Blue

I am not a big fan of this time of year.  Don't get me wrong, I love the colors of the leaves changing, and I love the crisp fall air, going to have a hot coffee someplace and just sitting and talking....those things are great.  But I do not do well with the shorter days and the lack of sunlight. 

Today is one of those days where I am not sure of my place in this world.  There are family things happening, I am not sure if we will all be together this Thanksgiving (a first in all of my life) or scattered at different places.  I feel as though this is partly (mainly??) my fault, but it's too much to get into here.  Everything seems too big, too overwhelming, and I want to just make a blanket fort, grab some fluffy blankets and a tiny lamp and crawl inside.  Stay under the blankets, inside my cozy fort until I feel better.

It's like that song by Monica "It's Just One of Dem Days" (that a girl goes through).  I feel blue and inky and all around sad.

let me make it

From time to time, I go back and read old journals and I find one recurring, sad testament in them all.....my whining about my weight and my statements saying I'm going to fix the problem.  And yet, after all this time, all these years, I am still overweight.  I am almost at my heaviest (I've weighed maybe 5lbs more than I do now, which would be my heaviest), and it's sad.  I'm not getting any younger (another common theme throughout the years), and I've decided to try once more.  I have been eating differently this week, and trying to fix my brain around the things I'm eating, instead of focusing on the "after I lose" results.  Knowing myself, I'll want to "treat" myself for a job well done, and before I know it, I'll be right back where I am now.  I think I have an addiction, I really do.  There are certain foods that I love the texture of it in my mouth, like brownies, or warm chocolate chip cookies with ice cold milk.  I have to completely break myself of these things, and probably.....sadly.....stay away from them.  They are my "triggers" and would send me into a tailspin.  Maybe I can have ONE, every so often, but I think making them and keeping them at home would be a huge mistake.

I did try this one recipe for a "dessert" which is ricotta cheese (low fat), mixed with flavoring (vanilla extract, cocoa powder, etc) and artificial sweetener.  I tried it with vanilla extract, cocoa and Equal, and it did help with my sweet tooth.  I also tried lemon extract and Equal, only this time I put it in the freezer and BOOM!!  It was like lemon sorbet!!  I thought to myself last night.....I might be able to sustain this, if I keep this type of "sweet treat" around for those times I need it!

I pray to Allah that I succeed with this, and change not only the way I look and the way I feel, but also my brain and how I look at food.

Salaam!

the club

I always figured I'd be a mom.  It was sort of an unwritten thing, but it was just going to happen, because that's how things are.

Now, at the age of 44, I'm still not a mom.  Twice I was able to taste what it might feel like, but that is all it was...a taste.  When those little tastes ended, it felt like my heart was squashed down into nothing.  My breath was taken away at each memory, and anyone commenting on their pregnancy or new baby was a punch in my stomach.  For the most part, I'm past that, and am fine, but there are still days....

....days where, someone will go on and on about their kids and the things they've done, or how tired they are and need a break, and I look at them get a little angry.  Maybe I'm wrong, but I can't help thinking they should relish every second of that tiredness, because just outside the field of view on the sidelines, there are those of us standing silently, ashamed of what we have failed to do, who would love nothing more than to be that tired.  I'd be willing to bet if they were given a taste of life without those kids, they'd never complain again.

Of course I don't say anything.  For some reason it's too shameful to admit that failure....too raw or exposing to just say it out loud. 

I have been asked if I plan on having kids.  Who doesn't?  Except someone who doesn't want kids and usually those folks make it plain and LOUD that they won't be parents, ever.  I was 37 when I became Muslim, and I was 38 when I met my husband and we were married.  That is already closing in on the time frame where doctors all but write you off in the mommy department.  They shake their heads and cluck their tongues and talk about "advanced maternal age" and all the risks and the low percentages of success.  But why don't they talk to you in your early thirties?  Why not say "Look, your odds are going to only go downhill from this point, why not look into freezing some of those good eggs?"  Maybe I couldn't have afforded it, but maybe I could have, I'll never know.  The only thing that is ever really trotted in front of everyone are these women (usually extremely weathly or celebrities) having babies well into their forties.  No one says "donor eggs" or "massive fertility treatments" and you fall victim to believing you'll be just like that, it will be so EASY to have a baby in your forties.  Except it's not.

