My Very First Classroom

Looks Like We've Made It

2007-06-16T11:46:00.000+03:00

Packed-up boxes. Stacks of chairs. Eerily silent halls. Doors and walls stripped of their glamour...

Yep. It's official. School is over! (well just a couple more days but they don't really count). And what do you know, I did it! I have managed to successfully complete my first year of teaching. It's been a rocky climb, that's for sure. But I made it to the top. Alhamdulillah!

And the fact that it was my "very first classroom" made it so special. In years to come, I hope to have plenty more classrooms to decorate, lesson plans to design, and students to share all kinds of wonderful memories with, and hopefully manage to inspire a bunch:) My new experiences will be special in their own way. But still, the "very first" anything has a different taste. Not necessarily completely pleasant, but definitely memorable:)

I'll be missing my very first classroom. But I'll also be missing my very first blog. I'll no longer be posting here. So this is officially my "Very Last Post". It also happens to be my 201st post. Gee, to think I babbled on 200 times in the course of an academic year. And to actually have had devoted family members and friends who stuck with me through it all, constantly offering me words of encouragement, and giving me a laugh when I most needed one. Doesn't get any better. My experience this year wouldn't have been the same without you guys:) You rock my world!

Special thanks to my sis, who hands down is the best blog-reader/commenter I could ask for. You might've been continents away, but your hilarious comments made it feel like you were in the next room hollering at me to fetch you the dictionary. You know, the good old days, when I was 7 and shamlessly exploited as your official "fetcher girl":P Good days. I wonder what Human Rights Watch would have to say about it;)

Not to forget my less-obvious but equally devoted readers, mommy, auntie, Nasser, and as of recently; Abood and dad. Can't ask for cooler audience;)
Khokha of course, is also my favorite:) Where are you girl? You're missed. Big time!

Having you all in mind as I wrote, made it a lot more fun:)

Okay enough about the past, let's talk future tense. I'm crazily excited about my new endeavour! Boston here I come insha'Allah! So for the rest of the week, most of my babbling will concern my upcoming travels and brand new life back as a university student:) Sweet.

It is only appropriate then, I figured, to announce the launch of my new blog. It's called "Where Crisp Leaves Fall". Can you tell my heart is skipping at the idea of finally being surrounded with the breathtaking and mesmerising New England foliage? Absolutely magical.....

Guess that's goodbye.

Not so fast! The babbling continues. Just a click away in fact. Go ahead, click. You can't hang around here forever, now can you?

An afternoon of music

2007-06-12T21:17:00.000+03:00

This is what I've been hearing this afternoon.. over and over. It's the first time I know of Zain Bhikha. His tender voice along with meaningful lyrics make for a very relaxing and joyful musical experience:)

Allah Knows

The Heart Of A Muslim

Dust Is All Around

2007-06-11T19:41:00.000+03:00

I have reached a point where I actually have to grasp my head with both hands and squeeze it tight each time I cough to make it less painful. Who knew you could develop a piercing headache from a cough overdoze? Amazing.

Of course it didn't help that when I looked out of the classroom window today I found the world to be completely white. No not snow silly. Dust. Pale ugly dust. Yeah. That was pretty much the final blow. I was later found choking on a spoonful of dust and mumbling my own version of "Love Is All Around":

I feel it in my windpipe
I feel it in my nose
The dust that's all around me
And so my breath slowly goes
It's written on the wind
It's everywhere I go
So if you really love me
Come on and let it go

How appropriate and expressive of my sorry state.

Not that I'm here to complain. Alhamdulillah. The images of those penguins are still fresh and vivid. Even with a nasty cough, I've still got it easy trust me. Unless of course I suddenly get deported to the south pole along with my cough, get starved for 3 months, then asked to walk 70 miles just to end up gobbled up by a leopard seal. I think I most definitely deserve to complain then.

Seriously now. I'm determined to be thankful and not to whine. Because lately each time I whine about something, I end up seeing or hearing about someone (that's right, a human being, not a penguin) who has it much worse. As in much much worse. I end up feeling ashamed and small. Not particularly pleasant.

Alhamdulillah. That's my mantra in this freshly embraced gratitute spirit. Saying it over and over really changes your mindset. Alhamdulillah. I could have it much worse. I could be allergic, say, to chocolate. Hey I could be allergic to chocolate AND living in the south pole. Geez.

Allah Subhanahu wa ta'ala says:

Therefore remember Me, I will remember you and give thanks to Me and be not ungrateful to Me (Quran, 2:152).

If you are thankful, surely I will increase more (favors) for you. (14:7)

And He gives you all that you ask of Him. And if you count Allah’s favours, you will not be able to number them. Surely man is very unjust, very ungrateful (14: 34)

And if We make man taste mercy from Us, then take it off from him, most surely he is despairing, ungrateful.

What I've been up to

2007-06-10T20:13:00.000+03:00

Not all the other teachers are as lucky (the English teachers are swamped with work still), but I really have nothing to do in school these days. It's been so boring. I've packed the boxes, finished all the necessary filings, and curriculum work. My productivity level is now subzero. In the sense that I distract the hardworking teachers when I'm bored, with stuff like barging in with my batch of muffins and announcing an impromptu muffin party. What fun!

But when I found myself staring intensely at a "steak, chicken and kabob" recipes on allrecipes.com, I knew I had to do something. This cannot continue. I don't even like meat all that much. I picked up my cell and made an urgent phone call.

Me: morning! So I have a proposal. If you agree to come around my place after you're done with your training, I'll take a leave from work early and we'll spend the day. I didn't use up all my leaves yet.
Fatima: oh I wish. But I don't have a car today, that's why I didn't even go to train. I'm at home.
Me: just as well, I'll pick you up right now. Be ready.
Fatima: uh, okay!

And that is how I called it a day at work four hours earlier, in favor of a much more interesting day. We treated ourselves to a homemade breakfast, with tea and all. Then sat, armed with platefuls of cheesecake, and watched "March of the penguins". It is such an amazing documentary. Now I understand why each time I used to complain to mama, she'd say "just go and watch the penguin DVD and you'll see what's worth complaining about". I have never been more grateful that I am not a penguin than this morning. Oh and the tiny chicks are so fluffy and adorable, they make you wanna jump into the screen and hug them flat! I want my own tiny penguin:)

Fatima (after hearing what most probably is my 107th cough in the last 2 hours): are you going to die?
Me: umm. Well. I dunno really. I was kinda hoping to stick around a bit longer.

I finally went to my doctor's appointment. Last time I saw him was almost a year ago, and I forgot what an absolutely amazing refined person he is. Dr. Khaled Al-Subaih. He is the gentlest of gentlemen. The way he talks to you, treats you, and takes the time to explain and hear you out and even engage you in small talk. He's such a genteel and gracious person. And of course an amazing well-reputed doctor (hey I had to wait a whole week for an appointment). But it's so worth it. It's not everyday you meet such a person. It's so refreshing. They make the world seem like such a wonderful wonderful place!

I always leave his clinic with a feeling of intense guilt because of the stereotypes I admit I foster with regards to male Kuwaitis. But then I drive back home and I'm almost thrown off the road by the lunatic tailgating me, or the zigzagging freak who seems to mistake the road for his prom dance floor, and suddenly I'm not feeling so guilty. Just plain terrified for my life.

He gave me a new cough medicine to consume. Let's hope this one will work and make the agony of drinking it worthwhile. Okay I'm not being truthful since I've perfected a method that guarantees minimal exposure to taste. I begin by closing my nose tight (so tight in fact that when I finally let go it's always red and a bit swollen), then instantly after drinking it (and with my nose still pressed shut) I rinse my mouth to rid it of any remaining droplets, drink water, then quickly gulp in things that have very strong tastes. When I feel that the chances of any stray cough droplets still lurking inside my mouth is slim to none, I venture open my now bright red nose and smile in satisfaction when I taste nothing.

Not the most dignified approach to cough medicine consumption, granted. But it works, and that's all that counts really.

All out of tricks

2007-06-08T19:11:00.000+03:00

Mommy come back. You are sorely sorely missed. (not really mommy, enjoy your time. I'm sorry, I'm just being whiny:)
Like I said, I'm all out of tricks. I've entertained myself long enough, the inevitable downhill has finally arrived. And I've been rolling down all day.

I'm feeling so lousy, and the cough is alive and kicking the wind out of my windpipe. Also, the new arrival of a terrible headache completely busted any plans I had of being physically active today. Yep, text book symptoms of "mommy deprivation". It's here and it's ugly.

On a positive note, I just discovered the yummiest, most wholesome drink ever. Boil water, then steep in some ginger, then add lemon and honey. Mmmmmm. frankly, it didn't particularly make me feel better. But it's so hot and soothing and yummy:) I must've drank a bucketful of it today. At least.

In two weeks I'll be leaving Kuwait for good insha'Allah. I've been meaning to write a post about the things I'll miss around here. I think we'd all agree that the timing now is perfect. Well, except of course that I'm feeling lousy, but I expect you to be understanding and just ignore any parts that don't make sense. And also be tolerant when you notice my writing style to be very wanting. Thank you.

It's been two years since I came back to live with my parents here. I've spent the better part of those two years either whining about being in Kuwait or planning my escape. Not in a million years would I have thought I'd be able to come up with more than a couple of things I'd miss about being here, and only if I were severely pressed. Let alone a complete list. And yet, my brain is now crammed with things I'll be missing. Life is funny. I'm sure there's a lesson for me to learn here, but my brain is too exhausted to try to figure it out.

So here goes...

Things I'll miss about being in Kuwait:

1. Mommy. Daddy. Mommy. Daddy. Mommy. Daddy.
I can't say that enough. Being with them is what made it all worthwhile. I'm going to miss them terribly. Naturally I'm biased, but I would vote them best parents ever to have lived on this planet any time of the year! And they'd still be under appreciated.

2. Waking up and finding mom already up and sipping on her latte.
For the life of me, I can't remember a single time through out my life where I woke up and found my mom to be still asleep. It isn't morning if my mom isn't up. I think at some point in my childhood I believed it was my mom who woke up the sunshine:)

3. Hugging my mom goodbye every morning before leaving and hearing her say a prayer for me.

4. Sitting in the living room together after dad arrives from his squash game and watch him animatedly share with us the details of his game. He gets us so involved as we relive the game and its most intense moments:)

5. Mosques. The abundance of mosques. There's a mosque in each corner. Oh and they actually have the womens' section open. I have abundant Ammani memories of having to literally drag the Imam out of his house to find the key and open the door for me. Something I didn't have to do here.

6. Going to the the mosque with dad. And peeking from upstairs until I spot him. I guess that's one of the things you can't outgrow. Such thrill in knowing you can watch them while they are clueless:)

7. Our Thursday family day. A ritual that survived the test of time, and the dwindling number of family members actually present. It's the best day of the week!

8. Constantly and publicly ridiculing mom's reality shows, but then ending up hooked on "Hell's kitchen", which eventually became part of our motherly-daughterly Friday ritual. (disclaimer: I still despise reality shows. This is the exception that proves the rule:). Oh by the way mom, next Friday will be the season finale. Oh and today Keith got kicked out *gasp*. I KNOW.

9. Sitting in a coffee shop with dad and talking. Just talking about this and that.

10. Playing scrabble and snakes and ladders with mom.

Okay so the list isn't that long. But hey, at least it's more than two points. And it mostly revolves around my lovely parents. Because let's face it, Kuwait is an okay place I guess, but if it wasn't for the fact that my parents were here, I'd leave without so much as a glance back.

But they are here, and that is why I'll be leaving part of my heart behind. A very big chunk of it at that. I've always been an advocate for the saying "Home is where your heart is". Only problem is, my heart is being tugged in a lot of directions, the poor thing is confused. That's the downside of having all those dear to you spread out in the big big world.

But as the song goes..."I'm a big big girl in a big big world"

And hopefully my heart is big big enough to handle being on three different continents simultaneously:)

Bugged by coughs

2007-06-07T13:24:00.000+03:00

I finally decided to do something about that nasty cough that seems to have tightened its grip on me for the last 3 days. It's one of those allergy-induced dry coughs that literally tears your windpipe apart and leaves your throat red and raw. Lately I've been consuming Strepils (lemon and honey flavored, yum!) like it was a new food group or something.

This morning I did some online research about my cough, then walked to our nearby pharmacy. The pharmacist is something of a friend of mine. A friendship that developed at the dear price of continuously paying an arm and a leg on allergy medicines and Cortisone nasal sprays. I opened the door just as I was attacked by a string of painful coughs.

Pharmacist friend: Allergy's giving you a hard time, eh?

I managed a smile, half a nod and 3 coughs in answer.

I left with a new packet of allergy pills and some cough syrup. Syrup? Yikes. I cringed at the thought. I don't remember the last time I took syrup. Actually I do remember. I was 4 and it literally took 5 able-bodied grownups to pin me down and stick that spoonful of bitterness into my throat. I fought hard.

When I was old enough to swallow pills, I swore off syrups. And up until this morning, I felt no shame declaring to my doctors upon seeing them scribble a syrup prescription that "sorry I don't drink syrups. They taste like crap".

But today I said nothing. Maybe it has something to do with having become a teacher. I mean, let's face it, I still act crazy a lot, so maybe I felt the need to outgrow something (anything!) to get a sense of accomplishment. You know, tangible evidence of my long-overdue maturity.

I swallowed it with minimal drama (unless you count the sound effects and facial expressions). Hopefully it'll suppress my cough insha'Allah, because I don't think I can cough one more time.

I've been taking it easy this morning, since I'm still beat up from my long day yesterday. I spent 16 hours straight outside the house. Although none of them involved strenuous physical activity, I still feel every bit of me aching. At one point yesterday I did sleep on my classroom floor yet again. So that'll explain the pain in my neck and hips.

As a token of my appreciation, I had promised Ahmed to take him wall climbing, which I did yesterday. I met with him, Ms. Darci and his 2-year-old cute sister. We had burgers at Johnny Rockets, then took him climbing. It was his first time, so there was a lot of "Aaah I'm falling"s involved. But I think he had fun. I hadn't actually gone climbing ever since I posted about it months earlier. Maybe I'll go soon. I was itching to climb yesterday, but I had a skirt on (although admittedly, it served as a handy excuse when Ahmed suddenly exclaimed "oh you are laughing at me??? Let me see you climb the level 3!") .

Time's flying by. It's already 2 pm., although I feel I just woke up a while ago (which is far from the truth, since I woke up at like 6 am. or something). It wasn't a very productive morning, with the exception of preparing the beds for my friends who should be sleeping over this weekend, and making yummy muffins. Speaking of which, I think I ate one muffin too much.

What do you know, it's already time to take my 2nd dose of cough syrup. Brace yourselves people, this may turn ugly.

Super Size Me

2007-06-05T22:13:00.000+03:00

I just returned from Cinemagic's documentary night screening. Today it was "Super Size Me". And that much I can tell you: I don't think I'll ever set foot in a McDonald's. Ever.

Not that I do. I actually like to think that my diet is quite healthy. I mean, I honestly can't remember the last time I ate fast food. I am absolutely in love with all kinds of fruits, which is usually where I satisfy most of my sugar cravings (dates are the best!). I eat a bucketful of salad everyday, and absolutely detest fried foods. I feel sick just looking at them.

But of course you're thinking of chocolates, and why shouldn't you when it's all I talk about:) In fact, my actual consumption of chocolates falls shockingly short of the frequency of my odes to them. I mean don't get me wrong I LOVE the stuff. I would live off it if I could (aaah. What a life!). But I also wouldn't want to walk around with the waistline of a hippo. Hardly good for my self esteem. And would seriously affect my ability to chase the kids back to class, a skill I cannot afford to lose.

I particularly enjoyed the part where a psychologist was explaining to the guy doing the experiment (he ate nothing but MacDonald's for a month!) that kids get hooked up on McDonald's because they associate it with fun (the playground) and toys (from happy meals) and fun times spent with their families. They are thus conditioned to love it. So the guy decides that once he has his own kids, he's going to punch them each time they pass a fast food restaurant, to ensure a negative association! Brilliantly radical, no?

Of course he might do time for child abuse, but at least he'll rest assured his kids are eating their veggies.

A bagful of cuteness

2007-06-05T09:43:00.000+03:00

There was a gentle knock, then a tiny face peeked. It was Ahmed's. My favorite favorite Ahmed. He walked in hesitantly, his hands behind his back, I could see part of what seemed like a gift bag he was hiding with his body. He finally made it to my desk and with a smile handed me a bag full of gifts.

The gesture itself swept me off my feet, but when I actually took a look at the contents of the bag, I was near tears. A box of heavenly Guylian chocolates which I absolutely adore, the CUTEST Cuddly lion I've ever seen (check it out bellow), a photo frame and a touching poem about teachers he chose himself and signed a thank you underneath.

souce: Amazon.com

Now all throughout the school year I was getting a continuous doses of hugs and kisses from the Grade 4 girls I was teaching reading. As for the boys, they are obviously less affectionate, and although some of them were absolutely huggable and kissable, I thought better than to do that. Plus I had a feeling a hug from the teacher would ensure a wave of teasing from the whole class which would horrify the poor boy. So they only got playful pats and cheek squeezes and half hugs if it was very necessary. I was also worried about school policy.

But I didn't care today. I hugged and kissed him until he resembled a ripe tomato:) I wanted to cry. He absolutely made my day! I make it a point to make a big deal when someone gives me a gift, even if I'm not crazy about it. It has been instilled in us since childhood by mom and dad that "it's the thought that counts". So image what my reaction would be when I'm absolutely IN LOVE with the gift. I mean, CHOCOLATES. And a cuuuuuuute cute stuffed animal.

When I later told his mom, Ms. Darci who's also a teacher, how touched I was. She said that they went out yesterday to pick out gifts for all his teachers. Then he told her "Mom can I please get Ms. Mariam something special? Please?". And when he saw that lion he instantly got it and said "Please mom I want to get this lion for Ms. Mariam I know she'll like it".
Like it? I AM IN LOVE WITH IT. And the fact that it is from one of my students only makes it a million times more special.
His mom then said "I think you must've really touched him this year. He love you".

I mean, to have a 9 year old pick out gifts that are exactly the things I adore, is amazing. I mean, he obviously doesn't read my blog. So he has no way of knowing that the word "chocolate" is probably the most frequently used word in my blog. Nor did he read about my "Happy dozes" collection. Or that I absolutely love poems:) And yet he went and handpicked me a collection of the best gifts I could receive.

So Mr. Leo, welcome to my happy dozes collection. I trust you will find a lot of colorful company:)

*sigh*... Alhamdullilah. I feel so blessed!

امي مسافره وحعمل حفله

2007-06-05T07:22:00.000+03:00

It was actually my HOD who reminded me about this song. I am so out of touch with the music/video clip industry. And once you watch it, you'll know why. Pretty, umm, I'm not really sure what the best descriptive word would be. You be the judge!

Mommy, this goes out to you.... :D

Okay actually I don't think you should watch it mom, I don't think you could handle it. And if you do, you'll probably go straight to court and disown me. As a matter of fact, no one should watch it. It's not exactly the classiest type of music around. Hardly so! But hey, I'm alone and bored so don't judge me:P

Home Entertainment

2007-06-04T08:52:00.001+03:00

I've braved out the first night, and I must admit I'm pretty proud of myself. There was that momentary panic attack when I heard distinct voices coming from my parents' bedroom. I was frozen in fear for a second. I wasn't hallucinating, there were definitely voices in there. Further investigation revealed the culprit to be my dad's radio. Apparently, it suddenly decided to turn on and announce news in the middle of the night. Never mind the mental well being of a 23-year-old girl.

Come morning, it took me twice as much time to get ready for work. But you wouldn't find it surprising when you consider that I complied with a sudden urge to take a long shower, then open my wardrobe and play dress up. Don't even ask. But I saw no harm in indulging my whims. Plus I managed to get to work on time (the blessing of being an early bird!).

Another urge was to prance around the multitude of empty spaces in the house. What, a girl must keep herself entertained. As I was about to leave the house, I had the luxury of choosing which car to use. After a couple of minutes in contemplation (during which I think I might have dozed off), I settled on the jeep. It was a close call, but the fact that it had a CD player gave it the edge. Oh and I was happy to find out that dad had left it with a full tank. Aren't dads the best?

On a weird note, it seems I've lost a bit of my appetite for the last 17 hours. Which isn't exactly a usual occurrence. Last time I lost my appetite was when I had just finished reading Harry Potter and SHE KILLED DUMBLEDORE (yeah I don't think I'll ever get over that). I remember I also fought with my whole family, as if somehow they were responsible for his sad sad and untimely death. But anyway, back to my diminishing appetite. Not that I'm worried (lets face it, even my mourning for dumbledore's death didn't stop me from devouring Dalia's lunch menu. Boy does this girl know how to cook), but just for fun I was trying to pin point the underlying cause. At the end I figured it must be one of the three:

1. Somewhere in my subconscious I have a serious fear that mom abandoned me and so I am rationing my food supply.
2. I don't feel like dish washing. And eating over the sink is uncomfortable.
3. I have to make weight in time for my next boxing championship.

Of course I don't really box, but I thought it would make a good reason.

As you can see, I have managed so far to keep myself entertained thanks to such spur-of-the-moment crazy whims. This post being one of them. But the inspiration is dwindling. I'll soon run out of self-entertainment measures. Which is when I'll start my mushy-wushy saga:) Give it a day max.

Cheese Cake Overdose Warning

2007-06-03T19:41:00.000+03:00

So I guess it's just you and me now. mmmmmm.

All set to go

2007-06-03T11:44:00.000+03:00

Only the luggage at the door is not mine. Boo Hoo. Tonight, mom and dad will be heading to Boston to meet my sister, my brother coming down from Montreal, and later my auntie from Toronto. The reason for this family reunion? My smarty-pants sister's graduation of course!
(more on my delirious happiness in a second)

Right now however, I have some concerns to voice out. Lately I have noticed that the word "family reunion" has been used loosely. A lot of those so-called family reunions have been taking place in continents near and far. Which is a delightful thing really, if it wasn't for a teenie weenie problematic detail. I am NOT included.

Which is the reason I call for the establishment of a guiding set of rules for any future family reunions (yep I'm letting you guys get away with this last one).

Effective June 19th, 2007.

Alhusseini Family Reunion Code of Conduct:

1. It is only a family reunion if at least 3 family members from 3 different cities/countries/continents are present at the same time. Naturally, the more the merrier!
2. "Family" here refers to parents, siblings, grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins and crazy fat cats.
2. One of these 3 or more people must be me.

Oh what do you know, that's not too complicated now is it?:)

I would go on sulking about being left out, but I honestly can't get myself to. I'm SO excited for my sister! So proud! So happy! I love you sis. You're awesome! This is yet another occasion for me to brag about having a brilliant sister. I'm hoping that with enough sisterly exposure some of the brilliance will rub off on me:)

Dad will be away for two weeks, while mom claims she'll return in 9 days. I use the word "claim" because after taking a look at the sheer amount of food she's left me in the freezer, I am having my doubts. And so would you if your mom left you enough food to last you at least 6 months. That or she'll return in 9 days to find me extremely fat.

In a way, this will be a test drive of my upcoming year away from the parents. I have gotten so used to having them around. It's such a joy, that I will dearly miss. So yeah, expect some serious nostalgic posts during those 9++ days of my mom and dad's absence.

And just in case you're wondering, no of course I'm not scared. I resent what you're insinuating. A scaredy cat? Me? Feh.
I'm telling you I am on top of things. I just wish I had our baseball bat back in Amman handy. No matter, my brother's size 48.5 boots will more than suffice it.

Hey wait a second, why is mom taking winter clothes?? It won't be winter till December. Mom? moooom???

Oh well at least I won't starve to death.

Just Because

2007-06-01T14:01:00.000+03:00

1. I love Meg Ryan.

2. I love buying adorably tiny baby clothes.

3. I love drinking milk with pizza.

4. I love to jump into my colorful pyjamas.

5. I love it when it's a full moon. Last night it was.

What made me smile today

2007-05-29T16:29:00.000+03:00

1. Reading this article on what NOT to include in your resume. Apparently, I'm going to have to change the baby blue paper with teddy bears in the background and remove the attached letter from my mom.

2. Getting a text message from Donia telling me she's in the kitchen, staring at the cookbook, trying to figure out what to cook for the very first time. Initially, her image in the kitchen made me smile, but once I tried to picture the end result, I was giggling uncontrollably. Bless them, they are adorable:)

3. Passing the ice-cream man on the beach as I ran. He's a sweet-looking old Egyptian man, not that I noticed him before he burst out in a raspy but sweet voice "ma timshi ya binti, btorkodi laih! bil ra7ah..bil ra7ah.. tmawwiti nafsek laih??" (slow down girl, slow down, why don't you just walk?). I chuckled and continued running. For a second there, I felt I was back in Cairo. The ease in his voice as he yelled in my direction and the fact that I smiled back had a very distinct cairo-ish feel about it. I love Egyptians.

