Oh, Birthday Brother!

My Jo turned 5 today!!!



I can hardly stand that he is not a wee, fluffy-headed bundle of heaven any more. I miss those days, but look forward each day to witnessing his joy for life. His excitement and love make my day, every day!



Even though he speaks the truth without guile ("Mommy, I like your chubby!"), he also often expresses his love to me and plants a big kiss on my cheek.



He is 5 going on 10, and the large gap between him and "the brothers" is not always enjoyable, but I would never have missed the opportunity to be his mommy and witness to the stages and phases he is going through, and seen the love his older brothers have for him.



Happy Birthday, my Jo! Thanks for another reason to celebrate!

Mother Matters

To Mater

It doesn't much matter
If I say "Dear Mother,"
Or "Mater,"
Or "Madre,"
Or "Mere"

So long as I don't confuse
"Mater" with "Pater"
Or start call-
ing Mother
"Mon pere."

"That's easy," you mutter,
"To tell Mom from Fader
Or Pater
Or Padre
Or Pere."

But here's why it's murder
To not confuse mother
For Father
Or Vater
For mere,

For father is much more
In form a tomat-er,
And mother,
In form,
More a pear.



Though you mutter, I'll wager
That you've, on ocass-ier,
Confounded
Your geni-
tor pair.

Ben note-r: if mother's
Mistaken for father,
Then Mater
Might think
You don't care!

Ah, though she's eke daughter
And sister and lover
To others,
To me she's
most dear

As my own, loving mother:
I'll never consider
Another
my mater,
Not e'er.

Happy Mater's Day, Mudder!

April 13, 2008

There once was a fellow named Frank


There once was a fellow named Frank

Who grew up in a city quite dank

Fell in love with a girl

By the name of Ann Shirl

Had kids, and turned into a crank



I know that old lady named Shirley

Her grill is all artifi-pearly

She's put up with her Franks

And his fetish for spanks

And loves him good, even when surly



They've been married for forty-five years

Full of laughter and music and tears

Leven kids have they had

And you'd think they'd be dead

But they're just barely getting in gear



So to Spanks and his pearl of a girl

We say never in all the wide world

Have there been better folks

And that ain't no joke:

It's been fun, it's been wind, it's been whirl



Happy Anniversary, Fogies!

April Fool

So on the morning of April 1st, all the boys discovered what looked like giant flies or rat droppings in the mouths of their tubes of toothpaste. And thus, disgustingly, began the month of April.

Turns out they were raisins, not some horrifying manufacturer's defect. To quote Christopher, "Ach. I brushed my teeth with raisin juice."

Had Jon not been running late, he would have noticed that the cereal bags had been switched in all the boxes, so that eaters expecting chocolate-flavoured Wheetos were instead favoured with something resembling twigs and bark fragments. Nummy.

As it was, it wasn't until the next morning that he discovered that the milk had gone off . . . pink. Christopher's little addition, apparently. Oy veh!

What happened at your places last week? Anything funny?


Shout-outs:

all: Riley thanks you. He really is coming along with the ghee-tar.

kr: will call you tonight. We're interested, price being right.

barnwellians: good times. Watch this space: maybe we'll get operatic sometime just for you.

ec: it would never work between us.

Isn't it Easter?

Okay, I (Wendy) am back and confused...
This morning as we were speeding down the road, out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw a big sign in a flower shop window that said "Happy Mothers Day". I thought to myself, "Wow. They're on the ball." (Seeing as Easter is not observed by most people here, Mothers day would be the next... holiday?)
Then I was in the grocery store and there was a huge display with bouquets of roses and a banner that said "Happy Mothers Day" right as you walk in.
As I worked my way through the store I noticed a special display of Arabic treats and a sign all in Arabic. I had never seen these treats for sale there before so, figured since they are celebrating Mohammed's birthday (yesterday) it must have been brought in special for that event. Which by the way is observed as a day off for some.
Then I noticed that Christmas tunes were playing over the speaker. What the?
As I was leaving I noticed in the store beside the grocery store a (few) Easter items.
So I ask... which holiday do I celebrate? What a party!
Speaking of party, my parents came for a visit.! A much anticipated visit. They swung through on their way out of Africa, where my father has a humanitarian project he oversees.
We showed them around our town and the kids school, introduced them to Maneesh (which they liked), even had Tabouleh, Hummus, Fatoosh, and Uhmwahlee. Took a couple of road trips. One to Abu Dhabi. Saw The Palace, rode in a water taxi on the Persian Gulf, laughed at camels, over-ate at Fuddruckers, and saw the amazing Sheikh Zayad Grand Mosque. Where my mom and I donned Abayas.
They were impressed by our beautiful pool, which we had to ourselves in the a.m. And witnessed the attention a blonde, blue eyed, small westerner got... Jonah gets a lot of attention AND treats from the Arabs. A box of cookies, 2 bags of chips, several hair ruffles, and the occasional kiss. Riley and Christopher are chopped liver I guess.
In Dubai, we drove as far as we could on the Palm (man made island in the shape of a palm tree), drove around the construction at the bottom of the Burj (tallest building in the world which will always be under construction in case any one dares to build a higher one then they will be able to go higher and higher and so on), walked around Mall of the Emirates (where the indoor ski hill is), had dinner with the Stewarts (wonderful friends from Red Deer), where we left them tearfully and they stayed until they caught their flight early the next morning. It was sooo very wonderful to have them to ourselves and we felt the void when they were gone. Jonah was the most disappointed to say goodbye (no one to listen to his incessant chattering an more). The next morning I asked him what he liked about having Grandma and Grandpa here and he replied.."they are happy and fun" That sums them up to the tee! What a blessing to have great relatives!
Over and Out to Lunch, Wendy
P.S. I will have Jon post some pictures later.