I've been around kids and babies since I was a baby myself.  I have older brothers and sisters and my first born nephew is a mere 4yrs older than me.  My friends started having kids when we were 18yrs old, so from then on, I've been around diapers, poop, wailing and vomit, and yet.....it's still a slap in the face when someone says, "You're not a parent, you wouldn't understand."  I don't think it takes rocket science or a baby to figure you must have consequences for bad behaviour or you'll have a kid that runs you; that babies need lots of love and hugs, and kids need explanations that are true but made into a version suitable for a 3yr old.

I guess the weather today is making me feel more melancholy, but I was reading something another Muslim sister wrote, about her family which consists of her, her husband and their kids.  Is that what family means?  Parents AND kids?  Can just a husband and wife still be considered a "family"?  I'd like nothing more to be in the "mommy club" and insha Allah (if God wills), I will be in it, although a late bloomer.  But if not, do others look at me and think that somehow I'm not complete?  I'm not really a family with just my husband and myself? 

For anyone who may read this who has kids, please keep in mind that simply because someone does not HAVE kids, does mean they don't want them, hasn't tried to have them, or has actually gotten that double line on a pregnancy test, only to have it end a few months later.  There may be, just beneath the surface and hidden by a smile, a world of heartbreak and loss so great it would crush you, that you simply know nothing about. 

Fall is here

This past weekend was chilly, then cold.  I like cooler weather, but I like a lot of sun at the same time.  I guess Fall weather with July sunshine would be perfect for me!

I'm feeling rather blue today, maybe because I had a very bad sinus (maybe migraine?!) headache all weekend.  We had company from MD and I wish I had felt better.....I would have been maybe a bit more fun.  There is also a little bit of family drama, but what family would function withOUT a little bit of drama now and then?  Still, it makes me sad when everyone isn't getting along. 

The days are getting shorter, and colder, and that always affects me in not such good ways.  I think I have that sunshine withdraw disorder.  It's almost 10am right now and I feel like I could easily go right home, crawl under the down comforter and stay there all day.

I hope everyone out there is warm and happy.  Let's pray for some sunshine next!

my big mouth

I have a problem.

Practically since birth, I have been talking.  I'm sure I was the type of annoying kid who just prattles on and on and on (and on and on), not really caring if anyone is listening.  The kind that makes parents insane from the constant barrage of words flying around the car on a trip.  Where parents envision duct tape for a fleeting moment, just for some peace.  I'm sure my parents relished every minute after I had finally gone to sleep each night.  From kindergarten probably through 8th grade, I always had notes on report cards, starting nicely enough ("Barbie is very bubbly but needs to not disturb her classmates") to the more direct ("Should pay more attention in class and less talking"), that I needed to just be quiet.

If it were only that easy.

I realize I'm rambling, and God only knows why but I can't stop.  I feel as though I have all of this information inside and must share it with anyone who gives me two seconds of their time, and I only have one second to get it out.  I ramble, I talk fast, I monopolize.  I know I'm doing it, and feel awkward, which makes me nervous and then I talk faster.  It's horrible.

I've tried to do better, but for the most part, I fail. 

When I'm in Morocco, I'm forced into silence in a way, since I can't just blather on and on really QUICKLY, because I have to think words through and figure out if I know the word in Arabic or French, and if I don't....hand signals.  But even that is fading, as my vocabulary grows.

The other night I had a really sweet sister come to visit - haven't seen her in at least 4yrs - and looking back I'm mortified.  I rambled, I was disjointed, my attention was like a 3yr old (or the dog in the movie "UP" ~ SQUIRREL! ~) I'd be on one subject and then see something and change the subject mid-stream (talking about Ramadan, opened the fridge and saw a hot pepper staring at me...."Hey, do you like spicy stuff?  I've been making this salsa lately....").  I'm embarassed.  She will probably be in no big hurry to come again, seeing as I'm a word hog and a crazy, over caffeinated one at that.   

Ya Allah, help me to not have the verbal tsunami that just flies out of my mouth on a continual basis!!  Please, ameen.

Troy Davis

Last night Troy Davis was executed by lethal injection by the State of Georgia. Now, I’m not anti-death penalty, but I think it has to be certain that the person is guilty. In this case, from everything I have learned, there was simply too much doubt over his guilt in the crime he was convicted of. Seven out of nine witnesses recanted their testimony, stating in most cases they were coerced by the police, or threatened with jail time (if they had been arrested for some other crime). I hope I’m never arrested or put in jail for anything, but God-forbid, if I were…..I’m not sure I could lie on someone when their LIFE is hanging in the balance, just to save my own skin. I’d have to answer for that later, in the hereafter, and I think I’d rather take my punishment now, in this life.