4. Running past a healthy looking young man, who was taking leisurely strides at the beach and then starting my countdown until he.... comes rushing past me! Happens every time. Apparently having a girl (said with a cringe and accompanied with a generous amount of spit for maximum disgust effect) outrun him is not to be taken lightly. Recovering from wounded egos, guys would almost ALWAYS sprint past me like one of those Kenyan Olympic medalists. This no doubt lasts for a very short interval, just long enough to reclaim his stature as the Alpha male, or at least until he's out of my sight where no doubt he'll collapse gasping for breath. There's a reason I never see them again after they rush past me you know.

Three years ago I may have impulsively burst out something like "You know it would be better for your stamina to maintain a slower pace for a longer time". But now I know better. I realise how crucial this short-lived macho show is for him. Stripping him of that ego-boost would no doubt have unspeakable and lasting damage.

This new found understanding of the knots and bolts of the male psyche, did not come to me naturally I'm afraid. I have a nice friend to thank for that. It was during a gym incident, where I unwittingly bombarded him with such a "wouldn't it be better if you" statement. He was horrified at first, but eventually realised it was really just harmless naivety from my part. He then took it upon himself to deliver a comprehensive explanation of the ins and outs of the male psyche. He even demonstrated a few muscle flexes and other show-offy stunts that guys are likely to pull in the presence of a double X carrying individual.

It was a very eye-opening and enlightening experience. And so when faced with such a situation, I resort to amused giggles. Guys are funny.

5. A sticker ad on the light pole that said that Abu Abdulla has "قراقير" for sale. Now I have absolutely no idea what "qaraqeer" are (heck I'm not even sure I remember it correctly), but if qaraqeer look half as funny as they sound, then I'd be chuckling for sure.

6. Mom: I'm making you baked cheesecake.

Me: *goofy smile followed by a Bingo Dance adaptation: The cheesecake Dance*

This is what made me smile today. What about you?

Kid-less

2007-05-28T12:17:00.000+03:00

There are no kids at school (well, unless you count the teachers' infants and toddlers who started showing up to work with their mothers).

The corridors are hauntingly empty, as each teacher is lost in her own classroom among piles of teaching aids to store and classify and declutter. The more you dig in the cabinets, the more clutter seems to come out. Not particularly fun.

Then there's the fact that I feel I've been relocated inside an ice cube. Not having to run around the corridors all day, plus a classroom suddenly devoid of warm student breath, makes it a chilly experience, to say the least. I have a sweatshirt on, which is proving to be quite useless. As I type this, my fingers are getting stiff from the cold and it's becoming increasingly difficult to move them freely around the keyboard. I might have to restrict my letter-usage to only those on the one line I rest my fingers on. I wonder what weird result that would yield. Definitely not one of my brightest ideas. But it's hard to be ingenious when you've got a brain freeze. And no, not because of ice-cream (regretfully).

I also seem to have done something to strain my neck last night, as it's been aching all morning. The problem is from the left side, so I am unable to turn my neck to the left. When an occasion arises where I find myself required to look left, I have to do a whole 270 degree turn. It's entertaining to the bystanders.

Another downside to spending an entire working day cooped up in a freezing classroom alone, is that I'm finding myself continuously hungry. As a result my tupperware contents are diminished early in the school day. Later pangs of hunger sent me searching my classroom for any edibles. Only thing I found was the box of candy I got for the kids a few weeks back (well I did find a box of Rice Crispies that we used at the beginning of the year, but my better judgement told me to avoid it as long as I can). I took a bite of the candy then spit it out. It tastes icky. I can't believe I used to give that to the kids and they used to be excited about it. Poor kids. Note to self: taste the candy beforehand.

I should probably go for a "social tour" around the school, because I'm really getting sick of my classroom. I think I even heard myself have a conversation with myself a while back. Hardly a healthy thing, I daresay.

This will sound crazy, but I wouldn't mind having Abdulaziz drop by for a couple of minutes, you know, to break the mind-numbing monotony of my day. But only for a couple of minutes, because anything longer would have catastrophic effects on all the organizing I've been doing for the last 2 days. Come to think of it, 2 minutes is too much, he can get the destruction job done in 20 seconds if he has to, or 30 seconds if he was to enjoy a comfortable pace.

Meh. I'm hungry again.

مصر أم الدنيا

2007-05-26T13:57:00.000+03:00

I like to think that I've made a few wise decisions throughout my life. Going to Egypt to attend my best friend's wedding scores high on that list. I just got back, safe and sound alhmadulillah. I walked into that airplane expecting to have a near death experience, but I was pleasantly surprised. All engines were working and there was actually no delay in both trips. I'm starting to believe that having low or no expectations guarantees customer happiness:)

The past two days were so intense for me, from an emotional perspective that is seems quite unattainable, and almost unethical to try to sum them up in a piece of writing. Writing has always been my outlet, yet suddenly is seems insufficient. I have an urge to burst into a long expressional dance. But I think last night's wedding was a living proof of my inherent and irreversible inability to dance. But more on the wedding later.

Right now I'll describe Cairo, the streets of Cairo, and the bewitching chaos that is Cairo. Cairo streets are dirty, indefinitely crowded, and horrendously chaotic (especially if you're attempting to drive). Clearly not a postcard image. Why then do I find myself completely wooed by it? Cairo streets are pulsating with life, movement, sounds and colors. At least for a "tourist" like me, it was captivating. Cairo never sleeps.

So much so that while out on my first night there with Donia and her fiance, I was just too exhausted at the end of the evening, I just lay on the car's backseat, used the laptop bag as a pillow and hugged Ahmed's just purchased wedding shoebox. I called it a day, but outside toddlers were running wild.

But Cairo wouldn't be half as fascinating without its people. Loud, talkative, extra friendly, downright nosey and with an incorrigible sense of humor, Egyptians put the charm into Cairo.

It was Donia's wedding day and we walked out of her building gate. A few meters away, on the pavement and sitting on old shabby looking stools were two old men (the janitor and nearby mechanic as I later found out). The minute they saw Donia they exclaimed "aih ya gameel, khalas il naharda??? " (hey beautiful, today's the day, eh?). We took a turn and walked past a fruit shop, the owner also exclaimed in excitement "alf alf mabrook lal 3aroosa" (congratulations for the bride!). This went on as we passed shop after shop, each person's face seemed to light up when they saw Donia. She must've gotten a thousand best wishes. That is the Egyptian way.

When we drove in her mom's car into Le Meridian to get he ready for the wedding, the security guy asked us to open the trunk. Donia's mom mentioned casually that it has the "bride's stuff". Instantaneously he returned the keys and started congratulating her and yelled to the door man "let her in, she's a bride!", who instantly raised his hands up to the sky and said "3o2bali ya raaaab" (may I get married soon too!) . That is hardly professional, but that is the Egyptian way.

Who can resist the Egyptian way? I am in love with Cairo. In love with its dirt, in love with its chaos and in love with its people.

But this time around i wasn't a tourist, I was a best friend on a mission. It was my best friend's wedding. Again I find myself overwhelmed and stripped of any eloquence when I try to express my feelings, so I'll adopt a "divide and conquer" approach. Let's begin with the groom, whom I haven't met until 2 days ago. I'll admit to having made a complete fool of myself for the first 10 minutes after he'd arrived at Donia's house. I just couldn't believe that there was a guy in donia's house and is donia's very-soon-to-be husband. I kept coming out of the room, giggling like a 12 year old and rushing back in. Thankfully though, I eventually snapped out of it in time to make a good impression and have him promise that once i get married (we're adopting a hopeful approach) they'll come attend mine. I haven't realised how crucial it was for Ahmed to meet me for him to like me, until I realised what a distorted image he had of me.

Ten seconds after first meeting me:

Ahmed: hmm.. you're much thinner than your pictures.
Me: What pictures?

Then later in the evening, same day. He suddenly blurts out.

Ahmed: You are such a sweet girl, I had a completely different impression from the photos.

Me: seriously, WHAT photos????

Apparently Donia has some hidden photos of a fat evil me that she goes around distributing. How nice. hehe

They were both so cute together. They are just so compatible masha'Allah. They looked so happy together. Ahmed is a very sweet and decent guy and he seems to love her so much. Insha'Allah they will be blessed in their new life.

The wedding was beautiful. They were beautiful. Donia was glowing... I was too happy for words. I don't think I've ever been happier for someone. I've enjoyed every minute of the wedding (and that's saying something for a wedding-hater like myself). I couldn't contain my happiness, I wanted to skip around and yell. I didn't, don't worry.

I of course, could not waste a chance to make a spectacle of myself. You see her dress had a very long tail that seemed to extend behind her forever. I was assigned the duty of lifting it up when she walks, and I was doing such a good job. Then they wanted to go around the tables to shake hands with the guests. This required serious maneuvering between the tables, which I did, albeit not so gracefully. I half-tripped every 2 seconds, skipped on one foot at times to avoid bumping into something. But the grand finale was when her uncle called me and extended his hand to me, I of course extended my right hand, while still grabbing on to the dress with my left. Donia oblivious to my dilemma kept walking and I was yanked back and forth. The guests were very amused. I am hoping and praying that none of this was caught on tape. It is one thing to make a few nearby guests giggle, and another to be the object of ridicule in each wedding-watching family gathering for years and years to come.

Donia was the cutest, most spontaneous bride ever. I mean, 5 minutes before the makeup lady arrived we were both devouring big macs. Speaking of make-up, I sat on the hotel bed, in my pajamas mesmerised while they applied layers of make up. It was all so foreign to me. I of course flatly refused to apply anything and only changed into my clothes when the lady helping donia put on her dress yelled at me to GET READY. scary lady I tell you.

I am home now, and I am still almost breathless of excitement. I can't possibly be any happier for her. I am thankful to have been able to attend her wedding. Her dad was so touched by the gesture that he vowed in front of her entire family that when my wedding day comes and no matter where it is, even if across the Atlantic, he would send her there. Even if for whatever reason her husband doesn't or can't send her, then he will personally make sure she'll be there. That promise was the best gift I could ask for.

Donia on the other hand was sitting in a corner planning what to her obviously is a vacation opportunity worth seizing: "okay do it in the states. no no no wait I want to go to Paris. Well anywhere in Europe really would be okay. Okay so when will I be travelling???? Yalla get married."

She's married. She'll be moving away tomorrow morning, starting their new life together away from home. He has been stationed outside Cairo. Her dad was taking it especially hard. And kept wondering aloud why anyone in his right mind would give away his daughter to a complete stranger. He was so cute. Her only sister will definitely miss her. So will her mom, who has always been more of a friend to Donia. I miss her already, I'll always miss her, but I know that no matter what, I'll always have my best friend. And I know now that if I ever want to see her, all I need to do is get married. Piece of cake!

Hmmm.. Maybe not.

Destination: Cairo

2007-05-24T09:31:00.000+03:00

This might be just about the fastest post I've ever written. I'm packed and all set to go. We should leave the house in 15 minutes insha'Allah, so it's tight. I was hoping to sit and write about the colorful mosaic of feelings I'm experiencing... breathtaking excitement, happiness, nostalgia, and a million things more..

I'm going to be the bride's best friend! That's major right? I'm gonna be delegated responsibilities and stuff:) yay! I feel so excited. I just got a message from Donia telling me she's more excited about my arrival than the actual wedding. Usually this is considered a friendly exaggeration, but in the case of Donia, she means every word of it. Man I can't believe we'll be together in a few hours' time. Can a heart literally burst into dance? Cuz mine is just about to:)

I'll be flying Egypt Air and I must say I am significantly worried. And that hilarious sound file some very thoughtful family members made sure I received had quite the effect. I was thrown on the floor laughing at first, but then the hourly panic attacks started. I hope you guys are happy now.
hehe

Just in case I don't make it back, here's a very very quick confession list (the actual list would take a day to finish):

Dalia: you did eat that Fosto2-spit-covered chicken breast. But hey, you're alive and functioning, so lets concentrate on the bright side, shall we?

Oh what do you know, that's the only thing troubling my conscience at the moment. Phew, feels great to get it over with.
I must get going. I won't be blogging for a couple of days, but I should be back on Saturday with a great deal to share:)

And Go Nuts They Did!

2007-05-23T17:01:00.000+03:00

I had promised a doughnut party for the winning groups from each class at the end of this semester. And today was delivery!

I provided doughnut boxes that read "Go Nuts" and they lived up to the name. The classroom was a wild wild show!

It took them exactly 2 seconds to burst the 30 or so balloons I (with the help of a couple of boys) had spent the entire morning blowing. You gotta give them credit, they are one heck of an efficient destructive force of nature.

I took a million photos of them eating, jumping, and posing with the goofiest grins. Some of the photos are hilarious and adorable. If I find time I'll upload them in an album and email the link to you guys. After all, you gotta meet Soud and Abdulaziz. Oh and I even caught a rare footage of Ahmed's "Bingo Dance". Still cracks me up.

It was wild I tell you. WILD. As if my classroom was suddenly taken over by a stampede of doughnut-craving tiny monsters:)

*sigh*.... I'm gonna miss them to bits. It's hard to imagine I won't be seeing them any longer.

An Inconvenient Truth

2007-05-22T22:00:00.000+03:00

I just returned from watching this documentary, along with Fatima. I have recently discovered, through Mark's blog, that the guys at Cinemagic have been hosting outdoor movie nights every Wednesday. They show award-winning independent films. This week they have started another Documentary night which will take place every Tuesday.

Today they played Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth", which illustrates every aspect of global warming in a way that leaves you speechless, awed, and ashamed. He provides irrefutable evidence that sweeps away the empty words of skeptics and those who just can't afford to care. If you've seen it, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, then this should be at the top of your to-do list for this weekend. But we shouldn't just watch it, we should act upon it.

What struck me most is how extensive his knowledge base was, almost equating that of a seasoned scientist in the field. But then again he has travelled far and wide and met with scientists from all over the world for the last 30 years, rendering him an authority and a voice worth listening to in the matter.

Another thing I couldn't help notice was that he was clearly smart. Not that I know anything about politics, but in my own humble opinion, America would've been better off had he won the election. I doubt it would've affected us down at the middle east (except for the fact that he opposes wars from an environmental point of view. At least he does in his documentary.), but America could definitely do with a smart president, and if he walks his talk, then mother earth would've rejoiced as well.

It's definitely worth watching, and reflecting on and hopefully acting upon. Because it's real, and it's happening.

My favorite quote from the documentary has to be:
"It's difficult to make a man understand something when his salary depends on him not understanding it."

Scary truth, no?

Have you seen a lo2tah?

2007-05-20T17:53:00.000+03:00

Here's a random piece of information about me for you to ponder: I often find myself in need to use public bathrooms. "Often" here meaning all the time. I don't enjoy it, but you can't exactly be picky when you're out of the house 8 hours straight and have a kidney system of questionable quality. But that's a story for another post, or better yet should be left for the imaginary book I plan to write someday, with its catchy title: "My Search For A Bathroom". It's basically a book where I record my observations and surprisingly interesting and useful skills I've acquired from constant use of public bathrooms. I am quite the authority really, having developed my own personal grading system and able to recommend the best public bathrooms in most parts of town should you ever be in the situation where mother nature is hollering at you.

One golden rule for me is: minimum exposure. You have to be efficient. There's no need to spend a second more than the time you actually need in a bathroom. There's icky, then there's more icky. The more you spend in the bathroom, the higher the risk of ickiness rubbing off on you.

Having said that, you can imagine my stand on "public bathroom socializing". Now it's one thing to engage in friendly conversation a bit with your girlfriends as you hurriedly wash your hands and/or gawk at the mirror after discovering that you've been prancing around for the last hour with chocolate milkshake smothered on your forehead. That's okay. But to actually stand there, or worse, lean against the sink for support as you discuss a millions things, as cozily as if you were in a sleepover, is just a big no no.

Similarly, public bathrooms are not places to make friends. You can nod and even smile at the lady who just walked in if you feel you must, but don't go and ask about her life story. Just don't. At least not when I'm that stranger.

I was washing my hands, you know minding my own business, checking if I was adorned with any markers on any of my visible body parts. This teacher walked in and I smiled. I knew she was a teacher in our school, I often walk past her in the corridors, but that was the extent of my knowledge. And as far as I was concerned, at least for the time being, it should stay at that.

Maybe not.
nameless teacher: So you're a teacher this year?
Me: yep (I figured I'll stick to 3 lettered words and body gestures as long as I can help it)
She: You were an assistant last year?
Me: uh-huh
She: So did you get engaged?

Okaaaaaaaaay. I definitely did not see that coming. As if bathroom conversations were not uncomfortable for me already. But before I could figure out how to respond, she beat me to it. Probably as a response to the look on my face.

She: I'm sorry, I know people must ask you that a lot and it's annoying, I know.

Hmmm. For some reason instead of thinking how rude and nosey she was (as I would normally do), I found myself thinking that she was pretty sweet. The fact that she acknowledged that her remark was annoying made me feel less annoyed, for some weird reason. So I said what the heck be nice, even if you're in the bathroom.

Me: Umm, actually no. But I don't want to right now anyway, I'm going to finish my studies. (I beamed. I couldn't hide my excitement).

She: Oh I see, Allah iywaf2ek. But habibti, you are like my daughter and if you find "3arees lo2tah" (a guy who's quite a catch) then you should definitely go for it. Take it from me.

Me (amused): umm, I'll remember that. But I really want to get my masters. So I'll worry about Mr. lo2tah after that, iza Allah kateb.

That seemed to satisfy her and we moved on to more general issues. By then I had resigned to the fact that I was in lengthly public bathroom chit-chat and even leaned against the sink. At one point, I even asked about her name. She's Ms. Bushra.

As I walked out of the bathroom, I couldn't help but reflect with amusement on the term "3arees lo2tah". This must be the most overused term in the marriage industry (and yes it is an industry). I must've heard it being used a million times, yet I never actually stopped to ponder it. What exactly is a "lo2tah"? I never asked. I guess I figured, once you have to choose, you'll know how to find the lo2tah. I guess I was under the assumption that a 3arees lo2tah can be spotted a mile away, like a guy wearing a bright pink T-shirt in the mall (one could argue that singling out a guy who's wearing pink is no longer a picnic, considering that half the male population here are now proud owners of bubble gum pink shirts. What's up with that????)

But now I'm twenty something, and I must admit that I am not entirely sure as to what qualifies a 3arees as lo2tah. What elevates him from a "just another potential husband" to a "can't-be-turned-down lo2tah". And should I assume that all those girls getting married have successfully pinned down a lo2tah?

I thus plead to you kind people of the blogging world to please share any insights you might have on this matter. What is a "lo2tah" to you? Did you ever have a real life encounter with a lo2tah? what is the opposite of a lo2tah? Is there a reference point for a lo2tah? (George clooney maybe?). And does a lo2tah guy know that he is a lo2tah? And most importantly, what happens if you do turn down a lo2tah? What are your changes of running into another lo2tah?

Okay I'll admit to the fact that I am putting forth those questions mainly for my sheer amusement. But lets not forget that I was advised to put my life on hold should I run into a lo2tah. For that reason, I should at least have a clear idea what a lo2tah is. I mean, what if I give up my life for a lo2tah-wannabe? That can't be good.
One week into marriage: HA gotcha. I'm not a real lo2tah!

What? It could happen.

Leftover pizza tastes better

2007-05-20T07:56:00.000+03:00

I'm enjoying a breakfast of left-over pizza as I type this post. This has college days written all over it. That and kitkat bars for lunch. Can you tell I'm looking forward to being a student again? Two years of being partly responsible (and held accountable) for how the next generation turns out to be, is a lot of responsibility. I'm welcoming the short break. For a year at least, my greatest worry would be scoring an A in a course and turning in a legible research paper. Oh yeah.

That is not to say I'll be completely cut off from kids. During my spring semester insha'Allah I'd have practical training in US elementary schools. But even before that, I'm sure I'll get myself involved in something that involves kids. I can't stay away too long. Who else will readily giggle at whatever silly thing I say or do?

Life is funny. I don't remember a single instance during my childhood, teens and even college years where I declared I wanted to be a teacher when asked what I wanted to do with my life. That is to say something since I was one to pride having a "vision" of what I wanted to with the rest of my life. In fact I remember cringing a few times when the word teacher came up in conversation.

Yet now I can't imagine being something else (except working with National Geographic and Greenpeace, which remains to be my ultimate dream, but that could be my retirement plan, no?). As a kid I remember promising my mom that once I work with National Geographic and I'm in a show that's broadcasted, I'd wave to her with a huge cheesy grin and say "Hiii mama". I realise it's a silly childish promise, but I'm not one to forget my promises, even if it compromises my "prestige". Hmm, as a kid I also remember promising to get my dad a white convertible. Look at me giving promises here and there, how precious is that? I must've been one sweet kid, who had enormous dreams for herself. That or a kid who was seriously deluded, depends how you look at it. So mom and dad, I hope you're not holding your breaths, because it might be quite a bit of time before delivery, if you know what I mean.

This is one of the posts where I write for the sole reason of having felt like writing. I don't necessarily have something of substance to share . But one can ask "When do you really?", which is quite a valid question. But it makes me happy. Writing does.. So that's reason enough for me!

Dust Topping

2007-05-18T08:20:00.000+03:00

Yesterday morning, I looked out of the window and gasped. I could not see even half a meter ahead. I hoped, prayed, pleaded for it to be fog. But I knew I was kidding myself. It was dust. It was serious merciless dust. The entire country had an extra layer of thick dust on top. Driving was dangerous and flights were cancelled.

As one south-African I recently met put it: "I sent a text to my family telling them how dusty it was. They said they know. I told them they CANNOT POSSIBLY KNOW. The amount of dust I found on my car this morning would roughly equal that which I would find after leaving my car unwashed in the garage for five years. Here, all it took was one night!".

I gulped down every allergy pill I could get my hands on and knew that the wisest decision would be to stay at home today. I ended up spending 90% of the time outside running errands. I was eventually covered with my own thick layer of dust. I'd shower but then I fear it'll turn into mud. It'll be more of a mud bath. But wait, don't they offer that in spas? I'll get it for free. Sweet.

I did a lot of ticket purchasing yesterday and I am significantly poorer. Particularly because of the cross-Atlantic ticket.

Speaking of cross-Atlantic continents, I guess I can share my news now! I've gotten my visa il hamdillah and ticket, so Insha'Allah I'm all set. I'll be starting my master's program next year Insha'Allah in Boston University. It's master's of education in Elementary Education. It's a one year program. I'm very excited, and terrified at the same time. But a good kind of terrified. I'm eager to obtain a strong basis in education since my bachelor is in science (well biology). There is so much to learn and I can't wait. I'm sure there's a more dignified way of controlling kids like Abdulaziz that doesn't involve chasing them around the classroom, and I'm hoping I'll learn about that:) hehe

My program starts this summer (june 25th), and I'm leaving Kuwait on the 22nd, insha'Allah. Last day of school for me here is the 19th, which I guess will be my blog's last day:)

But fear not crazy commenters (that would be Dalia and khokha) I will be starting a new blog, to share and record my bostonian experiences. And I'll be counting on your amusing, but not necessarily sane, comments to keep me chuckling!

It's a new day today, but the dust hasn't budged. It's fascinating to observe really. Of course if you're not preoccupied by fits of sneezes, nursing a burning nose and throat and a clogged windpipe.

Kuwait is in need of some serious dust sweeping.

A Kitcheny Gift

2007-05-17T13:42:00.000+03:00

I needed to figure out what to get Donia as a gift. I needed something different, no too bulky to fly with me and something she'd constantly use and remember me when she does! You know, something personal. And no, not that personal.

I went to mom for help, I knew I could count on her fresh and creative ideas. She did not disappoint.

Mom: Mariam come here for a sec.
Me: na3am mama
Mom: I think I got an idea for Donia's gift. You said you wanted something funny, so I was thinking..
Me: oh oh oh I know I know, TOILET PAPER? :D

You should have seen the look she gave me.
Me: Oops. My bad. I mistook you for dalia. It's, um, a private joke. Kindly ignore.

Mom (recovering): Why don't you get her a cookbook! And cute mitts and apron!

I loved the idea. Just what I had in mind. I know for a fact that Donia could definitely use a cookbook. I still laugh when I remember her adventures with her dad in the kitchen when her mom travelled one time. Or back when she visited me 2 years ago. She asked me to teach her my chocolate chip cookies. I thought it would be best to teach her "hands on". So I got all the ingredients and we both spent 2 hours in the kitchen, not because the cookies take that much, but because when we're together it does. She wrote every single thing I did and helped me all through.

