Creepy

Mei is currently obsessed with Hayao Miyazaki's latest movie Ponyo. The story is about a fish who falls in love with a boy and turns into a human, something like the little mermaid only a lot weirder. At some point in the movie the boy finds a little goldfish (Ponyo) and sticks her in a green bucket and then spends the next 15 minutes of the movie carrying Ponyo in his green bucket.



Mei is fascinated with the notion of carrying a fish around in a bucket, so she naturally reenacts this whole scene, only she sticks one of my currently-repossessed-childhood-creepy-plastic-dolls in this green see-through plastic bottle. To make matters worse, she completely undresses the doll "mommy, fishes don't wear clothes!"

So for the past two weeks or so, I've been running into this little scene in random parts of our apartment. Almost every single time, my heart almost stops and I gasp, Ponyo!

My husband said it looks like one of those apparatuses with deformed dead fetuses found in olden time circuses. I can't remember what he called it. but it has a name.


So while we're at it, here are a couple more creepy scenes from my archives, 'cause really, why the heck not?

Peace!

Read at your own risk :: Annoyed beyond recognition!

As I stepped out of my dentist's office heading for the elevator, I heard some whispering--"non of your business" I told myself, even though I felt the people behind me whisper about me. "It's all in your paranoid head"I tried to reassure myself...

I pressed the elevator button and waited. When the elevator arrived, I stepped inside and waited for the couple behind me to step in so I can hit the 'G' button. A big boned man in a Yamaka was almost one foot in, when suddenly his whole body jerked backwards--his female partner(who also wore a head scarf like me, only she wrapped it in the traditional Orthodox Jewish fashion) aggressively pulled his shoulders towards her:"Let's just take the next elevator."
 I rolled my eyes at her as the elevator door slid shut.

Really? I mean (for the sake of the argument) If anyone she should be scared, it should have been me (even though I have ridden public transportation and elevators many a times with orthodox Jews. No problem!) I mean,  I was all by myself, and she had her (husband or brother or cousin, who knows?) with her, and he WAS big boned.

Not scared, oh you hate Muslims and can't stand the sight of them, or sharing a tiny little space like an elevator with them. Can we be at least a little more subtle? Eg: Oh, look at my absent minded self, I forgot my phone at the doctors office. (believable and thoughtful)

One of the many things I enjoy about this country (and I've just mentioned it in an earlier post this week) is: diversity and freedom of expression. So you can wear  your religious attire and I can wear mine--It's true that we are after all human and come with our baggage, but can we leave this baggage for a mere two minutes behind us until the elevator reaches the ground floor, and try to be courteous to one another in a civilized manner... Please?

This little gesture made me feel at first like I'm a terrorist. Second, like a piece of trash. Then finally after I reasoned with myself a little, I felt superior (which is still not a very good feeling, I became judgmental, self deprecating and finally conceited. so pretty much horrible in  every possible way) Cheers for bringing my lower self on the surface. So glad I know better to generalize. hmph!

Can I attempt to lighten the mood a little, or have I irreversibly darkened it?

 Garden table::our very late CSA pickup, we have peas people (amongst other things) but peas!

Ah, I already feel better!

Peace.

Bench Monday and the great escape

Right now I am in the middle of my great escape... I am upstairs and the girls are downstairs with their father, whom I have told to finish dinner while handling the girls. why? well, let's just say that it's one of those days. I found myself screaming at Mei for the littlest thing, so I decided it's best if mama is away for an hour.
And this is my way of release I suppose. typing to a blank screen, knowing very well, that I might get several phone calls asking for my well being. Rest assured everyone, I am well.. and being...

We have a promise from the weather guy on the radio that the sun will arrive this Wednesday, we're waiting. I am from Africa (even though most Egyptians seem to miss this little piece of information when identifying themselves, nevertheless) I strive on sunshine. So I await...

The idea of taking solace in a pint of chocolate ice cream did cross my mind, but "we" just finished the last two slices of chocolate cream pie, and I had that hearty pot roast dinner I just blogged about last night. It was everything one needs to beat three consecutive dreary days, with a forecast of two more. ukh! (and I have decided that this will be my new dish for dinner parties--abandoning my famous roasted chicken repertoire).

And yellow flowers help.

I should go save my husband.

Tomorrow will be better inshaAllah.

Peace.

Guess what, the sun just peeked out from behind the clouds:)

huh?

Today was a 'nothing day'-- meaning,  it looked like rain, yet it didn't rain. It looked extremely cold, but it in fact, was not extremely cold. I wanted the car because I am spoiled that way, but instead my husband had to drive the car to work. The babysitter was supposed to come, but somehow she never came... You know one of those days.

