The Eid Happenings

Tray of mansaf that I prepared for Eid ul-Adha lunch. Husband's nephew making a ball of rice with his hand, affectionately known as the "kurat mansaf."

Alhamdulillah we slaughtered two sheep today; may Allah accept our udhiyyah. One of them was actually a long overdue aqeeqah for my two and a half year old daughter. Better late than never, I suppose.

The news of Saddam Hussein's execution early on this morning made me feel sick all day long, however. It kind of put a black cloud on the normally happy Eid mood. I just think that justice could have been carried out in a proper trial, in a proper non-biased court at the Hague, you know? That's all I'm going to say. The only real justice, after all, is with Allah.

Something that did put a smile on my face was finding out that my sister traveled from her home state (not NY!) all the way to Harlem and waited for hours standing outside of the Apollo Theatre to get a last look at James Brown. I used to do a really great impression of James Brown, a la Eddie Murphy/Saturday Night Live. (late 80s, remember?)

Reading my sister's email made me spontaneously yell, "Hot Tub! Hhheeeeh, too hot in the hot tub! Burn my feet!" which of course grabbed the attention of my mother-in-law. But, alas, she's known me long enough to expect an occasional outburst of lunacy. She doesn't really question it anymore.

Anyway...

These are the Days of Eid. Make takbeer. Make thikr. Give away your udhiyyah meat. Go visit a neighbor or an elderly person you have not seen in a long time. Make amends with someone who has wronged you or someone you have wronged. Sit and play with your kids. If you don't have kids, watch someone else's kids and give some tired parents a break. Do some khayr. Remember the true blessings of this holiday. InshaAllah.

Eid Mubarak

First snowball fight of the year.

He was aiming at me, but he missed.


Sahtain wa A'afiya: Cream Puffs, aka Profiteroles



Yum!

Eid Mubarak. May Allah bless your families, your health, your wealth, and most of all strengthen your Iman and purify your intentions to do good deeds in this coming year.

Alhamdulillah, the first big decent rain of the winter season also brought us some snow two nights ago. It was not much, but it was enough for the kids to be able to go out and play. Being from Alabama, a state that gets heavy snow maybe once every few years, I completely understand what it is like to live in an area ill-equipped for inclement weather. In short, it's called PANIC.

In Birmingham, whenever the weather man would mention "flurries" in the forecast, everyone would go hightailing it to the grocery store, stocking up on milk and bread. Then the local news stations would all broadcast from the Piggly Wiggly or the Winn Dixie in order to show all of the nightly viewers the empty bread shelves and wiped out milk section. My friend Ginny's dad used to say, "What are they going to make in the snowstorm, milk sandwiches?" As a 7th grader I thought that was pretty funny.

But as my husband called me from the local bakery two nights ago, I could hear the commotion behind him, the voices of frantic bread and ka'ak buyers stockpiling their winter supplies. There is a real fear of hunger in this country, and while there are of course truly hungry people, most folks here tend to lean on the gluttonous side. (No offense meant, because I count myself as one of the "folks" here.)

Later that evening I was recounting the same "milk sandwich" anecdote to my Filipina friend. I asked her what the 'emergency food' was in the Philippines, and she said, "Well, it's not milk and bread. It's sardines." That made a heck of a lot more sense to me than milk and bread. If a real snowstorm occurs in Amman, and we have no electricity, then the milk is not a good idea. Bread is fine, but without preservatives, a stockpile of bread is going to spoil/dry out/mold in a matter of days. But sardines! Loaded with Omega 3's, long shelf life, tasty, filling, protein-enriched. The next time bad weather heads our way, I might just tell my husband to be a bit more heavy-handed when putting the sardines in the shopping cart.

Anyhow, my purpose of posting in the first place was to wish everyone a blessed Eid, and to share some snow pics. I also included some pics of the cream puffs I made yesterday...I got a wild hair and whipped them up. Winter weather makes me want to bake.

Simbiosis?