Throughout the experience, we even created our own reality TV show called "Otbokh witgawwiz"- basically a fictitious show that takes place in a kitchen and each episode the show host would invite a marriageable girl. This girl has 30 minutes to demonstrate her cooking skills to land herself a husband. Isn't that idea gold? Definitely better than The Bachelorette. Pity no one takes me and Donia seriously. Cuz this could work. I have seen far worst reality shows (not that I watch them, it is against my principals:P) that had audiences flocking like flies on a piece of candy.
But we only did that pilot episode. I don't remember laughing as hard anytime in my life. Here's an excerpt to help you visualise the sanity level (or lack of it thereof):
"wi dilwa2ti bin7ot il sokkar il abyad 3ashan ana 3ayza il 3arees abyad. Ou kaman bin7ot sokkar bonni 3ashan law kan asmar, ma fish mashakel kaman"

Man. Good days, good days. On a second thought, I am glad no one takes us seriously.

Anyway, back to the cookie recipe. So she writes everything down and I am proud of my new promising student. A month later she sends me an email telling me that she tried the recipe but there was a little problem. Okay a big problem. Okay two big problems.
She first forgot to leave space between the cookies on the cookie sheet (allowing space to grow larger when baked), instead placing them directly next to each other. And she over baked them. Big time.
So instead of having individually chewy cookies. She had one huge hard "cookie" of an inedible nature. She of course had to dispose of it. I'm fine with all that. My problem is that when her family complained about the outcome, she didn't own up to it. Instead she faked a puzzled look and said "hmmm... into mish 7ataklooh? ghareebah. Di mariam bti3malo kida bil zabt ou kol il nas byaklooh 3indaha".

Definitely needs a cook book. And a brand new CONSCIENCE to go with it. How dare she smudge my glowing cookie baking reputation. Crazy woman.

And that is how I ended up spending this morning looking for cook books and kitchen stuff. I began with the library and I stumbled upon this book. I was first drawn to the fact that the chef sounded like he was Egyptian, and also because I found him to vaguely resemble my other friend's husband. So I felt like I knew him and could trust his culinary skills (not that my friend's husband cooks or anything! But whatever).
Of course had I been a viewer of TV in general and Arabic satellite channels in particular I would've no doubt have seen his cooking shows and recognized his book. But I didn't. I bought the book purely for the above two reasons. He looked like a nice person and he was Egyptian.

Turns out Chef Osama El Sayed, is adored by millions, not least of which are Egyptians themselves. I was informed so through a phone call with my other Egyptian friend, Samar. I then googled him and turns out it's true. Hey he even cooked for Bill Clinton. Oh and doesn't seem like the type that would mess up his friend's cookie recipe and blame it on his friend. Maybe he'll be good influence.

I still haven't had much success with the apron and mitts, I need them to be cute. I'll try The One store tomorrow maybe, I love their stuff.

Hopefully she'll like her gifts:) They're no toilet paper, but I don't think she's ready for that just yet. Besides, getting her a cookbook and apron would surely ensure me a spot in her husband's good books. Or completely write me off after she "experiments" with the book and blames the outcome on me, the gift provider. Yikes.

CAIRO BABY

2007-05-16T21:27:00.000+03:00

Sis: So what will you be wearing to Donia's wedding? I assume no heels?
Me: YA LAHWI I'M GOING TO DONIA'S WEDDING.

Yep. It's official insha'Allah. I've booked my ticket at the end, il hamdillah (special thank yous are due to my awesome dad, auntie and sister! You guys are my favorite people in the whole universe!). Although I have serious suspicions that Egypt Air might just as well be the worst airline on earth? (I mean if their aircraft is anything like their office.... yikes. Bio hazard. Engines call it a day midway.) I voiced my concerns to dad and he very kindly assured me that, well, it is. Gee, thanks dad. hehehehe
But Kuwait Airways' ticket is ridiculously expensive in comparison, and seeing that I am a teacher on a budget, I couldn't afford to be picky!

I'll be arriving insha'Allah on Thursday afternoon and returning Saturday morning. I am SO excited. I'm going to actually see Donia!!!! THAT IS SO COOL. My heart is so full of happiness it might just burst:) Alhamdulillah.

but seriously..
YA LAHWI I'M GOING TO EGYPT.
YA LAHWI I'M SEEING DONIA.
YA LAHWI DONIA IS GETTING MARRIED.

I call this the "ya lahwi syndrome", I only get it whenever Donia is involved:)

Wow.. It's just so amazing. I hear about people getting married all the time, but it's just a totally different feeling when it's your best friend. I'm SO happy for her. May Allah bless them both:)

Seeing that she is so capricious, I had to double check with her. I wasn't going to venture into that Egypt Aircraft unless I absolutely needed to.

(through a text message)
Me: dandoun, I just finished my reservation. YA LAHWI I'M SO HAPPY. akeeeeeed 3orsek il jmo3a 25th? YA LAHWI ra7 titzawwaji! mish adreh asadde2:D

D: mariooooom ana 7amot min il far7a. YA LAHWI. aywa khalas oltillek sadda2eeni 7atgawwiz insha'Allah. ANA MISH MISADDA2A innik gayya, ana 7asib Ahmed wala a3abbaro bas teegi. 3ala fikra Ahmad byikrahek. YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ. yallah ta3ali!!

This girl cracks me up.

I hate Egypt Air

2007-05-16T16:36:00.000+03:00

I've been on hold, SINCE YESTERDAY. And I'm not even joking.
The voice of that lady telling me to "please hold" and promising that I will be served soon now makes me wanna kill someone. Preferably her.
On a positive note, I have acquired a new skill. I have now learnt to do everything from typing my lesson plans to brushing my teeth and preparing my latte with a phone on my ear. Granted, my neck has frozen into a permanent tilt no doubt due to a muscle spasm. Not particularly a good thing.

At one point, I became completely oblivious to the presence of the phone, as if it was just another dangling body part. Had anyone at the other end actually started talking to me I would've honestly been startled and probably would've gone blank. But now I know I didn't have to worry about that happening, because they don't seem to have plans of putting my call through anytime this century (yes I am still on hold).

Back to sulking. I need to get in touch with them to get the exact location of their office. I tried finding yesterday based on some "oh I think I saw it there"s and it didn't go well. In fact, it didn't go well AT ALL. Seriously though, how is it humanely possible to have their lines permanently busy even when I call after hours? (Yep, tried that as well). Something smells fishy around here.

And you know what the worst part is? Here I am being all grumpy and yet I cannot entirely enjoy the experience of venting out. Because today as I went up to the middle and high school sections to attend their international day, I happened upon a poster done by the girls quoting Mrs. Nusaiba Al Mutta' (founder of the school and it's philosophy). They drew a girl scrutinizing a zit in front of the mirror.
Underneath it was Mrs. Mutawa's quote:

"It is a sign of great stupidity to ignore all the blessings we enjoy and concentrate on that one single negativity".

Alright alright, I'll stop it. God knows that, even with a temporarily tilted neck, I have so much to be thankful for. Infinitely much.

And I don't particularly enjoy being referred to as stupid. So at least for now, we're putting the stupidity "on hold". Lets hope that I'm as efficient as Egypt Air are in keeping stuff on hold:)

Bride's best friend in a pickle

2007-05-14T19:00:00.000+03:00

I usually just ignore any phonecalls and messages I receive after 10 pm. The reason being that I'm usually fast asleep then and even if I do talk to you or read your messages, chances are I will completely have forgotten about it by the next morning. So what's the point right?

It was just shy of 11 pm. yesterday and I was positively exhausted as I untucked my bedsheets, fluffed my pillow and was getting ready to snuggle in bed. My mobile started ringing, but I didn't plan on answering. It'll just rob the sleepiness out of my eyes. I did however take a peek to see who was calling and was faced with a +2 international code, which means it's coming from Egypt. Which means it's Donia. Which means I was most definitely going to take it. Normal rules do not apply to Donia:) This was going to rob me of sleep alright, but it would surely be worth it.

Me: DANDOUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!
D: MARIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.
M: KEEFEK?????
D: ana 7atgawwiz ba3d osbo3ain
Me: BTITKHAWWATI? walek 7akaitek abel osboo3 ou olteeli wala 7atta 3al saif akeed!!!
D: aywa bas khalas 7atgawwiz ba3d osbo3ain. Ana iktashaft imbare7
Me: YA LAWHI 7atitjazzawi ba3d osbo3ain!!!!
D: YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ BA3D OSBO3AIN.
Me: 7abeeeeeeeeeebet albi kteeer mabsotalek! Tab shoo 3milti? 3indek fostan?
D: la2
Me: ba3atti kroot?
D: la2 asslo inti awwal wa7da ba2olha. ana ma 3miltesh 7aga bas 7agazt fi otel il naharda.
Me: YA LAHWI 7ATITJAWWAZI BA3D OSBO3AIN
D: YA LAHWI 7ATGAWWIZ BA3D OSBO3AIN

That went on for a while, until the calling card was done.
OH MY GOD. This girl is insane! Of all the things that you can't see coming, YOUR WEDDING DATE shouldn't be one of them. How can she have accidentally "discovered" that her wedding is in 2 weeks a day ago? Man that is SO Donia. I just love that girl.

Her wedding is on Friday the 25th of this month, and I SO WANNA GO. But I'm not sure I'll be able to, I'd still have school then. It is too soon. Man.
Yeah yeah I know I was grunting on about weddings a few posts back, and I still despise weddings but that is DONIA'S wedding at stake! I can't miss that. I have to be with her the night before going "YA LAHWI YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED" every 2 seconds. I didn't even meet her husband-to-be, surely I need to approve of him. Okay maybe not, but that's not the point.

I'm sure things are going to change after she gets married. I doubt we'll be able to keep up our every-other-year reunions. I realise that things will change although I'm not sure exactly how much since she is my first friend that I marry off. But I know that with the exception of my mother and sister there is NO one I would need around on my wedding more than Donia. And so I need to be with her on her wedding too.

Me wants to go to Egypt. Someone please come take over my classes for me. Please? Pretty please? You can have the entire contents of the next Godiva box I receive. Yep, it's that important to me. As I always say, you know it's important when chocolates are at stake:)

I have a green thumb

2007-05-13T21:26:00.000+03:00

And only because I spilt the green ink on my hand while refilling the markers. That's a skill I have yet to master.

On the plant front, I'm sad to report, things are yet to take a positive turn. Let me describe a short scene that took place right outside my classroom this morning.

I was standing there, very carefully and lovingly showering the plant with water. I then gently picked up the wilted plant and was figuring a way to keep it upright. I used two plastic rulers from my "lost and found" box, but it wasn't really working. I was whispering a heartfelt "please don't die please don't die" throughout it all.

I was too engrossed in this desperate plant revival mission, I didn't notice her come up to me.

"Honey.. It's dead. You do know that right?" said Miss Sandy gently.
Me: no no no look I put a ruler it'll be okay really. Look at all the water I put.
Miss Sandy: Honey.. you're great with the kids, but I don't think plants are your thing. It's dead. It's been dead for a while.
Me: but.. but I have more rulers. Wait I'll put 4.. and I can get more water?

Hey before you jump at my throat, I'd like to point out that technically it wasn't mine. It's OUTSIDE my classroom and no one explicitly told me that it was my responsibility. Okay so it's right in front of my classroom, meaning I pass by it at least 70 times a day, but in my defense I'm usually running and wouldn't notice a pink cow if it was tap dancing. I think we've already established that I don't notice things easily. They'd have to be wearing stripy red and waving for me to stop and look.

And I can honestly tell you that the plant was not red, stripy or waving.

Note to self: LOOK AT YOUR OWN BANNERS

2007-05-13T21:02:00.000+03:00

You'd think that blogging about "Walk the world" and displaying an actual banner about it on my blog, right in my face, would be enough to remind me to go. You'd think.

But coincidences happen, and sometimes they are awesome.

(Over lunch)

Mom: So Loyac sent me a text today about that walk you're going to tomorrow.
Me (still chewing a mouthful): Huh? Walk? what? who?
Mom: That hunger walk you blogged about.
Me (swallowed food too fast. Pain in the chest. Ouch): but that's NEXT WEEK at least. It can't be TOMORROW.

I dropped my fork and ran to the PC. Guess what, it was tomorrow. Man I'm a hopeless case.
Luckily I called my friend and she was on board even though it was such short notice. I was stuck in traffic on the way to her house, so we arrived a bit late and found that people had already started walking and could hardly be seen. But we put on our "Fight Hunger" tshirts and walked all the same. This was an insignificant detail. We were here to walk and that's what wer were going to do. It was a bit humid but we enjoyed it nonetheless. Nothing beats a walk in fresh air with an old friend. When we reached the finish line we hurried to get some ice-cream from Haagen Dazs. I'm not sure that's standard procedure after taking part in a "Fight Hunger" walk. Oh well.

We had to walk back again to the car, which was really fine since we were having a great time. But by the end we were groaning and whining. She had ballerina flats on which are comfortable for walking in the mall I guess but not for exercising. And I had on my new sneakers which I decided to break in today. Again not the smartest choice!

But the children were going to eat, and we had Haagen Dazs, so it's all good.

Little Bits of Success

2007-05-13T11:04:00.000+03:00

Success comes in all shapes and sizes. Success for teachers is no different. Some consider it success when their students get high scores, others by how engaged their students seem to be during class. Success for you might be a high evaluation from your supervisor or a thank you letter from a parent. Or it could be a thumbs up from the year principal when you meet in the corridor (Yep. I got that! :D)

While a high evaluation is pretty sweet (speaking of which I did get Excellent in my evaluation for this semester:) Alf il hamdillah!). But I've always been more of a "it's the small things that count" enthusiast. I derive great pleasure and pride from the subtle and not-so-conspicuous.

If my students smile at me in the corridors instead of scurrying by, that's success to me. If while I'm at the playground duty they come up to me and start babbling about a weird (and often disturbing in the case of Abdulaziz) story of their last adventure, that is success to me. Things like that brighten up my day.

But secretly, I believed in my heart that nothing vouches for my success more sincerely than a bunch of kids choosing to hang out in my classroom during recess instead of hurrying down for their ritual running, kicking and potato chips eating. So far it hasn't happened.

Until this morning.
They say, be careful what you wish for it cuz it might juuust come true. Oh how true. I had just finishing substituting for Ms. Sahar and only had 10 minutes to prepare for my next class, so I was stressing. The door opened and four of my boys walked in with their sandwiches. They were here to stay. Ahmed smiled and said: "we just thought we'd drop by".
I grinned, successfully hiding my panic attack. I mean, of ALL the recesses in ALL the weeks, throughout the whole year, why oh why today? Don't you just love Murphy?:)

Oh who am I kidding, I didn't care about my next lesson, I was on cloud number 9! They started babbling on about hilarious things. Then Ahmed told me about the huge incline plane system he built at home, which gave me a great idea. I told them to help themselves with all the boxes that fill my classroom (studying simple machines has turned my classroom into a dump!) to start building their own inclined planes. I provided toys cars for extra pleasure. Instantly, chips bags were tossed aside and they were on it. They loved it.

Soon the time was up, so I left them in class and went down to pick the rest of the kids. When I re-entered the class the boys were no where to be seen. I didn't think about it too much as I was busy manually seating both Abdulla's. I'm going to have to start using scotch tape soon I swear to God. Suddenly the boys started yelling in excitement and surprise. Two boys were hiding under the table and the other two were (very effectively) buried under a huge pile of boxes. I cracked up. I would've never found them. I'm bad at noticing things (Dalia will attest to that only too gladly) as it is, so when my entire attention is focused on discovering WHO IS THROWING THE STUPID ERASERS - it kinda gets harder!

Call me weird, but I choose to share this as my success story, and not a cold lifeless 92.5% on my evaluation paper. But the fact that they chose to "drop by" when they could've been down acting insane and badgering each other (something they derive GREAT pleasure from believe me), totally made my day!

These are the things that make my heart make a "happy happy joy joy" dance. Things like a third grader from a class I substituted for at the very beginning of the year coming up to me in recess yesterday and saying:

Kid: Do you teach English?
Me: nope sweetie. I teach grade 4 science.
Kid: Okay what classes do you teach?
Me: 4A, B, C and D (the kid is in E)
Kid (slapping head in disappointment): ohhh.. then I am not lucky.

The thing is, I'm not half as good as he seems to think I am. And I'm not sure how accurate it is to be called lucky cuz I'll be teaching you next year. But that doesn't really matter. What matters is that he brightened my day. Made my heart skip a beat.

I'm so thankful to Allah. Being appreciated is a blessing. And what a blessing it is.

Ya3ni are you okay????

2007-05-12T17:07:00.000+03:00

Okay this is either an extremely cheesy movie or a brilliantly hilarious one (impressively enough, I think it's both!:P).

I personally found it excessively comical and enjoyed a good 3 minutes of uninterrupted side-splitting laughter. But I just got back from school and I'm usually a tad extra crazy then. So feel free not to contribute to the chuckles. Gosh, I'm still giggling. Those Muslims in North America are completely out of it, I tell you.

Bless them, they make me laugh.

You gotta love google

2007-05-11T17:50:00.000+03:00

I just finished writing my "very first resignation letter". On my very own.
I feel so important! My pride right now is only matched by that one time in Sabilah when I had to sew on my pants button. I was literally jumping around parading my "accomplishment" (yeah. I have pretty low standards). I could hardly contain my happiness and pride. Is that how the person who invented peanut butter felt? It must be.

I couldn't have done my letter today without the aid of dear ol' Google. I wonder how people used to do their "very first" anything without the gem of a creation called Internet and Google. On the other hand, that's not necessarily always a good thing. I still can't forget the look Dalia and I had when we tried to search for something and started typing "how to..." then we got a list of previously searched questions, the first of which was "How to dispose of a dead body".

And yes bro, I STILL don't wanna know.

Semi-profound Posts Hiatus

2007-05-11T11:44:00.000+03:00

Just a mere couple of months ago running had been my muse; my writing inspiration. It would mostly be during those 45 minutes of refreshing hippity hop that my brain enters that tranquil reflective mode, where my semi-deep writing ideas are free to blossom (and yes they do exist thank you very much. You just have to look for them. Real hard.)

Sadly, I can no longer say that. Today's run made it clear that those days are over. Running has become a struggle for life. A near death experience, if you will. Welcome to the unforgiving summer of Kuwait.

What chance do my semi-profound thoughts stand in the face of hot scorching sun? (And it was only 7 am.!!). A opened can of Whiskas in front of my big fat cat has more of a chance of survival. Okay that's a lie. They are both doomed. Chances of survival: Zilch.

And so where once my thoughts were free to wander far back in nostalgia, fast-forward in the speed of light, or simply immerse in the present, they were now abruptly downgraded to that of pitiful pleas and heart-shattering agony.

These were some the thoughts clouding my mind as I ventured a run this morning....

"Ya Allaaaahh.. this is hot... okay you can do it, you've already been running.... (check my stop watch) JUST 6 MINUTES. CRAP"

To get my mind off things and maintain a steady rhythm, I had to devise a 4-step chant, which was painfully appropriate:

DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION
DE- HY- DRA- TION

Then hallucinations took over:
"Water.. I need water... I want mommy... water... I need water... biddi mamaaaaaa"
Suddenly I noticed that I was running towards a water fountain. Aaah, the relief. I practically hugged the water fountain as I gulped a mouthful of.... BFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF (me spitting water all around). IT WAS BOILING HOT. I have sustained second degree burns. Not pletty, not pletty at all.

The car was too far and my pace was so slow that at times it felt I was marching in place. A heatsroke was looming in the distance, I could tell. But the knowledge of icy cold water in my car kept me going. Never has a sight of a car brought forth such joy to my heart.

Apart from a burnt tongue and palate, slight dizziness and a brain devoid of even remotely-deep thoughts, I am still alive and partly functioning (I was never completely functioning to begin with). Just don't expect anything deep from this part of the blogging world. Unless I unearth a new source of inspiration. Please do share in case you've got any recommendations. Just keep in mind that I can't stomach marshmallows and can't keep a tune to save my life (as a matter of fact I do realise the oddness of my last sentence. I blame it on sun-induced hallucinations).

Which, I reiterate, is not pletty. Not pletty at all.

Correspondently challenged

2007-05-09T10:42:00.000+03:00

I like to think I make a good friend when I'm around. But it stops at that. When we enter the morbid zone of "long distance" friendship, I become despicable. I promise to email, but rarely ever do. We could chat from time to time when fate deems we meet online. I would text message only in reply, rarely initiating one myself. There will be times when I won't even answer texts. I'd keep putting it off until it eventually slips my mind. Like I said, absolutely despicable. I just do not possess that gene that makes me a good "stay in touch" friend. I miss my friends terribly and painfully, yet it manifests itself only in the form of a depression, and yet do little to stay in touch. I baffle even myself.

How do my friends react? It varies. A portion of them decide that I'm worthless scum and delete me from their phone book or rename me: "worthless scum"(okay I'm spicing it up a bit ,but there's some truth to it). Some enter a vicious circle of hating me, forgiving me, loving me, hating me, forgiving me, loving me, ad infinitum. They haven't learnt to adjust their expectations of me yet. I'm hoping they will, eventually.

Others, would get upset with me at first. But after we reunite again, and they see how I'm still the same loving friend who heartily admits to being a lousy correspondent and apologizes profusely, and swears by the fatty layers around her fat cat's tummy that they've been on my mind all the time, they come to terms with the truth. I love them to bits but I'm just a plain lousy stay-in-touch person. I'm not proud of it, but at least I'm not in denial. I am openly owning up to it, and if that isn't big of me, then... oh who are we kiddin it is big of me:P

The third category constitutes my dearest friend in the whole wide world, Donia. We are scarily similar in a lot of things (scary in the sense that one would think that ONE person like me in the universe is more than enough) This being no different, she happens to be just as lousy a correspondent as I am. So it works well. And yet our friendship is preserved beautifully. There are times when we'd literally be sending emails daily and cracking each other up, but it doesn't last too long (but when it does, boy I get stomach cramps from all the chuckling). We also make it a point to have a reunion every once in a while. All it takes is an extra long hug and an all nighter of babbling about the entire events of the past 2 years and it feels as if we've only been apart for a day. All has been taken care of.

But every now and then I get sudden pangs of guilt and I go into "mass emailing, texting and calling mode". I suddenly get a panic "OMG I'M GONNA DIE FRIENDLESS" attack and rush to make amends. Yesterday was one of those days. I went and invested in some calling cards. There were so many calls I sincerely meant to make ages ago but never got around to it, not (I swear) for lack of sincere wanting. But because as mentioned above I am a hopeless case.

My first call had to be to my best friend back in college who is now in the midst of her medical school final exams! She was evidently (do you blame her?) surprised but utterly thrilled to receive my supportive phone call. I mean lets face it, this is the same friend who, as a very last resort, gave me a plant to fly home with me (yes I carried it along with me on the plane). She made me promise to send her a text message every time I watered the plant, which was every, umm, I'm not sure anymore. What did I do? I killed the poor thing. Well if you must know, that's another area I suck at. I'll adopt and raise all the animals you want. But no plant can survive with me. Its like I suck the green out of them. I didn't exactly send her a "She'd dead" message, but I guess she eventually found out, from the lack of messages that is. Yet she still calls me her friend. I wouldn't still call me a friend!!

Then I had to call Jumana and Hanna, my two awesome buddies from Sabila days. They were getting engaged!! I've been putting off sending them emails or messages congratulating them for so long that nothing less than a phone call would've sufficed.
I tried to call a couple of other friends, but couldn't reach them. I'll have to call them again.

The point is, during this most recent friend-related panic attack I have made a mid-year resolution. This cannot go on. I mean, for crying out loud I claim to support Greenpeace and can't keep a plant alive for a day. I know what you're thinking, I should take a gardening course? I think not. I have a better chance sending emails. So I am going to make a fabulous transformation from an utter hopeless case to a KICK ASS correspondent! Just watch me.

So, my friends out there (who I seriously doubt even know this blog exists), empty your mailbox cuz you're in for some serious flooding!
This weekend is going to be dedicated entirely for email. Next weekend at the latest. Yep definitely around that time. More or less. Does this post count as staying in touch? Cuz I think it should. No?

It's Wednesday Oh Yeah

2007-05-09T07:59:00.000+03:00

Yesterday Ahmed performed a very entertaining "Bingo Dance" that sent me chuckling even though it was the end of a very long and hard day and I had decided on cutting the supply of smiles and laughs for the day. But I didn't anticipate the "Bingo Dance". One cannot maintain a frown in the presence of THE bingo dance, take my word for it.

In fact, I was inspired by it to such an extent that today I have, with permission, adopted the dance with few alterations and coined it "The Wednesday Dance"!

It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!
It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!

(To fully appreciate it's hilariousness you must observe the weird combination of hand, body and face gestures, which are totally lost in a blog post-which is prolly for the best.)

It's Wednesday, Oh yeah!

Broken Brooms, Toe squishing, heels, n more!

2007-05-07T14:45:00.000+03:00

The boys just loved the game. It involved mom's beloved broom, a nameless stick, rope, three boys and a lot of pulling. But a broom can only take so much. After being used and abused in each and every grade 4 science class, it finally cracked. Right in front of us all, it snapped in half.

