Today will be my first attendance of a Friday prayer in Birmingham in a very long time. I'm hoping to see some familiar faces inshaAllah.
Yesterday's Birmingham News included an article about prayer. Right now they are asking people to pray for rain, both individually and in congregation. That is nothing new to me. My kids' school holds congregational prayers for rain often in Jordan. It works.
Visiting with old friends has put a permanent smile on my face. Yesterday I laughed so hard I had to struggle to catch my breath. SubhanAllah, one never knows how he touches lives or affects memories. I was reminded of things I did or said (or performed) yesterday...things I had completely forgotten or had pushed to the far corners of my itsy bitsy brain.
If you have a chance, tell your friends how much they mean to you. These beautiful relationships of mine have been on pause for years and years, and the gift of being able to just pick up where we left off is something precious. Ah, sisterhood.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Super Sonic
Yesterday it rained. The rain was short-lived, but a downpour nonetheless. My daughters and I were sitting in the Sonic parking lot, ordering milkshakes. The Sonic order screen now includes a swipe machine you can run your credit card through and pay for your purchase, Johnny-on-the-spot. No more messy "money handling." I was astounded. We sat in the car, drinking our shakes and listening to the rain pound down on the hood. Peaceful.
Today I was invited for lunch at my friend's house. She lived in Amman for one year but moved back to Birmingham. It was great to see her and visit with my other friends who dropped by. She has a television (the program name escapes me) that you can pause, fast-forward, and record shows on in real time. I do not comprehend such technology. How can one pause a show that is being aired? Hmmm. Again, I was astounded. (Here you should be thinking, "It doesn't take much to thrill and amaze this gal. Nope, not much at all." And you know what dearies, you are correct in your astute observation)
One of the sisters at lunch today had grown up in Kuwait. She's lived in Alabama probably twelve years or so. She was asking me questions about life in Jordan, because she's considering making the move. Her main concerns were the cold winters (inside the home) and the lack of water year-round. I did not embellish the truth. It's cold like Switzerland (again, that's INSIDE the house) from around December to the end of March. And water is precious--not to be wasted. But we adjusted, and she can too. I encouraged her to take the plunge.
And if she comes, I hope she brings Sonic with her.
Today I was invited for lunch at my friend's house. She lived in Amman for one year but moved back to Birmingham. It was great to see her and visit with my other friends who dropped by. She has a television (the program name escapes me) that you can pause, fast-forward, and record shows on in real time. I do not comprehend such technology. How can one pause a show that is being aired? Hmmm. Again, I was astounded. (Here you should be thinking, "It doesn't take much to thrill and amaze this gal. Nope, not much at all." And you know what dearies, you are correct in your astute observation)
One of the sisters at lunch today had grown up in Kuwait. She's lived in Alabama probably twelve years or so. She was asking me questions about life in Jordan, because she's considering making the move. Her main concerns were the cold winters (inside the home) and the lack of water year-round. I did not embellish the truth. It's cold like Switzerland (again, that's INSIDE the house) from around December to the end of March. And water is precious--not to be wasted. But we adjusted, and she can too. I encouraged her to take the plunge.
And if she comes, I hope she brings Sonic with her.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Dialogue
Check-out Clerk: Where're y'all from?
Me: Well, I'm from here, Alabama, but we live overseas.
Check-out Clerk: Y'all Indian?
Me: No, we're not Indian.
Check-out Clerk: Where y'all live?
Me: In Jordan.
Check-out Clerk: Where is that?
Me: (for sake of convenience) Next to Jerusalem. Holy Land.
Check-out Clerk: Oh! You mean Jordan like in the Bible!
Me: Yes, that's it.
Check-out Clerk: Ain't it HOT there?
Me: No hotter than here, really.
Check-out Clerk: Let me ask you...does that red dot y'all wear mean you're married?
Me: (Laughing) I wouldn't know.
Me: Well, I'm from here, Alabama, but we live overseas.
Check-out Clerk: Y'all Indian?
Me: No, we're not Indian.
Check-out Clerk: Where y'all live?
Me: In Jordan.
Check-out Clerk: Where is that?
Me: (for sake of convenience) Next to Jerusalem. Holy Land.
Check-out Clerk: Oh! You mean Jordan like in the Bible!
Me: Yes, that's it.
Check-out Clerk: Ain't it HOT there?
Me: No hotter than here, really.
Check-out Clerk: Let me ask you...does that red dot y'all wear mean you're married?
