And so I celebrate...

...with sandwich.

There is nothing like a good sandwich, especially when the one eating it is chipper and celebratory. I just made myself a turkey, mustard, and avocado on thin Lebanese pita, rolled up, with a side of tomato-flavored Turkish Doritos. I find the Turkish Doritos to be so delicious; I do not think I could eat the cheesy powdered variety again. The avocados came from Palestine. My husband's sister brought me several kilos of them when she visited for Eid, and I've made them last. I love avocados, and for those of you who claim they are 'fattening,' let me assure you that the fat in them is the good kind--the kind we need for brain development and such, like the fat in olive oil or coconut oil or breast milk. Avocados rock, yes indeed they do. And so did my sandwich.

I'd like to take a moment to thank the smiling young faces of the government workers who helped me to make my license transition today speedy and easy. Yesterday I headed out to the Royal Automobile Club, only to find out they no longer do the American to Jordanian license switcheroo. I then went to Jubayha, to the Department of Statistics, just to make sure I didn't actually have to go there and do anything. They told me they no longer handled the procedure. So bright and early this morning my husband and daughter and I headed to Markah, where the largest Department of Public Safety is located, and got the job done in less than two hours. It was painless; people were not allowed to smoke inside, and the workers actually greeted us and smiled. I also met a lovely young American mother named Carol, whose husband works for the Jordanian Basketball Federation, and who told me about Little League Basketball for children.

All in all, it was a positive, beautiful morning. I did not have to take a driving test nor do I have to renew this license until 2012. I will no longer feel the need to dodge policemen when I see them on the streets. I am legal, through and through.

Have a great day, and make yourself a delicious sandwich.

J Bird

My determination to stay out of jail is the catalyst driving me to finally, after nearly six years, get my driver's license today. Du'a is humbly requested; the last time I found myself at the Department of Motor Vehicles--no, sorry, the Royal Automobile Club, I nearly had a nervous breakdown, and left with no license in my possession.

I have been driving for twenty years. I've driven cross-country, in horrendous weather, over some of the busiest bridges in North America at rush hour, on country roads, off-road; heck, I've even gone "mudding" in large pick-ups with KC lights accompanied by the croonings of Hank Williams, Jr. I can drive! I can parallel park and merge, I can do a three-point turn, and I know what my rear view mirror is for. Jordanian ladies, sorry, but you are awful drivers.

Anyway, the day has come when my Alabama driver's license and some smooth "no speak Arabic" jive talk are not going to do me any good. It's time to comply, so here I go.

On squeezing us till we cannot bleed

Naseem at the Black Iris has an article that puts into perspective just how ludicrous the inflation here has become. Read here:

How Poor Will You be This Time Next Year?

This insanity is almost enough to make me want to leave this country. As much as I love living in Jordan and have treasured watching my children grow and thrive here, it is not worth my family being drained to the point of wanting to throw in the towel. My husband gets burned on a daily basis in his business dealings; school tuitions continue to skyrocket; food costs have quadrupled in the six years I've lived here, and now the average income family cannot afford to put gas in a vehicle (if there is a vehicle) or heat a home.

Benazir Bhutto

has been assassinated. Inna lilahi wa inna ilayhi raji'oon.

What will become of the powder keg that is Pakistan? Allah help them.

Benazir Bhutto killed in attack

Bhutto 'killed in blast'

Highlights of the Week

The last few weeks of on-again/off-again have left me *shwayyit off kilter. We were given three school days off last week for Eid ul-Adha, then went back to school last Sunday and Monday, off yesterday for Christmas, back to school today and tomorrow, and off again next week for Ras-as-Senneh, or New Year's Day, then back to rigorous exam taking until January 6, after which we will have a nearly month long winter break.

I usually have my most contemplative moments during the mornings when the offspring are in school and the dear spouse is off at the Free Zone of Zarqa trying to sell automobiles that have been taxed forty (or more, depending on the mood of the powers that be who determine taxes) times their true market value. The stress of his business has taken a toll on him, to put it mildly, so while my blogging schedule has been thrown off, I'm so grateful that he has had six days over the last two weeks to lie around the house and do nothing. (Correction! Yesterday he vacuumed and mopped the entire house because I woke up with my back in some kind of Houdini-esque pretzel twist, and could not lift my right arm.) He is my hero, and then some.

Did I mention I love my husband?

That said, I just thought I'd highlight a few posts this week I believe are worth a gander. My kids are due to arrive home at 10:30 a.m. (an hour away); my daughter's bringing home a friend, which means I must provide snacks. Have a good day.

