visitors asked.
“I’m thinking Fairhope,” I responded, “it’s cute, and there are walks, and shopping, and cute restaurants.”
While we are not world-class shoppers, Fairhope is enticing, with it’s small boutiques and specialty shops. It’s not like the same-old same-old in every mall and strip-mall.
As we walked along the Fairhope Pier, we guessed how long it was. We saw several people doing laps of the pier – what a great place to walk, all that fresh air, the view of the Mobile skyline, the wind and the water. One of the walkers strolled along with us and told us the pier was exactly 1/4 mile, so if you walk out and back, you have walked 1/2 mile. She also gave us a recommendation for a place to eat, in Fairhope’s French Quarter, Panini Pete’s. “Be sure to eat outside,” she counseled us.
We found Panini Pete’s, and snagged a place in the gazebo, which I thought was ‘outside’.
It was a lovely location. My friends had the Reuben sandwiches with special homemade chips:
I had the house salad with grilled chicken:
We spent a lovely time dining, only to discover that we were not outside; this is what ‘outside’ is:
I did not take a photo of dessert – we shared an order of beignet. These were the big round fluffy beignets, covered with powdered sugar. So yummy!
It was a great visit, even though we never found an Alabama Starbucks cup for our visiting friend, she did get to spend time in Alabama. Next reunion, maybe we will check off Louisiana and Mississippi, the only other states she has not visited.
A and E Drugstore in Pensacola
When I got here, the only quilt shop had closed, leaving me with JoAnn Fabrics as my only alternative. I’d been here about 10 months when one of my bible-study buddies asked me if I had ever heard of A & E? Well, yes, I had heard people mentioning they were running there, but I’d never been there. My friend took me there – took me to heaven for a quilter. You would never guess this place had bolts and bolts of just-what-you-never-knew-you-needed.
I went back yesterday looking for something exotic and out of the ordinary, and I found it – of course. As I went in, I had to laugh. I had been telling my friends what I really needed was the Kuwait or Qatar souks, where shiny fabrics are everywhere, and I needed some specific shiny fabric. I grinned because I realized this is the Pensacola souk, where you can find just about anything, especially if it sparkles. This is just a small part of the selection for Mardi Gras:
If you’ve ever watched Treme’, you will understand that there were a lot of people in A and E buying sparkle – sparkly masks, sparkly fabric, sparkly everything. As I was checking out, I even saw a separate section where you could buy beads in bulk, a really good thing in a town with a lot of parades where beads are thrown to the crowd.
But it isn’t called A and E Fabrics . . . it’s called A & E Drugstore! There is a pharmacy there, and a whole lot of home health care supplies. Just all part of the serendipity and quirkiness that is Pensacola. 🙂
Qwon Chi Sushi
I was on a mission. This wasn’t one of those leisurely trips through the supermarket, this was one of those four-things-on-the-list trips – grab, pay and go.
But I had to pass the sushi section en route to the chicken section, and they were offering free samples. I took one; it looked interesting.
“New sushi” he said with a grin.
“What kind is it?” I asked
“Qwon Chi Roll” he said confidently.
“”Qwon Chi?” I asked.
“No, Qwon Chi Roll” he said, but this time the accent was on the first syllable.
“Qwon’-Chi” I repeated, trying to figure out what it was.
He kept smiling but he was not happy; I wasn’t getting it. He reached behind him and pulled out a sign:
CRUNCHY ROLL
I thought of all my “Woh is der bahnhof” moments, when I have spoken to people in their own language and they couldn’t understand me, and I just had to laugh. What goes around truly comes around, doesn’t it?
Shopping Bust
Most of the time, thanks be to God, I am not much of a shopper. Amazon.com saves me; often I wait too long and rather than run from store to store for what I am looking for, I go to Amazon and with just a few clicks, there it is. I may see it later, for less – or maybe not – but Amazon has saved me the frustration of trying to find it and failing. Like there is this particular filter my refrigerator needs; I can run from store to store looking for it (and failing) or I can order it from Amazon.com, and have it in a couple days. Same with printer ink. If I happen to find that filter or that ink on sale, I buy a bunch, so I don’t have to shop again.