Me: (Laughing) I wouldn't know.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
El Verano Update
Today I made a video of the kiddies playing Giant Shrek Frisbee in my mom's back yard. It was only 99 degrees outside. No biggie. They did not seem to notice.
I also drove past a very pristine lemonade stand in my mother's neighborhood. I think the kid had to make a hefty investment to get it up and running. What does lemonade run these days, when purchased on the sidewalk? $2.25? I hope he doesn't end up in arrears.
Today my plans include going on a sushi hunt, trying to find the best stuff within a 5 mile radius of the house.
Yesterday I found nice long-sleeved blouses for my daughter, all priced below $5 a piece. I forgot that a sale here is really and truly a sale. Hurrah.
That's all for now. I'm going downstairs to eat some sliced bread that keeps its moistness for more than 20 seconds. Don't get me wrong--Jordan has nice bread and all, but it's not Nature's Own whole wheat yumminess.
I also drove past a very pristine lemonade stand in my mother's neighborhood. I think the kid had to make a hefty investment to get it up and running. What does lemonade run these days, when purchased on the sidewalk? $2.25? I hope he doesn't end up in arrears.
Today my plans include going on a sushi hunt, trying to find the best stuff within a 5 mile radius of the house.
Yesterday I found nice long-sleeved blouses for my daughter, all priced below $5 a piece. I forgot that a sale here is really and truly a sale. Hurrah.
That's all for now. I'm going downstairs to eat some sliced bread that keeps its moistness for more than 20 seconds. Don't get me wrong--Jordan has nice bread and all, but it's not Nature's Own whole wheat yumminess.
Shout Out to the DMV
Yesterday I renewed my driver's license, which had expired in 2004.
I anticipated a big hassle. I anticipated long, long lines, hefty fees, and out-and-out attitude from the DMV workers.
What ensued, however, was nothing I had anticipated. I was in and out of there in 25 minutes, with a renewed temporary license and a promise that my new one would be in my hands within ten days or so. I also did not leave the office smelling like a pack of cheap Euro ciggies. Triumph!
I suppose that five years of living in Red Tape land have jaded my perspective. What used to be grueling and/or daunting tasks related to any US governmental agencies are now just giant cake walks. I wanted to shake every one's hand in that place, congratulating them on the torch of goodwill they all seemed to carry. Everyone smiled at me, greeted me, and made small talk that seemed so sincere.
Thank you, Alabama Department of Revenue.
Later on, I went to the new Publix in search of a yummy moist birthday cake, even though it was no one's birthday. I got one. I rounded the corner of one of the store aisles, to be met with a deli counter worker who smiled at me and spoke to me as if she had just run into her best friend. I am basking in the friendliness of these delightful Birmingham inhabitants.
I anticipated a big hassle. I anticipated long, long lines, hefty fees, and out-and-out attitude from the DMV workers.
What ensued, however, was nothing I had anticipated. I was in and out of there in 25 minutes, with a renewed temporary license and a promise that my new one would be in my hands within ten days or so. I also did not leave the office smelling like a pack of cheap Euro ciggies. Triumph!
I suppose that five years of living in Red Tape land have jaded my perspective. What used to be grueling and/or daunting tasks related to any US governmental agencies are now just giant cake walks. I wanted to shake every one's hand in that place, congratulating them on the torch of goodwill they all seemed to carry. Everyone smiled at me, greeted me, and made small talk that seemed so sincere.
Thank you, Alabama Department of Revenue.
Later on, I went to the new Publix in search of a yummy moist birthday cake, even though it was no one's birthday. I got one. I rounded the corner of one of the store aisles, to be met with a deli counter worker who smiled at me and spoke to me as if she had just run into her best friend. I am basking in the friendliness of these delightful Birmingham inhabitants.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Half-Chewed Cukes
Alhamdulillah, All Praise is to God, I am here. I am sitting in Birmingham writing this, with a tummy full of chicken and biscuit. My mom and kids and I lunched at the A & W/KFC combo. I am still in a fog of sorts, but so happy to be here.
The trip was, well, pure and total insanity.
My poor husband had to shell out the price of another airline ticket to fix the grievous mistake we made with our youngest's passport. The fact that we are all US passport holders apparently does not mean a hill of beanie weenies. The fact that she did not have her own Jordanian passport, although she has all other kinds of documents proving she is Jordanian, did mean quite a bit. But it's all fixed now, and there's a chunk of money now missing from my shopping cash.
