I'm sure in retrospect, my mom and possibly my dad would comment on how weird of a child I was. I think it had a lot to do with my dad. He was always (still is) so interesting. Whether he was reading, watching a movie or looking something up for us in his library, he always had a book to reference our questions. One book in particular I think layed the theme of my path. He had a series of "coloring books" of military uniforms from all over the world. You name the remote country and if they had a bone to pick well then, they had a tassle or a buckle to decorate and arm themselves with. SO why was it that he had an extra book of Moroccan military uniforms that happened to be the one I kept stealing (at the age of 5ish or so) and hiding under my pillow?

Sometimes I lose myself in this maddening culture--I do. Sometimes its easier to hide in here than go out there and be a nobody. It's how I feel from time to time. I think that without my DH I'd have made it to Morocco and some point in my life. I still think if we hadn;t met the night that we did, it would have been the following weekend or a month later. It was eventual--I've always felt like that, not cause I'm a Cancer or a hopelessly devoted romantic fanantic but because it makes a whole lot of sense.

It's only been recently, these past few months that spurts of me come splattering out. Somehow I am expressing me--my personality, my family and my heritage. It's a little too late yes, but its here and its something new for DH to deal with.

But still, I'm drawn to this crazy culture that has consumed my life (and my heart). I recently renewed my suibscription to Tingis, A Moroccan-American Magazine published by the founders of wafin.com. There was a poem in there by the Moroccan poet, Said Leghlid. I'm posting a snippet of it here, check out his site, a version of the poem exist here, a slightly differen version in the magazine. Have been a poet in a former life I can see why and how he made changes. Your life is constantly evolving, why not your thoughts and words. This part really struck me the most and speaks to how I feel....


...July was hotter than June
And I noticed,
for the sake of fall and spring,
that I could somehow tell the difference
Between culture and religion.

I took a sip from this culture,
Became imprisoned momentarily,
And empoisoned for eternity....

"Out of a Job?"

Apparently blogging and bloggers has put Liz Smith out of a job. To all those aspiring professional gossip column writers who have yet to be born, I offer you may condolences. Snicker! Snicker!

Well, I survived another invasion of Moroccans as well as the Pirate Ship ride at Coney Island this weekend. I noticed that whenever I'm at someone else's house and there is more than 2 Moroccan women there, I instantly become one of those kids that never gets picked to play on anyone's team for anything. And since I wasn't that kid growing up, I didn't quite know how to handle the situation. So I just sat there, looking like a loser- bit of a bummer.

Despite my current feeling about Moroccan women, I thought I'd highlight an interesting link to a Moroccan female artist:

Susan Viva, photographer and painter, was born in Casablanca, Morocco. She studied photography in Canada. Back in 1984, she rediscovers the dazzling lights and colors, the oriental way of life.

Her photo-paintings, called hyperrealist, are the result of a complex technique that allies silverphotography, digital painting, silk screen printing , hand painting on canvas. Each step allows her to work on différent elements of her photos : light, textures, graphism and colors are enhanced. Each work becomes an original and the series are limited.

"Here's to looking adversity and discrimination in the face and being the better person" -Me

"Women of Color"

In Celebration of Women of Color

On March 25, 1965, the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. led 25,000 marchers to the state capitol in Montgomery, Ala., to protest the denial of voting rights to blacks.

Women's Opinions Missing on Television
Women of color virtually invisible on Sunday shows

Celebrating two women of color:

Fatema Mernissi a Moroccan academic and author. She has written many books and articles about women in Morocco and Muslim countries.


Sonali Kolhatkar from KPFK, Pacifica radio in Los Angeles and co-Director of the Afghan Women's Mission, a US-based non-profit that works in solidarity with the Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA). I met her last weekend at a Women and Media Conference. Check out her work and her personal blog.