I gasped: MOM IS GOING TO KILL ME.

Now although I knew mom was going to feel saddened at her loss (the two seemed to have a weirdly strong, yet endearing connection), I was obviously exaggerating. I mean, I like to think that if she had to choose between me and her broom, she'd eventually decide on me. I hope.

But the kids seemed to take it to heart. A couple of them offered I stay at their place for a while, you know, until it was safe to return home. Another kid ran to the broom, searched for the price sticker, then happily informed me of the name of the supermarket, its affordable price, and suggested I pick one up on my way home.

The rest, however, were finding it extremely difficult to suppress their guffaws. Abdulaziz on the other hand, was fervently pleading I announce him new owner of the said snapped-in-half broom. Goodness knows for what. You know what, I really don't wanna know.

On a more positive note, I have discovered today the joy of leaping about the school hallways. I mean, running around the corridors has been my thing since day one. And while the hall ceilings are often filled with dangling bright decorations that prove irresistible to my boys, they did little to tempt me so far. But as I walked out of class today, hurrying to report to my playground duty, I was feeling a little more bubbly than usual. I unconsciously sprang up and managed to touch the light. The first thought to cross my mind? BOY is that fun or WHAT. There was no stopping me!

Suddenly, not only could I forgive my students for leaping circles around me in the hallways, I was competing with them neck-to-neck in this highly entertaining pastime. I just wish I had discovered this fountain of joy earlier. No matter, you can count on me making the best of what's left of the school year. Even better, in two weeks there would be no kids anymore. So those long wide corridors will be mine to conquer. Oh don't worry, the teachers already found peace with the fact that I'm incorrigibly, umm, weird?

Guess what. I just found out that the boys step on my feet an AWEFUL lot. I never noticed before. But yesterday I was wearing fairly new shoes that I didn't particularly want ruined, so I was more sensitive to any sudden painful strikes. You cannot imagine the rate of toe-squashing I suffer through on an average school day. Seriously, this can't be right. Those things must be included in your job description!! I've half a mind to blame the kids for my not-exactly-narrow feet. Lets just say they aren't improving on the situation!!

Moving on. I went shoe shopping with mom today. I needed to buy some comfy shoes. But all I found where glittery strapy shiny 5-inches long sandals that unconsciously made me cringe in pain at the mere sight of them. Seriously, women of the world, why oh why do you do that to yourselves?

I just got a sudden flashback of the one and only time I ventured to wear heels. Never again. Nope. Not me. It was for our high school graduation party. My dress was a bit long, so I thought what the heck I'll get heels. To make a painful and agonizingly torturous story short, at the end of the party I found myself on a chair outside the bathroom, with my heels kicked off cursing the hour I bought those devils. I wasn't alone.
My mobile rang and it was my dad telling me he was outside in the parking lot waiting for me. I called on every ounce of willpower I possessed and tried to slip them back in. I squealed in pain. Let's face it, it just wasn't going to happen.

And that is how I found myself, striding through the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bare-footed with my sandals in hands. I avoided eye-contact with the bellboy as I made my way to dad's car, still barefooted. I wasn't coming back here until I was 50, that was for sure.

A few months after that, I heard it closed down. I like to think I had something to do with their demise. I mean, barefooted guests prancing around in your lobby has to score high on the "Signs Your Five-Star Hotel is In for a Dip" list, no?

And that, my friends, is the history behind my not-so-discreet disdain for heels. Can you blame me?

Ethical Question

2007-05-06T13:42:00.000+03:00

The following is a *hypothetical* situation:

Lets say a boy shows up to class after recess still carrying his bag of chocolate-filled biscuits. His teacher, bless her, asks him in the sweetest of ways to PLEASE PUT IT AWAY. Five minutes later, he's still slyly munching on them. The teacher has no choice but to confiscate the lot. The lesson is over, the boy leaves, no one really remembers the bag of soft chocolate filled biscuits that's tossed aside. A few hours later, the teacher is finally done with her lessons for the day. She chaperones the last batch of boys to their next lesson then rushes to her classroom and collapses on the floor. She is exhausted, drained and suffering from SERIOUS sugar depletion. She suddenly notices the bag of soft chewy goowy chocolate filled mini biscuits tossed on the side, abandoned, unloved, and unappreciated. She could swear she heard it call out to her in a soft hissing sound "munch usssssss" (but again that could easily be a side effect for the sugar-depletion-induced hallucinations:P).

I guess my questions is: To munch or not to munch?

Oh and if you could get back to me quickly, I'd really appreciate it. My will power can only stand so much.
Erm, I mean hypothetically speaking, of course.

Slap Her, She's French

2007-05-05T18:56:00.000+03:00

I just finished watching a movie by this name for no real reason except that it happened to be on and I happened to need to chill for an hour and a half before getting back to the grind. I was in the mood for something silly and it did not disappoint. If anything, it was too silly, but I'm not complaining. Later, when mom asked me how the movie was, I found myself saying: Well, there was a lot of slapping.
And yeah there was. What do you know, violence is making its way even in those pointless silly movies. And suddenly I have an inexplicable urge to slap something. Okay maybe not too inexplicable.

This daily "chill time" of mine is what's been keeping me sane. It starts the minute I enter the house, hug mom, toss my 10++ kilo load off my aching shoulders, change and sit with mom on the lunch table. There would be a HUGE bowl of salady goodness waiting for me. Fresh, cold, crunchy and with an extra sour lemony dressing to make my taste buds go "Hallelujah". I love anything and everything that has lemon in it. Completely and utterly dig it. Not sure it's a good thing though, since during my last visit to the dentist she told me (after a long dreaded pause as she stared intently at the contents of my mouth): "Do you like lemon?"

Back to lunch. So its a salad then a nice hot meal, as my mom and I exchange the highlights of our mornings and noons. Her adventures at our next door supermarket never fail to throw me into fits of giggles. Although her "interesting" news (carefully handpicked from our local paper) unfortunately do not carry the same effect. You don't wanna know. On my part, I spill out whatever anecdotes I have from my day at school. Every now and then, one of us would say something really deep (okay okay so it's always mom who does, not for lack of trying from my part:P).

Once lunch is over, I pounce on the couch, grab the throw, complain about living in the north pole, then turn on the tube to see what's on. At that point, my standards are very low. It just has to be light, funny, and silly. Nothing depressing. Once in a while, usually after an exceptionally mentally stimulating lunch conversation, I'd choose to watch something worthwhile on Discovery or the History channel.

Once my chill time is over, I feel energized and can actually see myself reuniting with my piles of teacher editions and dear old PC. And I usually do. Except of course when I start blogging instead. Not unlike this very moment. Yikes.

I must admit though, whenever I'm snuggled on the couch, relaxed and having a laugh, I can't but feel a tad guilty as I imagine what the majority of the other teachers at school are probably doing. Cooking? Washing dishes? Refereeing a fight between two of their kids? Helping them with homework? Tidying the house? Trying to have an actual meaningful conversation with their husbands? Catching up on the piles of overdue school work? Having a nervous breakdown from all the pressure?

I get overwhelmed at the thought. Those mothers/wives/teachers are heroes. I get hyperventilation and exhaustion fits from the mere thought. How am I ever going to be able to do that? Scary thoughts I tell you. But they usually only last as long as it takes for me to perfect the angle of all the cushions, make sure the blanket covers my toes so I don't lose them to frostbites, and watch something like "Slap Her She's French". Works likes a charm.

What you never thought tongs could do!

2007-05-04T16:11:00.000+03:00

Mom (as she watched me empty the contents of yet another kitchen cabinet): habeebti.. I think we've reached the point where it would really be much easier if you bring your kids here to see the stuff. You've emptied the whole house!!

For the last few days mom has been seriously worrying on whether she'll reunite with her things ever again. So much so that she demanded I make a checklist that is closely monitored by her for accuracy. She made it quite clear that if anything goes missing or breaking, I'm in deeeep trouble. I knew better than to think she was kidding. And on my part, I was only too glad to convey the message (with minor alteration) to the kids.

"Listen up class. Each group has examples of machines. Now the radio, video and computer are the school's property. So if you wreck those, you'll have to pay for it. As for everything else, it's my mom's. She likes her stuff. If anything happens to it, she is gonna come to school and find you."

They all burst out in giggles. Apparently, they found it more funny than scary. You can tell they do not appreciate the sacred relationship between a woman and her kitchen utensils. They have a lot to learn!

"Miss Mariam! Is this toy car you're mom's?"

"No, it's my brother's. He's 4 times as tall as you are. If you break it, he'll come and squash you."

Again, waves of giggles (myself included) as we all imagined Abdulraheem being squashed flat by my bro like in the cartoons.

"Miss Mariam what is this?"
I was just about to explain that this is what they use to decorate the "ka3ek Eid" (Eid cookies) but Ahmed was faster:
"I know I know! This is that thing they use to remove nose hair"
"Oh my God look at the size of THIS ONE (pointing to a salad tong). You need to have a HUGE nose to use this one!!"

Aaaaand, my daily laughter dose is thus complete:)

Kids To Remember

2007-05-03T20:41:00.000+03:00

The countdown is starting.. Two years here are almost coming to a close:) children-packed years that is. During those years, I have heard a zillion adorable anecdotes, tied a hundred shoelaces, wiped a few tears, got a million hugs, and joined in uninhibited fits of giggling.
I have also chased a dozen boys around school, gawked at the amount of chips an average 9-year-old consumes in a single 20-minute-recess, and swore I'd dangle a few kids down my classroom ceiling (and unsuccessfully attempted to once:P).

There are so many memories close to my heart that I wish to guard and always remember. And yet these things are easily forgotten day by day. That's why I am now infinitely glad that I've decided to record my experiences this year on this blog. I'd like to think that one day I'll be sitting reading them and remembering some of the joy (oh and PAIN:P) that filled my early days as a teacher.

Although I can honestly say that I sincerely loved each and every kid I taught through tout those two years (oh yes that includes you Abdulaziz!) there are a few kids that have touched my heart in a special way just by being. These are the kids I'll constantly remember and in a few years wonder what has become of them. Those are the kids I'll wish I would someday run into and get overwhelmed and choked up by how big they've become. Those are the faces that'll stay fresh in my memory even when I'm 99 and can't remember what a chocolate chip cookie looks like (Gosh I hope I don't ever reach this point:P). These are the kids that made my heart leap, my lips smile and my face light up.. Bless them!

Dalal:
6-year-old girls don't come any cuter. If you thinks kids can't possibly be cute, incorrigibly polite, super smart, gentle, considerate, plain-old ADORABLE, gifted, sweeeeeeeet and with eyes that literally sparkle all at the same time, then you have got to meet Dalal.

Mohammed M. (4B):
I can only say one thing: BLESS him. May Allah protect this kid from all harm and yij3alo qorrat 3ayn la ahlo.
Lets face it. Every kid has his own thing. Some are really bright, some are musically talented, some have poor academic performance but are superb athletes. Some stand out by how polite they are. Some by how easily they make friends. Some by their good breeding. Some by their beauty. Some are just so cute they don't need anything else to work for them.

But what are the chances you get a kid who has it all? Mash'Allah this kid does. He is one of the brightest kids I've ever met. He's an A+ student without even trying. He's impeccably well bred, super friendly and loved by everyone. He is gifted in each and every sport (the Kong Fu show he performed with the Kung Fu master during sports day had my jaw drop for 30 minutes afterwards. Masha'Allah). His recitation of the Quran shivers your heart and revives your soul. He wins every Quran memorization and recitation competition he enters. He is a natural in everything. Masha'Allah. May Allah bless and protect him. I think it's safe to expect great things from him. May Allah guide him.

Abdulaziz (4A):
Compared to him, all kids are hypo-active sloths. He's disaster in the making. He is literally too much for anyone to handle. I don't even know how the squirt managed to make me absolutely love him:) But I will never forget how EXCITED he is when there's anything about dinosaurs. How stone-still he sits when we're reading/watching something about them. The two extremes fascinate me... I will certainly have a hard time forgetting him!:)

Nasser (4A):
Simply a big fat chunk of sweetness (actually he's very thin, but you get the point:P)

Soud (4C):
I have never met such a goal-oriented person with unwavering determination and faultless blockage of any external distractions in my whole life, let alone a KID. He puts adults to shame!!

Ahmed (4B):
Cutest, biggest, goofiest smile ever. You cannot but return it with a huger one!

Ahmed (4C):
His mom says I'm his favorite teacher, if that's not enough to make him score high on my list, then what does?;)

Mohammed (4B):
He is SO DARN CUTE I wanna cry!!! You just wanna squeeze him into a tiny ball of cuteness and stuff him in your pocket.

Egyptian Kids

I realise that this is actually a general category as opposed to a certain kid. But that's how it is. Egyptian kids are a different breed. They deserve to be classified as a separate, unique, category worthy of admiration and awe.

Man I simply ADORE them. I cannot get over how shockingly blunt, outspoken and confident they are. A mere 6-year-old can run circles around you. Literally.
I remember when I stayed over at my Egyptian friend's place in Cairo a few years back. I met her family and every time I had an encounter with a 5 year old Egyptian kid, I was left in complete and utter awe. HOW do they make them this way? Any attempts of mine to describe them will fall pitifully short of the reality. You'll have to sit face to face with a dark skinned, thick and curly-haired Egyptian kid with wide brown eyes that sparkle in a way only an Egyptian kid's eyes can. Only then will you know what I'm talking about. Think the most OUTRAGEOUSLY witty and talkative kid on Bill Cosby's "Kids say the darndest things", multiply it by a thousand, and you'll get what I'm talking about.

I simply adore Egyptian kids. I can't get enough of them. I love how they cut me off with ease, how comfortable they are with voicing their feelings and unreservedly announcing their opinions. I get a kick from everything they do or say. They are not kids. They are Egyptian Kids.

Ahh... Kids. What a blessing. Why can't they just stay all cute, cuddly, huggable and kissable forever and ever?:)

Me-Me Afternoon A Success

2007-05-01T21:23:00.000+03:00

That would be what the headline reads if I were to ever make the front page of, well, anything. I like to think that I may have already attained that "honor" but didn't know about it since my relationship with the local papers is nonexistent.

Well, not exactly. It's complicated. You see my sister, bless her, was required to cut out any architecture-related articles from the papers back when we were both in Amman. So she'd ask our building janitor to bring us the daily paper. I was usually the one to open the door and get it. He had a knack for driving me nuts. He'd hear my footsteps on the stairs and wait for me to get in. He would estimate how long it takes me to throw my stuff around, change into comfy PJs, find my favorite spot and snuggle in with my big fat cat and release a sigh of contentment. Then he'd strike. Knock on the door. DARN. Cat is tossed aside (snaps angrily in Cat-ish lingo) as I head to the door. I'd crack the door open and extend my hand, get the paper, walk 2 meters and toss it over on top of the pile. But before I do, I'd venture a peek at the headline. I figured, if it was something REALLY important, it'd make the headlines. That was the extent of my news-awareness back then.

I said the word "pile" cuz they were in fact a huuuge pile. You see, even though my sis, bless her, did eventually cut the required articles, it wasn't exactly a day-to-day process. It was more of a once-every-3-months thing. But when she did, it was A BLAST.

Here's how the scene looked like:
Me (cross-legged on the couch, mounting a hefty 10-kilo physiology textbook, and armed with a complete spectrum of highlighters to add color and vigor to an otherwise mind numbingly boring studying process)

Sis (one floor surrounded by newspapers from every direction and armed with that water sprayer thingie to ward off unwanted paper-tearing fat cats:P)

Sis: WOW there's this really cool exhibition.
Me: OH really where?
Sis: doesn't matter it was a month ago.
Me: oh.

Sis: listen to this!!! "SAMI YUSUF ARRIVES TODAY"
Me: OH MY GOD WHEN WHERE?
Sis: oh wait. this is last weeks paper.
Me: dammit woman.

Sis: heeeeeey!! didn't you wanna watch Hugh Grant's new movie. It's ON!
Me: sweeeeeeeet! tonight?
Sis: ummm. Yeah.... sorry. This is last January's paper.

Sis: they say it's gonna snow!
Me: FINALLY!!!!! OH MY GOD! I WON'T DO MY TEST TOMORROW! PREPARE THE GOODIES! WHERE ARE MY BOOTS! I AM SOOOO TEASING ABOOD!!

Yeah. I never learn. I'm kinda hopeless this way. So that is my story with Jordanian papers. I got the news, but a tad too late. But why am I even talking about papers? Oh who knows.

Back to my Me-Me afternoon. It was cool and relaxing. I am happy to report I am no longer stinky (it was really part of a scientific experiment. It didn't go quite well if you must know). Then I went with my mom to an exhibition for the Palestinian Cultural Center. It's stationed in Amman, but they set exhibitions here once in a while. I got some nice embroidered bookmarks. There were so many too choose from, it was a tough call. I stood in a corner and took my time as I went through them. I tried to call on my mom for advise but she wasn't exactly in a choosing mood. I wasn't aware I was drawing so much attention simply by choosing bookmarks!! It wasn't until I made my final choice and called on my mom "okay I'm done", when it hit me like a flying shoe. The whole place had been involved in the process. It was as if the entire place sighed in relief. Everyone was smiling and I got a good number of "good for you!"s, pats on the back and relieved smiles. Siham Abu Ghazaleh who owns the center (she's such a sweet lady) actually hugged me as she said "I am glad you have successfully accomplished your endeavor, but I can't help wonder; if it takes you this long to choose a bookmark, how long will it take you to choose a husband?".

Yeah. This actually happened. I am so not making this up (I so wish I were!).
Geez, we couldn't have stayed in the shop for more than 30 minutes, including everything. Can't a girl take her time choosing bookmarks without making the news?

And as for your inquiry auntie, if husbands-to-be came in a box with such a colorful selection, then indeed I would take my time to choose! :P
Apart from that, the exhibition was wonderful. They had some beautiful stuff.

Then I went home and spent the afternoon with mom and dad, which was nice. Usually they are sitting in the living room while I'm away on the PC. So the boycott thingie was a nice change.

Okay I'm officially too sleepy to type. And What better way to end a me-me afternoon that with a nice long night of sleep? (okay not too long, I still have to wake up before the crack of dawn) but you get the point.

Come to think of it, I'm not surprised I don't make the news front page. I mean, did you just read what I wrote? For the life of me, I can't remember what I was babbling about 3 lines before. Note to self: when you're sleepy head to bed. Not PC room.

That advice was golden, if I may say so myself:)

A purely Me-Me afternoon

2007-05-01T16:05:00.000+03:00

Yes I know it sounds pretty self-indulgent. But read on you'll end up feeling sorry for me (or at least that's the plan!:P)

My school day today seemed to drag on forever. The grand finale has to be the last science period. For two periods now we've been learning about levers (hammer, broom, pliers, forceps, etc.). The kids have observed examples, held and described their parts and used them to conduct fun activities (hammer a nail, sweep my classroom, lift a rock, separate large and tiny beans). Towards the end, they were given a worksheet to complete. The first question had pictures of simple machines and read: Put an "X" on the levers.

"Miss Mariam what is a lever?"
"2eee wallah, what is a lever?"

If it wasn't for the boy next to them who jumped up and said something close to "it's a simple machine yal khibil"- I would've ended my misery right there and then with an overdose of white board marker ink.

I am exhausted beyond description. These two weeks have been from hell. I need to R-E-L-A-X. This afternoon (effective right after I press the "publish" button) I am boycotting the PC, any work remotely related to school and am just gonna do whatever MARIAM, the nice once-normal (I like to think) girl wants to do. This afternoon, I am not a teacher anymore. I am just me. A hopeless fairytale-chick-flick-cookies-n-milk junkie who goes by the name Mariam.

Let the "relaxation celebration" begin!

(I think I'll start by taking a shower, cuz let's face it, I do stink big time :P)

A Cinderella Story

2007-04-28T17:55:00.000+03:00

I just finished watching this movie. For the hundredth time or something. Actually, I was flipping channels between two movies. A Cinderella Story (for the happy ending and the prince charming) and Liar Liar (for the adorable kid).

Don't you just love fairy tales? They just momentarily transfer you to a completely different parallel universe where everything works out in the end. Everyone gets their prince charming. Who just so happens to be the most sweet and considerate soul in the whole universe. And "they live happily every after"- Bleh.

No seriously, DON'T YOU JUST HATE FAIRY TALES?
I honestly believe that I would've been much better off had I not read, watched and believed every fairy tale as a kid, and every corny mushy-wushy chick flick that made it on the screen as a teenager and a 20-something.

And the worst part is, I'm such a happy-ending-junkie, I can't quit even if I wanted to. I can't resist a happy ending. And am only too happy to oblige with the tears and the rest of the parade.

Seriously, my girls are SO NOT going to even know that fairy tales exist. There are zillions of cute kid books and movies that are super engaging and actually teach kids things that would help them in real life, INSTEAD OF STUFFING THEIR BRAINS WITH COTTON CANDY.

Okay, I might be overreacting here just a tad. But seriously, if I can have a say about it, my girls are so not going to be happy-ending junkies. They can go watch "little Einsteins" together, while mommy and daddy can watch "You've Got Mail" for the millionth time. What? I said I was a lost cause.

On Scents and Massages

2007-04-28T13:47:00.000+03:00

So I got a perfume today. From one of the kids. One of the naughtiest kids, mind you. Along with letter that is signed by his name and supposedly from him, but in reality written by his mom. He was more of a delivery man.

I wish they didn't though, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to handle this. Am I even supposed to accept it? The only thing is, it's really almost the end of the year. I'm convincing myself its just a "thank you for putting up with my son" gesture and nothing more. I sure hope they are not fostering the misguided notion that this will in anyway affect the frequency of his visits to the time-out area whenever he deserves it. Or God forbit make me feel guilty about it.

Besides, I don't do perfumes. I can't stand strong scents. It has to be a very gentle- hardly detectable- floral or musky scent for me to even agree to come near it (yes kholoud, and you thought it couldn't get worse than no makeup and no heels! oh but it can and it does!). I prolly should put a sign somewhere saying: "Flowers and chocolates welcomed". Now had he showed up with a bouquet of flowers or little bits of chocolaty bliss, then things would've been quiiiite different. Come to think of it, it's good that he hasn't. A teacher can only be conscientious until flowers and chocolate enter the picture. Hey I'm human okay?

Man my neck and shoulders are tensed beyond belief. It started a while back and only seems to be getting worse. They are continuously aching. I keep picturing those seats in the center of Amsterdam Airport where you can get a quick neck massage before you catch your next flight. Ah what I wouldn't give to have one of those girls suddenly materialize in my classroom and fix my neck. I know, you're thinking well go do just that. No not go to Amsterdam. Get a neck massage somewhere. In theory, that's doable. But I think I've already established that I'm not big on pampering myself. I mean, I can imagine it and think "sweeeet", but would never actually do anything about it. I just can't be bothered. So unless they miraculously appear out of thin air, I'll be whining about my neck and shoulders for quite some time.

Meh.
Maybe I'll spill on a generous amount of perfume, that'll numb the pain. Only because I'd have passed out almost instantaneously.

Skipping The Weekend

2007-04-28T08:23:00.000+03:00

My Thursday and Friday were spent in their entirety in front of the PC preparing for our last chapter on "Simple Machines" (a broom is a simple machine, hence the pressing need to show up to class carrying one!). I even bailed out on Thursday's family day. On Friday I had some plans with friends, but they fell apart. I didn't mind much then, was actually pretty relieved, cuz I needed every minute and was stressed out. But now I'm thinking that wasn't the smartest move. I needed to take time off work.

It's Saturday morning and I already feel burnt out. Usually I'm sleepy on the way to school, but once I'm there, the engines turn on and I'm back to my daily run around the school corridors. It's already 8:30 and I still don't feel any better. I just don't feel up to it. And the worst part is, I don't have a choice. I have to be up to it. Oh well, I'm counting on the adrenaline rush I'll get when I start chasing one of the kids back in line. That should work.

That's it. Next weekend I'm gonna be chillin the whole time. I just hope I'll get there soon enough!

I don't recall reading the word "dignified" in the job description

2007-04-27T20:58:00.000+03:00

And for a good reason!!

I'm gonna be walking into school tomorrow morning proudly carrying my handbag, canvas bag full of books and, um, a broom. Yep you read that right. We will proceed, my beloved broom and I, through the admin. corridors, queue up in front of the fingerprint machine, then march up multitude staircases and through a maze of corridors, again with my broom by my side, till I reach the safety of my classroom.

I'm gonna be the laughing stock of the school. Oh wait, that has been taken care of ages ago. Somewhere around the time I walked in the school with pockets bulging with rocks of all shapes and sizes, and that time I was literally thrown off balance flat on the floor by 10 majorly-excited 7-year-old girlies I taught last year. In front of the whole school. Oh sweet dignity, why did you walk out on me?

On the bright side, I guess walking in with a broomstick is as bad as it gets. I can only move upwards from there, right? At least that's what I tell myself.