Today, I had a list of six items. I plotted my course. These are not items that are of critical importance, just things I am watching for at the right price, and one item was on sale, a really good sale, with a coupon.
What would those things be? A floor lamp, strong enough to read by at night, and a mirror like the one my daughter-in-law has that makes me look 25 again. A table and chair for Happy Toddler’s room. Some shiny fabric like fingernails, and some that evokes a snake. Hair stuff.
I came home with one thing, actually part of one thing. They were two for $12, but there was only one. I got a rain check, but I went from store to store, and felt increasingly frustrated at not finding exactly what I wanted. I am not often a happy shopper who likes to just roam and look, no, I know what I want and I am trying not to take it personally that I didn’t find it.
Our New Year came in sweetly. We had the Happy Toddler staying overnight with us. He is so calm and so sweet, and it was just easy. We took him to church in the morning, and dropped him off late morning at his parents, who we think enjoyed sleeping in even more than the movie. Lunch with good friends, great conversation, great meal, home for a snooze and a quiet evening. Life is good.
Today we had a really good work out at the water aerobics class, hit Tudos for lunch, and were delighted to see them doing huge business, full of families and large groups still celebrating the holidays. I worked on a quilting project most of the afternoon, except for the shopping fiasco.
Baby’s Room
Our little grandson is old enough to start spending the night with us. First, AdventureMan had to install a gate, as the Baby room is at the top of stairs, and oh, he loves stairs. We can’t take a chance on him tackling the stairs without one of us present to ‘assist’ (i.e. supervise; make sure he is safe).
Back when I first got to Kuwait, I found these gorgeous turquoise panels at the Kuwait Thursday-Friday market for a song. They are a color I think of as Tuareg Blue; the men of the mountains in Algeria and parts of Morocco wear this gorgeous deep turquoise shade, and the dye rubs off and colors their skin, so some call them The Blue Men.
I’ve carted them around for six years now, waiting for the right use. I thought about parting with them when I left Qatar . . . but didn’t. I thought about parting with then here, as I went through a spree of paring down and packing things out to the Waterfront Mission . . . but I didn’t. All of a sudden, I knew how they were meant to be used, and what a wonderful blast of color they put in ‘Baby’s Room.’
I LOVE the patterns on the panels. Every one is different; I could not find any two panels the same. The vendor was Sudanese; I am tempted to think these might be Sudanese; I have never seen anything like them before or since in the fabric souks of Kuwait or Doha. They aren’t quite enough fabric to be saris, but they might be just enough for a sefsari, the cover worn by the women in Tunisia when we lived there – maybe 4.5 – 5 meters each, sold for less than $3.00 a panel. 🙂
We needed to get black-out curtains up, as the Happy Toddler takes after me, up with first light. It’s better for all of us if he can sleep a little later 🙂 But these panels attatched easily to the under curtains, and now his room is all ready for him – now he sleeps in a big boy bed and the crib has converted to a settee.
After all the wonderful days of family and friends, and eating meals back and forth, I was ready for a quiet projects day. I feel so good getting this project DONE! Don’t you love the color of these panels?
Excitement at the Apple Market
“This is what happens when you live in a state where every other person is carrying a handgun,” AdventureMan grumbled as we left the Apple Market.
We had been to see the new Sherlock Holmes Movie, Game of Shadows, (really action packed, by the way, and entertaining) when we remembered we needed milk. The Publix parking lot, shared with Toys R Us, is totally gridlocked on this Wednesday night before Christmas, and we figure the Winn Dixie, shared with Target, Michaels, etc. will be another gridlock. Although the Apple is out of the way, we always love to stop at the Apple Market.