Yesterday I took the kids to the dreaded mall--Mecca Mall--to find some Eid clothes. At the door was this sign; I could not resist taking a quick pic, although the security guard looked at me questioningly. Above my head were Christmas trees hanging from the ceiling, interspersed with cut-outs of "fluffy" white sheep.

It seems the mall owners are trying to respect both the Muslim and Christian population this season, with Eid and Christmas falling within the same week.

Why can't the Eid guy have a cool hat?

In Keeping with the Theme...

I forgot to mention that this past Thursday I was invited to Umm Zaid's to partake in a traditional mansaf feast. It was a lovely evening, mashaAllah, and she's right; there was plenty of food to feed the lot of us. May Allah reward her family for their hospitality and generosity. Hopefully we can return the invitation very soon.

Seeing how this week is the end of December, coinciding with Eid ul-Adha, December 31st or New Year's Eve will actually fall on the first day of Eid. Since my son and husband will be out slaughtering (I hate that word, but that's what it is, it's slaughtering) a little sheep or two, I decided to get out my kids' book entitled There's a Frog in My Throat by Loreen Leedy and Pat Street. This book contains 440 animal sayings in the English language. Some of them are all too familiar, and some are really not common, but all are accompanied by illustrations that are pretty funny. Anyhow, I was trying to find all of the "sheep" expressions, and this is what I found:

"He's a wolf in sheep's clothing."
Meaning: He's an enemy pretending to be a friend.

"As innocent as a lamb."
Meaning: Blameless

"Sheepish"
Meaning: Embarrassed

"To get fleeced."
Meaning: To be swindled.

"In two shakes of a lamb's tail."
Meaning: Quickly

"Separate the sheep from the goats."
Meaning: Divide the good from the bad.
(Hey, what's wrong w/ goats?)

"She pulled the wool over his eyes."
Meaning: She fooled him.

"The black sheep of the family."
Meaning: The worst member of the family.
(could that be moi?)

While cats, dogs, and birds have the most entries in the book, the sheep did not fair too badly.

EID GRUMBLINGS

Eid ul-Adha is actually the "biggest" Eid, but for some reason in this part of the world, it takes a back seat to Eid ul-Fitr. Ok ok, to be honest, both the Eids in Jordan are quite lackluster. In America, I guess we used to really play it up and go all out for the kids because we wanted them to feel how special the day was, getting all dressed up and going to the congregational Eid prayer in either the city's largest auditorium or the fairgrounds (my least favorite venue). But here, it's all about drinking tea and visiting people you most of the time do not care about seeing. And the kids get dragged along, from house to house, watching the adults drink tea and eat mamoul. There is really little attention focused on the children, and at least in my husband's family, little, if any, gift-giving. I am always astounded when school starts back up after the Eid break, and my kids' friends will boast their 150 JD Eid money rack-up from relatives. My kids--well, if they've ever come back with five JD, it has been miraculous.

Of course Eid is not about raking in the dough, and I know this. But these are kids, and kids are the same everywhere, and it hurts a mom to see her children disappointed. This past Eid ul-Fitr I told my husband to give his brothers some money to give to our children. They do not know the difference, and their faces really lit up when their 'aamos handed them the money. I'll be doing the same this weekend, I guess. Either that, or I'll just hand them some cash myself.

If anyone has ever experienced the "Eid is so much better in the US and quite frankly sucks in the MidEast" blues, please share! Maybe you have some tips on how to make Eid more festive for the kiddies, in spite of the parents' familial tea drinking duties.

Back to Reality

Well, admittedly I got my feathers in a ruffle about a bunch of nothing today. Why should I care about random comments on my blog? I shouldn't! I am the one who has put my words out here in cyberspace, writing about myself, and inviting comments. And when someone comes along and says something to tick me off, I do the nafs-ish thing, and react belligerently.

Shame on me. Really.

As for an update on my forty day progress, I made it to day 2. I'm starting over tomorrow, inshaAllah, and I am praying that with this week of the first 10 days of Dhuhl Hijjah (tomorrow is the 4th) I can keep myself in check and do good deeds.