Number Three turns Four

Birthday boy (yes, 5 weeks ago--we're doing our best). Ay caramba. Kid puts the kosher in precocious. Alright, that doesn't work here. He puts the halal in halitosis. No, that doesn't work either. Let's just say he puts the "Holy crap!" in our lives in general.



So his birthday requests--in the absence of friends his age--were simple: he wanted Cheese Muneesh (Geez Louise, we calls it: folded naan bread with melted cheese, melted cheese curds, and cream cheese--excellent for weight loss: kidney stones, anyone?) and chocolate milk for lunch. Cheesy kid.





Our South African fan club--well, Jonah's fan club, anyway--was over-generous, as always. When we drop the eldest off to pick up our second, we always have to roll down Jonah's window so he can say hi to Charlie, the Papillon (the one with the snout).



And later he opened his presents from us: this may well be the last glimpse we get of little baby Jo-Jo. Notice that he thinks he has to be facing the camera at all times. We don't know where he gets this stuff.



"It's in a bag!"

Yes, Boboji, it's in a bag, like everything else around here.

And this was his second request: a quad run at the mall next to our complex. He's anxious to show off his mad skeelz to Grandpa Knievel in two weeks.



We have edited, for the sake of the grandmothers twain, the fiery crash stage left. The scars are not permanent. And you should have seen the other guy.

Weekly Cute: together with “the brothers,” Jonah has discovered Weird Al, and our lives will never be the same. Cute, but also obnoxious: Jonah now suspects very vocally that we think he’s “white and nerdy,” and is trying very hard not to be “a Acadian idiot.”

We are also treated to strange and new renditions of “O Candida” on a regular basis. And he very loudly proclaimed that the chandelier above our table at the restaurant the other night was “church lights,” and that he hates crying babies, especially girl ones. J and J enjoy more and more sophisticated conversations, much to Wendy's delight and astonishment. Like we said: precious in precocious, with occasional bouts of Calvinism (and we don't mean the fatalist religious reformer: we mean the kid with the pet tiger named for the Restoration philosopher).

In other cute, Riley no longer looks away during kissing scenes on movies. And Christopher continues on his path to ladykillerhood, but is serendipitously clueless about it, which as I understand it is the key to ladykillerness to begin with.

Oh, and Christopher also had a birthday: Wii bowling tournament with a few good friends, representing South Africa, Canada, India, and, well, Canada (10 points to the first person to spot the Indian). He's done a smashing job of picking friends thus far. We're waiting for the other shoe to drop.



Eleven years old. Oy veh!

(Ahem. Masha'allah.)

Happy Whatsama What? Huh?

File this under "Oddities." There were many things we expected to see, coming here. And there were many things we did not expect to see. We were told that Al Ain was like the Jeddah of the Emirate of Abu Dhabi, except not quite so much. But yeah, you can tell a difference between here and Abu Dhabi and Dubai, not only in what westerners generally try to pull off (and by "Westerners" we mean godless heathens--mostly European), but in what Arabs and Muslim "others" will get away with (or without).

We did not expect, for instance, to see so many flipping lingerie stores. Good golly. And even if we had, we wouldn't have expected provocative displays. Alright, so they're marginally toned down, but the dummies are anatomically correct, except for those without heads; and the models are always godless euro-heathens, but its not their compatriots who are in those stores, either as customers or employees. Weird!--I'ma say it again--Weird! to see women in the whole shootin' match--abaya (body covering), shaela (head scarf), and burkha (veil) shopping at Victoria's Secret and other local, and more, erm, lingerial specialty shops.

Okay, so we've grown accustomed to that. Not that we spend anytime there ourselves, or tend to look in as we walk by, of course. Ahem.

We were told not to hold hands in public, but guess what! Couples under 45 generally can and/or do around here, so all bets are off. We were also told to keep shoulders and knees covered at least, but the memo seems not to have enjoyed total distribution. I mean, you can tell a difference between here and, say, Ventura Boulevard or the Las Vegas strip. Generally speaking--98% of the time--even the Arabs who wear western dress sans abaya are in the main more modestly covered than the average 'tween at Johnson Memorial Junior High. So that's good. But now and then some godless euro-heathen blows by who would easily fit in on Ventura, the Strip, or at JMJH.