As we are heading into a light, we hear sirens. We pull over (it’s the LAW) and two police cars go wailing past.
“I hope it’s not the Apple Market,” I say.
The fog is thick as pea soup, and we drive a lot more slowly than usual. As we near the Apple market, we can see lots of lights – but they are at the CVS next door, four squad cars with their lights twinkling blue.
“Think it’s OK to go into the Apple Market?” I ask AdventureMan.
“Yeh – I see customers going in and out; I think it must be OK.”
We go in, make our purchases. As we are checking out, we overhear one customer telling another that “someone saw a guy breaking into a car and started yelling at him to stop. He got into his car and tried to run down the other guy but the guy SHOT at him!”
At this point, I don’t know who shot at whom. I don’t know if the situation was under control. There was a part of me that wished we weren’t at the Apple Market, because if there are people shooting guns (and did I mention it is really foggy?) some innocent bystander-customer could get hurt . . .
Hardware for Women in Pensacola
Sign along Palafox, a main shopping street in Pensacola:
A little closer:
Yes. It’s a jewelry store. I LOVE their creativity – great advertising 🙂
Islamic cleric bans women from touching bananas, cucumbers for sexual resemblance
Thank you, John Mueller, for the following article, which is sadly hilarious:
An Islamic cleric in Europe says that women should avoid bananas, cucumbers, zucchini and other phallic fruits and vegetables. They may arouse sexual thoughts and that would be horrible.
Bikamasr reported, via ROP:
An Islamic cleric residing in Europe said that women should not be close to bananas or cucumbers, in order to avoid any “sexual thoughts.”
The unnamed sheikh, who was featured in an article on el-Senousa news, was quoted saying that if women wish to eat these food items, a third party, preferably a male related to them such as their a father or husband, should cut the items into small pieces and serve.
He said that these fruits and vegetables “resemble the male penis” and hence could arouse women or “make them think of sex.”
He also added carrots and zucchini to the list of forbidden foods for women.
The sheikh was asked how to “control” women when they are out shopping for groceries and if holding these items at the market would be bad for them. The cleric answered saying this matter is between them and God.
And what about the poor Moslem men, handling peaches, grapefruits, pomegranates . . . . . . ? Ah yes, between them and God.
You can read the entire article in it’s origin by clicking BIKYAMASR HERE
My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud’homme
I wish I had more self-discipline, and read more heavy weight books, but what I find is that when I read heavy non-fiction these days, it falls over when I fall asleep. Mostly, I read the New Yorker, or catch up with my news online, while listening to NPR.
I don’t know how I got My Life in France, if I ordered it or if I bought it in B&N. I’ve had it for a while. We’ve always loved Julia Child; her programs were a hoot, and she was an accomplished woman who never took herself too seriously. I will never forget one time I saw her on a Martha Stewart Christmas Special; they were doing a tall Croquembouche, and at one point, Julia was not throwing on the caramelized sugar strings the way Martha wanted her to and she grabbed the little thrower-thing out of Julia’s hand to show her how. I gasped! That is like grabbing a spoon from the Queen of England, no! No! You can’t grab a spoon from Julia Childs! You can’t show Julia Childs how to do it, Martha, you BOW to Julia Childs!
Julia Childs, classy woman that she was, just watched Martha with fascination and never showed an ounce of annoyance.
The book is hilarious. While alive, she worked with her grandson, Alex Prud-homme, gathering correspondence – she was a copious letter writer, and people in those days kept their snail mail to refer back to, the way we keep e-mails. They sat in her sunny garden, and he would ask her a few questions, and off she would go, regaling him with stories of people, places, occasions, parties, and especially FOODS.