Royal Jordanian airlines, you are the Beverly Hillbillies meets the Nazi SS. Oh, but you did get us those two rooms in Chicago for the night, so I'll hat tip you for that.
Flying with four kids alone is enough to have one committed. The straight shot from Amman to Chicago is a good idea on paper. In reality, however, it causes one to go nearly off the edge of sanity after about the 8th hour. In our case especially, since we were seated behind the son of Lord Voldemort, whose mother must have taken an overdose of fifty-cent Jordanian Valium and who exercised absolutely no parenting skills whatsoever. LV Jr. ate wild cucumbers and spit them, half-chewed, at us. He grabbed my daughter's pencil and proceeded to poke all of the folks seated in front of them in the head. He somehow climbed under his seat while we were sleeping and inflated the EMERGENCY LIFE VEST to its full capacity. While walking to the bathroom (unattended, of course) he punched my son in the cheek and swiped his Legos. Everyone within ten rows to the front and back of this demon seed wanted to throttle him. Finally the head of the flight attendants told his Mom she would have to pay for the damages he had done. I am wondering if RJ will ever see a penny from this woman.
Anyway, in retrospect, I can chuckle. Hee hee. God willing I have five weeks of family fun and relaxation ahead of me. Alabama is in a 'drought' but I've never paid attention to so much green. I wanted to touch the lovely mulch around Target's shrubbery today. I restrained myself, though...didn't want to embarrass my Mom. My kids bought Gatorade. It's all good.
The trip was, well, pure and total insanity.
My poor husband had to shell out the price of another airline ticket to fix the grievous mistake we made with our youngest's passport. The fact that we are all US passport holders apparently does not mean a hill of beanie weenies. The fact that she did not have her own Jordanian passport, although she has all other kinds of documents proving she is Jordanian, did mean quite a bit. But it's all fixed now, and there's a chunk of money now missing from my shopping cash.
Royal Jordanian airlines, you are the Beverly Hillbillies meets the Nazi SS. Oh, but you did get us those two rooms in Chicago for the night, so I'll hat tip you for that.
Flying with four kids alone is enough to have one committed. The straight shot from Amman to Chicago is a good idea on paper. In reality, however, it causes one to go nearly off the edge of sanity after about the 8th hour. In our case especially, since we were seated behind the son of Lord Voldemort, whose mother must have taken an overdose of fifty-cent Jordanian Valium and who exercised absolutely no parenting skills whatsoever. LV Jr. ate wild cucumbers and spit them, half-chewed, at us. He grabbed my daughter's pencil and proceeded to poke all of the folks seated in front of them in the head. He somehow climbed under his seat while we were sleeping and inflated the EMERGENCY LIFE VEST to its full capacity. While walking to the bathroom (unattended, of course) he punched my son in the cheek and swiped his Legos. Everyone within ten rows to the front and back of this demon seed wanted to throttle him. Finally the head of the flight attendants told his Mom she would have to pay for the damages he had done. I am wondering if RJ will ever see a penny from this woman.
Anyway, in retrospect, I can chuckle. Hee hee. God willing I have five weeks of family fun and relaxation ahead of me. Alabama is in a 'drought' but I've never paid attention to so much green. I wanted to touch the lovely mulch around Target's shrubbery today. I restrained myself, though...didn't want to embarrass my Mom. My kids bought Gatorade. It's all good.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
I am still...
in Jordan.
Glitch in one person's travel document. We were sent back. I've never felt so defeated.
Hopefully we are getting the problem resolved today.
I need even more prayers now.
Glitch in one person's travel document. We were sent back. I've never felt so defeated.
Hopefully we are getting the problem resolved today.
I need even more prayers now.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Homeward Bound
I'm sittin' at the railway station,
Got a ticket for my destination
Mmm mmmmmm
If only I could get home on a train. It's not that simple. Rather, it entails 24 hours of trekking half way around the world.
Make du'a for me, and I will for you. Allah answers the du'a of the traveler.
Maybe the next time I sign on, I'll be doing so looking out a window, viewing green green grass and sipping a mint julip. Ha! Couldn't resist that one.
Until some time next week, I bid you heartfelt salam (peace).
Got a ticket for my destination
Mmm mmmmmm
If only I could get home on a train. It's not that simple. Rather, it entails 24 hours of trekking half way around the world.