In Chapter 14, 'Tolerance and Pardon' in Imam Ghazali's Muslim's Character, he writes,

"It is true that the original nature of a man and his natural temperament play a very big part in a man's being hot-tempered or soft-hearted, serious or hasty, righteous or wicked. But there is a very deep relation between a man's self-confidence and his solemn behavior with others and in forgiving the errors of others. In reality, the more good-mannered and perfect a big man is, in the same proportion his heart will be big and the circle of his tolerance and forbearance will be wide. He will try to find the extenuating circumstances for the errors of others and will accept their apologies when offered. If anybody may attack him with the intention of injuring him, he will look at him as a philosopher looks at the children playing marbles on the roads, and will ignore him."

Beautiful words. I want to be a big person. I want to give others the excuses they deserve. Let us strive to be those who have large circles of tolerance and forbearance. And Ghazali does not mean that when someone is trying to kill you or enslave you, just turn the other cheek. No. He's talking about the verbal attacks, the sarcasm, the insults to your persona. Let's all be philosophers and ignore our transgressors.

I had a rough day with my kids. One of them is sick and very, very whiny. I ended up taking out my frustrations on one of the older ones, which she did not deserve. Sometimes as a mom of four I feel like a walking train wreck. Now they are all sleeping and I have done my nightly inventory of my day, and I think that my behavior today deserves, oh..let's be generous..a D +. Pretty shabby.

With that, I'll call it a night, and inshaAllah start fresh in six hours or so.

New Blog!

Please visit Abu Sinan's wife's new blog, Majlis Manal. She's off to a super start, and inshaAllah I look forward to hearing thought-provoking, great stuff from her.

Just Showing my Claws

I think folks who comment using the "Anonymous" option are too wiener-ish to put their real contact names. That, and they have to hide behind their inability to use a spell-checker. There, I said it!

Someone (Anonymous!) bugged me several times about the picture of a tray of lamb and rice and a rock of sheep's yogurt that I posted on my last entry. I sure do know where I got the pictures, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure it out, but thanks anyhow, matey, for pointing it out to me. I added a nice little link by the pics now, on your behalf.

It was a post about sheep meat, and I really don't think the guy from Karak who took the photo would mind my endorsing his town's historic dish. But just in case he would, it's all cited now, 100% legit! It's his mansaf, not mine! But you know what, the next time I make it, which will probably be this weekend during Eid ul-Adha, I'm going to take a photo! A series of photos! We'll have a mansaf pictorial!

Mutton today, mutton tomorrow, and I'll be damned if it's not mutton all year 'round!

The Sheep-South Connection

My son joined the Kashafeh group at school, which in English is known as the Boy Scouts. We were delighted that he wanted to be a part of this, because they really teach invaluable skills and respect for authority in a time when respect for anyone is practically slim and none. (Not to mention, they can tie some killer knots.)

My sister was a "den mother" in the states, and I know how much my nephew benefited from being a Boy Scout. Here in Jordan, it's a bit different, mostly run by the men, but I still think he made a good choice and I will support him in all of his scouting activities. So far they have had two camping trips away from home, one kind of close to Amman and another, two weeks ago, to Karak. (see Pictures)

Karak is in southern Jordan. Karak is best known for two things: the Karak Castle, and mansaf. Mansaf is the national dish of Jordan for those of you who are not familiar with it. It was originally a traditional bedouin dish, made with the foodstuffs most plentiful to bedouins: sheep/lamb meat and the yogurt produced from the sheep's milk.

When the huge masses of Palestinians entered Jordan, beginning in 1948, with a second large wave in 1967, and then finally the biggest one in 1991 after the first Gulf War, they adopted this Jordanian traditional food and it has now become a favorite among them as well. Anyhow, the first time I tried it, I loved it. I am, however, one who will try anything at least once, as my friends know. The strange thing about my palate is that it likes most things, so my list of favorite dishes keeps on growing. I was never the burger/fry type of eater...as a teenager when everyone was all picky-persnickety about their foods, I was a favorite guest at friends' houses, especially when their moms would make things like liver and onions or brussel sprouts. "BRING IT ON," I'd say!