Julia Childs worked for the OSS in World War II, the forerunner to the CIA. Stationed in India, she met her husband, and after the war ended, they married. Stifled in her California life, and and Paul jumped at a chance to live overseas. Imagine – Paris! She had to adapt to a totally different way of life, totally different living space, a totally different way of shopping for food, and she had to learn to cook. Since she was in Paris, and because she is the woman she is, she signed up for cooking classes at the Cordon Bleu, where she worked hard to master the techniques to successfully produce the sauces and delicate flavors which makes French cuisine so delicious.
She also moves to Marseilles, to post-war Germany, and to Norway, and manages to produce two books, each of which took, literally, years to finalize, because of her attention to detail, and wanting to make sure that women using her books could understand exactly what to do, and when to do it.
This is a really fun book. I would have loved to know this adventurous, courageous woman, who meticulously tested every recipe for Mastering the Art of French Cooking and changed the lives of serious cooks in America. No, I have never cooked from her book. No, I don’t have her book. I have a Larousse Gastronomique, from which she worked to get the ‘true’ Frenchness of French cooking, but I don’t have any cook books by Julia. I have put out a hint, though, and I am hoping to get one for Christmas. 🙂 Not just for me – AdventureMan is making serious inroads into adventurous cooking. He has mastered blackened fish tacos, and seared tuna, woo hoooo! He is working on the ultimate cornbread. Just wait until I get him started on the quintessential French Onion Soup, or even – maybe – French bread!
My Saudi Shoes
“I love your shoes!” my friend cried. “Where did you find them?”
“It was thirteen years ago, in Saudi Arabia” I told her.
“Thirteen years? They look brand new!”
(These are not my shoes. These are shoes Saudi women can buy in Saudi Arabia.)
Ummm, well . . . when you live in super hot countries during those thirteen years, you don’t often wear closed toed shoes. It’s more comfortable to wear sandal style shoes, and more hygienic – when you live in the dry heat, your feet can get hard and cracked, and are vulnerable to feet fungus. Your feet need to breathe. Most of my shoes are open, but we are starting to have occasional chill weather in Pensacola. The flowers of the South have all pulled out their heavy sweaters and are wrapping wool scarves around their necks, even wearing winter coats.
Since the current cold snap features daily highs that are normal for Seattle or Germany in the summer, and since I thrive in the cold and suffer in the heat, I am in long sleeve lightweight t-shirts and sweaters, and – closed toed shoes.
I dread close-toe shoe season. My feet no longer like to be confined in shoes or boots. My toes hurt when I walk too much in them. So I have only a few pair of winter shoes, but really good ones. 🙂
Saudi Arabia was one of the best places for buying shoes I have ever lived, with entire floors of malls devoted entirely to shoe shops. Prices were reasonable; French and Italian shoes were cheaper in Saudi Arabia than they were in France and Italy, maybe because of the taxes imposed by the Eurozone.
Think about it. When you live in a country where women are all covered, wearing abayas, and they are supposed to keep their hair covered (most of us shameless westerners carried a scarf but did not wear it unless ordered to do so by the religious police / Muttawa) and the most modest women even cover their face, what is there to wear that people will notice? And women ARE women . . . Yes! Shoes!
The Saudi women wore fabulous shoes, and they wore delicate black lace gloves, and they wore scent. They bought Berkin bags and Hermes headscarves, and fabulous Chopard watches. When a group of Saudi women would walk by, you would be enveloped by a cloud of the headiest, most seductive scents in the world. And oh, holy smokes, the shoes . . . Saudi women were just beginning to experiment with a little embellishment when I left – a little Swarovski crystal leaf on a scarf, or a sprinkling of crystals on the neckline of an abaya, some embroidery on a hem, a dark green abaya instead of severe black . . . women are women, no matter where we are. We like a little sparkle, and we buy things that make us feel special.
The shoes my friend liked are Italian, navy leather heels with a kind of leather lace around the toe area. They are lovely, and I wear them happily (for a short while) during closed-toe season. They are classic, and I am hoping I can wear them another twenty years or so, which is entirely possible if I only wear them during cold snaps in Pensacola. 🙂
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