(On a side note: the fact that brooms usually conjure the image of a witch should not lead you to any hasty conclusions. Much appreciated.)

Irresistable Scribble

2007-04-25T08:07:00.000+03:00

There were four of them and they were getting detention. I wouldn't have it any other way. I marched them to the supervisor's office, whom I found was in a meeting. Unfazed, I stood my ground and declared: "I'm not going home until I am assured they are getting detention tomorrow". I think she saw that I meant every word I uttered (that's a glimpse of the new improved wiser me:P I can pull off a stunt like that, something I was never able to do before! Well that's actually just part of the story, the previous boys supervisor changed. She used to scare the boys, but darn she used to scare me just as much!!) She promised they would. One of them was Fahad, a cute boy that I love. But that was besides the point, he went too far this time.

I entered my class this morning and slowly emptied my things- breakfast Tupperware, glasses, mobile and my lesson plan book. My classroom door opened and in came Fahad. I quickly noticed there was a folded paper in his hands. Great, a note from his parents- I thought. I'm not particularly a fan of parents' notes as it is, but today it ticked me off. If anything it made me more determined to go through with detention. It might as well be from his GRANDPA for all I care- I mumbled under my breath. He silently gave it to me and walked out. I slowly unfolded it, my hand ready for the next move which is to crumble it and swish it in the garbage where it belongs.

That plan's all history now. Written in his cutest own handwriting was this:

My heart melted. He was saved!

Looking at his letter, I couldn't help but remember my own 9-year-old self. That was my secret weapon that never struck out. Whenever I'd drive my mom mad (I'd say 3-4 times a day on average) usually an apology and a hug would do the trick. But occasionally my mom would be extra upset that when I approach her for an apology she'd flat-out refuse to accept, declaring that today that wouldn't cut it. Slinking back in defeat I'd go to my room, and squeeze my little brain for a solution. Finally, I'd do the only other thing I knew how to do; get my pencil and paper and start writing her a hearty apology and place it on her pillow. I'd wait for her to get in the room. 2 minutes later, I'd be in her lap getting the warmest hug. It worked like a charm.

And today I know why. Who can resist a cute scribbled apology?

All Out of Threats

2007-04-24T09:45:00.000+03:00

*finger pointed threateningly*

"Listen up Abdulaziz, this is your final reminder. If I end up asking you to leave the classroom, not even your GRANDPA will let you come back in, okay?"

Can you tell that I'm running out of good lines now that it's the end of the year?:)

Funny thing is, it actually worked. I was about to burst out laughing at what I just said, but then I noticed that he actually settled down. Apparently grandpa IS scary. Hmm, interesting. veeeery interesting!

MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA

2007-04-23T19:11:00.000+03:00

I had a near death experience just now watching this video... FROM ALL THE LAUGHTER!!

THIS IS MY BROTHER WHEN HE WAS A KID. I SWEAR TO GOD.

Someone must've taken a video of him back then and, inspired, made this cartoon!!

OH MY GOD I can't possibly laugh any more!!!!
This is just a glimpse of what it was like having him as part of our family!! Tiny (not anymore:P), cute, BUT INGENIOUSLY ANNOYING :p

Oh but I love you all the same bro! :D

Older Wiser Me

2007-04-22T16:00:00.000+03:00

Two years ago, I was a 21 year old fresh graduate who had nothing to show for "Work Experience" on her CV except a two-weeks job in a toy store over the Christmas season and some serious tick removal off hairy dogs in the animal shelter I volunteered in.

Now I am 23 and, thankfully, tick-free (wow that rhymes, I am so gifted:P) and nearing the end of my second year working in the same school. For no other reason but to kill time (not that I don't have tons of work, but I wanted to stall) I sat today reflecting on some situations I was put in last year and how I handled them. Some made me cringe, some made me laugh at how silly I was and some I have yet to figure out if I could have handled them differently. I love how we, young people, tend to overestimate how well-prepared we are to handle whatever is thrown at us. Eventually- but not painlessly- we manage to dodge most of the blows, but get our fair share of bull eyes. We have bruises to show for it. Bottom line is, we manage to survive.

Then two years later, not unlike myself today, we sit remembering those days and chuckling at ourselves. What's even worse is that it's a continuous process. So even though I think I'm all wise and stuff now as I critique my fresh-graduate former self. No doubt two years from now I will be remembering what I did this morning and either finding it extremely funny or horrifying (I'll put my money on the second one).

But I guess that's how the game is played. You handle things as best you know at that moment and then bare to be chuckled at by your very own 2-years-older-somewhat-wiser self.

Man I was absolutely clueless when I first set foot in the school (that is not to say that I am no longer clueless, but it has evolved into a more complex form of clulessness:). Thank God I was an assistant then, so I didn't have too much on my plate. And yet I still found myself in complete shock every now and then.

I just can't get myself to forget the first time I went down to my after school duty in the playground. After 15 minutes pass I am supposed to ask the kids to leave the playground and go wait in the reception. I, oblivious to the danger I was putting my self in, approached a bunch of loud teenage girls walking. In the nicest of ways, and with a smile on top, I asked them in Arabic to please go to the reception as we're required to close the playground gates. They stood there, giving me the dirtiest look I've ever seen. Then one was bold enough to mockingly repeat what I said stressing my Arabic accent which of course isn't Kuwaiti.
I don't exactly remember how I reacted, actually I don't think I even did. I just stood there, frozen in shock and disbelief. Yes that was the day I was introduced to the horrifying
impertinence of some of the students.
I learnt my lesson and never spoke to any of the students in anything but English. For some reason, when I spoke to them in English they shut up and nodded. They were unlikely to answer back.

Ah if I can only meet this girl again and have her do the same thing. Man I would skin her alive:P But what did that 2-years-younger Mariam know back then of beating up rude and vulgar kids!

Or that time I was unjustly told off by an unfriendly coordinator for supposedly showing up late to my duty (I wasn't), and when I went up to the supervisor to complain I ended up sobbing in her office and using up her year's supply of tissues. Poor 2-years-younger me. Ah the age of innocence.

But my favorite moment must be when the teacher I was assisting stayed absent and I had to take over and I stood there with only one thought in my head "Geez, why are they all staring at me? Do I have something stuck on my forehead? Man I KNEW I shoulda taken a look at the mirror this morning". Oh yeah, this whole "being in charge of the class" took some getting used to.

Of course that is not to say that I'm much better now. I still get puzzled and self-conscious when they all stare at me sometimes (hehe kidding:P) and still often find myself dumbfounded beyond speech in the face of similar impudence. But at least I don't cry in public now, but retreat to my chosen secret spot.
I also have under my belt some seemingly trivial, but very handy information. I know where the best parking spot is and which gates are open at which times. I can sneak in and use the administration's photocopying machine when I'm in a real hurry. Oh and get away with it:P I know how to carry myself in a way that demands at least partial respect from teenage students who are almost my own height. But I'm afraid I am still completely terrified when I pass by the 12th grader boys. Man they are HUGE. I would not want to get into the slightest disagreement with any of them. To handle those kids, I find myself using the same strategy I used last year: Avoid eye contact and flee.

Oh well, I guess I wasn't completely clueless back then after all!

Introducing... The Push Push Corner!

2007-04-22T11:37:00.000+03:00

That was one nice lesson I gave the kids just now, titled "What is work?".

There was a lot of acting out and they loved it. I particulary enjoyed making them push the wall for quite some time! Maybe that's what I'll have the naughty kids do in the time-out corner from now on. God knows writing lines is pretty much useless, oh and I'd rather restrict my exposure to their terrible terrible handwriting! It hurts my eyes (funny, that was the exact line my teachers used to say about my own handwriting!)

So from now on it's officially called: The Push-Push corner!
Abdulaziz, brace yourself! :P

Ah, the joy of being in charge of the new generation!

Fight Hunger: Walk The World

2007-04-20T19:27:00.000+03:00

The event, organized by the UN Food Programme and local partners from around the world, will take place on May 13th as a call for an end to child hunger.
It's taking place almost everywhere. Click here to check out if there's a walk where you're at. I know for a fact there's one in Kuwait (check banner on the left) and in Amman. So you guys out there, make it a point to join!

Put on your sneakers and walk the world!

Gee Thanks

2007-04-20T09:34:00.000+03:00

One has got to love how unpredictable my mom is. Juuuust when I think I got her cornered and pretty much ensured a certain response she goes and surprises me!

Me (plainly fishing for a compliment): Mama don't my new eyeglasses make me look smart?
Mom: Let me see, turn around and face me directly... hmm, yep you definitely look like a smart wannabe.

Honestly mom you should've read the "The complete Guide to Complimenting Your daughter" more thoroughly:P

And the award goes to.....

2007-04-19T21:08:00.000+03:00

I'm hosting my very own award ceremony here. Just me, my blog and a red napkin! (a used one at that:P). It is in recognition of the most memorable moments of my second take at a Parents-Teacher conference. Below are a list of the categories and the winners:

Most Frightening Moment

Definitely the first parent that walked in. She had her kid along with her (he didn't look particularly thrilled to be there). She had a look that plainly said: SOMEBODY is gonna be beaten up today. Seeing that there was only me and her kid in the room, I stood a 50% chance of paying the ER a visit. I must say, I did not like the odds. It was a close call, but I think at the end she settled on her kid. Won't deny I was extremely relieved!

Most touching moment

Homoud's mom: You know the other week when one of the teachers passed away and the boys' Sports Day was cancelled? Homoud was pretty disappointed, but I sat him down and explained what happened. I told him to imagine how hard it must be for the teachers to cope and imagine if it were one of his own teachers that passed away. Next morning he comes to me and says: "mom, I prayed so hard yesterday that nothing ever happens to my Science and Arabic teachers because I like them so much".

Me: awwwwwwwwww. Are you sure he said science??
(Background info: I love Homoud but he also drives me insane and only yesterday I made him stay in class during recess writing "I will pay attention in class" like 40 times or something:P now I feel guilty! Darn!)

Most "WHAT THE?" moment

I have twins. They are in different classes. Their mom is not exactly the most amiable creature you'll meet. Yeah. She kinda intimidates me. A lot.

She: So how did they do in the quiz they took 2 days ago?
Me: Oh I didn't have a chance to check it yet.
She: NOT YET? NOT YET???

I dunno how she does that but I almost started apologizing, then I realised: WHAT THE??? Woman go home:P

Most Ridiculous Moment

Me: Oh and he needs to do his own work. I gave him only 5 on his project cuz it wasn't his handwriting. Next time he won't get any marks.
Mom: Oh but it is his work. He told me what to write and I wrote it.
Me: Huh? Why?
Mom: Oh I dunno what to do with him. He can't be bothered to write. He says: Yalla mom I tell you what to write and you write.

And what's worse is that she actually does. I love kids and all that, but I still think you should be allowed to toss kids out of windows when it's obviously the only logical solution :P

Most adorable Moment

BamBam Soud: previously mentioned.

Most Happy Ending

*on our way out of school*

Mrs. Darci: You know I could just kick you now (will refrain from mentioning what I did to deserve that threat:P)
Me: hehehehehe
Mrs D: But I'll forgive you cuz you're Ahmad's favorite teacher.
Me: I AM???? *widest silliest grin ever*

This week has been one of my best since the start of the year. Somehow, I never seemed to run out of little joys that sparkled my day and made sure my smile would not fade. My morale, which took a dip a while back, seemed to make a strong comeback. I was myself again. Can't describe how great that felt.

Yet again the search for something to be thankful for yields innumerable results. Continue search?

BAM BAM part 2

2007-04-18T19:54:00.000+03:00

Except it's my heart that is BAMBAMing this time, and because of the same adorableness that goes by the name soud.

If I start singing his praises, this post would be nothing short of a hefty encyclopedia . And it's 8 pm, the parents meeting finished (and it went quite well!! No parent beat me up:P more on that later), so I need to go home! Home sweet home.

But just 2 seconds ago, the cutest thing happened.
Soud, nothing short of a ball of cuteness, walks in with his mom. His mom smiles at me and says: Soud has been nagging me to come to the science room to hear that he is "Amazing".

Me: HE IS AMAZING. HE'S THE MOST AMAZING KID ever. He has motivated his entire group to be exceptional, he's 100% attentive, he's smart, and not just that. He's the most considerate and helpful kid I've ever seen.

At that point, Soud was smiling sooooooooooooooo widely while simultaneously glancing down and biting his nails out of shyness:)
IT WAS SO ADORABLE.

Mom (as she walks out): so you are "Amazing" after all!

My heart is BamBaming. This is the cutest thing ever.

Frostbites In Kuwait

2007-04-18T16:31:00.000+03:00

It is a fact of life that on average I feel more cold in Kuwait's summer than in its short-lived winter.
Confused? Well, this should clear it up: AIR CONDITIONS.
Of course they are one heck of an amazing invention but man those things can be merciless sometimes. In most indoor places the AC is on so strong, it literally feels like you've been momentarily transported to the north pole! Sometimes I get so chilly to a point where I actually RELISH the first 2 minutes of sun/heat exposure I get as I finally leave the building. I literally feel my skin defrosting. I say 2 minutes cuz that's how long it takes me to reach my car, peek my head inside and go "OH PRETTY COW THAT IS HOT". I think the Arabic expression
"يا طخه يا اكسر مخه" says it best!!

Apparently my kids were sharing my pain today during their math class. As they walked outside the class in the direction of my classroom, I could feel that at least parts of them were frozen. They were much less wobbly than usual and I could detect a touch of blue on their lips.

Essa (hopping up and down to get some warmth): Ms. Mariam can you please please please make me hot soup?

Gosh, the boys are determined to keep me giggling all through this week!!

DAM DAM

2007-04-17T14:32:00.000+03:00

Time: 2:25 p.m.
Location: In the corridor returning the boys to their advisor classroom before they leave home.

Soud: Ms. Mariam do you know that we're going to get our shahada (report card) now?
Me: Yep! I know!
Soud: My heart is making DAM DAM DAM (along with the cutest illustration of this using his tiny hands).

I laughed. For hours. Still am actually. Isn't this like the most adorable thing in the world?
Gosh, I don't care what I say when I'm frustrated and croaking, but there are some boys that I simply ADORE.

Mariam's Laws of Boy Motion

2007-04-17T01:05:00.000+03:00

Inspired from mighty ol' Newton's Laws of Motion, but with a little Mariam-ic touches:)
At first, I state the original law, then make the necessary alterations relying on my own observations of typical "Boy Motion" in your typical elementary school.

Newton's first law: law of inertia
An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force. An object in motion will remain in motion unless acted upon by an external and unbalanced force.

Mariam's First law: law of run run run BAM
A boy at rest will remain at rest only if he is watching TV, on his Xbox or asleep. A boy in motion will remain in motion until he runs into something solid (sometimes even this will not be enough to stop him).

Newton's second law: law of acceleration

The rate of change of momentum of a body is proportional to the resultant force acting on the body and is in the same direction.

Mariam's second law: law of sugary fuel
The rate of change of momentum of a boy's body is proportional to how much sugar he has indulged in recess.

Newton's third law: law of reciprocal actions
All forces occur in pairs, and these two forces are equal in magnitude and opposite in direction.

Mariam's third law: law of the "tosheh hosheh"
All fights start in pairs (but grow in size exceptionally fast), the forces of the punches and kicks are opposite in direction but not necessarily equal in magnitude.

These three laws hold to a good approximation for the most part of my boys' daily motion. However, the three laws collapse to bits and are rendered completely and utterly obsolete when a variable is introduced. Please welcome Mr. BALL.

If you have ever made the mistake of underestimating the effect of your average ball (size, shape and color seem to be of no importance as long as it is round and can bounce!). Just try to offhandedly toss a ball in some boy-infested scene and kick back and enjoy the show!

It is truly a sight to see. No matter what they are doing, how involved they are in it, each and every child will abandon anything and everything and rush to chase the ball and try to catch it. It is an irresistible temptation. Not a single boy can see a ball in motion and not spring forth in its direction. Suddenly all eyes are in one direction, all hearts and arms are desperately aiming to capture one object. And when someone suddenly does catch it and holds it in his little hands. You should just see the look on his face... we're talking I-just-won-a-gold-medal-in-the-Olympics proud! But it lasts only as long as it takes for the rest of the boys to catch up and run him over in an attempt to recapture the ball. Wherever the ball decides to go, you can bet your falafel that 30 pairs of feet will be scurrying off at its tail.

I can only conclude that this "Ball Effect" is a natural instinctive behavior. One that happens to amuse me immensely I must admit.

A Little Angel Called Nasser

2007-04-14T19:53:00.000+03:00

Nasser is one of the 9-year-old kids I teach. You can't meet Nasser and not instantly fall in love with him. It'll take you exactly 1/10 of a second to single him out, 2 seconds to be convinced he comes from the very best breeding, and 3 seconds to completely and utterly adore him.

He's the most sweet-natured kid I've ever met. His smile literally brightens up the classroom and his excitement is fuel to my lesson. I love it when he spontaneously interrupts me with his soft and tender voice "Can I say something teacher? Can I say something teacher? Can I can I can I?", he hops up as he say that, and by the time he's done with his sentence he somehow is standing beside me on the board. He makes me smile, each and every time.

He's brilliant, dedicated and his marks are great. He's the perfect student.

But today my heart broke.

I was in the playground during recess and suddenly boys surrounded me:
"Ms. Mariam do you that Nasser's mom died???"
"Nasser???? which Nasser?" *please God don't let it be Nasser in 4A.*
"Nasser in 4A miss".

I froze for a second. I felt my heart sink and totally forgot about releasing my breath and taking in another one.

"He's absent?"
"No, he's here. Over there", they said pointing at a seemingly normal Nasser, wearing his charming smile as he talks to his friends.

Later I learnt from other teachers that it seems his mom had been sick for a long time and away in treatment, since the dad informed the school that she passed away last Saturday but he only informed Nasser on Wednesday.

His little face has been haunting me ever since and all I can think of is Nasser. My heart tears when I see him. And yet he seemed okay on the outside. I wonder, is it because he hasn't fully realised it. Or worse, has she been sick and missing from his life for such a long time, that she has been effectively dead long before Wednesday.

I try to imagine my life without my mom's presence, then I quickly stop myself. It's a thought so terrifying, I am paralyzed at the mere idea. And yet, millions of kids grow up without their moms by their sides. What we consider as the essence of our happiness and cannot imagine losing for a second, some people never experience. If it wasn't for my deep belief in Allah's wisdom behind any tribulation, I think I would sink in the sorrow of those mere thoughts.

And yet while Allah takes, he also provides. Even with their shattering loss, he provides them with the strength to keep going, despite the huge piece of their lives that goes missing. I sit here devastated at their loss, wondering how will they ever cope. And yet they do, eventually. Life goes on. If you turn to Him, he'll give you the strength. You'll feel His mercy.

I reflect back on Nasser, now that I know that possibly from the start of the year his mom wasn't able to take care of him. Usually the absence of a mother carries instant effects on the child. Psychologically, behaviorally, academically. And yet, Nasser has been perfect in all aspects that not for a second did I or any of the other teachers doubt that something may be wrong back home.

His clothes are always clean, his things ready.. By all standards he is a happy and successful child. Someone must be taking care of him. I mean, he's just nine years old. And this someone isn't his mom. His grandma? His aunt maybe? Whoever it is, they seem to be doing an amazing job of taking care of him and providing him with the love, support and affection a child this age desperately needs. Nasser has lost his mother, but he hasn't lost everything. Allah chose to take his mom, but has given him love and support in the form of loving and caring relatives.

I find peace in the knowledge that he's in safe hands.

After all, who would bestow more love and mercy on this child than The Merciful himself.
Bless you Nasser, and may those who take care of you be rewarded, in this life and the hereafter.

May your smile continue to light up my classroom and fill our hearts with joy.

Sunglasses Hunt

2007-04-14T14:17:00.000+03:00

I winced my eyes all the way as I drove back home, I was almost blinded by the sun. That's it, I needed new sunglasses. I somehow managed to snap mine in half. You see, I come from a family who aren't very big on "sunglasses preservation". Sunglasses have the shortest possible shelf life in our household. My sis's speciality is simply losing them. No evidence remains. Oh and she can't be bothered to go and try on new ones. She once re-bought the exact same pair of sunglasses at least 3 times!! (after the 2nd time, she stopped going personally and would send family members to do her dirty work:P)

Although I have lost a pair of glasses before, my speciality seems to be in creatively deforming them! They snap in half, lose a limb, crack a lens or magically reshape until they look like anything BUT sunglasses. Yep, I'm gifted that way!

I went in the shop. I haven't been there in years (since my last glasses have been brought while in Amman), but I remember I purchased my first pair of glasses there.

"Hi I'm looking for sunglasses"- I told the nice shop lady.
"This way Ma'am"

I went "this way" and 2 seconds later I was facing a display of Gucci sunglasses.
Baaaaad shop lady, baaaad shop lady :P
*cough cough cough*
I didn't need to look at the price tags to know that I was staring at 200++ KD sunglasses.

Me (hurriedly retreating as if the display carried a contagious virus): No no no, not Gucci's. I just want normal good quality sunglasses. You know something that isn't worth, well, MY ENTIRE SALARY. Know what I'm saying?

"Ma'am I'm sorry that's all we have".

Honestly. Do you realise the things I could do with 200++ Kds? People die because they don't have a loaf of bread and this woman wants me to buy a Gucci glasses that I will most probably snap in a month of two. I mean for crying out loud it's a pair of SUNGLASSES, not the first installment in my hypothetical son's tuition!!

"I think I like that one there"
"That's the door ma'am"
"Yeah. I'll take that."

My mom and I kept walking around the mall and finally walked in a random sunglasses shop.

"Wait a second... I know you! You always used to come. You would get the exact same sunglasses"- the shop owner's voice was loud and clear.

Me (sheepishly): No actually that would be my sister.
Him: Oh I see! No matter, the whole family are my customers. Come in come in.

I ended up buying sunglasses from him. Of course it wasn't exactly painless; he kept forcing me try on those ridiculously HUUUGE sunglasses that make me look exactly like a fly, never mind that I was yelling "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN that's they are IN." in the background.
But he did give me a 45% discount. Turns out it pays to have a sister who keeps losing her glasses and returning to the same shop for exact replicas:P It definitely pays to be memorable. Apparently, the weirder you are, the better!

Second Class Citizens My Shoe

2007-04-13T15:49:00.000+03:00

For a while now I've been conducting my own unofficial survey. I say unofficial because it isn't based on anything scientific and, well, only documented in my shabby memory.

Here's how it goes: I always find myself surrounded with kids, and not just at work. My after school activities involve kids one way or another (but admittedly much younger and cuter and less destructive:P) and sooner or later they'll say something about their schools; you know the name of their teacher or that naughty kid in math class. Which is where I pounce.
Ah, if I had a Hershey's Kiss for each time I asked a little boy in which school he is, to be told that he's in one of the American/English/international schools, then when I turn around to ask his sister if she's at the same school, I am greeted with an all-too-familiar shake of the head and the name of your average Arabic school.

Before I continue with my rant, I feel I must pause to clarify that what I'm addressing here is not whether international or Arabic schools are better. That's not the point I'm trying to reach, at least not in this post.
At the end of the day, parents are entitled, based on their unique judgement and beliefs to choose the school they feel suits their kids best- the financial aspect included. I'm not questioning that. Send them to whatever school you like, I won't stand in your way!
After all, with the exception of KG, I went to your average Arabic private school all my life and I turned out fine (okay that's debatable, but really I don't think I can blame my borderline-wackiness on my teachers, some things are instinctive I'm afraid!)

My point is that if you decide that Arabic schools are good enough for your kids, then they should be good enough for ALL your kids. And by extension, if you feel they aren't good enough for your kids, then they shouldn't be good enough for ALL your kids. Get that- ALL your kids. Yep that includes males and females. Boys and girls. XXs and YXs (excuse me, but the biologist in me can't help but rear its head once in a while:P)

I just wish I could understand how these people think. I mean, what the heck are they thinking? Are they even?
Okay, that was a lie. Unfortunately, I do understand exactly how their twisted logic works. But it sickens me to a point where I pretend not to grasp it, for no other reason than my own peace of mind. That and not to go strangle them.

That is why if I had a say about it (which I don't, obviously) I would choose to have a girl over a boy any time of the year. Partly because I think little girls are the cutest, most affectionate darlings on earth. But mostly as a symbolic act of defiance against the prehistoric yet remarkably surviving sick notion that boys are somehow better. For some reason they are deemed as "more worth it". Somehow, a boy's success would "naturally" make them more proud. As if their hearts would swell with pride a little bit more. Their smile would be a little more huge and their tears of happiness a little more abundant. And why not when he's the boy.

Those people make me sick. And I'm not even a die-hard feminist. But some things just yell out: WRONG.

WHAT is happening to the world?

2007-04-12T13:50:00.000+03:00

OH MY GOD
There's HAIL falling from the sky! and with such intensity!! IN KUWAIT. IN APRIL.
Gosh, the world has gone completely mad!