*shwayyit= a wee bit, for my readers of Scottish heritage


Eid for the 'Other' at Tariq Nelson's blog

'Safe' at Climbing Walls

A True Hajj at Seeker's Digest

Letter from Barack Obama at Umar Lee

A Matter of Honor at Sunni Sister

Are you Sad at Alabama Kitchen Sink

How I Do at Blurbomat
A very poignant post about how a husband deals with his wife's clinical depression

Surreal !

I had to watch this a few times. I don't usually post anything about music, but this was something quite unbelievable. It seems this singer from the Philippines just got signed on as the band Journey's new lead vocalist. I am a child of the 80s. It's hard to believe that voice is coming out of that little guy.

Flashback, anyone?

Inheritance

Over at Umm Zaid's place, she writes:

Instead of being arrogant when confronted with foreigners, we should remember in whose footsteps we walk when we tread on this earth. Sayiduna Ibrahim. Sayiduna Lut. Sayidatuna Sara. Sayidatuna Hajar. Sayiduna Isma’il. Sayiduna Ishaq. Sayiduna Yusuf. Sayiduna Musa. Sayiduna Harun. Sayiduna Yusha. Sayiduna Ilyas. Sayiduna al-Yasa’. Sayiduna Dawud. Sayiduna Suleiman. Sayiduna Jad. Sayiduna Shu’aib. Sayiduna Zakariya. Sayidatuna Maryam. Sayiduna Yahya. Sayiduna ‘Isa. Add to that the other anbiya of Bani Isra’il, all of their companions, their families, their followers, the believers of the past, the Saliheen, the many, many Sahabis that lived here and died here. Aleyhim salaam.

Maybe if we keep this in mind as we go through life, we won’t push people out of the way to get to a taxi, or try to run the “my son has a tumor, can you give me money” scam on foreigners, or cheat people, or do all the horrible little petty things we do to each other every day. When we do this, then we will be the true inheritors of Sayiduna Ibrahim, aleyhi salaam.

Just today I had to tell an old woman how grey my husband has become from working and dealing with the cheaters here--those dishonest Muslims who were born in this blessed land, whose mother tongue is the language of the Quran, who were born into Islam, who have gifts and abilities and abounding blessings. What will they inherit? What will we inherit?

On the fourth day of Eid

Yesterday I had an Open House of sorts, inviting all of my pals to my home so we could wish one another a Happy Eid and catch up a bit. We are now in what is known as "crunch time" here in Amman, with the kids having final exams before they get out of school for a long, boring, cold mid-semester break. I know I will not have the opportunity to see many people until the exams are finished.

The kids and I need a much deserved respite from the school grind. I want to travel to Dubai during the break, not so much for the glitz of it all but rather just to feel some warm sun on my face and eat some good seafood. I just need a good sales pitch to make that idea into a reality. Suggestions?

It was great of MommaBean to join us yesterday; I had not seen her since the summer. And since I missed what is now known as the infamous cookie party, I was especially happy she could drop by.

I regretfully (not) ate too many cookies and drank too much caffeine during my shindig, so it's time to turn on Lester, my new mammoth treadmill (an Eid gift--remember how my husband and I promised one another we would start taking care of ourselves?). He even has a little space on his 'dashboard' to plug in the iPod. Lester's the man. I'm going to tread on him.

I hope you all had a wonderful Eid holiday. Lianne, happy belated Hanukkah. For my friends and family who have yet to celebrate, may your Christmas Day be quiet and blessed, full of positive family vibes, and lots of Hershey's Kisses.

And before I go, please read this post by Dictator Princess. You're bound to laugh.

These boots were made for walking (sort of)

My five (almost six) and three (almost four) year olds were pleased as punch with their new winter boots they donned for Eid. The decorative fur balls, however, ended up being deterrents to walking easily, coming unraveled and getting stepped on. I have one fur ball in my purse right now that needs to be sewn back on to one little grey boot.

Seeing my kindergartner all revved up about her boots reminded me of a time when I was a boot fancier. Mine, however, were a little less glam and a lot more, shall we say, proletariat? No, perhaps that is not the right word. I guess as a teenager I felt I had been born in the wrong decade, and I wore these boots proudly in an effort to symbolize something I couldn't really verbalize, much to the dismay of my school administrators and teachers. My 'rebel with an undefined cause' phase lasted about two years, during which I believed I was cool. Maybe I was.