What's interesting is, despite my views of radical forms of dress and the mixing of social rule with religious dogma, I still experience a kind of sympathetic disappointment when I see Arab women dressed provocatively, at least by comparison. And the fact is they're not really being provocative.

But it makes me think that the veiling of bodies and faces is, at least culturo-historically, meant to be sensual--the very quality it has been appropriated by religious law to suppress. Because judging from what goes on at VS and fellows, well, let's just say Valentine's Day is a pretty big deal. No, we are not in Saudi Arabia, where that's all been more or less banned. Here it's on open display. Might not be very many folks at the movie theatre tonight.

But this is a family blog. Forgive me. I'm just in sociological shock, because I was over at the mall early tonight (V Day), and saw 5, that's FIVE, interracial couples. And I don't mean the common types: Arab and African-extraction, or Arab and Filipina, all-muslim. I mean by golly Arab and godless euro-heathen. 5 Arab men in different places in the mall in the company of geh's. 2 of the men were in dishdasha, spandex-wearing lipstick hos (God forgive them) at their sides. I had to rub my eyes and pinch my arms. I do verily believe that the Apocalypse is nigh.

With that, a special treat. Three items for your reading and viewing pleasure. The last makes fun of Bush's Iranian twin, so I don't think you have to worry too much. And another disclaimer: poems just happen to poets. It's a mood thing, a kind of oracular mood swing, if we must have the truth. I don't feel this way today. In fact, I both fear for this wonderfully, comparatively moderate society and celebrate it, as long as it lasts. And may it last. Insha'allah. Because in the main, whatever they've inherited or adopted, these are good people: kindly, thoughtful, whispery smooth, and profoundly alight. And when the luxury train makes its last stop, I hope they're wide awake and ready to hoof it on ahead. We'll need them.


Sila, Liwa, Bani Yas

They keep this up, there’ll be no desert left,
No space to wreck, no four-wheel desert cleft
To winnow down: no dry-heave, tinder bone
To let a man alone.

The death-gasp of the culture that could tear
The banshee shriek of what is drawing near
Is such a modern thing it makes me grin
Like poison: sick of sin.

They keep this up, these mincing, drifting ghosts,
These zebra forms with all their Babel boasts,
They’ll blister from the artificial cold:
The center cannot hold,

The falcon cannot hear the falconer,*
The tent is void, the women too demure,
And from the mosques a bitter incense fumes:
It’ll bring them to their tombs.


And my valentine to Wendy: she'll forgive me for posting it. I was hoping she would either laugh out loud or say it was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard, but she, well, never mind. Let's just say she passed Go without collecting the $200, and the moment kinda fell a little flat.


Heart Failure: Averted
(Thanks to you)

Here are all the things I’d do
If I hadn’t married you:

I’d drive a motorbike too fast
And wouldn’t slow until I’d passed
Each station wagon, bus, and van
Along the hairpin-turn TransCan;

I’d live in Europe, catch disease,
And contract head lice, maybe fleas;
I’d prowl her humid streets all night,
Or stay up reading in too-dim light;

I’d eat too much of the wrong thing,
And sleep too late, and never sing
And I’d hate kids, and adults, too,
If I had never married you.

If I hadn’t married you
I’d probably have learned kung fu
And used it on some smaller bloke
And done some time in the provincial poke.

I’d fail at work, make big mistakes,
Spend too much dough on crappy dates
Grow far too old for the singles scene
And drown my sorrows in ice cream.

Then I’d move home, get fat and bald,
Spend afternoons in shopping malls,
Write little, think less, be profoundly depressed,
And despise myself. Yep, I confess

That this is where I’d likely be
If you hadn’t married me.


And finally, from JibJab (we don't know what he actually says, though this was clearly taken from his Columbia U speech),




By the way, it is confirmed: "Rai-li" does indeed mean "my husband." In their dreams.

*Credits (before I forget): "sick of sin" comes from Wilfred Owen's great "Dulce et decorum est"; both "The centre cannot hold" and "The falcon cannot hear the falconer" are from Yeats' "The Second Coming." Lest ye think me a base thief, and curse me for a hack . . . .

Pazienza

Hello, Loyal Reader (which is, as far as I can tell, not far off the mark).

I mean Ashley.

Please be patient: we were all ready to go on Friday when we discovered that blogspot doesn't like long videos--a discovery more than an hour in the making. So we'll be late this week: have to do a redux of the house tour (under 1 minute). Also had a cute interview with #3, but that, too, will have to be cut. So solly.

Meantime: Halloween happened, Wii party with the Turners was a blast, took the church stuff over to the new digs on Friday afternoon, and, after hearing about Dave's interview at Mayo, vascillated between absolute self-loathing and the profound sense we are where we need to be, that my time to shine will come, and that for now I must contented be with the promise of eternal reward. In other words, get on with life.

Way to go Dave and Amber! And way to go, Ricky! No surprises on either count. Godspeed you both.

A bientot,

J