Mother Nature Weeps

Could there possibly be a more unoriginal title for this? I suck at coming up with good titles.

Everyone's probably already seen this pic of a melting iceberg. The marine photographer who took this said he thinks it represents Mother Nature weeping over global warming.

I shudder imagining how faster global warming would've hit us if not for the many environment-conscious people. I've tried doing all I can for this cause ever since I was maybe 11 or 12. They taught as at school to minimize plastic and paper usage and recycle, and I studiously discourage cashiers from wrapping my stuff in additional paper or giving me unnecessary plastic bags. If there weren't so many of us trying out there... I try not to think about this too much. It positively freaks me out.

Seeking Prolonged Youth: A New Solution

I'm going to fill my tub with ice-cold water and immerse myself, except for my nose and mouth, in it.

Forget the myriad anti-wrinkle creams and the famous leech therapy I've been unsuccessfully searching for in Egypt. Cold is the magic word. It makes sense: If you want to prolong something's ripeness, you put it in the fridge. If you want to prolong its ripeness even more, you put it in the freezer. Years ago I heard that women who grow up in hot environments age faster than their counterparts in cold environments. So instead of slathering my face with Palmer's cocoa butter six times a day (which is how often my skin feels unbelievably dry during the day), I'm going to ask DH or a best friend to hold my hand while I immerse myself in water as cold as I can take. I need my hand held not for encouragement but for monitoring. Very rarely cardiac problems occur if the water is that cold. So my monitor is supposed to help me haul myself out as soon as I tug on their hand. If I can. (Here is where all my characteristic crazy panicking kicks in). What if my heart stops upon immersion? Would that be suicide, given that I know this can sometimes be a health risk? But I hate cold water -- I've only been trying to give up showering with steamy water very recently and not too successfully. What if I stop breathing? Will that hurt? What if I die? Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Of course, given that Karim Diab the Russian-Syrian guy who got into the Guinness Book of Records did so by spending one hour in ice-cold water, not even immersed in it with only his nose and mouth above water like I imagine I might be able to, I'm not going to be throwing out my cocoa butter just yet.

Ramadan Musings

I'm stumped. Don't get me wrong. Spiritually the month is a goldmine. And a wonderful time to push my tolerance to the limits. It's just that people's attitudes and behavior, annoyingly, sink lower than ever during the month. Which makes them even harder to tolerate than usual. Which is why it's a good chance to practice my already shaky tolerance levels.

Take the myriad iftar invitations you must attend. I used to wiggle out of them easily before I got married, but now I'm not making social decisions alone. It's a good thing DH is not all that big on the exhausting Ramadan entertaining norms revered by most in Egypt.

Of course, to get to your host's place you first have to brace yourself and jump into the crazy iftar rush. I cannot for the life of me get the point of the hurry people are in to get wherever they're invited for iftar. So the Maghrib prayer time is upon you and you're still in the car -- so what? It makes more sense to wait: The streets are practically deserted once the prayer time comes (another mystery: where do all those people go?) and you can make it faster than you ever thought possible.

Then there's the insane television schedule. For someone to choose to spend hours after hours in Ramadan (or any other time for that matter) on the couch watching soaps is none of my business -- I have a few but sacred YouTube soaps that I will never miss myself -- but what puzzles me is the satisfaction in their voice when they talk about what they like most about Ramadan and go on and on about how spiritually enriching the month is, how peace permeates the atmosphere and fills their heart... Go figure. Again, it's none of my business, simply an amused outsider's wonderings. After all, Islam stresses never judging someone's spiritual standing based on what you see them do; short religious practice doesn't necessarily mean they're lower on the scale than someone who spends more time. Quality is key, and a truly pure heart.

Anyway, the insane social norms begin tomorrow. I hope none of my Egyptian friends feel offended. I'm not criticizing and I am Egyptian as well. I just fiercely cherish my time alone and these are simply musings while I savor the last quiet moments I'll get by myself for a whole month.

Best Ramadan wishes to all.

Stainless steel is my new best friend

I just read this on Yahoo and tried it a couple of hours later. It's magic! Rubbing your hands under cold water with anything made of stainless steel in lieu of a soap bar really does remove all traces of onion smell! I used a plain old tablespoon. So unbelievably simple, clean... effortless!