On 'Arafah and Eid ul Adha

Tomorrow, yawm al 'Arafah, is a day of fasting for millions of Muslims around the world. It will commemorate the day prior to the first day of Eid ul Adha, or the Eid of the sacrifice. While many of us are making the blessed pilgrimage of Hajj at this time, others are in their homelands, seeking to reap the blessings of this most holy month of Dhul-Hijja. My dear friends Um Tareq, Um Arifi, and Um Ibrahim are in Mecca right now, for the first time in their lives; they are there in front of their Lord asking Him to accept their Hajj and make them whole and spiritually reborn.

I am a monotheist and a follower of one of the three great Abrahamic religions. Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham), may Allah be pleased with him, built the Ka'aba at Mecca with his son, Isma'il (Ishmael). I have stood and gazed at the footprints of Prophet Ibrahim at his station. I have circled the Ka'aba seeking forgiveness and repenting for my misdeeds in this life and asking a place for me and my family in Paradise. I have experienced the awe of walking, eating and drinking, and praying side by side with those who have made the journey, seeking to step forward in their religious convictions and escape the stagnation of their lives. I held conversations with those who did not speak one word of my mother tongue, but who spoke the sweetness of Iman (faith) and whose hearts, like mine, swelled with everlasting love and humility at the sound of the call to prayer, with doves circling over head. Paupers shared bread with me; I knew not that they were poor, because they were filled with the richness of truth and compassion.

Perhaps my non-Muslim family members are just now understanding the meanings of the Eids that we celebrate. The Eid ul-Fitr that takes place after Ramadan is most known, because we have been fasting for a month and have built up to this celebration. Eid ul-Adha is actually the more significant of the two, symbolizing a rebirth of the soul in worship, a chance to purify oneself, to be benevolent, and to have a second chance. God is all about second chances.

Could we not learn our lessons from the Almighty instead of constantly slamming doors in others' faces or burning bridges? Could we learn the art of forgiveness on some small scale? Could we open our hearts for a moment and forgive those who we think may have wronged us? Must we keep shutting out those who do not dance to our tune? Fathers, forgive your children's transgressions; children, forgive those of your parents. We err. We forgive. We move on, or we don't, but we all die in the end. Let our rebirths not be horrifying; we have the ability to make them less painful.

So if you happen to see a Muslim on Wednesday, maybe you could wish him an "Eid Mubarak," or blessed Eid holiday. Not all of us can make the Hajj when we want to, but it is in our hearts and on our minds, inshaAllah, with every Eid that comes.

Here is some more explanation of the meanings of the day of 'Arafah and Eid ul-Adha, taken from here.

The Day of `Arafah
The first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah include the days of Hajj. Of particular importance is the Day of `Arafah, on which Allah perfected His religion. Fasting on this day is one of the most important sunnah fasts, which can expiate the sins of two years. Fasting on all these days, however, is not obligatory, nor was it a constant practice of the messenger.One of the wives of the Prophet (peace be upon him) said: "Allah's messenger used to fast the [first] nine days of Dhul-Hijjah, the day of `Ashura', and three days of each month." (Abu Dawud)The day of `Arafah is the day when the pilgrims stand in worship on the Mountain of `Arafah. This has been called the best day of the year.The Prophet Muhammad has been quoted as saying:

"Fasting the day of `Arafat expiates the sins of two years: a past one and a coming one. And, fasting the day of `Ashura' (the tenth of the lunar month of Muharram) expiates the sins of the past year." (Muslim)

The Day of `Eid Al-Adha
The tenth of Dhul-Hijjah is `Eid Al-Adha or the day of an-Nahr (sacrifice). It marks the conclusion of the major rites of Hajj. It also commemorates Allah's bounty on His messenger Ibrahim (peace be upon him), when He gave him a ram to sacrifice, as ransom for his son Isma`il, (peace be upon him).`Eid Al-Adha is a day of festival for Muslims who do not perform Hajj. While the pilgrims complete their rites, other Muslims continue with their `Eid celebrations. Here, they are prohibited from fasting. These are days of fun, happiness, eating, drinking and glorifying of Allah.

The Sacrifice
Allah has mentioned the duty of the sacrifice together with the first and foremost worship in Islam, namely prayer. This obviously signifies its great importance. In the Qur'an, Allah says what means:

Therefore pray to your Lord and sacrifice. (Al-Kawthar 108:2)

Sacrificing an animal, as part of `Eid observance, is an important sunnah, and a worship enjoined by the law of Allah. The sacrifice is not only to be enjoyed by the one who sacrifices and his family. A main reason behind this ritual is to provide for the poor and let them share this moment of happiness. It is to give charity to the poor and give them portion of what you eat in your own house. Thus, becoming one big family, sharing the same belief, as well as the same joy.