I couldn't believe my eyes or ears, I had to touch it to believe it! And so I rushed out to the balcony, and stepped on its drenched floor with only socks on my feet. In less than 15 seconds I was completely soaked from head to toe. It was actual HAIL. White tiny HAIL. Sweeeeet.

Oh wait. It just stopped and now it's all sunny again. I'm telling ya, COMPLETELY out of whack. I love it! :D

(picture taken from 248AM)

On Being Thankful

2007-04-12T08:05:00.000+03:00

Surely we're all thankful for the big blessings that surround us like clean water and a breath of air. But still, little reminders in our lives make us more aware and thankful. I have my own set of reminders..

Never am I more grateful to the blessing of water than after a long run. At that moment, there's nothing I wouldn't give in exchange for a cup of cool water. Aaaah.....

And never am I more grateful to the blessing of fresh breathable air than when I take a run in humid weather. I can't describe the feeling when I'm drawing as much breath as I can and yet I feel like my windpipe is blocked. Oxygen is stubbornly refusing to budge. It's within sight, but out of reach. It's suffocating- literally.

Or when I walk into a cigarette-smoke-stuffed elevator and attempt to hold my breath all the way up to the 7th floor. The second I step outside and gasp for air, there is nothing in the world I am more thankful for than a breath of fresh air.

Let's always remind ourselves of the little blessings we should constantly be mindful and thankful for, no?:)

The theme seems to be... weddings!!

2007-04-11T20:39:00.000+03:00

Man this guy is AMAZING, I can't get enough of his videos!
I am SO proposing:P

Parent Negotiations

2007-04-11T20:27:00.000+03:00

I just came upon this video, parts of it are hilarious! This guy is something, and he and a bunch of other guys seem to have a cool site and blog. I still didn't check 'em out thoroughly, but you should. They seem cool!

A Marriage Has Come to Town

2007-04-10T19:21:00.000+03:00

Just a mere two days after I talk about Mumbai and my love for Indian weddings and my secret desire to be Indian and dress in saris, I receive an invitation to my friend's (a teacher assistant in our school) wedding, in Mumbai on Monday 21st of May!
How cool is that?:P What do you know, Life has a sense of humor!

Too bad I'd still be working then and chances I can make a clean escape to attend a wedding in Mumbai are slim to none, but darn, it woulda been the perfect excuse to start my one-month Indian adventure that I would love to experience!

But still, I cracked up when I saw the invitation. Admittedly though, the first thought that popped in my mind was: SHUCKS, why couldn't I have blogged about becoming Mrs. Godiva or something else worthwhile:P

Alas, I stay at home, Godiva-less and Mumbai/Sari-less. I'll have to make do with jumping around and performing my signature crazy dance (those who know me are certainly familiar with the fact that I DO NOT dance, ever. I am not capable or willing. I'm a hopeless case and happy about it. But at certain times, when I'm overly excited and alone at home, I do what is befittingly coined "the crazy dance"; which basically is just me hopping and flailing my arms until I poke my own eye and end it with a dramatic OUCH.

If I can't go to Mumbai, Mumbai will come to me. It's actually simpler than you'd think; I will wrap enough colorful towels around me, and start my crazy dance whilst singing at the top of my voice my favorite song from "Bride and Prejudice" sound track:

"A marriage has come to town.
Laughter, colour light and sound.
Life is great, let's celebrate
The sacred union 2 souls have found"

Yep, that should definitely do it.

You gotta love endorphins

2007-04-08T19:34:00.000+03:00

Today I discovered the joy of reading a book, legs crossed, and snuggled on a bench over a jetty. The sea was the perfect blue and there was a gently playful cool breeze. Aah, complete relaxation... It was just what I needed to de-stress after a tough day at school.

When I reached the level of relaxation I opted for, I decided it was time to have some "happy dozes" kick in, and so I returned my things to the car and started my run. By then it had become pretty windy, and since I was running in the same direction of the wind, it felt like I was almost flying. It was fantastic! I felt like "lubna al sari3a" (remember that cartoon?:)
Not so much so of course on my way back. I had to fight my way through the strong wind. I felt like part of a movie scene played in slow motion!

I usually run on weekends, and the families spending the day there are from all nationalities; Kuwaitis, Egyptians, Indians, and Filipinos. But today, it was like I was walking through a street in Mumbai. Something wasn't right. The first thought that struck me was that, during weekdays, there is some sort of unwritten but understood schedule where each nationality gets a day at the sea and today happened to be the Indians'? But then looking closer, I could see that they were in a festive mood, dressed in colorful silk saris and taking photos. Then it hit me: why it's Easter of course!!! They have the day off. Must say I'm pretty relieved my one-day-one-nationality theory was thus refuted:P

Speaking of Saris, did I ever mention how much I'm in love with them? The million colors, the garments, it's mesmerizing... I wouldn't mind becoming an Indian if only to get away with wearing one!
You know that Indian version of Pride and Prejudice called "Bride and Prejudice", anyway at the very beginning there is a scene from an Indian wedding, MY GOD. I remember the first time I saw it I burst out: I AM SO GETTING MARRIED IN INDIA.

The crazy part is, I HATE weddings. For me the only thing worse than getting invited to a wedding is picturing my own. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the concept of marriage, but rather the celebration itself. It's just that I have no interest in it, I find all weddings to be a carbon copy of each other. Made up of rituals that I find either uninteresting, embarrassing, ridiculous or downright horrifying. Like that "zaffeh" thingie, I wouldn't be caught dead in one, let alone my own!! Besides, what's the point of having all weddings the exact same thing, they simply kill the element of surprise. Oh and don't get me started on that so-called "cake show"- can it be any tackier?
I think it's about time we revolutionize weddings. Simplicity and creativity would go a long way. Or maybe they can skip it altogether and use the budget to travel somewhere amazing and pamper themselves:P just a thought!
But anyway enough of that, I am so not an authority when it comes to weddings. I barely get invited to any, and when I do, I sulk about it. What I never know what to wear!

I guess what I'm trying to say is, God bless endorphins! They make me smile :D

You Are My Sunshine

2007-04-06T18:35:00.000+03:00

I have been feeling kinda lousy lately. You know when you're constantly feeling like you're about to come down with something, and get initial sympathy from those around you. But then days go by and you're kinda in a frozen state; you aren't feeling better, and you aren't feeling worse. It's like finding just one-half of a pair of socks in your drawer and you're late for work. Okay, I have absolutely NO idea how is that the same. It was just the first thing that came to mind (maybe cuz it happens to me like, I dunno, ALWAYS). If by some miracle you do find similarity, please do share!!

So anyway, come Wednesday night I was positively burned out. I figured it's probably due to sleep deprivation, So I celebrated the arrival of the weekend by free falling on my bed, hugging my pillow and slipping into deep undisturbed sleep. Boy did it feel good.

However, when after two nights of almost 10 hours of sleep, I woke up today still feeling drained and exhausted, I knew the situation demanded major intervention.

And so I slipped on my runners and headed for a most-needed run. I figured, if kicking back wasn't doing the trick, then I might as well sweat it out of my system. After all, I can't afford to have these tsetse-like symptoms any longer, I needed to be fully functioning. I have a deadline for submitting the marks for the report cards, which naturally means piles and piles of paperwork *yawn yawn*

My mom agreed to come along. She enjoys the walk, while I run. I love it when she comes along. But it doesn't happen often enough. I love to see her walk and gaze at the seashore so serenely, then on our way back asks me if I noticed how lovely the color of the sea was. She highlights the beauty that I sometimes overlook, focusing instead on my stop watch and avoiding bumping into that palm tree ahead:)

I swung the car door shut and was about to start my warm up, when I heard my mom...

Mom: Are you going to do that thing where you squash the ants?
Me *scandalized*: MOom!!! I NEVER squash ants!
Mom: I mean that thing that looks like you're squashing ants!
Me: Oh THAT. Yeah I will *chuckle*

She was referring to that warm up for my ankle, where I move it in circles while my toes keep touching the floor. She now officially refers to it as the "Ant Squash" exercise.

Man, I LOVE my mom. She is literally "Our Sunshine". Without her, our lives would be bland, tasteless and downright boring.

I mean, beneath my offended look I can't help but be amused every time we have this conversation in front of the mirror (and you cannot possibly imagine how often we have it).

Me *dressed up in something weird*: Mama, these don't go together right?
Mom *initial shock apparent, but quickly recovers*: no no no why do you say that.. they're not that bad (in mom's parallel universe, this is supposed to be a compliment that'll get to me!!), besides, I always tell you, BE BRAVE!
Me *in a whiny voice*: moooom, I DON'T want to be brave, I just want to look presentable.
Mom: fine be boring. I still think you'd look really BRAVE in it. It's really not that bad (again with that pseudo compliment)
Me: AAAAHHHHHH

I honestly can't imagine being away from my mom again. I absolutely cherished being around her these two years. Not having her around at all times is going to be the single hardest thing about moving away. I love you mom. I hope you love me too, even if I'm a coward (stylishly speaking:P) Maybe one day I'll learn to be "brave". You know, when I'm 99 and wearing that hospital gown, I think I can brave out a clashing hat or something to go with it. As long as it's "not that bad" of course! :P

Oh, that run worked like a charm. I'm fully-functioning again, thankfully!

My Fairly Odd Obsession

2007-04-05T21:16:00.000+03:00

My article in Bazaar Mag for this month was inspired from my work place. For that reason, I thought it should also find its way into my blog! So brace yourselves.. oh, this is not going to be deep by the way. Thought I might point that out. Some sort of disclaimer :P

My Fairly Odd Obsession

Aah, the sheer joy of laminating. It’s quite the miracle, really. I could sit for hours watching ordinary papers gracefully slide through the machine, then slowly emerge in their new and improved forms; timeless, fade-less and indestructible objects worthy of admiration- mine at least.

I do not hesitate for a second as I declare (off the record, please and thank you) that the best aspect of being an elementary teacher is the constant and pressing need to laminate stuff- an endeavor I am only too keen to embark on. The excitement and thrill I associate with lamination is, to tell you the truth, a bit worrying and cannot possibly be healthy. But I'm hooked. I'm in- ALL in. It's not a love affair, it's a relationship.

My wishful thoughts often take me far as I imagine how exquisite it would be if I were able to laminate actual things (as opposed to being restricted to paper). I must admit that I have reached what I myself humbly consider to be nothing short of revelations. I choose to share some, hoping that one day I might live to see them brought to life.

Oh what the heck, it's not like any of this is gonna happen, I might as well stretch my imagination a bit. Okay a lot.

Things I wish I could laminate:

My hiking boots- poor things. My heart breaks every time I'm reminded of their sorry state. All tattered and torn, covered in what has become a permanent layer of mud, and smelling positively of swamps and "bala3eet" (a term introduced to me by my always innovative cousin, supposedly referring to tadpoles. To this day he insists it's an official word) I don't have the heart to throw them away, they have been my faithful companions through many a canyons and warm camp fires. I am not ready to bid my farewells, not yet.

My Smelly Cat Peanut. Just imagine what a breeze it would be to "wipe him clean", instead of it being one heck of a risky business; one that often results in human outcries and a nasty collection of bleeding scratches. Plus, with his hair no longer free to shed, I would be theoretically allergy free! (Not really since I'm also allergic to dust, humidity and naughty kids in class) Wouldn't that be grand?

My watch: It might be the fact that I flail my arms around a tad too much, or that my watch is suicidal, or it might just be a common case of bad luck. Whichever the case may be, the actual survival of my watches constantly falls ridiculously short of the official life expectancy of your average Swatch. And even when they're still working, they are scratched beyond recognition. So lamination would help a lot, that and a little bit of cushioning. Yep, that sounds just about right. I might even write to the guys at Swatch, sharing this revolutionary thought. I think I will.

All my wardrobe. Or at least just my favorite outfits. I'm a hopeless case. I would always find a way to stain my clothes while eating. The newer the outfit or the dearer it is to my heart, the faster it is ruined. It's not a question of will I stain, it's more of a what and where and how creative will I be this time.

Facial Lamination anyone? What better way to stop those wrinkles from etching their way onto your youthful countenance? At last, eternal youth is guaranteed. Oh and I daresay it’s much cheaper than Botox injections. Not that I’d know! Ew.

That’ll do for now I guess. Better not get overly ambitious from the very start. We’ll get there eventually; one lamination sheet at a time!
Yep. I am a lamination freak, how did you know?

Creature of Fresh Air

2007-04-02T18:44:00.000+03:00

Ever since I moved back to Kuwait and my emotional state has been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. Fleeting moments of exhilaration, followed by an almost instantaneous dip into depression (okay I might have over-dramatized it just a tad). But seriously, it's worrying.

Granted, I have exhibited tendencies to be moody before. I mean, people who don't know me too well think I'm an incorrigible case of a babbling happy-go-lucky gal with a permanent goofy smile stuck on her face. Oh and with a pretty loud laugh too. Some even went so far as to say (and I quote) that they "can't possibly imagine me depressed or anything less than grinning widely". Huh. Ignorance is a bliss they say. And those close to me would be quick to agree.

But even then, my moodiness was kept in check and at least had a pattern. I get whiny and cranky when my allergy fires up into a full fledged sinusitis (which is what I am suffering from at the moment). But hey, before you get all judgemental on me try having both your nostrils completely clogged along with a headache that gives "splitting" a whole new meaning, and let's see you be all jolly-molly.

Anyone who paid us a visit during my finals, or worse tried to actually engage me in a conversation, would know better than to repeat that. Whenever I'm stressed and worried, I become obnoxiously sullen and would even dress up with a frown that would make the Jordanian population proud. But then that would only happen once a semester, during finals.

So you see, it was under control. For the rest of the year, I'm myself- a normal, cheerful and happy girl that appreciates a lame joke (aka. "dabsheh") anywhere anytime and would even laugh her head of if the occasion called for it.

But that's not true anymore. I'm all over the place, I'm confusing the hell out of my own self.
And after much thought (and by "much" I mean the time it took me to cross the street to the toy shop next door to get some gifts for the star students) I have nailed down the reason.

I'm not getting enough fresh air. It's as simple as that. Between spending an entire working day inside freezing AC-ed classes, and the rest of the afternoon in front of a computer screen or a pile of teacher manuals, and in a country where the weather is hardly ever amiable, I am officially suffering from a lack of fresh air. "Fresh air deficiency", if you will.

Spending the better part of the two last years cooped up inside has had its toll on me. I mean, it only took 5 minutes to get to the toy shop but the second I took in that first whiff of cool breeze, I could feel happiness finding its way into my heart. My head instantly cleared up from all the gloomy thoughts and I think I actually smiled at the stray cat on the side of the road. We even had a short, but insightful conversation :P

Now that we've diagnosed the problem, an action plan must be decided on. This can't go on any longer, or I fear the effect will be irreversible. I must get "out of the box" (quite literally as the case may be) and do some serious fresh air breathing, landscape walking, and star gazing. I think maybe a career change is in order! I need to be in a place where the only time I find myself under a roof is when I'm off to bed, and even then it isn't necessary. Now where could I find that....
Hmm... Well, I've always thought that "Doctors without borders" were an awesome bunch. I mean, look at the great job they're doing. They're out there doing great things. Did you hear that, OUT there. I think I should go ahead and join them. I mean, it's doable, no? I think if I seem eager enough they can overlook the tiny insignificant detail that I am not, well, a doctor. That and the fact that if I see blood or anything remotely disturbing I would instinctively run in the opposite direction, shrieking madly.

Like I said, tiny insignificant detail.

Geez, what does a girl have to do to get some fresh air these days?

My Very Own Bura3i

2007-04-01T18:51:00.000+03:00

I have a proposition to make to anthropologists out there. I propose we coin our era as: "The Gadget Craze Era". Only fair right? I mean, the sheer number of new gadgets that make their way into the shops and eventually into our lives, is frightening. The only image that comes to my mind is that of bacteria multiplying overnight in a petri dish in my microbiology lab back in college.

You buy the coolest cell today, two days later it's old news. Everyone is out on the search for the perfect accessory. It's nothing short of a race, and just thinking about it leaves me breathless.

Where do I fit into all of this? I fear, I am the ugly duckling! :P
I am seriously gadget-challenged, and what's worse is that it is totally and completely by choice. I feel no urge whatsoever to purchase the latest mobile, or the trendiest ipod, or that killer digital cam. I couldn't care less. I mean, I'd check it out and maybe even mutter something that sounds like "sweet", but just when you think this piece of technology won me over, I would walk away without a trace of longing in my heart. Meh.

Just a glance at my mobile would expose that disturbing (to others!) truth. When every one's mobiles now not only work as radios, videos and faxes, mine suffers from what would be referred to in medical jargon as stunted growth. It can do what cells were originally designed to do; make phone calls and send texts. Period. Oh and it works as my alarm clock. That's all it does, imagine? *gasp*

I am perfectly happy with it, but find it amusing how some people are offended by my mobile.
"WHAT is that? you can afford to buy a new one, so DO THAT". But that's not the point at all.
Not that I feel the need to defend my position, but rather to shed light on it. Here's some of the reasons I'd choose a basic mobile over a fancy one any day of the year:

1. It's very light, easy to carry around and can fit in all my purses.
2. I'm not sure if that's universal or if it's something about me, but my mobiles always have a STRONG tendency to free fall whenever possible- the likelihood of this happening increasing tremendously if I am at the top of a staircase, giving the mobile a chance to bump and roll all the way down. Having a simple and inexpensive mobile saves you the heartache of watching good money broken into a million pieces.
3. I never worry about keeping my mobile close to me. I throw it around wherever I am, be it in the gym, restaurant or work. Because let's face it, people are as tempted to steal my mobile as they are my used gym socks!!

Makes sense, no?:)

So anyyyyway, back to the original subject. I hardly own any cool gadgets. My sole pride and joy would have to be my mp3 player, which I got as a gift from my awesome bro. And my hand-me-down digital cam from my awesome sis.

But "times have changed" (that's for you sis:P), and today I find myself staring suspiciously at a pretty cool laptop that claims to be my property. Yes, believe it or not, I have purchased my own laptop, out of sheer necessity. But the thing is, I'm still confused. For years, a laptop on the table meant it was my dad's, sister's or brother's. I would ask permission before I used it. And my relationship with it would last only as long as it took to check my mail. Now this thing on the table is mine. I have mixed feelings really. I'm not sure how to handle the situation. I don't think I was cut out for this.

I was admittedly excited at first when I unwrapped it from the box and eyed it adoringly for a good five minutes. But now it seems that every time I am away from it for more than 30 minutes I need to be re-introduced to it all over again. I'm telling you, gadget-challenged with honors.

Maybe I should personalize it a bit, to encourage a sense of ownership that seems to be lacking at the moment. I think my last conversation with my friend, left me inspired.

Me: So I got a laptop.
Fatima: Ohhh, I miss 3awad.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: Yeah.. I had to sell him, poor thing.
Me: 3awad?
Fatima: 3awad! My laptop. That's what my roommate used to call him.

Giving him a name sounds like an idea that's worth a shot. So, apparently "3awad" is already taken. I guess that leaves me with, dunno, "Bura3i"?

Are you a dentist? We can't be friends.

2007-03-30T09:29:00.000+03:00

"Mama did you get me the dental floss? And a new toothbrush? Oh I also need mouthwash please"- I tried to sound nonchalant, as if being obsessed with my dental hygiene has always been my thing.

But the raised eyebrows on top of unmistakeably surprised expressions on both my parents' countenance forced me to hurriedly quit the act and come clean.
"What I'm supposed to go to the dentist soon, so I must make my teeth presentable!". I avoided eye contact, I was guilty as charged. But hey, at least I'm trying to make last minute amends!

You see, although I brush my teeth 3 times semi-thoroughly, I just find flossing to be among the DULLEST, most annoying tasks ever invented. It is mind-numbingly boring. And as for the mouthwash, let me just leave you with this little excerpt from our average household conversations:

(Overheard by me from another room)
Mom: I'm telling you, it's the best way to lose weight. It's 100% guaranteed. Magic!

Some of you will not think that the above sentence is weird, but in fact falls perfectly within the expected topics of discussion by moms. But you haven't met my mom. I don't recall her EVER engaging in a conversation that included the word "diet", let alone actually exchange fad diets with her friends and acquaintances.
So to hear my mom vouch for a magical diet understandably got me extremely curious.

"What is mom? what is? tell me tell me!!"- ready to hang on every word she's about to utter. After all, this is every girl's dream come true. A magical diet! I could make money out of this:P

Mom: It's that mouthwash the dentist gave me. I use it early in the morning, and I just can't stomach the idea of food for HOURS after that. I don't even drink my morning coffee!!! I can't even describe it.
Me: *momentarily disappointed* Oh.
*quickly recover* Wait, that is a handy piece of info. Actually, it has the potential to be brilliant. Let me try it.......
*gargle*
OH CRAP THAT'S TORTURE!!!

It's not just an appetite killer, I can tell you this much.

So yeah, mouthwash is on my blacklist too.

And yet when it's time for my dentist's visit, and I am reminded of that horrifying sound of the drilling thingie they use. Suddenly, flossing and gargling mouthwash become as appealing as consuming a bucketful of ice-cream. I start religiously using them about a month before my visit. I figure, a month of flossing and gargling with a mint-flavored nightmare is guaranteed to revive them back to a top-notch condition in time for my check-up. Perfect plan, right?

WRONG.
Then dentist always goes off script!!
Despite all the nights spent flossing, and the weird sound effets I produce while using the mouthwash, I am still continuously greeted with the same frown and a "hmmmm" that chills me to the bones, as she checks on my teeth. The rest is, well, too painful to relate.
I love my dentist, she's a friend of the family and she's amazing at what she does. But when she starts drilling, I can barely fight the urge to bite her hand raw, or strangle her and end her career of torturing the innocent.

I walk out of the clinic, carrying lips that feel like they're the size of a ripe mango and mumbling incomprehensibly. Come to think of it, the mumbling part isn't entirely the dentist's fault. But the funny feeling in my mouth definitely is.

Bottom line is: Dentists aren't my favorite kind of people. I don't think I'll ever have a dentist as a best friend. Or marry a dentist. Or have my kid become a dentist. My relationship with dentists must remain a bare minimum; once every 6 or so months, much like my relationship with my floss. The very bare minimum.

Chick Flick-aholic Anonymous

2007-03-26T22:23:00.000+03:00

I don't believe there should be a limit on how many times you're allowed to watch a cute chick flick. I mean, who gets bored of mushy endings?

But there's uniqueness in the first viewing. You're so into the story and desperately want things to work out, that you are left completely blind to any ridiculousness that festers in the plot. With repeated exposure, however, and the reassuring knowledge that a happy ending lies ahead, you slowly become more aware of what some would call downright corniness:P

This only intensifies, when you've read the story and were watching the movie for the 5th time with your very smart and critical friend. By extension, I become wiser :P

Girl: It's just that.. I mean.. I sometimes feel.. it's like..
Boy (cuts in): I know what you mean.
Girl: You do?
Boy: Sure I do... (and goes on to describe how she feels so eloquently, unveiling as yet hidden aspects of her personality so effortlessly as if her feelings have been his subject of study for the last decade.)

But of course they've only met 5 minutes ago.

Me: FEH. How come we don't run into such "intuitive" people in real life?
She: That's cuz they don't exist hun.
Me: I should stop watching those silly movies, they keep deluding me from the harsh reality of life. They're an insult to my intelligence. I won't watch a flick ever again. Ever.
She: Yes you will.
Me: *sigh* Yes I will.

Well, at least someone's getting a happy ending!

Hello rain!

2007-03-26T17:33:00.000+03:00

It's raining cats and dogs outside!
I think it must be confused or something- we're practically in summer here. The AC was on all day!
Wait, I think I just spotted lightening. Oh my gosh and here's thunder!!!
That's so cute.

Man I have this sudden urge to go out and get drenched. I LOVE rain. Love the feeling of droplets falling on my face. I think I'll do just that. (Mom's out, so that's why I'm brave enough to attempt that- otherwise I'd be toast:P love you mama! Take your time:P)

A RoCkY Eggy Day

2007-03-26T12:02:00.000+03:00

What started as a cute gesture has become a ritual. I am now a proud owner of a pile of rocks delivered in person by none other that Abdulaziz at the beginning of each school day. And the crazy part is, I absolutely love them!

Then throughout the rest of the day, at every opportunity (during recess, or the many times he manages to escape from class) he'd barge into my room to check on his dear collection.
His visits are, well, unique. I don't think he's capable of standing still for more than half a second even if he tried (not that he ever does). Having him around is like living in Florida during the hurricane season. He's a destructive force of nature. He's literally always on top of something, under something or maneuvering full speed around something. Nothing and I mean NOTHING in class hasn't been touched, picked up, thrown, squeezed, shaken and ultimately tasted by him. He seems to base his opinion about almost everything in life by how they taste. And yes, I honestly mean everything. I have seen him put stuff in his mouth that would make you yell out in horror. I know I did.

