Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Keepin' the Lebanese Happy
{I am sorry I ditched you Blazing Summer Desert.}
{Will you still be my friend when I come back?}
Well, remember this post?
I did something to make amends to the Middle East that I so quickly ditched...
Do you see any gray hair?
Isn't it great?
Seriously, what will my Lebanese hairdresser and I talk about the next time I go get my hair cut?
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Post-Script Confession: I was not going to announce to the blog world the minor detail of finally dying my hair. But, I begged my sister to help me pick the color and do the duty. She said she would on one condition: That I confessed.
There. I confessed. I conformed.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Differences...
1. There is a lot of water in the toilets. My kids were very loud in announcing this fact in the airport bathroom when we arrived in Chicago. So, now a lot of people know that there is a lot of water in the toilets in America!
2. My son noticed this one...and I quote: "Why does that little man just sit in the gas station store? Why won't he come out and put gas in our car for us? What is wrong with him?" My son was feeling very offended for my poor husband who actually had to get out of the car and pump his own gas.
3. The grocery stores are the size of a small village. Literally. My family could live in a grocery store and we would have more amenities there then we would in the small villages I am referring to. We could sleep in the bedding section. Enjoy Starbucks for breakfast. Visit our pets in the aquarium section. Enjoy entertainment in the electronics section. Send the kids to school in the book section. Visit the doctor in the pharmacy. And get some fresh air in the garden section. Oh, and there is so much food too.
4.Speaking of food. When you buy a dozen eggs here...you get a dozen eggs. No poop. No feathers. No rotten eggs. No cracked eggs laced with salmonella. Just eggs. Kind of shocking.
5. I don't have to say a little prayer every time I plug something in.
6. The water that comes out of the faucet. It's clean! AND...the cold water is cold and the hot water is hot.
7. People obey the traffic laws. And they even use turn signals!
We are enjoying the differences! Especially the fact that last night the weather was 50 degrees cooler than the average temperature we were used to. I need a snow suit. Gotta run out to the small village {I mean grocery store} to grab one.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Official Apricot Lady Shirt
They make fun of themselves. I am a strong believer in making fun of oneself. They have brilliantly combined the West and the East by making t-shirts and bumper stickers with funny Arabic slang and hilarious Arabeezie {Arabi (Arabic) and Engeleezi (English) put together} sayings/spoofs.
{Jameed is the goat milk they use on their national dish - mansef.}
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Airport Security
{Well, maybe I do.}
You will never know.
Memories of airports flash through my mind. And many adventures with airport security. Every traveler has their war stories. Ours involves a very innocent baby named See-Saw.
If you had the privilege of knowing my boy when he was a small one, you probably got to meet Baby See-Saw. Instead of a fuzzy blanket or stuffed bear, my small boy choose a small baby as his security item. We bought it at the grocery store. He picked it out that day - before he could even talk - he communicated to me so clearly as he saw the baby on the shelf that THAT was the item he wanted. We brought it home and as he learned to talk, he would always tell me adventures about See-Saw. I finally figured out this was the baby's name. Baby See-Saw. Here is a very fuzzy pre-digital camera shot of the sweet baby with his baby.
Fast forward a few years and little sister came on the scene. Our little boy insisted that his little sister have a baby See-Saw as well. This photo may explain why...the same woman who lets her babies play with guns may or may not be the same one that drugs them on airplanes.
So, then Baby See-Saw Sister came to join our family. We call her Sista' for short because we like to sound like gangsta's.
It was the Christmas of 2005 and we were travelling to the States for vacation. Airport security was tight. The hotel bombings had just happened and things were still a bit tense. We all shuffled through and to the total shock and dismay of our children, our daughters small pink backpack was tagged a pulled aside. It was hand searched. To the complete shock and dismay of our children Baby See-Saw Sister was pulled from the bag. She was handled by the security guard very cautiously. She was set carefully in a box and to the indescribable shock and dismay of our children, she was carried into a small room near the security post. That got the mama mad. Why were they torturing my children? Why Sista'? What did she ever do?
We waited.
Many thoughts and questions swirled through my head.
How do I explain 'confiscation' to my daughter?
What was hidden in that thing?
Was my daughter going to forever be bitter toward the Arab world?
Are we going to miss our flight?
Will we get taken in and questioned?
Will I ever get to shop at Target again?
Then, Baby See-Saw Sister was carried back out of the room.
A very nice man handed her back to my small teary eyed daughter. He explained quietly to my husband that the baby was full of small beads. Apparently, the recent suicide bombers had been filling their vests with similar looking small beads that explode everywhere upon detonation. Who would have known? But Sista' was in the clear. All was well.
It was not until we traveled through two more airports and I was unpacking our bags at home that I discovered I had carried my Swiss-Army knife in my purse with me the entire way home.
Poetic Justice.