I guess the family of the victim, a white police officer, thinks they will have closure with Mr. Davis being killed. That word, “closure” is such a joke. Who can ever have closure over a death, especially a murder?? Oh, maybe you’ll feel a little lighter thinking the killer is off this earth, but it’s not going to bring back your person, they will still be dead. I remember reading an article by a woman who was very much pro-death penalty, since one of her loved ones had been murdered, and she waited and counted down the days until the killer was executed. She witnessed the death, and said she expected this big sense of relief or peace, and nothing changed. She still felt the same way she did when she walked into that death chamber, and after that she was very much anti-death penalty.


If you know beyond a doubt someone killed your loved one (and in Islam, there are very strict precursors as to how guilt is decided – it’s not just “he said, she said” stuff), and the family wishes for the life of the killer to be taken, that should be done. BUT….if the family of the victim wishes to grant that killer LIFE, that should also be honored. So many people get away with murder, and God only knows how many others are executed who are completely innocent. How can someone sleep at night knowing they might have killed someone who was 100% not guilty of the crime they died for?


As Troy Davis said last night as his final words, may God have mercy on their souls.

And may God have mercy on Troy Davis' soul.

memories from Casa....

Each time I go to Morocco, I feel better, more adapted, more at home.  I love the people, they are are sweet, kind and loving, hardly anyone complains, no matter what their station in life. 

I forgot about some of the pictures I had taken on our last trip, but remembered them today, so I'm sharing .

First, the mosque right outside my sister-in-law's house (the house where my husband grew up, subhan'Allah)....

I took this one day when we were heading downtown, just to stroll around the city of Casablanca and check out the sites.  

I was taking an Arabic class, so I wanted to get some signs in Arabic, and I thought these were pretty good....at least you know the shape of the STOP sign, so you can't really mess up and keep going:

....the Bel Air of Casablanca!

.....the American Language Center in downtown Casablanca, where you can learn about America and how to speak English.....

....and the most important thing: LEARNING TO COOK! 

I still haven't mastered Moroccan cooking, but I'm trying.  I think I'd need a good 6mos, completely submerged in Moroccan daily life (and cooking) and getting my hands smacked when I put in the wrong ingredients, to REALLY master it like my sister-in-law.

I give it my best try though, and insha Allah, one day, I'll cook like a Moroccan!

memories of freedom

I love this video.  It reminds of the Egyptian Revolution.  I am proud to have witnessed this important piece of history.

May you long enjoy freedom Egypt.

peppers.....my new obsession

I recently started craving spicy foods.  I think it started with the "buffalo wing cheddar" I bought a BJ's.  It was super hot, the hottest cheese I have found to date, and I loved it!  My sister-in-law bought some also, but said it was too hot (I got the rest of hers - yay!).

She had told me of the neighbor who lives behind them, how he's growing all these hot peppers and whatnot, and he gave some to my brother.  My bro is telling me these are the "hottest peppers in the world" and of course I was skeptical.  He told me the names so I went straight home and Googled them all.  Lo and behold, he was right.  One day I begged my sister-in-law to come with me to Pepper Guy's house, because I'm not keen on just strolling into some stranger's yard.  We talked with him, he showed me all the peppers he was growing, and gave me a bunch of them.

I went home and made some salsa.  Someone had given us peaches and I had 2 left which were going to go south if I didn't use them, so I put some into the salsa. 

It was delicious!!!  I made another batch and took it to a party, and while it is extremely hot it also has a really good flavor.  When that batch was done, I made some with a chocolate jolokia pepper (another HOT batch), and my most recent endeavor.....I made some with blackberries and a half a peach (in addition to the tomatoes, cilantro, lime juice, etc).  It is so yummy....and honestly, I wish I could grow these peppers so I would be able to have salsa all winter long.  I'm not learned enough to make HUGE batches and can them, I only make enough for me. 

Here is the blackberry salsa.....soooo good!!

I still have some peppers, two of which are the "yellow 7 pods" and are also extremely hot.  I have to figure out how to maybe can some salsa, but it's not a huge batch (maybe 6-8 jars, tops), and I've never canned anything, so I'm lost.

letters....words....blood

Twice I have seen movies that made me understand that somestimes, unless you have experienced a thing firsthand, there is no adequate way to describe it.  Not what you saw, the way you felt....only the others who have experienced the same can know these things.  One movie was "We Were Soldiers" with Mel Gibson; the other "Le Grande Voyage" about a man's pilgrimage to Mecca. 