Spamathon

My spammer name is Nitroglycerine G. Wharves.

Enter your name to get yours:

While we're at it, meet my Dad, Swung D. Morton; my mother, Stern D. Deuteron; my brother, Chancel H. Passionate; my sister, Noblesse Q. Draftsperson; and my other sister, Blackfeet G. Foley. We're a loving, spamming family. Let's groove!

If I were a spammer,
I'd spam ya in the mo-or-ning
I'd spam ya in the evening,
All throughout your ma-ail.

No, I really wouldn't. I am glad to (so far) not have been spammed much, except for the usual bulk mail nonsense. Just plug in your real name up top and generate a groovy nom de Spam. You, too, can sell nonexistent property in the Everglades, bedazzle others with your Viagra knowledge, or set me a-sailing on Gilligan's Island Cruise Line.

en mis sueños

Last night actor Steve Zahn, who had grown out a beard and was wearing a hat and glasses, and actress Joely Fisher, displaying her brilliant red hair and bubbly personality, came to my house in Amman for a visit. Among their zany antics was an attempt to order an organic pizza from the local pizza delivery place, who could not understand them on the telephone; crawling around on their knees in my yard to pull up all of the edible weeds and tell me their scientific names and how tasty they are in salads; and enthusiastically applauding my oldest brother-in-law as he grilled copious amounts of fresh, un-beheaded fish in our kitchen.

It is not often that the stars visit me in my dreams. This new eating plan I am on does not allow me to eat after 7:30 p.m., so I can't blame it on the melted cheese and turkey hoagie I ate before sleeping. All I ate last night was a few olives.

Steve and Joely and I sure did have some fun, though, and they are welcome back any time.

On Hajj

From our dear sister at Al Miskeenah

Beautiful prayers, words, and pictures from Mecca and Medina

Suede

My sister-in-law and her family recently emigrated to Sweden.

Sweden has, since the 1930s, been a model society where the principles of socialism have been put into play, and have succeeded. Some may say that Sweden is the best country in the world as far as standards of living, health, and welfare benefits. Sweden consistently makes it on the "Top Five Countries in the World" list. In Sweden, welfare carries no derogatory connotation. It's a way of life.

While my husband's relatives hemmed and hawed about these family members "deserting us here" and "fighting qadr Allah and/or their Risq here" (that one made me laugh--as if Jordan is the only place one should aim to seek provision), my sis in law held firm in her decision, and got on a plane.

She has three daughters and has lived on a salary my family could not survive on for as long as I have known her. Yet she has always maintained a great standard of living within her household: the children were always nicely dressed and well fed; the fridge and freezer were always stocked. She's one of those people who always has seasonal fruit in a bowl on the table and a slice of something yummy to serve. She is a great cook and generous hostess. She has been my defender, my mentor, and a true sister in Islam. She is looking for a way to better the lives of her daughters, who do not want to be locked into the tawjihi system and left with no way to educate themselves. I do not blame them for wanting to leave.

After one year of Swedish language classes, my sister-in-law's daughters may go to school, free of charge. When they finish high school, they may attend university, free of charge. The Swedish government gives them a stipend each month, and the better their grades are, the more money they will receive. The Swedes want everyone to succeed. They want to preserve their society and understand that the immigrant population can be an asset only if provided opportunities to do so. While I am sure that there are those immigrants who take advantage of a good thing, I know that my sister-in-law is not a moocher and is ready to contribute what she must.

I am happy for her, even if there is no one left who can make mamoul.

For more on Sweden

Sweden and its Muslim Immigrants

The Swedish Model

Sweden: Learning for Life

Sweden: The 'home of the people'

New Blog

Check out my buddy from across the river's new blog, Climbing Walls. She is an American who has been living in Palestine for over a decade.

Welcome, welcome!

Ad Nauseum, or Look to the Sheep

I know I have written about health and fitness before, maybe to the point of boring you. I apologize.

My husband was stricken this week with the same horrid throat infection I had two weeks ago. He left the house at 8 a.m. happy and bubbly, but returned at 5 p.m. shaking, trembling, and very out of sorts. His fever came on suddenly and he immediately began complaining of severe throat pain. Men are quite pitiful when they are ill--have you noticed?