Best Summer Diet - Ant Diet

I've discovered the most effective diet of all. I'm not even thinking longingly of any type of food, healthy or junk. My toddler is thirsty and I'm trying to make her forget cold water and make do with lukewarm water because I cannot bring myself to enter the kitchen. See there's a huge ant the size of a full-grown cockroach on my kitchen sink. It has a big ugly head and scary huge wings.

Clearly I should do the dishes more often than every weekend.

I hate summer. It brings all these bugs out en masse and they seem to have evolved into a much bolder species than I remember. I don't think the word "insect" can convey insignificance and vulnerability anymore. Repulsiveness, certainly, but boldness as well. Which means these latest generations are rapidly evolving into monsters. Think about it. They're getting impossibly bigger than what I used to see a few years ago, so a few years from now I expect cockroaches to be as big as a one-year-old human being maybe. *shudders*

While typing this entry my daughter insisted I get her cold water so I had to. I am mortified to say this, but I was absolutely terrified. I mean, heart pounding, knees shaking terrified. I don't think I'd be more watchful and ready to flee if a hitman was crouching in a glass instead of that ant. Well that's an exaggeration, but you know...

So I guess my pants will be a little loose soon. I'm home alone most of the day, and in this heat I can only imagine how often I'm going to lock the kitchen door and sit terrified waiting for DH to come home quickly. Best diet ever.

No Sacré Cœur for Mona

Is it too melodramatic to say I'm devastated?

No Sacré Cœur for my toddler. For the last two years all I've done is research schools until I was completely satisfied that the best possible education system in Egypt -- according to my standards -- is the Sacré Cœur schools. I was overjoyed to discover one very close to my place. My only concern was that they don't accept kids as young as three, but I pushed that to the back of my mind.

So I call them with a trembling heart, and I learn that I missed the registration deadline! Other schools are only just beginning registration and the Sacré Cœur is done! They actually started June 1 and were done before the beginning of July.

Now what? I wanted a French-medium school for Mona because over the years I noticed that every single French-medium graduate I've met is more fluent in English than their English-medium counterpart is in French, and to me bilingualism is the bare minimum to carry you through life; multilingualism is my long-term goal for Mona. I consider myself handicapped for being fluent in English only.

But I didn't want any French-medium school. I wanted a school closest to my first school back in the UAE, a school that was back then in a league of its own, just like the Sacré Cœur is in a league of its own now. I went to Rosary School, and my school, along with the devoted efforts my parents put in me, shaped every good side there ever was to me.

There was discipline, quite strict discipline actually: Nuns ran the school. Yet we weren't a herd where teachers would yell or threaten us with physical punishment. We were individuals, each and every one of us, even at age 6 or 7, and they maintained our sense of self-respect. Most of the time punishment was in fact non-physical; their aim was to shame you if you misbehaved, and because of your sense of self punishment of that sort really hurt and -- unless it was a particularly rebellious or antisocial student -- did the trick.

There was creativity, and we were strongly encouraged to find out who we were and explore our personalities. There was emphasis on the importance of a solid future career hand in hand with sound ethics and firm family values. There were a great many things I can never do justice in an entry I'm typing while upset and extremely sleep-deprived, unfortunately.

This is what I want for my daughter, and after asking and researching for two years I reached the conclusion only the Sacré Cœur can provide my daughter with this. Now what?

Funny Quote

"Remember the waterfront shack with the sign FRESH FISH SOLD HERE. Of course it's fresh, we're on the ocean. Of course it's for sale, we're not giving it away. Of course it's here, otherwise the sign would be someplace else. The final sign: FISH." Peggy Noonan

One of my all-time favorite editing quotes. Possible my all-time favorite.

Although personally I'd keep the sign as it originally was. I think the redundancy is...justified, if you will, and beneficial to the unsure and the hesitant who will assume what they've understood from the sign is wrong. There are those who need instructions repeated, elaborated on, and language should cater to them as well, as long as it doesn't stoop to sloppy redundancy.