This is the reason war veterans are so close....no one, no matter what they think they know, can ever imagine what is seen in war, things that can never been unseen or unheard.  The likewise goes for death.  When life leaves a body, there are no words to explain what you witness...everything, all the colorful adjectives fall flat in reality to what has been experienced.

One thing I find truly appalling, is when members of our Gov't vote to enact war.  It is my firm belief that if those same members have children of age to go....those children should be automatically enlisted and sent to the war theater in a capacity that will put them as much in harms way as the farmer's or secretary's child. 

I believe that war would be more thought out, if the blood of the rich ~ who seem to think theirs more precious than the lower income class ~ were as likely to be spilled as the blood of the poor.

My Sweet Boy....

Sammy.

 

I've had him since he was maybe 8wks old, perhaps less.  He was small, and loud, and clung to me like velcro.  My cat Dink hated his guts, because he invaded "her" space and now "her person" was paying attention to him.  But he was too sweet to ignore....he'd wrap his paws around my neck and try and lick my eyelashes.  He slept with me, purring himself to sleep.

He's old now, just hit his 15th year.  He's deaf, and gets confused when he can't see me (and cries VERY loudly when that happens).  He meanders through the house, and only likes to sleep or be in areas where his back is protected and he can look out and see what's going on.  His routine, which they religiously follow, was abruptly shaken earlier this year, and I'm not sure he's been able to recover.

My father-in-law was here for 6mos last year, from early April 2010 through late September 2010, and he and Sammy were buddies. 

Ba Mostafa (my father-in-law) came again this year, and our hopes were he would stay here permanently.  When I opened the door on the day of his arrival, he looked more tired than ever before.  I thought it was just old age and the chilly air.  A month into his visit, we found out his cancer had returned and spread.  It was decided he would go home to Morocco, as he would want to die in his home country (we did not tell him the prognosis, but we knew his wishes).  His departure was swift....after a week in the hospital, his belongings were packed and we literally took him from the hospital to JFK, where my husband flew home with him to Morocco.  Sammy did not get to spend time with his buddy, and after ba Mostafa was gone, Sammy started having "accidents."  They were occasional, until I went to Morocco in early July (thinking it was the end), and when I returned....I could smell it. 

I doused the carpeting in all kinds of anti-stinky sprays, and it worked.  I put him on anti-anxiety medication to keep him from constantly pacing and crying (in addition to his hyper-thyroid medicine he gets).  But he just looks so....frail now....so lost.  Watching him is like seeing an old person....he moves more slowly, has trouble getting up, seems forgetful, gets confused.

I hope he will let me know when it's time.  I can't make that decision again, and have regrets.  I keep praying that Allah will take him one night in his sleep, just a peaceful departure.  I hope that's how I will go as well.

Tangia

Yesterday I tried out our "tangia."  My husband bought one when we were there last (July 2011), but it was too large for him to carry back (I left a few weeks before he did).  Sadly, he had to go back recently because my dear father-in-law passed away, and he brought it back with him.

I followed the recipe I found (almost all of them are the same), but I think the smen I used was maybe no good anymore.  Pity, because the meat was very tender, but next time insha Allah I'll try lamb and NO smen, and see how it is.  My mom & her friend loved it though, and her friend said she'd come over for it any time. 

I placed it in the oven as I had read (turn oven on to 450, then drop it immediately to 250 after putting the tangia in and let it cook for 4-5 hours.  I cooked mine for 5).  So, this was a first attempt, and next time will, insha Allah, but better.

(now if I could only master the khubz.....)

Only Allah knows....

Asalaamu alaikom.

I am 44yrs old now....actually 44.5.  This may seem silly, counting in half years, but I just sometimes feel the clock ticking so loudly in my ear.  A friend just announced she (at 43) is pregnant for the first time.  I am so happy for her, but sad for me.  I want more than anything to have a baby with my husband, so insha Allah, this will happen for us.  I know I can get pregnant, it has happened twice, but neither took for long.  I make du'aa all the time, but Allah knows best in all matters.  I will be happy in life no matter what He decrees for us, because I know it is from Him and He is the Best of Planners.  He guided me to the straight path, and I know He will never let me down.  People may, but Allah never will.

So, time to start eating better, taking vitamins again, and getting ready for a baby to make it's way into our lives (INSHA ALLAH).  And if not....at least I'll be healthy!