So...What you do for Xmas?

 

[Note:  Before you read further, know that this blog happened organically.  I had  no thought of what I was going to write, hoping that somehow inspiration would hit, as it normally does.  And I'm happy to announce it has and off I go...but I just needed to be honest from the get-go.]

 

We're at the home stretch!

 

Xmas is around the corner and the city is starting to clear out.  You can tell by the easy peasy drive in.  There are less folks around in the normally hustling city, something that sort of makes me a tad sad.  Don't misunderstand, I appreciate the quick drive but this holiday is all about people watching to me. 

 

The Ice Rink in WH

Outside my work, like right outside, is a skating rink.  The construction starts the first week of November and the place is open for business by the last week.  In the mornings its quiet, with usually one lone skater taking advantage of the vast space, by afternoon it will be more populated, and by the evening it will be full.  They blare music that makes you want to dance around on the ice, although I do not venture close.  I cannot skate.  But I stand there and admire the talents of some, laugh at a few, and cheer on others.  I often forget that I have to get back to work as I almost jealously watch because I know that those folks are off work or at least have some free time to indulge. 

 

I've considered going down to take lessons but have quickly dismissed that idea remembering the few times I had on roller skates.  And after all, isn't skating just a different surface but similar idea?  No thanks, I'm just not coordinated.  Heck, I've been known to take facers wearing no heals along with no treacherous road conditions.  That doesn't mean I can't wistfully believe that if I ventured onto the ice, I wouldn't turn immediately into Dorothy Hamilton. 

Christmas In Bangladesh

 

Moving on...the office is quiet.  There are enough people here to be able to hear chatter but not nearly as it normally is around these parts.  The 3 offices next to mine are dark, half the directors are traveling or out, the others are feverishly working so they can make some sort of an escape and because we're so far removed from the general city area, it's a little quiet here in Georgetown. I'm half tempted to walk up to M Street to wander about, taking in the last few days of the lights, sounds and smell of Christmas but it's raining and well I sorta have to work *glum sigh*.  It'll be different when we are back at work on the 26th.  New Years will then be close at hand and I always find that the spirit is different.  It goes from a 'family' mind set to 'let's party' sort, not that I'm complaining but this is my favorite time of year regardless.

 

I often wonder what other people around the world are doing just around this time of year.  With the full understanding that not everyone celebrates Christmas or even for that matter has the day off, still I wonder.  Like for instance, those Christians living somewhere in India, what do you do?  How about in Dubai?  I know for a fact that Hong Kong is big into the holiday, since I was there just after New Years and saw the evidence.

 

My bestie in Germany regales me with stories of Christmas markets, yule logs and other traditions that I adore being educated about.  My friends in Bangladesh who are also Christian, sing carols in Bengali!  I loved this and had no idea.  

 



Christmas in Germany

Here are a few other traditions I researched and found fascinating:

 

Argentina: Another Christmas Eve night tradition are 'globos', paper decorations with a light inside that float into the sky (like Chinese Lanterns). The sky is filled with them on Christmas Eve after midnight.

 



Christmas in Antartica

Armenia: Santa Claus Gaghant Baba / Kaghand Papa traditionally comes on New Year's Eve (December 31st) because Christmas Day itself is thought of as more of a religious holiday in Armenia.

 

China: Some people go Carol singing, although not many people understand them or know about the Christmas Story. Jingle Bells is a popular Carol in China!

 

Christmas in Australia

Egypt: In Egypt, Santa is called Baba Noël (meaning Father Christmas). Children hope that he will climb through a window and will leave some presents! They might leave some kahk (special sweet biscuits) out for Baba Noël.

 

Greenland: In the villages of Polar Inuits, families like to visit each other and have parties. They drink coffee and eat cakes and exchange brightly wrapped parcels. Traditional presents are model sledges, a pairs of polished walrus tusks, or sealskin mitts. Everyone in the village gets a gift and children go from house to hhouse, singing songs.