Instead of letting him lie around for 48 hours (as I had done) hoping it would pass on its own, we immediately went to the doctor.

Oh, evil Jordanian bacteria! Why are your strains so fierce? Is it because of the widespread antibiotic abuse in this country? Is it because of the potent dust that blankets windows, floors, and carpets and lets you breed quietly? Is it because we are easy targets? Why?

Anyway, he is already on the road to feeling like himself again, after receiving proper treatment. The doctor's visit plus two injections plus a round of meds cost us around 37 JD, or $50. This may sound reasonable to anyone in the US or Europe, but that is 1/4 of most Jordanians' salaries. We are very thankful we can afford to get medical treatment when we need it.

In between my husband lying around moaning from his woes, we had a few discussions about our health. We made a commitment to each other to take care of our bodies, starting now. While I have already weaned myself off of my usual four cups of coffee per day and am now down to just one, I must also remove the other bad elements from my diet. Here in Jordan we have the opportunity to eat well and eat lots of the right foods, but we choose the easier way.

For instance, yesterday at the veggie market we bought some purslane, which (thanks for pointing this out to me, whoever you are) in Arabic is called ba'qleh. We bought khobeizeh, which is another green leafy thing that sheep like to munch on. We bought spinach. We bought ginger, which contains five natural antibiotics. (it's a magical root!)

I had to come home and pick and clean all of these greens, which took around two hours. While I'd rather have spent my time doing other things, I know it is worth it for my family. Washing this stuff is a pain, because everything grows in this sandy soil and now that it's winter, it is more like mud.

I prepared a beef curry with coconut milk and a caesar salad for dinner. Tonight we're having khobeizeh cooked with onion and olive oil, and a homemade pot of chicken soup. I'm trying to get away from needing to cook a meat dish every single night; I want to teach my kids to appreciate the great flavors in all of this food that does not have to be processed, filled, or packaged. So far, so good. I'm even thinking to start making Dr. Oz's green drink and see if I feel a difference in the mornings, since my energy levels are in arrears. Time for a poem!

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,

His wife could eat no lean.

And so betwixt the two of them,

They licked the platter clean.

I don't want to be Jack's wife.

I am a Muslim

I thought this was nice and not oversimplified, yet not too pushy.

Like those folks stranded on a desert island

You know, the ones in Lost? Let's assume they are real.

Isn't it sad how the earth spins 'round and they have no idea what is going on in the world of hip-hop, celebrity marriages/divorces, news and politics, or fashion? One wonders how they deal with the basic task of survival without a People Magazine.

While speaking to my sister tonight on the phone, I had an epiphany. She helped me along in my realization that I have missed nearly seven years of "Western" pop culture while living here in Jordan. Prior to that, I chose to live rather hermit-like in the U.S., without cable TV. I used to read newspapers but not pulp fiction or junky magazines featuring teenie boppers or adults who acted like teenie boppers. I just didn't give a rip, honestly, about any of it. My sterling knowledge of pop music also began to decline around 1995 or so. (I used to work in a music store and had to be up on everything, all the time) It wasn't until two summers ago when my friend's daughters pointed out that my tapered "Mom" jeans had gone out of fashion with the Furby doll, circa 1998.

I had a history professor in Graduate school who told us that all history studied is of absolute no use, is refuse, is nonsense and time wasting, except for the history of pop culture. I vehemently disagreed with him, and still do. We were all History degree holders in his class, and each one of us had a distinct love for our specialization. Mine was Latin American history, many were US History buffs, and others preferred the Euro-Soviet track or medieval history. In one fell swoop, this clown tried to convince us that Madonna's pointy bra and the breakup of the Sex Pistols were the only kinds of tidbits of history worth minding. I dropped his class like a hot potato. No regrets here.

I'm ok with not being hip and in the know. I really am.

Tickled Fuchsia

I received this lovely little gift from Dixie Peach, over at her blog. And so did Dictator Princess. Here we are, two southern gals from AL and MS, respectively, finding readership in corners I would not have ever imagined. Southern gals rock. (Hey Dixie, where are my socks? Toes are cold...)

Seriously, I've been reading Dixie Peach for some time now, and I just love the wit that she pairs with her sincerity. She is a wife and a caregiver and a human being par excellence. She's also the same age as my big sister and I just identify with her. And she is one of those gals who tries to foster multicultural understanding, be it German-American or Muslim-non-Muslim. Thanks for all the respect you've shown me.