Make du'a for me, and I will for you. Allah answers the du'a of the traveler.
Maybe the next time I sign on, I'll be doing so looking out a window, viewing green green grass and sipping a mint julip. Ha! Couldn't resist that one.
Until some time next week, I bid you heartfelt salam (peace).
Friday, June 08, 2007
Reunion Voyeur
Last night I went to the Queen Alia International Airport to pick up a friend and her three children from the US who will be visiting Jordan / Palestine this summer.
Her plane was delayed, so I had some time on my hands. I was also at the wrong terminal, standing and waiting for an arrival from Chicago, so I was very happy her plane was delayed, giving me time to cross over to the other side of the oh-so-enormous (not) airport.
I am a big blubberhead.
I watched family members after family members reunite with their loved ones arriving from abroad. I watched a four year-old boy who had obviously been separated from his father for some time run to him, jump in his arms, and start sobbing, "Baba, Baba, I missed you so much, oh Baba..." The Baba got all choked up. But I, the onlooker, really cried. I quickly wiped my tears away, only to watch another and another and another reunite, embrace, or be awed at the sight of their loved ones' growth or change or weight gain or aging or whatever. I loved the expressive faces I saw last night, the warmth of family connections, the joy being spread all around. It was a mushy lovefest in Terminal 2, and I was thrilled to witness it.
It's my turn for a reunion.
Her plane was delayed, so I had some time on my hands. I was also at the wrong terminal, standing and waiting for an arrival from Chicago, so I was very happy her plane was delayed, giving me time to cross over to the other side of the oh-so-enormous (not) airport.
I am a big blubberhead.
I watched family members after family members reunite with their loved ones arriving from abroad. I watched a four year-old boy who had obviously been separated from his father for some time run to him, jump in his arms, and start sobbing, "Baba, Baba, I missed you so much, oh Baba..." The Baba got all choked up. But I, the onlooker, really cried. I quickly wiped my tears away, only to watch another and another and another reunite, embrace, or be awed at the sight of their loved ones' growth or change or weight gain or aging or whatever. I loved the expressive faces I saw last night, the warmth of family connections, the joy being spread all around. It was a mushy lovefest in Terminal 2, and I was thrilled to witness it.
It's my turn for a reunion.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Name Game
Well, I've been blogging for a year now, and I have finally reached the apex of hits to my blog: The BIG SIX ZERO. Whoo hooo.
I'm flattered. Thanks to you all who read, both in my family and circle of friends, as well as those I have never met (although I feel like I know so many of you through your blogs as well).
Shout out to my Canadian friends! I love Canadians! You all are just...so grounded and cool at the same time.
Anyhow, the other day, someone left a comment on my blog, and her name was Southern Muslimah. At first it bothered me, because I thought I was sort of original, and I had first called myself "Dixie Muslimah" but I really did not like the connotations of that name (i.e. Confederate flags, lynch mobs, separate drinking fountains, Lynyrd Skynyrd...you get the picture). So after a few months, I changed it to Southern Muslimah, and it stuck. I'm linked to many of your blogs. I thank you for that, as well. I'm not changing my name. And no offense to you, sister, because I am sure you are delightful, and we probably have a great deal in common, but I'm not budging on the nombre, because it's just too late. You're still a newbie, so you might find a better name that fits. (No pressure or anything, just a kind suggestion)
On a bad day, I probably wouldn't mind being associated with a little Lynyrd Skynyrd ditty, either. Did I just admit that?
I'm flattered. Thanks to you all who read, both in my family and circle of friends, as well as those I have never met (although I feel like I know so many of you through your blogs as well).
Shout out to my Canadian friends! I love Canadians! You all are just...so grounded and cool at the same time.
Anyhow, the other day, someone left a comment on my blog, and her name was Southern Muslimah. At first it bothered me, because I thought I was sort of original, and I had first called myself "Dixie Muslimah" but I really did not like the connotations of that name (i.e. Confederate flags, lynch mobs, separate drinking fountains, Lynyrd Skynyrd...you get the picture). So after a few months, I changed it to Southern Muslimah, and it stuck. I'm linked to many of your blogs. I thank you for that, as well. I'm not changing my name. And no offense to you, sister, because I am sure you are delightful, and we probably have a great deal in common, but I'm not budging on the nombre, because it's just too late. You're still a newbie, so you might find a better name that fits. (No pressure or anything, just a kind suggestion)
On a bad day, I probably wouldn't mind being associated with a little Lynyrd Skynyrd ditty, either. Did I just admit that?