Which brings me back to the mansaf topic. Most Americans eat lamb with mint jelly or something crazy like that. Jordanians cook like five kilos of the stuff in giant pots (I prefer the pressure cooker) and then put it in the milky soup that comes from the dried sheep yogurt. My kids affectionately (not!) used to call these jameed balls "stinky rocks," because to the novice mansaf eater, they do have a pungent smell. Nowadays in Jordan, however, making mansaf has become easier, and we don't have to mess with the rocks, which we used to have to soak, strain, food process, soak, strain, food process, until they turned into a smooth liquid. I personally open up a package of already liquified jameed and I'm good to go in about 30 minutes.

It's said that the city of Karak claims to be the original city where mansaf was served. Which brings me back to the original topic...Boy Scouts. My son went to Karak Castle, known in the west sometimes as Crusader Castle, a supremely historical site that used to be a part of Jerusalem during the time of the Crusaders. Karak was a very important city in Jerusalem's trade route, and for any of you who saw the film Kingdom of Heaven, it was the site of the Battle of Hattin between the Muslim-led army of Salahaddin al-Ayoubi and the Crusaders' army led by Reynald de Chatillon in 1177, in which Salahaddin was victorious. Hurrah!

In short, Karak is super historical. So it made me smile thinking about the immensity of the history all around where we are living, where I'm choosing to raise my kids. Maybe some Boy Scouts in the US go visit the Alamo, or Mt. Rushmore, etc. But Karak Castle! This is stupendous.

Being a Boy Scout retreat, they did not feed the kids mansaf, but rather canned beans and the like. My son came home happy as can be, telling me all about the castle and how they saw the huge kitchen where the soldiers used to prepare their food. Perhaps Salahaddin's men were eating lamb and yogurt sauce, too.

To top off my delight with my son's visit to Karak, I just discovered today that Karak is actually the sister city of my hometown, Birmingham, Alabama. A twist of weirdness, for sure:

"On November 9 2005, Karak became a sister city of Birmingham, Alabama, USA. The sister city agreement was signed in Birmingham by Karak Mayor Mohammed Maita and Birmingham Mayor Bernard Kincaid. The mayors promised to work together and improve the relationship between their two cities."


I never would have paired these two together, but that's kind of cool. Birmingham was founded as a center of industry and steel production because of its huge deposits of iron ore. Maybe these two cities can get together and exchange recipes, too. Perhaps one day I'll venture down the King's Highway into Karak and find grits on their local store shelves.



A large sidr or tray of prepared Mansaf; a Sheep's Yogurt "stinky rock" (Jameed)
Pics from www.alkarak.net/

Funny, Yet Sad, and All Too True

Please check out Hijab Man's new commercial. It reminds me of a recent Witness show I watched last week on Jazeera English called Being Osama, which highlighted the lives of several men living in the West named Osama, and the daily struggles they have living with their birthname.

He (HijabMan) has really super pics as well, and you can find yourself sitting and looking at them instead of getting up and cooking dinner, washing clothes, or any of the other multiple tasks you should be doing instead of spending two (where'd the time go??) hours sitting at the computer.

You can also buy stuff on his site, such as a "Make Chai, Not War" T-shirt.

Forty Days in a Nutshell

A few folks asked me about the forty-day plan. Its name is The Forty Grand and it is, of course, a lesson in training the nafs, or self. Just to let you know, today is day five of my attempting it, and I was starting today again as day one, which I already messed up because I slept through fajr after having a sleepless night listening to my kids' seal-like barking coughs. We have two masjids near our home, but if we have the aberjour (sp?) closed and the windows closed, which we do because it's winter, we can't hear the adhan. I have also developed the amazing ability to completely ignore the alarm clock for lengthened amounts of time. (Not excuses for missing fajr prayer! I know this!) Thus, the need for this training exercise.

One of my du'a on Umrah was that Allah bestow me with the ability to train my brain to just wake up. I used to have this. I lost it, somewhere. I want it back.