Anyhow, this dude is fuchsia.

And here's what he's about:

Those people given this award to are encouraged to post it on their own blogs; list three things they believe are necessary for good, powerful writing; and then pass the award on to the five blogs they want to honour, who in turn pass it on to five others, etc., etc. Let's send a roar through the blogsphere! The image at the top right can be copied and pasted onto other blogs. Also, a small size of the award for sidebars can be found over at the writing circle site.

My readability requirements:

1. Get down off of your pedestal before you scribble. I want to read writing that is genuine and shows the writer's desire to communicate to an audience that reaches beyond himself and his ego. While blogging itself can be interpreted as a form of narcissism, the blogs I read have to push past the me! me! me! stage and into the realm of the sincere.
2. Show me that you are part of the human struggle and are not rigidly fixed in your philosophies. Be open-minded.
3. When I read your words, make me experience emotions on various levels. Sometimes I may want to shout at my screen, other times I guffaw, often I may cry. Write from the heart.

I'm shouting out to these five bloggers:

1. Jobina of Think Noisy and Colorfully
Jobina and I started reading one another's blogs last year after her husband, on his blog, pressed the "next blog" button and found mine, commenting on a post I had written about a little girl who passed away tragically. I have always had a fascination with Canadians, because I just think they are cool and loving people. No one ever says, "Oh those damn Canadians," do they? Anyway, Jobina is a mom of two young ones, a Christian with down home traditions and a wholesome life, and I just love reading her realness.

2. Bin Gregory of Bin Gregory Productions.
He doesn't post as often as I'd like, but when he does, his posts are warm and genuine and thought-provoking--all the elements that make writing worth reading.

3. Ibrahim Abusharif of From Clay.
This blog is a new find for me. Br. Ibrahim is a Palestinian-American, published author, journalist, and professor from Illinois who brings truth and honesty to the blogging realm. When I read this post by him, I was blown away by the power of his imagery. I think that Br. Ibrahim brings a voice of intellect without academic stuffiness to this, our blogging genre. I expect his great talent to flourish.

4. Baraka of Rickshaw Diaries.
Of course those of you who have been reading Baraka for years know why she touches her readers. Keep fighting, keep searching, keep writing.

5. Naseem Tarawneh of The Black Iris of Jordan
Brother Nas gives me hope for the twenty-somethings of today. He is sharp and introspective and writes about the current events in Jordan like a seasoned commentator. When I read his posts I do not feel the generation gap between us. He takes risks in his writing and is spot-on more times than not. He makes waves. And he was educated in Canada, so that gives him an honorary 'coolness.'

Roar!

Push Me-Pull You

Did you ever read the original Dr. Dolittle ? Do you remember that animal, the push-me-pull-you, who had a head at each end of his body? I feel like that creature sometimes, mainly because I often don't know which way I am headed and I feel like the middle of an enormous tug-o-war game.

This week, I was offered a teaching gig at the Jordanian Institute for Diplomacy. While that title may sound oxymoronic, it's a good job that pays well and would not demand *much* time from me.

As much as I wanted to say 'yes,' I had to decline. There is really no place I like better than standing in front of a classroom. But I do know how I become when I'm working. I want to focus most of my attention on my work; I become irritable at home because I have the home responsibilities driving me at full speed ahead in addition to whatever I'm doing outside of the house. I have done it for periods of time during my married/mothering life, and sometimes with less than desirable results, i.e., total burnout. I suppose that what I crave is that mental stimulation, that feeling I get when someone else acknowledges that I am not just a cooker of meals and cleaner of dust bunnies.

I have four children. They need me.

So for now, I just sit back and contemplate that my window of opportunity may be around the corner, as the kids are growing older and I have no plans (Allah knows best) to add to this unit. I sit and pray for a time when I have my chance, when there is a time of ease and I don't feel like a two-headed (or two-butted) animal who cannot identify her direction but who feels a pull of something inside, urging her to take flight.

Could we be more vague?

My mother-in-law needed to fill a prescription for some multi-vitamins. My husband brought home the box, and I noticed that the brand name of vitamins is "Adrien Gagnon" and they are manufactured in LaPrairie, Quebec, Canada.

I flipped over to the English side of the box and saw this warning. Admittedly, I laughed out loud:

"Keep out of reach of children, because if a child would take 50 tablets or more at once, the high iron contents might be harmful."

Ha!

