Some pictures of the girls

I need to put it on the record that if my older daughter would spend less time taking all her clothes off, I would be able to put more pictures of her online.

New Camera

My arrival in Michigan coincided with my new camera arriving, so, in lieu of any posts, go to my photos for the last two weeks in photos.

Well, I never wanted to be the type of blogger who would disappear for weeks at a time only to post a note about how busy he was and then disappear for another long bout. Given my frequency of posts, however, it looks like I’m creeping dangerously in that direction. That said, I would like to boast about the stuff I’ve been doing in recently:

I had a HUGE winter break, over five weeks from the end of classes to the first day of Spring Semester (last Tuesday). With that in mind, I gave myself an enormous list of projects for the month. Ah, how naive. Here’s how January actually went:

Week 1: visit with mother and father-inlaw. Lots of fun, no work done at all.

Week 2: J returned to work, I hung out with Mk. No work done at all (I had actually planned on doing work during her nap time. What I didn’t plan on was that I would need that nap time for…napping.

Week 3: I caved and had the girl go into School with J. Woo hoo! Freedom! No, wait, Mk got an ear infection and had to stay home, see week 2.

Week 4: “That’s it!” I decided and made sure I went into the office to work. Turns out I can play Cyber Nations just as easily there :( Also, turns out I had completely miscalculated when the semester would begin. Although I still had another week to go before classes started, I had agreed to conduct a workshop and student orientation for

Editor's Note: This post was written three weeks ago, just as the semester was begining. As you can see, I didn't even have enough time to finish my sentence. I've been THAT busy. I've got lots more to say, but its 1am and I want to sleep. I'll try to write more soon, I promise. Thanks to all of you who've asked for more.

Oh, and by the way, since one simple blog is obviously too much for me, I'm giving up trying to use live journal for now. I will remain at e-blogger.

'Tis the Season

Mk is almost old enough for Christmas to matter. This year will probably be low key, but next year, it’ll be a big deal. I’ve always felt uncomfortable with the idea of Santa, and I’m not sure how I’ll handle it with the girl. I don’t understand the point of all these Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, St. Nick type lies. When I finally figured out that it was all a hoax (presents in the closet that later showed up under the tree from “Santa”), I was so embarrassed for my father, that I pretended to believe in Santa for another two years. I couldn’t handle telling him that I knew he was a liar .

Before my mother died, she had been the one trying to carry out the hoax. For some reason, it seems less like a betrayal coming from her. I suppose it was because she was so inept at it. One year, when we were all at my grandfather’s apartment in Peter Cooper Village, my cousint (that’s for you, T) and I slept on the floor, next to the tree. We stayed up so late, however, that all the adults fell asleep before they could sneak the boxes under the tree.

The next morning, during breakfast, my mom came running out of the bedroom with a armful of presents. “Santa just stopped by,” she said. “He apologized for not bringing them last night, because he was running late.” In retrospect, my grandfather rolling his eyes makes much more sense. She pulled the same trick on me when I was five and started losing my teeth. The tooth fairy was horribly inept, apparently, and couldn’t ever keep to her schedule. To this day, I still think of the her (the tooth fairy) as a frazzled, unkempt ditz, driving at rusty, dark green Gremlin.

So, you can see, I hope, why I don’t want the girl to be traumatized. Perhaps it’s a good lesson for her; never trust the old ones, they lie! I just don’t want it to be at my hands. And the realization comes too early, in my opinion.

God, I hate Christmas.

Thanksgiving

I started cooking Wednesday night around seven. Twenty-four hours later, the table looked like this:

Here's My entry for the second annual "Thanksgiving Table of the Year Awards"



From Left to Right: Rica, Christal, Jessica, Grainne, Andy, Meredith, and Mk



Did I mention we made Pie? Andy Supplied the Apple filling, and Christal made the latticework. Yum yum!!

Since I put so much work into it, I'm going to describe in detail the meal.

I started with the sausage. In the states we used morning star farms sausage; they're the best and totally yummy, also totally non-existent here in Cairo. So, I started with some texturized Soy Protein, added pepper, rosemary, fresh parsley, marjoram, thyme and some garlic powder. I mixed that all up, let it soak in water for a while, then mixed it with a few teaspoons of flour and a few eggs. I rolled them into sausage links (with their light brown color, they really looked gross) and dropped them into boiling water (with bouillon and tamari) until they floated to the top. Then I fried them in butter until they were golden brown.

I then made a typical sausage stuffing, with celery, onions and butter, and mostly the same spices except I added a bunch of sage and a LOT more garlic. I put some vegetarian chicken patties on top of that and left it to soak up some moisture overnight.

Then I had to make the stock. I've never found parsnips here in Cairo, So I used turnips instead. I boiled the shit out of some onions, garlic, celery, parsley, potatoes and turnips, with pinch of marjoram, thyme, and oregano.

By this point, it was about two in the morning (it would have been done earlier, except, while I was putting my wife to bed, the stock boiled over and the flame went out, so I lost a few hours there (it takes me a while to put her to bed).