Al Majari
One of the words any foreigner living in Jordan should learn within the first few moments of being here is majari.
You'll hear expressions like,
"No, it didn't rain; that's just majari water on the street." (roll up the windows, please!)
"Why does her bathroom always smell like the majari?"
"You shouldn't buy a building there. It's too close to the majari."
I'm sure strides to improve the majari system in Jordan have been fruitful. Jordan does not smell the same in 2007 as it did in 2000, the first time I came here. And for that, I'm thankful.
So the other day when my daughter and I were eating some leftovers that didn't really go together, I told her, "It's ok. All this food goes to the same place anyway." (meaning the stomach)
She looked at me seriously, and said, "Yeah. It all goes to the majari."
You'll hear expressions like,
"No, it didn't rain; that's just majari water on the street." (roll up the windows, please!)
"Why does her bathroom always smell like the majari?"
"You shouldn't buy a building there. It's too close to the majari."
I'm sure strides to improve the majari system in Jordan have been fruitful. Jordan does not smell the same in 2007 as it did in 2000, the first time I came here. And for that, I'm thankful.
So the other day when my daughter and I were eating some leftovers that didn't really go together, I told her, "It's ok. All this food goes to the same place anyway." (meaning the stomach)
She looked at me seriously, and said, "Yeah. It all goes to the majari."
Monday, June 04, 2007
Where your nose should be...
Well, this time of the year in Amman, a student's nose should be in a textbook.
It's exam time yet again. As I dropped my kids off this a.m., I saw many youngsters walking to school with books in hand, reading/mumbling/regurgitating information that has been memorized (learned?) since the start of the second semester.
When I was in sixth grade, the last week of school was the time when we brought cupcakes to share with classmates or had pizza parties for the class who collected the most Campbell Soup labels. We traded stickers or signed each other's memory books or whatever. Maybe, just maybe, one super wicked teacher would actually give us an assignment, usually in the form of some kind of project involving poster board or some other nightmarish school supply our moms or dads would have to go out and get on Sunday night, the night before said project was due.
But exams? Burning the candle at both ends? Waking up at 5 a.m. to go over an entire text book? We lived in ignorance, and ignorance was blissful. My kids, on the other hand, live in the cruel world of testing.
I swore when I moved to Jordan I would not jump on the Mom is an Ogre testing bandwagon. I'd say to my kids, "Honey, do you feel confident with the material? Did you learn something dear? Are you happy? Sweetie, what matters is that you tried your best, not what score you received."
**Cough, cough, clearing throat**
I've changed. I admit it. I care what grades they get. I do.
My daughter spent a few nights grinding her teeth in her sleep, worried about the gigantic Geography/Civics test she had. When she came home yesterday, she looked quite drained. But at least it's over. We can rest easily until July 10 or so, when the final grades will be revealed, defining our children, and their teachers' expectations of them in the year to come.
I can't wait.
It's exam time yet again. As I dropped my kids off this a.m., I saw many youngsters walking to school with books in hand, reading/mumbling/regurgitating information that has been memorized (learned?) since the start of the second semester.
When I was in sixth grade, the last week of school was the time when we brought cupcakes to share with classmates or had pizza parties for the class who collected the most Campbell Soup labels. We traded stickers or signed each other's memory books or whatever. Maybe, just maybe, one super wicked teacher would actually give us an assignment, usually in the form of some kind of project involving poster board or some other nightmarish school supply our moms or dads would have to go out and get on Sunday night, the night before said project was due.
But exams? Burning the candle at both ends? Waking up at 5 a.m. to go over an entire text book? We lived in ignorance, and ignorance was blissful. My kids, on the other hand, live in the cruel world of testing.
I swore when I moved to Jordan I would not jump on the Mom is an Ogre testing bandwagon. I'd say to my kids, "Honey, do you feel confident with the material? Did you learn something dear? Are you happy? Sweetie, what matters is that you tried your best, not what score you received."
**Cough, cough, clearing throat**
I've changed. I admit it. I care what grades they get. I do.
My daughter spent a few nights grinding her teeth in her sleep, worried about the gigantic Geography/Civics test she had. When she came home yesterday, she looked quite drained. But at least it's over. We can rest easily until July 10 or so, when the final grades will be revealed, defining our children, and their teachers' expectations of them in the year to come.
I can't wait.
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