Readability

I ganked this (I must admit, ganked is a word I have learned since reading blogs, and I have a hard time using new words sometimes, but there, I did it) from my friend Patricia's blog, Pischi Days.

If you want to test your blog's readability, i.e., level of intelligence (?) with which you write as well as what educational background others might need to read your blog, take this test. It only takes a few seconds to run your URL through.

Mine scored a "College: Post Grad" rating.

I guess those AP English classes paid off after all. Thank you, Ms. Donna Lessenberry, wherever you are.

Why My Stomach Turned on Me

I used to be a street food aficionada. Wherever I traveled, I had to indulge in the wares of the street. It made me feel like I was really experiencing the place, be it Mexico City or Annapolis, Maryland. Street food. Mmmmmm, good. (I am remembering an old post, this one, by Umm Zaid, about grease truck sammies. Oh, yum.)

Tacos de lengua in Cuernavaca? Sign me up! Paella in Madrid? Claro que sí. A slice of big sloppy New York-style pizza on Venice Beach boardwalk? You betcha. After I became a Muslim, of course, I had to be more selective about my choices. Not knowing if meat was halal, or even what kind of meat was being used; things like using the same knife to cut a pepperoni pizza as a cheese pizza, oils, lard, etc.; basically, experiencing the street foods in the US and abroad became a little more difficult and honestly quite frustrating.

Fast forward to Jordan, present day, where it's all halal, but...

Do I really want to buy a big bowl of super-sized fava beans from the street vendor, or corn on the cob that has been cooked in water of unknown origins? Is the guy making my shawerma sandwich washing his hands after he wipes the sweat from his brow? Furthermore, has my chicken been bleached in something before being cooked, for that extra hint of cleanliness? Can I trust that the parsley in the tabouli I'm about to put in my mouth has been washed? The sushi at Safeway: just how old is that salmon and where did it swim and live? Ick.

I never wanted to become a food conspiracy theorist, but I have either seen the inside of the ER or have counted the tiles on my bathroom floor one time too many to keep taking the risk.

An a.m. Chuckle

What cops in the American Southwest might say:

"Drop the frog, and put your hands where I can see them!"

"I'm going to search your car now for amphibians. If I find any, you're going to jail for a long time, buddy."

What the heck am I talking about anyway?

Enabling: An Afterthought

The more I think about how free I am feeling right now, the bigger my smile grows. SubhanAllah.

I did, however, want to add something to my last post. We can enable bad behaviors that are not from drug or alcohol abusers. We may enable a husband to abuse us. We may enable someone who is irresponsible with money to continue to be so. We might enable our friends to take advantage of us in ways that are detrimental to our health and well-being. Dysfunction is everywhere, in a multitude of shapes and forms. And I think that as a Muslimah, my sanity is paramount, and in no text is it written that I have to go out and save the world. There are those individuals, in case you have not noticed, who can help themselves but will not, because they know someone will always be around to bail them out, clean up their rubbish, and give them excuses, albeit undeserved. At some point, it is ok to let a brother, a sister, or a family member, fall on his face.

Oh Allah! Save me from dysfunction in my family life, from ill will in the guise of friendship, and from hypocrisy in all if its forms. Oh Allah! Make me sincere in my worship and in my dealings with others and shield me from the evil of hypocrisy in my own character. Oh Allah! Help me to purify my intentions and to let go of the rancor that plagues and blackens the hearts of mankind. Ameen.

The Big E

That's me.

I'm an enabler.

If you ever have dealt with alcoholics or addicts, you will identify with this. Maybe they are clean and sober but still possess the same addictive behaviors, or maybe they are still in the midst of madness and drug use. But the personality of an addict is quite identifiable. And the personality of an enabler (that'd be me!) is also tell-tale.

I am tired. I took a mental health day yesterday and decided to stop it. I'm an enabler no more, with the help of God.

And if you think that drug abuse or addiction or the behaviors associated therewith are foreign to the Muslim community, think again.

While the following characteristics are intended to let a health care provider identify a potential drug abuser, anyone can use this list.