Let's talk about anger. I am paraphrasing from the lesson, which was written by Sheikh Nuh Ha Mim Keller. Look him up, think what you will, make your own determinations, but I have spent a decent amount of time with several of his students lately, and they have something that I do not: self-control, especially when it comes to haughtiness and anger. (Not to mention, they have that luminous glow of light from their faces!)

[side note]I am not blogging because I want to proselytize to anyone. I am blogging because it makes me happy to write down my thoughts, and as a Western Muslim convert living in the Middle East, I feel like I can connect with others in my same or similar situation. I do not want to be a blogging superstar. I also don't need any more emails about how I'm tampering with bid'ah or hanging with the wrong crowd. I'm a big girl, making my own way, and I think I can discern the truth from the falsehood. I currently claim no connection to Salafis, to Sufis, or to any 'fis.' I am trying to surround myself with piety so that inshaAllah I will learn, benefit, and be able to be a decent example to those around me. That said, here's the lesson in a paraphrased nutshell:

1. Pray all five of your daily prayers in their affixed times, without missing any, unless you have a valid excuse (like travel or menstruation). If you miss a prayer, the next day you start over again.
2. Discern what kind of anger "drives" you. Is it anger used properly, such as the anger you have against your own ego, or Shaitan, or the love of the worldly? This kind of anger is OK. However, if you are one (like most of us) whose anger is shown towards others for the sake of your ego, (nafs), quick-temperedness (like road rage), saying or doing what comes to mind when you get angry (I'm gonna tell him off!), etc.
3. If you have Anger # 2, the haughty kind, then the lesson will be invalidated by:
a. Three separate occurrences of verbal anger, which means raising your voice for more than four sentences. If you reach the third occurrence, you must start the forty days again.
b. Scolding, nagging, or threatening...if accompanied by a raised voice, constitutes 'verbal anger.'
c. Insult, ridicule, cutting remarks, taunts, gibes, quarrelling, lying accusations, unfair exaggerations, slamming doors.
d. Pure self-centered anger shown towards your children, that is not rooted in 'their own good.' For example, raising your voice at your child to prevent him from hurting himself is for his good, not your ego. This is a hard one to call sometimes, but if you have pre-teens or teens, you can usually bet that your anger is self-centered. Choose your battles carefully.
e. The Forty Days are broken by a SINGLE occurrence of angrily breaking or destroying things, blows/hits, vulgarity, cursing, spitting, or other tantrums. Also vengeful kind of anger, such as harming another's property or not speaking to someone after three days if they live outside of your house, or 24-hours if they live with you.
4. Tips for getting through this lesson:
a. Feel disgust at the antics of the nafs. Know your anger is for the sake of nothing.
b. Say A'udhu bi Llahi min ash-Shaytan ir -Rajim. Really seek refuge in Allah, ask Him for his help in overcoming anger.
c. Return to this lesson again and again until you have the nafs in hand and can control it.
d. Eat the food of the righteous people. Avoid restaurants and food that has been prepared in heedlessness of Allah.
(SubhanAllah I had really never considered this one before.)

Give it a try, inshaAllah. Allah ma'akom.

This Week's Reading & Spiritual Exercise

I have been doing some reading lately. I picked up my dog-eared copy of Purification of the Soul and read and re-read the parts that discuss the poisions of the heart...What contributes to the spiritually sick heart? Is my heart alive, sick, or dead? What about my heart do I need to change?

I am also reading Ghazali's Muslim's Character, which I read many times back when I was a newbie Muslim. It goes hand in hand with Purification of the Soul. A friend had her old copy re-printed for me, and I so appreciate that gesture. I needed to have that book in my hands again. (I am pretty sure it got left behind when we left the U.S.)

Thirdly, I'm reading Gabriel García Márquez's Living to Tell the Tale, which is his autobiography. I'm not too far into it yet, because every time I tried to read yesterday, I was interrupted by the little ones (and the big ones, for that matter). His books need full attention and respect. I also feel guilty every time I pick it up, because I paid 10 JD for it ($14.00) and it's a paperback. Shhhhh.