I haven't been able to get him to pause for a second to explain how dangerous all this is, not for lack of trying. I have tried everything from standing authoritatively and sternly asking him to stop and come, to literally running after him, catching him and physically trying to pin him down and get eye contact.
In every attempt, I would slink back in defeat while I watch him sprint away yelling something weird I'm actually happy I don't get.

And yet it is during those two seconds when he gives me the rocks and tells me where he found them that we actually connect. We have the closest thing to a normal conversation. And that is why I treasure those moments. Then I'm hurriedly snapped out of it by him rolling on the floor, picking something of mine and running out of class with it. I pick up my abaya and sprint behind him!! (yeah that "standing authoritatively and asking him to return" thing blows:P)

I can't help but laugh as I remember the lyrics for the song "Maria" from The Sound of Music, just replace every Maria with Abdulaziz and you'll get an idea:)

"How do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?
How do you find a word that means Maria?
A flibbertijibbet! A will-o'-the wisp! A clown!

Many a thing you know you'd like to tell her
Many a thing she ought to understand
But how do you make her stay
And listen to all you say
How do you keep a wave upon the sand
Oh, how do you solve a problem like Maria?
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?

When I'm with her I'm confused
Out of focus and bemused
And I never know exactly where I am
Unpredictable as weather
She's as flighty as a feather
She's a darling! She's a demon! She's a lamb!
She'd outpester any pest
Drive a hornet from its nest (I would bet my life on that:P)
She could throw a whirling dervish out of whirl

She is gentle! (maybe not) She is wild!
She's a riddle! She's a child!
She's a headache! She's an angel!
She's a girl!"

You know what makes me laugh, my sis used to say this song reminded her of me. And she used to sing it to me, conveniently replacing "Mariam" for "Maria".
Sis, if you think this song applies on me, you must've never met Abdulaziz!!:P

Now moving onto the eggy part of the post. I asked the kids to get boiled eggs today to help us study earth layers. It was fun. but now my classroom smells, well, LIKE EGGS. Hm, I should start thinking my plans through:P
At the end of the lesson they asked if they could eat their eggs, I told them to go ahead. I watched with amusement as some kids started to trade parts of the eggs. Some hated the yolks and would trade it for another white.
I tried to explain that the yolk has most of the nutrients and proteins, but no one really listened or cared.

Oh what the heck, I used to hate the yolks when I was a kid. And I grew up fine.

Hm. That's actually debatable:P

The Funny, The Touching, and The plain Scary

2007-03-24T19:06:00.000+03:00

The Funny:
--------------
*caught sneaking into the school with a heavy looking plastic bag*

She (suspiciously): Mariam, where have you been?
Me (eyes widen innocently): Um, out.
She: What's in this bag?
Me: Um, stuff.
She: Have you been scouring the deserted grounds behind the school for rocks again?
Me (most unconvincingly): WHAT? noooooo.
She: *eyeing me knowingly*
Me: Alright alright. I needed rocks. It's a tough job being a science teacher!!

The Touching:
---------------
It was just shy of 7 am. when I turned my classroom lights on and unloaded the bags full of stuff off my shoulder and onto my classroom desks. What a relief. I tilted my head from side to side in an attempt to relieve my tensed neck, turned on the PC and rummaged my desk for my mug and spoon.
The classroom door opened and in came Abdulaziz. Without a word, he walked in my direction, his hand seemed to fiddle in his pocket for a second then with a huge proud smile he extended his open palm to me.
It was a bunch of rocks. Yep, ordinary rocks. Rocks he must've picked up from his garage just before getting into the car this morning.

I grinned.
"wowwwwwwwww, thank you so much! They look so cool. Maybe you can show them to the class today!"
My excitement was genuine. I was so touched by the fact that he remembered that we're studying about rocks and got me some. Who would've thought I'd be that excited on receiving, well, rocks.
And the fact that it came from one of the CRAZY (and I mean CRAZY) kids in class made it all the more special.
Thank you Abdulaziz!

The Scary:
-----------
*During my duty in recess*

Me: OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?????? (upon seeing them lunge and slide so fast aiming at each other's legs, and knocking each other off their feet so swiftly and- from the look of it- oh so painfully.)
Ahmed: It's a game miss!
Me: BUT IT'S SO DANGEROUS.
Ahmed (face twisted into a unmistakable "DUH" expression) : It's supposed to be. It's called "risk", you know.
Me: Oh that makes me feel so much better.
Ahmed: *grins and continues with the lunging"
Me: HEY COME BACK.

Fat chance.

Skippin n Hoppin

2007-03-23T14:41:00.000+03:00

Man, life sure is funny.

One day you're driving home with your eyes swelled up from tears, and the very next day you're skipping and hopping with joy!

My brain is confused. And rightfully so- poor thing. It's been a rough ride this year, some serious ups and some serious downs.

But right now, my head is clear and my thoughts sharp. I know exactly how I feel: I'm thankful. So very extremely endlessly thankful.

Thankful for all the huge blessings I'm aware of enjoying, and thankful for the ones I overlook.
Every bit of me is thankful. Alhamdulillah.

Oh and I promise to try to maybe cut back on the complaining when the going gets tough. Must be a tough cookie. Darn, who came up with this expression? Now I must have a cookie.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must continue with my skippin-n-hoppin-with-joy dance (YES actually I do look ridiculous doing it. Why do you think I prudently restrict it to the privacy of my own home?:P)

On mother's day... Will you forgive me mama?

2007-03-21T21:47:00.000+03:00

I messed up. Big time. And on mother's day no less.
First I failed to get my mom flowers, which is the only gift mama accepts from us and truly loves. And as if that's not enough, I was a cranky daughter who instead of kissing and hugging her mom goodnight, chose to storm to the PC room and snap out something stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. Why can't I stop being stupid?

But that's the great thing about mommies. See, if this happened with someone else, I'd worry they might love me just a little less. That my continuous stupidity and childishness would eventually wear them thin. But moms are there to let us know we'll always be loved, no matter what. Even if the whole world turns a cold shoulder on us, and even if we continue to act stupid stupid stupid, they'll love us just the same.

I love you mama. I may not say this often enough to you, but I think you are the most amazing mom anyone can ever wish to have. And I mean this with every tiny bit of my heart. When I talk to people, half my stories involve you (the other half are about Dalia). You may not realise it, but your voice is constantly in my head. Urging me to do the right thing and tut-tut-ing me when I don't. If it wasn't for your constant guidance, support and unconditional love, I wouldn't last a day. I truly wouldn't.

My words have been my strength, but today they'll no doubt fail me. But you've always told us "it's the thought that counts". I hope you still believe that:)

Throughout my 23 years of being your daughter, here's some of the things I'm thankful you taught me:

1. You taught me that "but every one's doing it" is the worst excuse in the whole world.
2. You've taught me to be punctual. Down to the exact second.
3. You've taught me the joy of being an early bird.
4. You've introduced me to the creative art of "making a dish out of all the things I want to get rid of in my fridge".
5. You've taught me to have an inquisitive mind and always have one more question.
6. You've taught me to plan ahead and have a clear goal.
7. You've taught me to keep trying. Again, and again.
8. You remind me to be thankful for the blessings I have.
9. You remind me of others' misfortunes when I complain about mine.
10. You taught me to be generous.
11. You taught us to love each other unconditionally.
12. You told me to give it my best shot, and feel good about myself no matter what the outcome.
13. You taught me to use my head, then my heart (I still kinda suck at that one though, through no fault of yours.)
14. You've taught me about sacrifice just by being yourself and doing what you do.
15. You've taught me not to bail out on my responsibilities. Even when they're unpleasant.
16. You've taught me to be kind to all animals and be on first name basis with the neighborhood stray cats.
17. You've taught me the joy of snuggling on the couch to watch a documentary about a scientist who spent his entire life studying the behavior of cockroaches.
18. You taught me how we're never too old to act silly and have a good laugh about it.
19. You've taught me that we can never outgrow a game of "snakes and ladders".
20. You've taught me to look up at the sky and notice the birds.
21. You've let me experience the joy of having a "family day".
22. You've taught me how to go up to McDonald's and ask for "a kid's meal for my mom please" and keep a straight face.
23. You've let me discover how cute the toys they include along with the meal are.
24. Then you allowed me to play with them :D
25. You're the reason I cringe at the mention of high heels and makeup.
26. You encourage me to be natural, spontaneous and uninhibited (up to a certain limit:P).
27. You taught me funny lines from old egyptian movies and songs.
28. Then texted them to me when I was away in college, resulting in me bursting into fits of laughter during lectures. Oh and getting kicked out.
29. You've taught me how to be happy for others' blessings.
30. You've instilled the seeds of faith into my soul and let them thrive.

But most importantly... You've taught me that it's okay to make a mistake. And taught me how to reflect back on things, and be brave enough to admit it. To say I'm sorry.

I'm sorry mama.

#$^U%%%$3/##2 (This is me swearing)

2007-03-21T16:37:00.000+03:00

"Mariam don't forget to go down to your after-school duty now" (the one where you wait till the very last kid goes home).

"WHAT? There's gotta be a mistake. I haven't been informed, it's not my turn this month."

Fat chance. Apparently, it's "Mariam's" turn (a Mariam from another department), who happens to be nursing and gets to go home an hour earlier. Someone has to fill in for her, and since after all I am named Mariam, then the logical thing to do is to send me instead!
Brilliant, no?

I keep forgetting, is it a school I work in or an institute of BONEHEADEDNESS.
Feh.

Yes I am severely upset actually. Crappy day, you see. and no that's not only because of the aforementioned incident. That was just added to spice things up.

So anyway, I resigned to my fate (even though I had a gazillion urgent things to do in class) and sat down with the kids waiting. In went a maid or a driver, scanned the faces for a bit, then out they'd go but this time with a school bag on their shoulder and a kid or two tailing behind. Do these kids even have parents?
Then right before my eyes, a kid's driver came and called him. The kid stood up, carried the bag and walked past the driver, then in the most careless and demeaning manner tossed the bag behind him and walked on. He DIDN'T EVEN glance back to make sure the driver picked it up. He didn't need to. People always pick his crap after him, and today is no different.

I was disgusted. If that kid was mine, I would be ashamed to call myself a mother. Sickening.

And you know what the worst part is? I wish it was just an isolated incident. But it's not. It's a mentality, a whole thriving culture. A culture where they not only expect, but demand, to be served. As if it's their birthright. And why shouldn't they when they are the "chosen ones", no?
They have noses stuck up so high, I don't even know how they manage to keep their feet on the ground. They see inferiority in everyone- who isn't local or a westerner, that is.
But it's the Asians working for them who take the hardest blow. I constantly hear the kids in the playground calling each other names like "yal hindi"-as if being Indian is an insult in it's own right. They make me physically sick.

I reflect back on my own childhood, and try to imagine what my mom would've done had she caught me calling someone "yal hindi" or "yal sodani". Let's just say I wouldn't be here today writing this post:) And deservedly so.

If I could go to each and every person who thinks for a second that he's better than any of those "servants", and personally smother their faces in mud, I would not hesitate for a second. In fact, I would relish every second of it.

Of course, there are people who aren't like that. People who are amazing. But sadly, a large part is. Large enough to warrant such an angry post.

And to those ones I say, you make me SICK.

I walk weird

2007-03-20T09:13:00.000+03:00

I do. I walk weird.
There you go I've said it. The sooner I admit it the sooner I find peace with this disturbing reality:P

My sis broke the news to me years ago, but I chose to completely ignore it and thus entered a blissful state of denial! Ah, good days.

But when a teacher I barely recognize (let alone know her name or what subject/grade she teaches) stops me at the corridor to say: "You know I can recognize your walk 100 meters away", all I can say is: OUCH.

They say reality bites, but does it have to chase you around when you're so keenly rushing in the opposite direction?

Super. I guess now I have to scratch "Modeling", "Becoming a ballerina" , and "Winning the power walking championship" from my list of "Things I could do if teaching doesn't work out for me". Which means I'm only left with opening a lemonade stand and writing cheesy novels.

Bleak prospect, bleak indeed.

Keyboard Therapy

2007-03-18T16:34:00.000+03:00

It took me years to master it, but once I did, it made my life so much easier.
Whenever I'd get upset from someone or something and go ahead and write an email in a fit of anger, I learnt (the hard way) to stop myself just seconds before I hit the "send" button. Then, I would save it. Next morning I would read it again, and if I still felt as strongly about it, I would go ahead and send it. I never did.
The outcome? My anger was extinguished, with minimum damage. I like that.

The reason I bring this up is cuz I'm thinking maybe I should follow the same strategy with my blog. But then again, maybe I shouldn't. After all, I do need to vent out one way or another. And after considering my options, I found them to be:

1. Open my room window and yell my throat out.
2. Call a friend.
3. Go for a run.
4. Write in my blog.

Option 1 isn't feasible mostly cuz, well, mom would stop me! :P But also because right now I'm not so much angry as I am sullen. I tend to fall into this state when things aren't working well for me. Talking - once a favorite pastime of mine- starts to feel like a heavy burden. I rarely initiate conversation. Any words I utter are restricted to answering direct questions, and they're usually muffled up. If left alone, I am benign. But if constantly bugged, I could snap and it could turn ugly.
Considering the above, option 2 is thus rendered obsolete.
A run would be ideal to lift up my spirits and to this day has never failed to revive my innate babbling forces. You gotta love endorphins! I wish I could go, but I can't get myself to. I'm physically drained and exhausted.

Which leaves me with my own "alternative therapy"; writing. It's amazing what therapeutic effects it carries. It's ideal if you think about it. I'm alone and free. I'm not being questioned and I'm under no pressure to present answers. I get the chance to reflect on things at my own pace, my own way. Those feelings and reflections then take the form of my piece of writing, which is more than just the words it presents. It is in essence a complete process of healing. Of finding my "inner peace" or whatever they call it. It works for me, and I'm glad.

Plus it's harmless. How much damage could you do with mere words? Of course, there's always the danger of literally boring someone who reads it to death:P Which is why they invented that tiny red "X" at the uppermost right corner of this window:) It has saved lives, I've heard.

But I won't deny it, on the long run, writing does little to change the reality behind the distress. It's just a coping mechanism, it can only go so far.
But it works for me. It offers me temporary relief, much like the Panadol I'm about to swallow for my headache, which is all I can hope for right now.

Babbling Bumbling

2007-03-16T16:11:00.000+03:00

"Now, I won't have you all acting like a babbling bumbling band of baboons"-Professor McGonigal. From the movie "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire".

I almost fainted from laughter. THIS IS THE BEST DESCRIPTION I'VE EVER HEARD. THIS is what I have in my classes: A babbling bumbling band of baboons!!

Don't you just love Harry Potter? :D

I sound like a toad

2007-03-14T19:17:00.000+03:00

*Over the phone*

Friend: MY GOD what happened to your voice?????
Mariam: Umm, dunno. Allergy. Or the kids. Or both.

This conversation has occured repeatedly in the last few weeks. I must kindly ask you folks to stop that. Having to explain the reason behind my scratchy, squeaky toad-like voice over and over is physically painful, and gets boring after a while.
So until further notice this is my normal voice. This is as normal as it gets when you have an almost blocked windpipe, have difficulty breathing, and yet still manage to holler at Mobarak to get back in line instead of jumping over 1st graders in the corridor.

Oh and I'm gonna have to cancel my speech for tonight. Kindly inform the nation. Thank you.

To infinity..... and beyond!

2007-03-14T18:55:00.000+03:00

I never actually stick around long enough to see how this ends, if ever.

*Boy 1 kicks boy 2*

Me: OH MY GOD why did you just kick him???

Boy1: because he punched me first!
Boy2: that's because he kicked me before that!
Boy 1: because he slapped me.
Boy 2: because he threw my pencil case at me.
Boy 1: because he threw my pencil case in the garbage.
Boy 2: because he pinched me!
Boy 1: because he said I was a girl!!!
Boy 2: Only because he said I was a baby!!
Boy 1: that's because he tripped me over last week!
Boy 2: because he tripped me over 2 weeks ago!
Boy 1: because he kicked me in math class.
Boy 2: because he punched me in PE lesson.

Ad infinitum. And I'm not even joking.

They give me a brain cramp, every single time.
"alright alright THAT'S ENOUGH! Just go".

And THAT'S how they get away with it!
Geniuses I tell you.

Cravings

2007-03-13T17:59:00.000+03:00

Boy have I been craving this.

The above "this" actually refers to multiple things. One would be an afternoon nap, where I'm not required to set my alarm clock cuz, well, it really isn't that big a deal if I overslept. I just woke up from such a nap actually (didn't oversleep though. Bummer).
Another would be a free afternoon to chill at home, which isn't spent scribbling "to do lists" and attempting to scratch out as much in as little time as possible. I'm enjoying such an afternoon right now.
The whiff of fresh mint from my hot tea cup, which I'm inhaling as I type this.

But mostly, I've been craving to write. I can't help but wear a smile as I snuggle on the computer seat and put on my weird looking glasses (which aren't weird per se, but years of being my property, and the natural wear and tear effects that accompany being repeatedly sat on, and mistaken for a puck by my crazy hocky-playing cat have had their toll I'm afraid).

Things lately have been insanely hectic, that my blog had to take a back seat. Not that I didn't do my share of writing. But I think you would understand that writing a lesson plan and a million worksheets is hardly the same. My heart longed to be able to write whatever my thoughts brought forth. To write, not because I have to or because it's part of my job description, but because I want to. Because I love to.

And now, my prayers have been finally answered! Man I knew I shoulda wished for a Ferrari (not really. I'm not that into cars, but you get the point)

One thing that has been ticking me off is the fact that even though Kuwait is currently determinedly hanging on to the very last bits of "winter"- meaning the weather is absolutely gorgeous especially in the mornings and afternoons- I haven't been doing any running.

It's quite funny really. I've been wanting to write for so long, but now I'm not sure what to write about. But as my very famous made-up-this-very-instant saying goes: To write something is a little problem, to write nothing is a huge one.

Gee, that sounded so deep- although I must admit I don't have a clue what it means. Oh pardon me, I'm implying that it should mean anything. Let me rephrase: this is the most intelligent sounding gibberish I've uttered for a while. I make myself proud sometimes.

Okay I'm plainly out of practice here, so I will quit trying to produce a piece of writing with an actual theme, well thought out body and which, um, makes actual sense. At least I tried, so cut me some slack.

So What's up with pedestrians in this country? No I'm serious. I consider myself to be the most pedestrian-friendly driver you will ever come across. Mostly because I've spent most of my college years walking the busy streets of Amman and, watching cars zoom by without even a second's consideration of the ridiculous possibility of actually slowing down so I could, God forbid, cross the street. Being almost run over was as common as flu when the flu bugs start to bite.

I'd always choose walking over driving, but here in Kuwait that can't really happen. And yet the streets are full of Asian workers who must rely on their own feet and public transport.
I make it a point to stop and nod or wave to them to go ahead and cross. Always. And the natural thing for them is to, well, cross the road! Maybe even acknowledge me with a nod or a wave. But for the most part, you just rush to cross the street before the driver changes their mind or worse, a maniac comes speeding and cuts you short. It 's really a very uncomplicated foolproof routine: they slow down, wave, you cross, wave, it's as simple and natural as unwrapping a candy bar! Everyone is happy. And yet it is never accomplished successfully, at least not here and not with me.

They never cross the street. It's like a "You go ahead no YOU go ahead no really YOU go ahead" match between us. I swear to God.
And it always ends in me passing and waving at them as a thank you for letting me pass. It's hilariously weird. For some reason, pedestrians here feel the need to let me pass the street. Does that happen with anyone else? I can't get my head round it really.

Hmm. I can see now that I have made the decision of naming this post "cravings", and in a final and desperate attempt at making this a coherent *sarcastic cough* post, I will return to talking about cravings, if only to give the impression that I knew where this was heading all along. But of course I did.

I remember back in college, whenever I used to take naps in the afternoon, I'd wake up with this relentless unquenchable craving for something sweet. Nothing I did would make it go away (including playing tag with my crazy cat and suddenly deciding to declutter my closet). I just had to get my sugar fix to function normally.
Lately though, I would wake up from naps with no trace of that get-me-some-sugar-NOW feeling. This has caused me considerable worry and anguish. I even convinced myself that my body has gone out of whack and isn't sending me the right signals, so I go ahead and get the sugar fix anyway, just in case. Wouldn't want to risk sugar depletion, it's a serious thing you know.

Today I subbed for Dalia, who teaches the Grade 4 girls science, and minutes before recess time one of the girls opened her lunch bag and proudly displayed a plastic bag full of baby carrots (we've just finished the unit on health and nutrition). I gave the appropriate delighted/excited/surprised gasp and we all gave her a hand of applause for choosing a healthy diet. I also shared with them the fact that I used to take a bagful of carrots to school and was thus referred to as "bunny" for quite some time. I have a feeling I'm gonna regret that.

There was no stopping them, each and every girl started taking out her healthy food, cucumbers, strawberries, apples, you name it! I was happy to see them putting what they've learnt into practice!
As far as the boys go, their lunch bags full of chips are still alive and kicking as far as I can tell. And their hands are always smothered with chips pieces after recess. It's gross.
"Hey Fahad, go wash your hands. Wait and your face. And shirt. And neck. Oh forget it just take a shower when you get home".

Boys.

I might be a hopeless chocoholic, but chips is just not my thing. I can't remember the last time I ate chips. With the exception of tortilla chips with dip. I remember as kids we used to go to that Mexican restaurant and while they get your order ready, instead of bread, they'd give you a huge bowl of tortillas with yummy dips, and they'd instantly refill it. I don't think I've ever gotten to taste my main dish. They were so good.

I think I've had more than my fair share of cravings today. Right now I'm craving my soft pillow. And a good book to read under my bed side lamp.

The awesomest part is, I can do just that!

A pocketful of rocks

2007-03-11T11:03:00.000+03:00

I've been missing in action these last few days. We're starting a new chapter with the kids (Earth science: rocks, minerals, landforms, volcanoes and earthquakes, you name it!) so I am pretty much swamped what with all the lesson plans and resources I must put together. I have been caught acting weird as well; like walking around with pockets filled with rocks and sand. As if people needed yet another proof for my questionable mental stability. Geez, the job description I received at the start of the year doesn't even begin to do the job justice. I will be campaigning to add a few clauses. The people must KNOW.

It's great having your sis as your biggest blog fan. With nothing but rocks on my mind, I have neglected bloggie dear bloggie. Won't happen again sis. Me loves you! Bloggie loves you as well:)

I'm at school now and so I can't keep on writing any longer. But I'll be back.

But for now I'll leave you with an excerpt from today's lesson on Minerals:

Ms. Mariam: We've seen how minerals have very different and beautiful colors to help us tell them apart. But sometimes two minerals can look the same. Like diamond and quartz. See this quartz I'm holding in my hand. It's just like a diamond.

Yusuf: MISS MARIAM IS THAT A DIAMOND?
Khalid: WOW MISS MARIAM CAN I TAKE THIS DIAMOND?
Abdulla: WHERE DID YOU FIND IT????

Ms. Mariam: Easy boys- No way! If I owned a big chunk of diamond like that I'd be on my own island right now, and definitely not standing here showing it to you!! I mean I love you boys, but come on. This is quartz, we use it to make glass. I can sell it and buy, dunno, gum maybe.

*wave of disappointment washes over their once excited expressions* so much for having a millionaire teacher to brag about!

Get your Old McDonald facts straight

2007-03-06T17:13:00.000+03:00

Over lunch and in an attempt to cheer me up, mom shared this piece of news, which she has read in our local paper this morning. Apparently a bunch of UK kids think that cows lay eggs.
Her plan worked, I choked on my food as I giggled uncontrollably.

"At least your kids don't think that", she said when I finally managed a straight face again.
"Hmm... I'm not so sure about that.... now that you mention it, I could definitely think of a couple that may think that actually"

I blame the KG. What have they been teaching them?
No doubt something in the neighborhood of:

"Old McDonald had a farm... E I E I O
and on his farms he had some Cows
E I E I O
and they lay some eggs here
and some eggs there
here an egg
there an egg
everywhere an egg egg "

Yep. That should explain it.

I have weird friends

2007-03-04T21:23:00.000+03:00

Tima: Guess who I ran into today?
Mariam: Who?
T: Rawan!
M: Oh my God! How is she?
T: Oh she's fine. It was a bit embarrassing though.
M: how come?
T: Well she called me by my name and I didn't even recognize who she was.
M: Yikes, that must've been real awkward.
T: Naah, actually it was really funny.
M: And how is that?
T: well.... this is what happened really.....

Tima gets out of the elevator
Rawan: Fatima!
Fatima: OH MY GOD *all excited and shocked*.. I'm sorry who are you?
Rawan: I'm RAWAN!
Fatima: OH MY GOD *all excited and shocked*.. I'm sorry who are you really?