The next morning, J went to work and took Mk with her. So, after a nice cup of coffee and a not so nice bike ride to the market, I started back up again. I took my stock from the night before, removed all the vegetables but keeping the starchy ones. Then I put a whole new batch of veggies in there (mostly the same ones but I also added some carrots, spices, tamari and bouillon) I then boiled the shit out of them. I strained it again, but this time, I took all the veggies and tossed them into the blender, slowly added some of the strained stock. I ended up with a thick savory substance the consistency of tomato soup, which I then tossed back on the stove and reduced until dinner time. To this mixture I added a bunch of mushrooms sauteed in butter, garlic and basil. This was my gravy.

So that's the main focus of my meal. Sausage stuffing with thick mushroom gravy. But I had quite a few other little extras:

Tomato, mozzarella, and basil morsels sprinkled with balsamic vinegar and oil for an appetizer

A carrot, date and apple salad

tabbouleh salad

cold roasted beets (rubbed with garlic, salt pepper and olive oil)

Lentil soup (Jessica made this)

fresh peas (just lightly steamed)

string beans sauteed with almonds

sweet potatoes with a butter, ginger, and walnut sauce

Mashed potatos (Jessica made these)

And, of course, ocean spray cranberry sauce, pulled out of the can with the lines still intact, cut into two halves and places on the plates.

For dessert, I made two pies.

The first one was a simple pumpkin pie made from canned pumpkin filling. I added evaporated milk, sugar, cinnamon, and vanilla. The recipe called for cloves, which I forgot I had, and I also decided not to put nutmeg in it, because I blamed last year's yucky pumpkin pie on the nutmeg (in retrospect, it is possible that i accidentally put coriander into it).

Andy brought some apples and we made a nice apple pie with a latticework crust on top.

Although the pie fillings were not really my doing, I was especially proud of the crusts, which consisted of flour and butter, with just a pinch of salt. The weren't the best I've ever had, but they were respectable. Especially since I've only made one other crust in my life, almost ten years ago for a spinach quiche (or was it broccoli?). The secret, I think, is not to work the dough too much. Also, use room temperature butter when you mix it in with the flour but, after you get it to the right consistency, refrigerate it for a few hours before rolling it out. At least that's what Irma says.

We also had homemade whipped cream and strawberries and Cristal had brought some delicious pomegranates

Finally, Jessica made some spiced chai (ginger, cardamon, cloves, cinnamon, and black tea, with milk and sugar) and I made some coffee.

All in all, it was a pretty darn good meal, and I don't think I'll have the energy to cook again, for about six more months-- probably just in time for our leftovers to run out.

So we had five guests, and we all had a lovely time. Jessica fell asleep around nine. At about ten o'clock Meredith, Christal, and Rica left. I put Mk to bed and Andy hung around for a few more hours. Today is his sister's birthday, so he wanted to use our Skype to call home. Also, since today was Jessica's Birthday, I also put her present out. It consisted of about 30 pictures enlarged and finally getting our wedding present from Uncle John framed as well as a piece of word art which she made when we first started dating. She woke up around five this morning and found it:

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone, and Happy Birthday Jessica!!

Can I help you?

Yes, I am one of those fathers who thinks his daughter can't possibly be anything other than adorable. It's shots like this that makes one wonder whether the whole information revolution was really worth it.

Crazy Love Vol. II

Here’s a big memory for me:

I was driving north on I-95 after my second weekend with J. The first weekend, I had skipped hanging with the Dalai Lama to be with her. Then I drove back down three days later for another long weekend. Anyway, I was on the beltway, headed north, fifteen minutes into a 6-8 hour drive and Graceland was the first album of the ride. It was a bright, sunny, July afternoon. I was driving 80 miles an hour and Paul was crooning:

I don’t want no part of this crazy love
I don’t want no part of your love.

The funny thing about that song is how joyous it is. The lyrics seem so judgmental; I mean, they’re saying no. But the music, the rhythm, everything else is shouting YES! YES! to the Andalusian girl.

That was six years ago, and I often have cause to think back upon that moment. Within a few weeks, I discovered the bizarre sleep walking and talking syndrome. A few months after that, she actually passed out from listening to me and my father arguing. A few seconds later, she bolted, still with her eyes shut, out of the room and the house. I chased after her and finally found her curled up in a ball on the side of the road, about half a mile away. Later, when were planning our wedding, she insisted that we stop calling the spot up on the hill, “by the gravely” (the brand name of the tractor), because that sounded too, you know, dead.

These are maybe not the best examples, but I’m not really trying to build a case for why she’s crazy. What my experience has been, right from the get go, was that her reactions, while often seeming arbitrary and totally irrational, were also implacable, for example, her completely visceral response to anything that resembles the eyes of a bug, from honey comps to black-eyed susans (which were definitely NOT included in our wedding bouquets). I often find this reaction to be really scary. I mean, when you wake up because your girlfriend is ululating in the closet, not down by the shoes, mind you, but up on the third shelf, a feeling of fear may be perfectly rational. However, it is this feeling that I find most liberating about my relationship with her. It is completely out of my control, and all I can do is let go, accept it, and move on. I love her for it, and I feel it has allowed me to face many other fears.