I really tried to get motivated and do something fun with the girls, but... nothing, I'm telling you! I mean Me and Mei drew next to each other (literally, we do this neat thing these days, where we draw the same things in the same notebook on opposite pages-like I draw a fish on the right page and she draws a fish on the left and so on), and Grabby and I read books, and all three of us did all the puzzles we currently own (seven) . And we pretend cooked and real cooked, and we also watched peter pan, and skipped the pirate parts, because Mei didn't like them "Mommy they're scary!"

We did not leave our little nook though, we just kept roaming the house randomly, and eventually the day evolved into a 'nothing day' (I am not sure if I am making sense, but if you're a stay-at-home-mom, spending the whole day with no tall people to talk to, and feeling unwilling to venture out because it looks insanely gloomy, you might get an idea of what I just shared... or not!)

Eventually the clock struck five, the car was available, the husband took Mei to the park, and Mommy and Grabby finished our shopping for the week. Right before I hopped in the car-- with baby and groceries in their assigned places. I got approached by a tall person whom I do not know. She asked me If I was a Muslim and I confirmed. (what do you think gave me away?)

Battlestar Galactica's episode tonight was especially weird--yet fitting to a day like today.

This was taken from a sunnier day, thought it's a better ending for today's post.

Peace.

Trash day/Egyptian Easter/read at your own risk

Hello!

Tomorrow is garbage collection day... in Canada. If you happen to live in Canada you'll know what a big deal this is. If you are a mere visitor-- which I currently am-- you'll find yourself amidst a frenzy of people, hustling to get every single correct trash in it's assigned collection boxes. They have a book to assist the novice user, yes a book, not a booklet. An.Actual.Trash.Book!

 We were looking for a somewhat bearable motel to spend the night at, when we were coming up here, I find one with a recycling box in front of it. "Must be a decent one" I tell my husband. "Honey, this is Canada!" He wisely points out...right!

***
Easter::

Here's a question for my fellow Egyptian readers. I happen to believe that we (meaning us awesome Egyptians) celebrate the arrival of spring "sham el neseem" which literally translates to "the sniffing of the breeze"and which also happens to be around the same time as Easter. My mother and my father (who are both super Egyptian and are my reference to Egyptian traditions/celebrations and in general all things Egyptian) told me that the ancient Egyptians celebrated spring by eating greens (lettuce) and painting eggs. I am not sure about our infamous "feseekh (rotten fish) and renga (smoked, super salty fish) eating." Quite frankly I don't care much to know, for the stinkiest thing we eat in our household are boiled eggs.
 Here's my question (phew) Is this pharaonic tradition (egg painting) true? I grew up painting eggs for "sham el neseem." If you guys confirm, then I do declare this one is a must for next year. Here's a little egg painting tip for next year. don't boil your eggs before painting. Instead color them or draw on them without boiling being super careful not to squish them. And then poke two parallel tiny holes at both ends (the long end) and blow your raw egg out in a bowl,  then string the empty painted shells together.
Yes, we did that when I was little. Neat huh?

***

Read at your own risk::

My camera has gone missing again (significant other, if you're reading this, do tell. Where did you pack it? and yes I am blaming you in public, and yes I acknowledge it's totally my fault. And while we're at it, I totally misplaced my glasses and am roaming the house like a mad woman looking for them, while thinking of my official glasses spotter. I miss you!) No photos. sorry for that, and for the previous public conversation.

It's 1 am and I am totally blaming my mom for keeping me up late, talking about Jinn (no sleep tonight, I am totally making her read the first two chapters of the quran)

Peace.

Note: I totally didn't proof read this  (not that it makes a big difference in my case) I need some shut eyes!!!

Just SCREAM!

I have one week left to finish my online writing class. I have three classes to go through, a ton of writing exercises, and a paper to hand in... Also a program to download so I can do all of the above.
Here's what I've learned so far:

I can spot most of my writing mistakes right away.
I have been reluctant to write because of the above reason.
I am a slacker.
It is very difficult to finish two writing classes back to back let alone three, my brain is fried people.
It's no fun learning about something you think you like-- you might discover you probably don't like it that much.
My writing skills are exactly the same-- expect now I can spot my mistakes.

Right now, my baby sitter is downstairs with the girls and I should be catching up with my class. Instead, I find myself looking at my sewing machine in despair. Maybe I signed up for the wrong class!