Fourthly, and maybe most importantly, I read a three-page muraqaba lesson about how to control one's anger. It's a forty day battle of the self--jihad-an-nafs--in which the Muslim must learn how to control his anger, and it details the things that negate the forty days, making him begin again. You know, every day things like yelling at your kids in order to show "who's boss" or boost your own ego, throwing a tantrum, not forgiving those who have wronged you, missing your prayers, etc. I tried day one, and already failed. Today was day two, which was really day one all over again, and...yup, I failed. Tomorrow will be day three, which is again day one. It's the "two steps forward, one step back" kind of process.

If anything, I'm learning to self-loathe, but not in the detrimental kind of "I detest everything about myself" way. On the contrary, I am learning what needs fixed and hopefully training myself to fix it and make it stick.

I live in a world of hot-heads, and I do not want to be one anymore, nor do I want to be that kind of mother to my children. All of that negativity gets me further away from the path...

I'll let you know if I ever get past day one.

Halaqa Musings

Yesterday I attended a halaqa with some sisters I do not know very well. We were talking about raising kids according to Quran and Sunnah. Actually a week ago one of the sisters had asked me to give a short lesson, so this is what I was trying to do, using a book on raising kids that I have read many many times, but it's one of those books that provides you with new info and insight each time you re-visit it. Anyhow, most of the attendees yesterday were Westerners or Indo-Paks or Malaysians who were raised in the West, with the exception of three Arab sisters who did not speak any English.

So I began the lesson, which dealt with the psychological rearing of the Muslim child. I was asked to translate for the non-English speakers. This made me nervous, to say the least, but I stumbled through as best as I could. I was trying to make the point that if we want our kids to be on the straight path, and to be honest and sincere and love their deen, then we have to do the same, within the confines of our homes as well as outside. We have to be the examples, and not expect our kids to turn out ok in spite of how we as parents behave. I kept getting interrupted by one of the Arab sisters in particular, who of course knew everything.

SEE! It's that line of sarcasm I'm trying to get out of. But the gist of the interchanges was like this:

Me: Muslims today are lacking in good manners and moral character, and this can be seen in our children and how they deal with us and with others. [abridged]

Arab Sister: We have religion! We love our deen! In the 70s and 80s no one was wearing hijab! Now the streets are filled with women wearing hijab!

Me: Yes, but hijab does not equal religion. Islam requires us to teach our children the right ways to behave, and if parents are rude, using bad language, and treating each other harshly, the kids are going to do the same. [super duper abridged]

Arab Sister: (some sort of protest, I don't really remember)

Me: I knew of a family in the US who really tried to instill the concept of thankfulness in their kids. Every time the father would come home with groceries, the wife and children would all pray two rak'ah of shukr.

American Sister: My son is getting threatened after prayers at the masjid. There is a gang of boys who, after salat, try to mess with him, hit him, etc. And this is after they've just prayed in the masjid! What is up with this?

Arab Sister: Just let the boys keep praying! Eventually they will realize that fighting is not acceptable!

Me: (thinking to self) These are 14 and 15 year-old boys. They are accountable. They should know that fighting is not acceptable. Something is wrong in their homes.

Me: (aloud) We also have to teach our children to be thankful for what they have and to not always covet other people's stuff. When we ourselves are expressing thankfulness to Allah for his bounty, our children will see this. When, on the other hand, we envy our neighbor or our relative, wanting what they have, even sometimes putting hasad on them, our children will learn the art of perpetual discontent, never being satisfied. [big-time paraphrasing]

Arab Sister: If we see something we like that belongs to someone else, we just say 'mashaAllah' and Allah will protect them!

Me: Yes, but hasad is a rampant problem among the Arabs. We did not experience this in the West like we do here. Here we're asked questions like "How much do you make?" and "How much did your house cost?" constantly.

Arab Sister: Just say 'mashaAllah!' 'MashaAllah' is all you need to say!