Re-claiming the Kitchen

Not to worry, this will not be a feminist charged paragraph or anything like that. Many of you know that I had to open my apartment and my life to my my husband's brother (BIL) and his wife (SIL). In addition to sharing space and competing for the TV, the living room and a quiet space the one thing that was sort of "taken" from me was the kitchen. Well, I went in there last night and took it back. At first, I was doing this under the premise of "spring cleaning" and what was only going to start with one cabinet turned into a 3 cabinet make-over. This is a major takeover for me. And keeping SIL in mind, I moved things that she uses often to a lower shelf, things used some of the time to a higher one, and things we never use to the lone cabinet above the refrigerator. I wiped down months of cooking oil and gunk form everywhere and realized that even though SIL has a Masters degree, doesn't work , only sometimes goes to her English class and seems to spend alot of time in the kitchen, she's not really taking care of things. So the old me is back, with a few tightenings and some clarity, here to re-claim my land and my home. I've opened it up to her as was asked of me and so far, things have been unorganized and messy. This is my home and I'm here to stay and make my presence known.

(Imagine the theme song to Rocky, the instramental with the "Flyin' High Now" vocals playing at this point)

Birthday blessings and wishes to my good friend, and fellow "wife of a moroccan", Pat!!!

"To Take Away A Death"

The Irish side of me has this morbid fascination with death. I think some of it also has to do with my Catholic school upbringing and the fact that I grew up across the street from a cemetery. However, its been the past few years that I've become more aware of the possible and imminent death of the people around me. Even though I grew up with Death hanging around our house (my dad was a NYC police officer) I think I was less afraid of it happening as opposed to when. I remember my mom waking us up in the middle of the night when we were little to kiss my dad goodbye or depending on his shift, hello. He'd smell bad and his face would be rough and sometimes he'd had fake blood or dirt on him because he was working undercover. My brother and I would play weird games like "Mass" and "Communion" usually at an imaginery funeral. I know that when I was a teenager, I use to stay up way into the night flipping through poetry books trying to find the one poem that would convey the exact message about my dad that I could read at is funeral.

Fortunately, my dad survived the NYPD and NYC to be a funny and happy retiree in Florida. But now I live with the fear that like his mother, he may too succumb to the fate of Alzheimer's. And maybe he won't, maybe it'll be me instead who tortues her children with this disease. But considering our past experiences and where we might have to go in the future, Death has always been an open discussion in our family. And so I know my parents wishes and they know that at first I may hesitate to follow through on them. But I know that if/when that time comes, there will be a moment of clarity and they'll be able to pass with the peace and respect they and every individual deserves.

I think this Terry Schiavo case has a lot of us thinking about it as well as who is this government that keeps sticking its nose into Death's business. Incorporating God into your agenda is one thing, trying to do His job is another.

This is a snippet from an op-ed in yesterday's NYTimes that sparked me to write this:

"...Although my father was 85 and Terri Schiavo is only 41, both their situations pose questions about the outermost suburbs of life. What is the meaning of a smile? How much can you read into a blink? Should there be an allowance for more extreme life-saving measures for a young woman of child-bearing age, on the chance that more advanced technology could eventually become available?

For me, it all boils down to a simple question: when does saving a life mean stealing a death? For a year we allowed our father to be treated in hospitals for pneumonias that would have probably ended his life. But what life were we saving? Not one he would have wanted. We let our own emotions cloud our decision-making. Alzheimer's stole my father's mind, and it was wrong to let anything cheat him of the death he would have wanted, too.

All along we'd known the right choices; we had an excellent guide. It was our father himself. He gave us explicit directions that at a certain point we should not allow any extraordinary medical intervention. He had a living will and I was appointed his medical proxy.
Ms. Schiavo's case is more complicated; there is a morass of competing claims of family members and no living will to tell us what she wanted herself. The entire debate exists only because of the absence of a single piece of paper..."

You can read more of Elizabeth Cohen's op-ed in the NYTimes.

"Oink On! My Sisters!"

My cousin sent this on to me, I think mainly to throw it back in my face that I'm turning 30 in a few short months. Ever since we were younger, I would tease her that even though she was a few months older than me, I was taller.

I'm still taller and younger...heeheehee!

This is for all you girls 30 years and over.... and for those who are turning 30, and for those who are scared of moving into their 30's...AND for guys who are scared of girls over 30!!!!...

This was written by Andy Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes.

Andy Rooney says:

As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask,"What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know.

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress.

Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why?

Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage.

"Guess Who's Back?"

...back again?

guess who's back?
guess who's back?
guess who's back?

du-du-du-du-dut!