***

The other day I was thinking about all the the stuff looming over my head, while watching my three year old trash our living room (I've been unsuccessfully trying to teach her to clean up after herself...she's taking her sweet time) 
Okay Mei, let's leave all this junk behind and go outside for a walk. (Trying a final route to not give in to depression.)
No! I want to stay here.
Mei, pleeeease.
No mommy, let's make a train.
Mei, you'll get a lollipop when we go out, better yet, we can go to the coffee shop for some warm-hot-chocolate!
She thought for a little while. No. was her firm well thought of reply.

I was quite for about five minutes and then it came out, AHHHHHHHHHHH I screamed at the top of my lungs.
Mei looked at me perplexed and then she said: Mommy is this a game... A screaming game?
Yes! It's a contest Mei, of who can scream the loudest! Ready... AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! We both yelled together, then Grabby came closer to where we stood and gave her strongest squeal yet.

Our screams were replaced with loud laughter.. and then a miracle happened. Mei started picking up her blocks... all one hundred of them.

It pays off sometimes, you know being mad n all!

Peace.

Mind Games

 (this is a read-at-your-own-risk blog because it might be too religious for some, so it's your call really!)

If you are a practicing Muslim, then you might have an idea of what I am about to share with you today. If you're not-- then this is all new to you. I thought today I might share a real day to day struggle for my Muslim self. This is by no means an account for all Muslims... Most Muslims (and non Muslims) are better than me, and most humans have different struggles with different levels, at different stages of their lives. Below is a little scene about a little mind game I play with myself, oh about 25 times a day. Some days are better than others, this one is from the... well... others:

I am preparing lunch for everyone in the house. I glance at the digital stove clock-- 12:30 it reads. Good I have plenty of time left. (I just prayed Dhur *noon prayer*)
I proceed with my green monster soup making, put Grabby on her highchair and have Mei sit on hers.

Three hours pass...

I am on the floor multitasking: Nursing baby while reading all the books Mei can find and bring me one after the other. I take another glance at the stove clock-- 3:20 pm it reads. I have a little over two more hours, maybe I should wash up and pray quickly...

An hour or so later...

The stove clock reads: 4:35 pm. I am washing the dishes and thinking about dinner, and bedtime routine. Meanwhile Grabby is emptying the contents of the kitchen cabinet by my feet, and Mei is watching Kai lan and pretending to be the baby rabbit from the show.

Some time later (you do the math!)...
The stove clock reads: 5:15 pm-- Dang, *Maghrib (dusk prayer) enters in 15 minutes, I need to run!
I swiftly turn off the running water, wipe my hands on my pants as I carefully jump over Grabby. I struggle with the safety knob on the bathroom door to open. Then shut the door as fast as I can to avoid an approaching Grabby from slipping inside the bathroom from under my legs (she's very slick this little one). I wash up for prayer, while still keeping an ear for any turbulence from the other end of the bathroom door. Two minutes later I emerge triumphant, I jolt through the rest of the house and arrive at the other end (no worries, our house is conveniently tiny)--the cupboard where I keep my Isdal (prayer garment) and my rug is on that end. Seconds later I am raising my palms with open fists right by my ears. Allahu Akbar (God is great)...

I often time think it's easier to not have to interrupt life for prayer, certainly not five times a day. Often times I am wrong... With this particular issue I am always wrong... I am always grateful I have to interrupt life. It brings me back to center, be it-- while washing the dishes, shopping in the mall, (watching a movie in the theater) or soundly sleeping at the wee hours of the morning. I never ever have this regret after performing my prayer. Before the prayer-- well, I won't lie to you.

Years back (pre-husband and kiddos and America era) I was spending the night with a friend of mine, and as these things go, we were chatting away in darkness... and again as these things go the conversation took a spiritual turn and we were asking each other about our favorite or easiest form of worship. Reading the Quran, she answered quickly without even stopping to think. Really? That's like the hardest thing for me (I was educated in English schools and classical Arabic was a bit of a challenge for me, let alone archaic Arabic).
What's yours she asked. Praying, I paused or Fasting. I can't decide.

Today, praying and fasting are a great struggle for me-- I perform them the way we're supposed to. I put them off most of the time, but when I finally perform them, I get reminded again why It's a choice. It's like that phone call with your father that you're dreading, but then you call and really it's not that bad. It's as-a-matter-of-fact so pleasant you don't want to hang up.

Speaking of which. It's *isha time (night prayer time).

Peace.