Me: We need to expose the kids to the truly poor, go to the mukhayyem and let them see the ones who maybe get one meal a day, the kids who do not have the choices our children have.

Arab Sister: Do you know why they are in mukhayyems? Because they got kicked out of Palestine in 1948! They all had land and homes in Palestine! Some of them could not get good jobs so they chose to live in the camps! Some of them are not really poor! My house and land in Yaffah is still there but the Yahud took it and now it's 'international land!'

Anyhow, it went on like this for about an hour. I tried to conceal any frustration for the constant interjections, and I know she was trying to contribute positively. There are mainly two kinds of (born) Muslims in Jordan, at least as far as I've seen: the ones who want to hear the possible solutions, and the ones who are in denial and will sugar-coat reality.

I have no idea why people ask me to give deen lessons. I really have limited, limited knowledge, and for the past 12 years have been kind of studying/reading on and off, but in no way have built a knowledge base that could, in my opinion, really benefit others. However, I keep getting asked. Perhaps others see in me the consummate teacher-lecturer, who is most at home standing at a podium with a dry-erase marker in her hand. It's where I like to be. But deen is not Geography or TOEFL preparation.

May Allah give me the time and perseverance I need to learn this great religion, so I can be a worthy teacher.

No more Ms. Wishy-Washy

This is my blog's template. I am going to stick with this one. I may change some colors around, but this one does not give me a headache. I tried to do some html editing and such, and even tried to put a site meter on here, but I AM A DOOFUS, so I gave up.

Recognize Me ?

I just finished doing the face recognition test at the My Heritage site, this being the fourth time I've done it. If you've never done it before, you just upload a picture of yourself--try to find one that is front-facing, with a straight face if possible. Then the site runs a "face recognition" with your picture and gives you the top results of famous people you resemble.

Each time I have used a different picture, and each time I have gotten different results. The pics in which I am wearing hijab produce the funniest celebrity match-ups, with the most hysterical thus far being Vladimir Putin. Ick!

I also tried it with my oldest daughter's face, and the results were terrific, with her top matches being Salma Hayek, Amanda Peet, and Jennifer Love Hewitt. If Pocahontas had been a possible result, I would not have been surprised.

My husband's top matches were John Travolta, the late John Ritter, Cab Calloway (for those of you who know who that was or who have grandparents who might), Joey Fatone (sorry don't know him, if he's a singer, that's why), Alec Baldwin, and Linford Christie. (a Jamaican!) A good representation of both Anglo and Afro ancestry, I must say, although he has neither.

Still laughing about Vladimir.

Cat Jr.

Yusuf Islam, formerly Cat Stevens, has picked up his guitar after putting it down nearly 30 years ago. His new 'pop' album is getting mixed reviews, mostly unfavorable.

Yusuf's son, Yoriyos, or Muhammad Islam, has released his debut album, Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee. I read a few reviews, and some have compared him to Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, crediting Yoriyos with a praiseworthy first go at cutting an album.

So here we have Yusuf Islam, role model to Muslims all over the world, having been dedicated to Islamic nasheed, now thanking his son (who does not want to claim his name) for having him pick up a guitar again, and 'open the floodgates.' Floodgates of what?

I'm not going to go on and on about how this all makes me feel. I do think that this is going to send some messed-up signals to a lot of Muslim youth out there. Is this the product of a convert's mid-life crisis?

Would love some feedback on this one.

Angry Poll

Go check out Angry Arab and take the Angry Poll. Scroll all the way down to bottom of homepage, on left. Results instantaneous.

Allah Opens the Hearts of Whom He Wills

Read here in The Times about the ongoing investigation into the poisoning death of former Russian spy Alexander "Sasha" Litvinenko.

A tragic death, yes, but inshaAllah a happy ending.

Guilty Pleasures

I love a good, witty writer. After I learned to read, around age 6, I used pour over my Dad's old Snoopy comic collections. Charles Schultz was witty, and Snoopy was sarcastic. I would laugh and laugh till I'd cry. Sometimes I did not even understand certain words, but I understood Snoopy.