Common Characteristics of the Drug Abuser:

• Unusual behavior in the waiting room;
  
• Assertive personality, often demanding immediate action;
  
• Unusual appearance - extremes of either slovenliness or being over-dressed;
  
• May show unusual knowledge of controlled substances and/or gives medical history with textbook symptoms OR gives evasive or vague answers to questions regarding medical history;
  
• Reluctant or unwilling to provide reference information. Usually has no regular doctor and often no health insurance;
  
• Will often request a specific controlled drug and is reluctant to try a different drug;
  
• Generally has no interest in diagnosis - fails to keep appointments for further diagnostic tests or refuses to see another practitioner for consultation;
  
• May exaggerate medical problems and/or simulate symptoms;
  
• May exhibit mood disturbances, suicidal thoughts, lack of impulse control, thought disorders, and/or sexual dysfunction;
  
• Cutaneous signs of drug abuse - skin tracks and related scars on the neck, axilla, forearm, wrist, foot and ankle. Such marks are usually multiple, hyper-pigmented and linear. New lesions may be inflamed. Shows signs of "pop" scars from subcutaneous injections.

Modus Operandi Often Used by the Drug-Seeking Patient Include:

• Must be seen right away;
  
• Wants an appointment toward end of office hours;
  
• Calls or comes in after regular hours;
  
• States he/she's traveling through town, visiting friends or relatives (not a permanent resident);
  
• Feigns physical problems, such as abdominal or back pain, kidney stone, or migraine headache in an effort to obtain narcotic drugs;
  
• Feigns psychological problems, such as anxiety, insomnia, fatigue or depression in an effort to obtain stimulants or depressants;
  
• States that specific non-narcotic analgesics do not work or that he/she is allergic to them;
  
• Contends to be a patient of a practitioner who is currently unavailable or will not give the name of a primary or reference physician;
  
• States that a prescription has been lost or stolen and needs replacing;
  
• Deceives the practitioner, such as by requesting refills more often than originally prescribed;
  
• Pressures the practitioner by eliciting sympathy or guilt or by direct threats;
  
• Utilizes a child or an elderly person when seeking methylphenidate or pain medication.

Now it's my turn. This is what I do (correction, did) :

When we begin enabling, we often believe that we are being helpful. Many times, both the chemically dependent person and the enabler are in denial about the severity of the hidden addiction.

Examples of Enabling

Examples of enabling behaviors include:

• Making excuses for the addict/alcoholic (calling the alcoholic's boss to say they are sick with the flu, when they are really hung over, or referring to your teenager's drug use as 'just a phase')
• Paying their bills
• Bailing them out of jail
• Making rationalizations for their irresponsible behaviors
• Ignoring the problems caused by the addict's use ( financial, employment, legal)
• Cleaning up their messes
• Accepting their excuses or believing their lies
• Not discussing the problem of their chemical use
• Not getting help for yourself

As addicts/alcoholics are rescued from the consequences of their using and drinking, they learn to rely on their enablers to continue their addiction.

Enabling behaviors can be changed, and recovery is possible even if the chemically dependent person does not seek help.

Feelings Associated with Enabling

By providing support to chemically dependent persons, we help them continue to drink alcohol or use drugs, and we assist them in increasing the severity of their addiction. Repeated enabling becomes come the 'normal' way we deal with the addict. As the disease of chemical dependency progresses, the problems and conflict that result from addiction in a family member or friend increase, and so does the discomfort we feel.

Enabling Is Self-Defeating

When we begin enabling, we often believe we are being helpful. When we find that our efforts are ineffective and the problems continue and become more pronounced, we feel frustrated, resentful, and angry. As the disease and our enabling progresses , our initial discomfort becomes intensified with feelings that can include anger, rage, hostility, sadness, and distrust. Sometimes we become totally numb rather than experience the pain, or we become overly active to avoid feeling. Our focus becomes more and more centered on supporting and protecting the chemically dependent individual and less centered less on our own needs. We often feel hopeless, defeated, and depressed. This cycle of problems feeding problems continues until we seek help.

Addressing Enabling

To regain a sense of themselves and to break the cycle in which they become trapped, enablers must learn to focus on their personal rights and needs. They must allow the addicted individual to feel the consequences of their own behavior. As enablers stop protecting the addict, they begin to feel the consequences of their addiction, and may become very angry. At first, this can be frightening, but as we learn that we are not responsible for the addict's problems, we feel strength and pride in ourselves. We may also feel sad to see the addict having to live with the consequences of their addiction.

My thanks to this website for giving me tools I needed. Alhamdulillah.

BLECKH is all that comes to mind

And I'm supposed to feel inclined to give kudos to the Sudanese government? Sorry, I don't. This entire issue was a sham and a travesty to begin with. Why give credit to them for coming to their senses? I can't. I won't. I'm just glad that the teacher is safe and unharmed, and free. This was a real shoulder-shrugger/head-pounder. And we need so much fuel for our fires, don't we?