Man, she cracks me up.

Time of Death: 2:10 p.m.

2007-03-04T13:53:00.000+03:00

Momtaz, the maid that cleans my classroom, apparently wasn't satisfied with the job the boys have been doing in killing me. I guess she felt it wasn't effective enough (since I kept showing up again at the start of each day!) and decided to take things into her own hands.
And thus she proceeded to open the dust compartment in the vacuum cleaner that I could swear has been around since the establishment of the school 10 years ago and hasn't been emptied before today. But today it has, and in no where else but my classroom and less than 2 meters away from me. She shook and joggled the bag with vengeance forming clouds of dust that shot in each and every direction. When I realised what was happening, it was too late.

I coughed, I sneezed, I wheezed, I gasped for breath as I struggled to produce a desperate "NOooOo stooOOOoooooP", that did little to improve the situation. Momtaz was out on a mission and there was no stopping her. I guess in her mind she was doing me a favor, no use prolonging the inevitable, right?

I must say though, I was kinda hoping for a more heroic end for me, but alas I have to settle for an "unfortunate vacuum incident by an overly enthusiastic maid".
But you gotta give her credit, to have picked up on my bad allergy condition and worked it to her benefit, then artfully "made it look like an accident" all the while maintaining the pretence of a devoted maid doing, well, her job. Pure genius I tell you.

ايه يا حجه ممتاز , هيه حصلت؟؟؟

Darwin Knew Best

2007-03-03T18:28:00.000+03:00

When my childhood dreams of working with National Geographic or joining the crew on one of Greenpeace's ships didn't amount to anything, I wondered if I will ever truly make use of my biology degree, which I had pursued out of passion.

I mean don't get me wrong, as noble and dignified (um, actually scratch the latter) as it is to be chasing 9-year-olds with an attention span that would make a gold fish look really good, I find myself yearning from time to time to do something really biology-ish (how scientific does this sound, eh?:P). And I don't mean anything to do with microscopes cuz- this is a little confession- I never quite figured out how the heck those things work, and even when I accidentally worked one correctly, I would always wonder why oh why would anyone care or want to see something that's this tiny- know what I'm saying? Microorganisms are boring, I like big fat lively animals! (yeah yeah I'm a disgrace to biologists, big deal).

Then there's the fact that the elementary science I currently teach is naturally very basic and simple, which has me worrying I may soon forget most of what I've learnt. I mean, it's not like it was a breeze getting my degree people. I have had to suffer through world-class-boredom-inducer professors, and lab sessions that knew no end. I even had to watch some cute little white mice get killed in acts of cold blooded murder. I am also guilty of finishing off a whole family of fruit flies- bless their souls poor things- after forgetting them inside my locker; then having to make up the results of my lab report (yes yes we have already established that I'm a disgrace:P)

So you can imagine my thrill today when I was finally able to apply some of my knowledge!

Inspired from Darwin's Evolution and Natural selection, I present:

Evolution of An Elementary All-Boy Class Teacher:

Stated simply and concisely: In an all-boy elementary classroom with no evidence of student discipline, either uninterested and unconcerned or overbearing and obnoxious parents, and a administration that is too keen to keep parents happy to to do something about it , survival is for the meanest, scariest and most terrifying teacher.

Which means that a successful teacher must gradually evolve into this:

Therefore, as a last resort and in a desperate attempt at self and sanity preservation, I must find a way to hasten my adaptation, and somehow look like the above example. Fast.

Just for the next three months. Then I'll be all smiley again, I promise.

(Darwin didn't happen to mention whether it's a reversible process or not, now did he?:P)

Tick Tock 2:45

2007-03-03T14:43:00.002+03:00

Free at last!

Boy, WHAT a day.

I'd say it's an easy 55 on the SSS.

At the very least.

Being a mommy aint easy

2007-03-01T20:43:00.000+03:00

It's a universal truth that mommies only eat broken cookies, leftovers and whatever no one else wants. It's a tough world for them, and sometimes it gets just a tad worse:

Me: Mom, you have got to taste one of those Godivas.
Mom: No thanks habeebti.
Me: Oh C'mon mom, just take one! You'd actually be saving my soul.
Mom: I won't eat your chocolate, forget it.
Me: Fine. Then eat this piece, I hate it.
Mom: I don't believe you.
Me: no really, it's stuffed with a fruity thing. I can't stomach these things.
Mom: are you just saying this so you'd trick me into eating one?
Me: Trust me, I'm not. I wouldn't eat it, and it'll go to waste.
Mom: Why am I not entirely believing you....(hesitantly takes it and ventures a bite and instantly......) OH MY GOD THAT IS ICKY. Why would anyone make such a thing????

Me: hehehehehehhehe told ya!

Neat handwriting is SO overrated

2007-03-01T19:48:00.000+03:00

Incorrigible.

That pretty much describes my handwriting. And the worst part is, I can't blame it on my genes. Both my mom and dad's handwriting is great, and Dalia's is the closest thing to a work of art. For years, I had consoled myself with the belief that Abood's handwriting isn't that impressive either. So at least, I wasn't the ugly duckling!

But that, I fear, is no longer true. I came to that sad realisation the other day when I ventured a peek into his notebook as he sat scribbling what to me at least are incomprehensible notes on his robot design (man, I really do feel like DeeDee:P).

I was dumbfounded. "WHAT THE??? Since when is your handwriting SO neat?" I demanded. Nonchalantly and with an air of someone who has been practising the art of calligraphy all his life said: "Dunno. Wasn't it always that way?".

Great. So now I'm the ONLY one in the family with handwriting that could easily be mistaken for a four-year-old's. Just awesome. Not that it bothers me personally to tell you the truth. I mean, as long as I can read it, I'm not complaining. (Admittedly, there are documented incidents back in school when I would carry my copybook and ask my mom to help me decipher my very own handwriting. But lets ignore that, shall we?)

For the most part though, I wasn't too worried about the sorry state of my handwriting. But every now and then, something would happen that would make me think that maybe, just maybe, I needed to do something about it.

Like the time when my Arabic teacher announced at the top of her lungs, with the whole class as her audience, her intention to hire a specialized "translator" to help her figure out what the heck I write on my papers. I found her joke hilarious and joined the class in the laughter, until we realised she wasn't kidding.

Then there was that conversation between me and my Lebanese friend who sat on the desk next to me all through our last 5 years at school.

Fatima: Hey can I borrow you're copybook?
Mariam: Sure, which one?
Fatima: doesn't really matter, whichever.
Mariam: how can it not matter?? don't you want to copy stuff??
Fatima: well if you must know, it's for my sis.
Mariam: Huh?
Fatima: Well, last time I borrowed your copybook my sis happened to see it and, well, she took one look at your handwriting and kept laughing all afternoon. She says it makes her laugh; it's so weird and cute. She says she loves it.
Mariam: *Jaw dropped*

I think the root of the problem is that, unlike most people with horrid handwriting, I don't have consistency. I do not write the letter in the same ugly way each and every time. The shapes of my letters are forever changing, even when they occur twice in the very same word.
So when I one day happened upon a personality test based on your handwriting, it didn't go so well. I was asked to copy a specific sentence then based on how I wrote each letter, a part of my personality would supposedly be unveiled. Of course, since each letter was written in at least 3 different shapes, you can imagine my dilemma. The only logical conclusion would've been that I was schizophrenic.

But really, we are so not!
:)

Kuwait's Brand New Gadget

2007-02-26T18:15:00.000+03:00

It's new. It's hot. It's everywhere.

Compact, affordable, comes with very simple instructions, and suitable for kids as young as 2 or your 99-year-old grandpa.
You know what I'm talking about......

FOAM SPRAY!!

Yep, the 25th and 26th of February can only mean one thing in Kuwait. Each and every citizen gets his or her very own foam spray and hits the roads foaming the time away!
Nothing and no one is spared the delight of being sprayed all over. And What a delight it is.

I have been lucky enough to survive this long weekend un-foamed myself, mostly by leaving home as little as possible (a wise decision indeed). However, I have witnessed a girl get sprayed from head to toe just as she was about to get in her car. She stood there in shock, but did nothing. But really, what could she have done? Chase the teenage-filled car while cursing? Hardly a feasible option.
I have also heard stories of people almost getting into accidents because of obstructed vision due to their windshields being completely covered in foam. Delightful, no?

So you can understand my panic when I reached the seaside for my run, just to find the celebrations no where near done. I was horrified to notice that each and every individual carried a spray in their hands- literally- which automatically marked them as a potential threat.
Anyone and anything seemed to be getting sprayed and I was about to resign to my fate. I cringed each time I passed by a group of teenagers and maneuvered away as best I can. What worked for me was the fact that I was running. While these kids are a lot of things, fit is not one of them. Which suited me to perfection.

I was thus motivated to run faster than ever, zigzagging my way to make me an even harder target. I almost tripped a few times from the empty spray cans tossed on the floor.

The good news is, just as suddenly as it has appeared, it will soon vanish and be forgotten.

Until next year anyway.

So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye

2007-02-25T09:49:00.000+03:00

"Of all the kids on spring break, I doubt anyone is happier than me for getting to see you guys again"- said on his way to the terminal.

*sniff sniff*
I want him back.

Shopping with boys

2007-02-24T14:05:00.000+03:00

Grocery shopping has always been a fun experience back in college. Granted, it was done at unearthly hours and usually as an emergency response for having absolutely NOTHING edible at home, but that was part of the fun. My sis and I felt at home as we walked through the aisles of Plaza and were greeted with smiles from the now very familiar staff. We knew where everything was and worked our way in a very systematic and efficient manner that was perfected throughout the years. In an attempt to stick to a budget, one of us would be assigned the job of adding up the items as we shopped; a job we both sucked at big time, but kept up the practice anyway. We would always pause in front of the pet food section, reevaluating whether our big fat cat was truly worth paying an arm and a leg on Whiskas cans, litter sand and other cat-related stuff. Oh but he was!

My life for the last year and a half has been grocery-shopping-free, as I found myself no longer responsible for stocking up the fridge with food and announcing the death of some of its occupants (or in equally traumatic instances reporting them as alarmingly "alive" and proliferating!!).

Two recent trips to the grocery store, however, have proved very amusing to me. One was done in Amman with Nasser and the other took place this morning with my brother. Here's a little background information on both to put things in context. Up until his recent visit, Nasser hadn't visited the middle east for the last 10 years. And this is Abood's third year in Canada, as a college student who's cooking abilities do not exceed microwaved popcorn (sometimes, he even burns that:P).

Although the two events took place seperately, I have found them to be interestingly similar. I have observed some common attributes in both, which I'm about to share. With minor differences, both trips involved the following:

1. Constant Route Maneuvering: For some reason they were both inclined to constantly go off course and make sharp turns right and left (sometimes for a legitimate reason, but usually just for the heck of it), while I struggled to keep up, and got understandably disoriented in the process!

2. The Zoning-In Effect: That one is pretty impressive. With Nasser, no matter what was the item we were searching for (eggs, bananas, or even toothpaste) time and time again we would somehow end up right in front of the Ferrero Rocher stand. He insisted it was a sign, and I was quick to agree (hey you do not brush off signs, especially when they arrive in the shape of seriously good chocolate). As for Abood, I noticed him suddenly being drawn in one direction and was picking up speed as he moved on determinedly. He eventually zoned in on a Zalatimo Sweets box! Who knew they even had that here in Kuwait? I call that the sugar-junkie masculine intuition! Impressive.

3. Sudden irreversible Attachment to random Objects: Nasser did a double take then excitedly (and I mean EXCITEDLY) exclaimed "Oh my God!!! This is the exact same milk carton we used to drink as kids in our summers here. It hasn't changed one bit!!". He wouldn't budge until it was added to our shopping basket. In Abood's case, the lucky recipient of his emotional devotion was a box of Turkish Labaneh called Pinar (It's very tasty and extremely fatty) that we used to eat as kids. Again, I had no choice but to add it to our basket or I am sincerely convinced we would still be standing there.

4. Woman-where-is-the-fat mean looks: For some reason they booth took it personally when I added to the basket something that read "low fat". The condescending looks on their faces did not vanish until they were provided with enough chocolates to distract them!

5. A weight off my shoulders- literally!: Both times, we had a shopping basket and not a cart since we weren't planning on getting a lot of things. But apparently, things add up and with Nasser's childhood milk cartons and Abood's Zalatimo boxes, the baskets grew substantially heavy. The silver lining: they insisted on carrying the basket themselves, which made my life so much easier;) A luxury I never had while shopping alone in Amman.

Isn't grocery shopping so much fun?:)

Today is Abood's last night here. I can hear Mama giving him instructions on how to handle and store all the goodies she's made for him to take back home. It seems only yesterday when I was happily packing my own goodie-filled tupperwares. My mom hoped they would keep us nourished for a while, at least a couple of weeks. I remember how we would literally live off them (breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks), that no more than 3 days after our arrival, left would only be empty tupperwares that require dishwashing!

I can't believe the week is over. It was so good having him here. I'm so used to him being around now, I really will be missing him tons. I almost forgot about his gift of teasing and tormenting me so persistently and creatively that I am left with no choice but to burst out yelling and chase him with a flip flop (no of course I don't do that, why would you think that?:P). Good times good times :D
Gosh, I'm so gonna miss you crazy bro! Me loves you lots. lots and lots!

Visual DNA- apparently I've got one!

2007-02-23T20:59:00.000+03:00

Okay so this is really cool (thanks for sharing the link sis). A personality test depending on my choice of photos! And I must say, I'm very impressed with the results. Those who know me, you be the judge of that.
(To take the test yourself, click here. Oh and do share your results with me!)

So Apparently, this is who I am:
:)

Moods: Easy Rider
You can be both calm and peaceful (okay ignore this part:P), and you like to feel free to explore your environment. You can be a little nostalgic (true!) and you love revisiting familiar places and memories (Aah, yes). When it comes to art, you're creative yourself (hmm... not sure about that), and you believe in self-expression (I do?). You can see the little masterpieces in everyday life (I can?:P)- you can be a touch sentimental (okay I'll give you that;). As for music, it's the soundtrack to your world. An open road, your favorite tracks- cliches are there to be enjoyed! Your choice of treat reveals someone energetic, who cares about their health. You like to feel you are making all the right choices. You are focussed and driven (yay! :D)

Fun: Conqueror
You love physical activity (Darn right!)- you've got a real spirit of adventure. Keeping a clear head and healthy body makes you ready for whatever life throws at you (only if it's bars of chocolates!). For kicks nothing beats an adrenaline rush (absolutely NOTHING). You like to take risks and push limits (hmmm.. not really). You're confident and brave (I AM? awww, thank you!). When it comes to holidays, you'll take experience over comfort every time, whether under canvas or under the stars (sounds like my cuppa tea!) You love the chance to be in the wilderness and the freedom of being in charge of where you're heading. What grosses you out? You favour the natural look and can't stand a pumped and plumped, plastic appearance. (Right there. THIS is me in a nutshell :D)

Habits: New Wave Puritan
Even if you have a healthy approach to life, you still have your little vices that keep you going (oh so they heard about my Godiva :P). It is all part of the routine, you're a creature of habit (guilty as charged). Your choice of drink shows that on the whole you care about your health and make sure you're putting the right stuff in. As for the home, your bold personality (bold? seriously people?) is reflected in your style. You like to be in surroundings that lift your mood.

Love: Love Bug
You're a real romantic and a bit of a dreamer. For you love is about devotion and tenderness (isn't it?). You try to show your feelings in simple ways every day. Your heart is right there on your sleeve. When you think of freedom- nature takes over. Getting back, out in the wilderness is a big draw.

The End.

They may not realise this, but they have just done me a huge favor. No more soul searching for the next 5 years at least. That'll do for now, I know enough:P

Running through sprinklers

2007-02-22T11:30:00.000+03:00

At last.

I buckled the shoelaces of my bright blue runners and dashed off for a long-overdue and much needed run.
Much to my delight, the sprinklers were on! Not missing a beat, I was instantly prancing my way through the sprinklers. Aah, the excitement of having a million little droplets of water land on you all of a sudden! Naturally, I was soon drenched. But was hurriedly wrapped around by the warm and soothing morning sun rays. The little droplets that a moment ago had made themselves comfortably at home on my clothes, seemed to get the hint and slowly but steadily vanished. Left was just me, with a big silly grin and my overly excited skipping heart!

How often do we experience something similar? If you reflect back for a second, you would find that our days are filled with a multitude of such tiny pleasures that have no tangible consequence except to add a smile to your countenance or a sigh of content to your heart.
The sad truth is, those poor occurrences receive little if any attention! They are completely overshadowed by the more obvious blessings that we deem- as a result of a misguided notion- more worthy of our attention and thankfulness.

Today I highlight my own tiny little blessings, vowing to be consciously more mindful and appreciative from now on. Must not take anything for granted. I mention just a few, which have recently taken place. There are dozens more that escape my mind at the moment, and I trust there will be many new ones to come.... I'll just have to keep my eyes open;)

I have smiled recently when I:

Turned the radio on to find my favorite song playing.
Inhaled a long deep whiff of Arabian Jasmine at my grandma's on Thursdays, picked from her own garden.
Walked under the huge tree in our complex and listened to what sounded like a million birds chirping... (Bonus feature: I shut my eyes and for a while it really felt like I was in some exotic rain forest far far away- then I tripped over:P)
Got a hug from my favorite 1st Grader, Dalal. She's the perfect kid. Mashallah.
Got a hug from my mum.
Got a hug. Period.
Received a surprise phone call from my best friend Donia in Egypt. She makes me laugh like no one else does!
Devoured my Godiva Box.
Looked at old photo albums with my brother. Geez, were we really ever that tiny?
Heard a good joke and giggled for 5 minutes afterwards.
Tucked myself in bed and hugged my soft pillow after a long exhausting day.
Ran through the sprinklers. That's gotta be the highlight!

So, what has made YOU smile recently?:)

My Animal Planet

2007-02-21T11:49:00.000+03:00

There's a mild headache, and there's a terrible headache, and a piercing headache, and a headache the size of Africa, and then there's my headache at the moment.

This is what you get when you couple a night of little sleep with wild kids in the background!

What little (and I mean so very little) sanity, self-discipline, and motivation those kids had, have completely and utterly vanished just as soon as the Awarding Ceremony was over. I now have my own version of the TV show "Wild Africa"; bizarre, beyond control and hopelessly untamed.

I've been told it's quite normal. Now that they've gotten their awards, made their parents happy, the kids believe the school year to be almost done and there's nothing more for them to do. Only problem is, it's nothing close to. Three more months to go, and still loads of curricullum to cover!

One thing's for certain, it's not lookin good. Not looking good at all. These will be 3 so VERY long months.

I'm telling you, captivity isn't working. I say, release those kids into the wild!

When No One Dines At Home

2007-02-20T21:33:00.000+03:00

We've recently received a copy of the"dining and delivery guide 2007", which is a considerably hefty (well over 300 pages) guide to all the restaurants Kuwait has to offer, and includes reviews, tips and the actual menus.

My initial reaction was one of joy. Oh, that would make choosing where to eat out on our weekly family day so much easier and more informed, I thought. And so I snuggled on the couch, and began to explore the contents!

The first 10 minutes were enjoyable and every so often I would exclaim to whoever happened to be passing by the living room things like: "Oh there's this Italian restaurant we must go to!", and "Come check out how cutely designed this place is".

This initial amusement and appreciation of the guide, however, was short-lived. Soon, I found myself in a state of disbelief, which quickly worked its way into pure disgust at the sheer amount of restaurants included. Each new page extolled yet another restaurant and vouched for it. It was overwhelming. I tossed the guide aside and gave up. There was no way in hell I could read about all those restaurants, let alone visit them all. Not unless I ate out, like, EVERY day and on every single meal. I haven't touched the guide since.

Not until last night anyway. I had promised Abood to treat him to some sushi, and so we sat together checking out the sushi places in town. In less than 5 minutes, we had already found at least 5 fancy sushi places to choose from. We settled on one named Maki, since it was strategically situated along the beautiful walking path at Marina Crescent, and so would be ideal to head to after we take a nice long stroll there.

I didn't even consider calling to reserve. I mean, for one there were at least 10 another top-end sushi places for sushi lovers to choose from. More importantly, it was a school night. I reasoned that unless the entire population suddenly and simultaneously got an urge for some immediate sushi, we would be fine. Besides, what are the odds of that happening?

Shockingly good, it turns out.

We enjoyed every bit of our walk.. Abood couldn't believe how gorgeous the weather was, and tried to make me grasp what a -30 temp. actually felt like! brrrrrrrrr. NOT cool :D

Heading towards Maki, Abood asked me if I've ever tried walking into a restaurant with someone then asking for "a table for one please" just to see the look on their faces. He tried talking me into trying it out and almost succeeded when our convo was interrupted by a smiling maitre asking about our reservation.
Me: Oh we don't have one. We need a table for two please.
Maitre: I'm so sorry we're fully booked. In fact, we're always booked two days in advance. Even the sushi bar is full, I would've put you there. I'm very sorry. Here have our card to call in advance next time.
Me: *disbelief*

We walked outside, clearly disappointed. Suddenly I turned towards Abood and indignantly exclaimed: "Please explain to me HOW is it possible that in a country as tiny as Kuwait, where the restaurant to citizen ratio is 1:1, and on a SCHOOL NIGHT no less, can a restaurant be FULLY booked, unless it was its opening week or something????".

Abood: Leave it to Kuwaitis to find a way to do that.

Honestly.
On the bright side, we ended up going to Johny Rockets, which makes the best hamburgers on the planet- no competition.
And they agreed to take us in, which is what counts really!

An Ode to my bro

2007-02-18T13:41:00.000+03:00

Why do I love him that much? I often ask myself the same question...

Let's just say, this has a LOT to do with it:

A box of pure happiness if there ever was one. Aaaaah, Godiva Godiva how do I love thee? let me count the ways.... That's the first thing he gave me upon his arrival. Now if HE isn't an awesome bro, then no one is!

It's been an absolute joy having him back home. The whole atmosphere has changed! Everyone's extra bubbly and the tiniest things seem to send us into fits of laughter. Now this may sound weird but my laugh has changed as well. I've noticed that ever since he got home, my laugh is starting to sound a little perky and hysterical. Think Phoebe meets Cruella Devil. I'm telling you, it's pretty scary. But I guess all the excitement contained inside me has to find an outlet, even if in a worryingly weird laugh! :D

So... For you my one and only awesome bro I present 30 reasons I love you; one for each drop of bliss found inside my Godiva box: ;)

I love that you're my "little brother" (technically at least:P).
I love that I actually need to stand up on a chair to reach your height.
I love how you insist I order a huge portion in Häagen-Dazs knowing that I won't be able to finish it, so you'll take over:)

I love that you never give up on me and still animatedly explain to me about cars.

I love how I can count on you to explain and fix whatever trouble I'm having with the PC.

I love it when we brush our teeth simultaneously and act silly.

I love that you assure me I'm your "favorite sis", when I know for a fact you tell Dalia the same thing you git:P

I love how generous you are with the ones you love.

I love that I'm one of those lucky ones (I am right? right????:P)

I love that you taught me that weird "koray kara minna day" mumbo-jumbo of a curse that I always use to freak out people (man, the reactions I get- priceless!)

I love that you actually agree to watch a chick flick with me once every 10 years!

I love that you're the reason the whole family ends up in the living room watching a CHINESE movie (as in real Chinese people talking Chinese without any subtitles!)
And get offended when we don't seem to be enjoying the "plot":P

I love that although you've prolly eaten cookies that are 10 times better that mine, yet you always tell me you love mine the best:)

I love that I once caught you red-handed carrying a tray that contained: cookies, chocolate cake, Kitkat chunky, and a Nutella jar with a spoon.

I love that you're still alive after that incident:P

I love that you still watch Dexter's Laboratory, and insist I'm just like his annoying sister DiDi :P

I love that when we go jogging together, it's really just me jogging while you simply take extra big strides!

I love that you're always up for a laugh.

I love how we have an unspoken understanding, where we laugh at each other's lamest jokes and "dabshat", when no one else would (do you blame them really?).

I love that you come to me for advice sometimes. And tell me that I'm a useful sis :D yay!

I love how you somehow turn me into a diehard fan for your favorite soccer team (going into actual arguments with people!) when in reality I can't tell the difference between a foul and an offside to save my life.

I love that you've already explained what an offside is to me like 30 times and I still don't get it.

I love that during the next game, you'll prolly try to explain it to me yet again.

I love that you know me so darn well, it makes my life so easy!

I love that you can eat the very same cereal every morning for 5 continuous years and not get sick of it. Seriously, how do you do that?

I love getting your emails.

I love that they always carry great news that draw a huge grin on my face ----> :D

I love that you continuously make me SO DARN PROUD.

I love you a million trillion multicolored m&ms!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have another "30-related" endeavour to attend to.

MMMMmmmmm. That's more like it!