It’s like the wise man once said:

Love gives you wings. It makes you fly. I don't even call it love. I call it
Geronimo. When you're in love, you'll jump right from the top of the Empire
State and you won't care, screaming "Geronimo" the whole way down. I love her so
bad, I just... whoa, she wrecks me. I'd die for her.

On the brighter side...

Ramadan is increasing the time I have to spend with Mk. Twice a wekk we get to school about a half hour before the nursery opens its doors. We spend the time playing on the playground and I find it delightful.

She is also getting used to the place, yesterday afternoon, when I went to pick her up, she didn't want to leave, she was having so much fun there. This morning was the first time she didn't fuss when I dropped her off she walked right in, sat down and started flipping through a book. Maybe it was the pink silk Hello Kitty Kimono she was wearing. (Thanks, Terry)

Also, last night she slept in her own bed the entire night. Usually she wakes up to nurse. I only know this because she's always in our bed when we wake up in the morning, but today, I went and got her out of her own crib in the morning.

In other Mk news: Her vocabulary has increased dramatically recently. In addition to Bye bye, she now says hello. She also says dog (or maybe duck) which is the word for every animate creature except humans. She's also got command of shoes and juice which, because of their phonetic similarity, have caused a few comic situations.

Her Arabic also seems to be expanding at a similar, if not greater pace. Yesterday, when it was time to go down to the garden, she pointed at the floor and said, quite firmly, taht (down). We also suspect that she is saying 'oh, as a version of qqoh (yucky).

I love watching her grow.

SPF Crank Factor: 49

Since I started taking the girl to the AUC nursery, putting her to sleep at night has been a dream. Somehow, their insistence that she take a two-hour nap every afternoon has resigned her to the fact that life includes sleeping, and that the best way to deal with it is simply to flop down and go to sleep.

But I can't get J to buy into the system. Every weekend, she wants to skip nap time. Today, we spent the afternoon at Mirage City, its a huge plaza of pools, playgrounds, wave machines and a small strip of sand known as "the beach". Way too much stimulation for a little girl to sleep. So, 'round about three, when the girl's crankiness factor is way up at the top of the scale, we drove home, but instead of a quite restful afternoon in the house, we attended a garden party in honor of the eight year old girl downstairs. It was a cool party and we are all very fond of the birthday girl, but our little munchkin had definitely had enough.

Getting her to go to bed was, not surprisingly, much tougher than it has been all week. Even though she was super tired, she was also super irritable (as were the two of use) and so she cried for a long time before settling down. Once she had quited down, I tried to sneak out, which the girl caght and started wailing again.

At this point, I gave up. J hung in there, singing, and trying to calm her while I went in for a small dose of brain numbing (internet and tv).

An hour later, the girl is fast asleep in her play pen (she's outgrown the crib because she can climb out of it too easily), but J is no where to be found. Not in our bed, not in the office, and she didn't come into the living room where I was. Well, I found her: She's curled up asleep in the munchkin's crib. Munchkin's got a room mate, I guess.

Time Passes

You know how, in certain biopics, or romance movies, they'll have a big plot crisis in the young part of their life, then once it seems to resolve it self they need some sort of device to get them to the end, or some later period so the plot can move forward once again. A good example of this is Mr. Holland's Opus.

Often times there will be a very cool song that plays, and you see a few short scenes, with the characters getting a little older (and grayer and pudgier) and then the music stops to start the new crisis.

If there were a subtitle for these scenes it would be "Time passes".

Well, that's what's going on for me. I go to work, I have my classes, I ride the bus home, play in the garden with Makaylah and Jessica go upstairs, cook dinner run the girl a bath, read the paper and go to sleep. On the weekends I we wake up a little bit later, have a nice brunch with a few friends, get some shopping in and spend more time in the garden.

My ideal montage would be me pulling Makaylah around the garden, but, as the scen progresses, she gets bigger and bigger, maybe graduates to a tricycle, then a bicycle, then I can give her driving lessons and then she flies off to America for her freshman year of college.

Too Much Love

I picked up the girl from nursery last week and, as I was riding the metro home, I noticed a a raised ring about the size of a quater on her right arm, down near the wrist.

My first thought was that it might be ring worm. I had it once in Airborne school and it looked just like that. Upon closer examination, though, it looked a little bit more like baby teeth marks. So, despite spending the weekend having horrible dreams about ringworm spreading all over my child's body (and then spreading to me) I waited for a few days. Sure enough, the marks faded to a bruise. Case closed.

So, on Sunday, when I picked her up, I asked the teacher, "did she get bitten?"

The teacher responded "yes, she did get bit today."

I, thinking there must be a language problem, said, "No, she was bitten on Thursday."

But the teacher insisted that it was today, telling me she had applied antibiotic ointment and everything. Sure enough, the little bite marks were back on her arm.

I asked the teacher what was going on and why was some child biting my daughter. Her response?

"The other children love her so much; they just want to eat her up."

I don't know how to respond to that. Any suggestions?