I think most of the time wit and sarcasm go hand in hand, which is sometimes unfortunate. Why is it unfortunate? Because as a Muslim struggling to be sincere, falling into the trap of sarcasm can be dangerous and hard to avoid. I have listened to many sheikhs and read many materials that deal with the issue of sarcasm. We as parents should try not to be sarcastic with our children, because they pick it up oh-so-quickly. I've been standing in other parts of the house on many occasions, only to hear these wickedly sarcastic tones be projected from the mouths of babes. My babes. It's not a skill they can forge on their own; they learned it from moi.

But nothing makes me laugh as much as a witty, sarcastic intellectual who leans toward the satirical side as well. In High School, during Mr. Barnacastle's Biology lectures on how to use the Punnett Square to find out which kind of sweet peas you'd get, I used to read Kurt Vonnegut books. Every once in a while, although I tried SO HARD to suppress it, I'd let out a trumpetous GUFFAW from my desk. Believe me, it wasn't hybrid plants cracking me up, but rather the King of Sarcasm himself.

So tonight, while my husband had a 'business meeting' in the other room, I let out the same kind of laugh. Inappropriate of me, yes. I was reading the Dooce blog. A witty gal, for sure! Sarcastic, you better believe it! So do me a favor: if you, too, enjoy a good chuckle, not haram or anything, go read her (link at right)last few entries. Pay close attention to the grocery check-out receipt, and if you've never read her blog before, a little hint: she lives in Utah.

Brass Crescent Awards

Not that I have a large readership or anything, but in case you happen by my blog, and also read other blogs by Muslims, don't forget to go vote on this year's Brass Crescent Awards. The nomination process is already over, now they're just voting on the final nominees.

Admittedly, reading blogs takes up time. So I try to limit myself to checking two or three only, each day. This is during my a.m. coffee hour when the only child who is not in school is happily lounging around in that sweet early morning blissful comfort that children have, drinking milk or playing quietly. She lets me have peace. Blog-reading solace. And I really appreciate that about her. MashaAllah.

Umm Zaid has had me laughing, crying, almost falling out of my chair, pondering, questioning, and many other 'ings' for the past year or so, since I started reading her blog. She gets my vote. What's more, she is now my friend, I see her just about once a week, since she's moved to Amman. That is kinda cool, honestly, because I 'knew' her cyber personality, and now I know her in the flesh, and I'm just truly blessed to call her a sister in Islam. It all started when I went to deliver her a pair of Syrian socks...

Alhamdulillah for new friends.

Not Welcome Here

"A Jordanian woman holds an anti-Bush sign during a demonstration in Amman, Jordan, Wednesday, Nov. 29, 2006. Hundreds of Jordanians staged silent sit-ins and angry demonstrations on Wednesday to protest U.S. President George W. Bush's visit, telling him he was not welcome in their country. Bush was set to arrive later Wednesday for a two-day visit to meet with Jordan's King Abdullah II and Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki. (AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti)"


I'm not sure where exactly in Amman these anti-Bush demonstrations took place on Wednesday. Whenever there is a demonstration, it is quelled very quickly, and we usually find out about it after-the-fact.

Once my husband and I (I was monstrously pregnant) went down to a neighborhood called "Mukhayyam al-Hussein," which is a Palestinian camp. We were looking for this particular store that makes great mattresses, because we wanted to have a small mattress made for our baby that was on the way. Little did we know that this particular camp was staging a major demonstration (protesting what, exactly, I can't remember). Out came the hoses, the cops with shields and billy clubs, the tanks. I remember a big part of me wanted to run down into the camp and join in...this would be the American, free-speech part. My husband and I found the mattress guy had closed his shop, probably to go down and join in the protest, and the police were yelling at my husband, "What's the matter with you? Don't you care about your wife? Get her out of here!!" And we left.

Wherever these sisters pictured above were on Wednesday, I'm sure they were forcefully shuffled away at some point. May Allah reward them for their efforts.