*The Five Obligatory Prayer Times these days (they change according to day light hours-- which means everyday)::

Fajr         4:54 AM (Dawn Prayer time enters, Night prayer time ends)
Shuruq    6:38 AM (Sunrise, time for Dawn Prayer ends)
Dhur      12:04 PM (Noon prayer time enters)
Asr          3:03 PM (After-noon prayer time enters, noon prayer time ends)
Maghrib  5:31 PM (Dusk Prayer time enters, after-noon prayer time ends)
Isha         7:04 PM (Night prayer time enters, Dusk prayer time ends)
 ***
I was told by my super observant significant other that I made some crucial typos that directly affect my story, so I went back and corrected them for the sake of saving you (dear very patient reader) the confusion. Sorry about that!

Read at your own risk :: Gay Pride Parade

I know this is a very controversial topic. Hence the title read at your own risk. And please if you don't agree or don't like what I'm saying. Try to respect our differences and if you're to leave a comment . Try to be nice. ( I am really worried. But I am blogging about it anyway. Even though my husband advised me not to!)

Once upon a time, I came to a foreign land where norms and cultures differ drastically from my own. I was raised in a somewhat conservative culture, compared to the west. (Egypt compared to other Arab countries can be seen as quite open. Everything is relative, right?)
Women in Egypt can wear tight clothing as long as they don't show flesh. Or at least in some neighborhoods. We aren't known to have gender segregation as is the norm in other Arab countries.

Being gay in Egypt though, is not even to be spoken of. If you happen to be gay in Egypt then you definitely keep it in the closet. If there's a hint or suspicion. You can easily get beaten and cast out. If you drink alcohol or have premarital sex( this applies only to men) on the other hand, well lets just say, it's not considered that much of a big deal ( Drinking alcohol, engaging in homosexual relations and premarital sex are all major sins in Islam.)

That said-I have never openly seen a gay person before ( I mean sure there were a lot of rumors and speculations about certain people we knew. But no one could freely come out as a gay person) until I came to this country.

After I had my first born, I started attending a new mommies group in Madison WI. Amongst the mommies, there were two gay mommy couple. Needless to say I was shocked! And to add to my confusion- all the other mommies embraced the couple immediately, and were appalled by how they were mistreated ( discriminated against, if you will) by their own parents. I didn't know of any other way to think at the time except to agree with the parents and ricochet their thoughts: the little poor baby is going to definitely be messed up for life. Two mommies raising a baby ( that can't be normal!)

This was me three summers ago. I don't hold that opinion anymore. After discussions upon discussions with my ever so patient, American husband. I have come around ( and if you're an Egyptian reading this, don't roll your eyes yet. I'm explaining my point in a second)
How many kids do you know got raised by their aunts, grandma's, or other women in the absence of a father and turned out just fine? Even more, how many kids got raised by a single parent and turned out swell? ( Are you getting my point. Not really... Oh well, I tried)

What I'm trying to say is- being gay doesn't by default make one a bad parent. Actually there are many horrible straight parents out there that without doubt mess up their kids.

( for the record I don't approve of Homosexual relationships. As I mentioned earlier it's prohibited in Islam.)

Being gay doesn't mean you're a bad parent or person for that matter. A gay person is a human being. He/she can be a good parent or a bad one. That's what I have come to realize after living in this country. (Traveling and living in a different country is a good thing. It opens up the mind in ways you can never imagine. If you've never done it. Try it. You can only gain. Trust me.)

Yesterday, was, I guess the National Gay Pride Parade day. If I had only known!

So I was minding my own business, and clueless-ly walking around dressed in an Arabian style black "Abaya" ( a traditional flow-y dress like garment that Arabian women wear) and a white beaded head scarf ( apparently screaming for attention, since most people in the street were half naked. I seriously thought there was a beach event somewhere 'cause people were wearing what seemed to my untrained eyes like some sort of an ostentatious, swimwear costume.)

As I was pushing my big red, double, jogging stroller, with both my girls strapped inside. Two obviously gay men, appeared in front of me. Dressed in super tight, super short, super sparkly, hot shorts. Complimented by a tight t-shirt, bunched up in the middle of their chests, with an eighties style big knot. Resulting in a view of way too much skin than I care to see.

One of them jumped really close to me. Made a wailing girl-y hand movement while breaking a high pitched shriek, then hopped back next to his partner.( I guess he was pretending to be scared of me or something, who knows?) I freaked out for a second, but managed to keep my cool. Later, I learned that it was Gay Pride Parade day. Go figure!

Here's the thing. I am not against someone being gay. I can relate somehow, since they're a minority and I have experienced being a minority in this country.

I will add by saying that (God forbids) But, if one of my girls turned out to be gay. I would without hesitation embrace her. I know It will be very disappointing, because it would mean a pretty different life with a big challenge for us both( May God protect us). But nonetheless she's still my daughter.

Being gay doesn't contradict with being a Muslim. One can be Muslim and Gay. But not act on it. ( According to Islamic law- It's forbidden for a male or female gay person to get married to the opposite sex or any sex for that matter, because it would be unfair to the other person. I know that because I read it in *Hedaya Hartford's Islamic marriage book.)

What I am against is going out in public and provoking people. I know I am probably failing drastically at conveying a lot of points. And I will never succeed at doing so.
So here's an article doing a much better job at some of what I'm trying to convey. Here's a cynical and exaggerated one by the onion.

I'm pretty sure I should've taken my husbands advice. I just wanted some to see the picture through the other perspective.

I'll end with a quote my husband said, in response to a question asked by a Gay listener. He was giving a talk about Islam in an Unitarian Church in Madison WI.

"Homosexual acts, are prohibited in Islam, and are sinful. But Disobeying one's parents is a much bigger sin."

Peace.

***

Disclaimer::

I apologize, if I have offended anyone. This post was meant as a reflection on unfamiliar encounters. It is not aimed at/ or meant to offend anyone.

I also apologize for my poor writing skills. I should've edited and re-edited, and I keep seeing all these mistakes. Alas, what's done is done. I don't have time for a better quality piece. Sorry!

***

*Hedaya Hartford

Known for her Sharia expertise on women's issues regarding the fiqh of menstruation, lochia, marriage, divorce, and modern social issues, Ustadha Hedaya holds a B.A. in Arabic and Islamic History & Culture from the University of California, Berkeley. She converted to Islam in 1981, and soon after traveled to Egypt, where she studied for many years with Azhari scholars. She continued her studies in Syria, completing several books with top scholars, and now lives, teaches, and studies in Amman. Ustadha Hedaya has published two popular books on marriage and one book on women’s fiqh issues.

( copied from her bio. on Sunnipath)

Read at your own risk series :: Pilot

Summer is kicking in, even though we are amidst some serious showers(right now) with a nice cool breeze setting in. Last night though we have officially experienced our first night of, kicking the covers off the bed while contemplating turning on the AC so we'd have a more restful less sweaty sleep.

One of the questions I get asked often by random strangers in this season is: How can you possibly wear this thing on your head? And/or Aren't you CRAZY hot? You poor thing!( The last sentence is usually a look that summons the questions)and the interesting thing is I only get asked these questions by women. ( I also get complemented about my scarves a lot by women. what can I say we're curious beings:))

To answer all you curious women out there: Yes. I am crazy hot wearing a scarf on my head. And you can't see it, but I am also sweating intensely around my neck area. Especially that it's not only hot but the humidity level in this part of the world reaches up to 90 percent. I don't mind being asked these questions by-the-way. What I do mind is the "poor you" look I get. Because I choose to wear this extra piece of material, that makes me about 3 percent more hot than you are(I hope the people who asked me these questions are reading right now, because I can never be that articulate on the spot, plus I am shy, plus, plus this person is probably not reading this because they're either in the mall where I left them or in the farmers market where I also left them! And yes I'm pretty sure it's only 3 percent. My hot-o-meter affirmed it to me). It's not a big deal. It's not easy. It's a little annoying but it's what I do because I am a practicing Muslim.

Just like because you are an ethical person who chooses to recycle or compost or support your local farmers or a number of things that can be a little annoying or not the easiest thing to do. But because you believe in it, you go a little out of your way. Maybe I am not putting it in the best context, but this is as much approximation as I can think of at this time of day after successfully putting two little people to bed (after a long day, part of which I was forced to go out in the pouring rain *which I was grateful for afterward* and splash like crazy. kids are fun!)

OK this wasn't meant to be a rant. I don't like doing that. I only like to blog about happy things. Who wants to read about this stuff. There's plenty of this stuff out there, let me not add to it. This space is to be thankful and grateful which I truly am. Alhamdulilah ( All praise to God)

Actually what started this whole thing was reading this ( I don't think she's sloppy at-all by the way. You should have seen me in my glorious teens!). And remembering how in my pre-scarf wearing Era, I used to like/wear the sloppy look a lot. But lets face it with a headscarf, it just looks too strange and too... well, if you will- Sloppy.
I'm pretty sure I confused all of my non-Muslim readers. But then, yet again I'm pretty sure my Muslim-readers aren't in a better shape themselves. If you have questions you can email me or just leave me a comment.

For now this is all I have for you. A read at your own risk, and from the title you might have figured, there might be more to come. We'll see won't we.

Later...

Peace