 

Haiti: On Christmas Eve, children place their newly cleaned shoes, filled with straw under the tree on the porch. They hope that Santa (called 'Tonton Nwèl') will remove the straw and put presents in and around the shoes!

 

India: Many different languages are spoken in India. In Hindi Happy/Merry Christmas is 'Śubh krisamas' (शुभ क्रिसमस); Urdu it's 'krismas mubarak' (کرسمس); in Gujarati it's 'Anandi Natal' or 'Khushi Natal' (આનંદી નાતાલ); in Sanskrit it's 'Krismasasya shubhkaamnaa'; in Bengali 'shubho bôṛodin' (শুভ বড়দিন); in Tamil it's 'kiṟistumas vāḻttukkaḷ' (கிறிஸ்துமஸ் வாழ்த்துக்கள்); in Punjabi it's 'karisama te nawāṃ sāla khušayāṃwālā hewe ' (ਕਰਿਸਮ ਤੇ ਨਵਾੰ ਸਾਲ ਖੁਸ਼ਿਯਾੰਵਾਲਾ ਹੋਵੇ); in Konkani it's 'Khushal Borit Natala' and in Malayalam it's 'Christmas inte mangalaashamsakal'. Happy/Merry Christmas in lots more languages.

Xmas in Ghana

 

Latvia: Latvia also claims to be the home of the first Christmas Tree! The first documented use of a evergreen tree at Christmas and New Year celebrations is in town square of Riga, the capital of Latvia, in the year 1510. Lots of people think the Christmas Tree first came from Germany, but the first recorded one is in Latvia! 

 

 Mexico: From December 16th to Christmas Eve, children often perform the 'Posada' processions or Posadas. Posada is Spanish for Inn or Lodging. There are nine Posadas. These celebrate the part of the Christmas story where Joseph and Mary looked for a room in an Inn. For the Posadas, the outside of houses are decorated with evergreens, moss and paper lanterns.

Merry Christmas Iceland!

 

North Korea: If you live in North Korea (Democratic People's Republic of Korea) Christmas will be very different. Being a Christian is 'officially' allowed but you can go to prison, or even be killed for being a Christian or even having a Bible. Christians in North Korea have to meet in secret and any celebrations of Christmas will also be held in secret.

 

Switzerland: In the Bernese Oberland region, there are processions starting on Christmas Day and finishing on New Years Eve. They're known as the 'Trychle' as people parade wearing a big Trychler (cow bell) or carrying drums and normally wearing masks. They walk through the streets making lots of noise and are meant to scare the evil spirits away!

Be Blessed our Brave Soldiers in Iraq

 

Venezuela: Going to Midnight Mass (Misas de Aguinaldo) is very popular and there many other masses and church services in the days before Christmas. In Caracas, the capital of Venezuela, there's a tradition of people roller skating to the early morning church services from 16th to 24th December. The roads are often closed to traffic by 8.00am to make it safe for people to skate!

 



Go Big or Go Home - HK at Christmas

Zambia: On Christmas day, children are encouraged to bring a present to church for children who are in hospital or might not get a present because they are less fortunate. After church, on Christmas day, it is a custom that all the children go to one house and all the adults go to another house to have a party and to eat!

 

Don't be too impressed now!  None of these words were written by me.  Want to know more about a country, check out this website and you'll see how good at plagiarizing I really am.

Below are a few more pictures I found by trolling the net of Christmas celebrations around the world:

One of more fav pics, Christmas in Rio

Alaska, cold but beautiful.

Botswana Christmas

Oh Canada, Oh Canada...

Ecuador...Merry Christmas!

 

Christmas In Ireland

Maldives, enjoy yourself a chillax Christmas

 

As for me?  I have my tree put up which I gaze at lovingly every single day.  When I drive up to my house and see it glowing in the window, I believe my heart truly sighs.  I know I'm not alone in this.  No matter what religion, what culture, what what, you got to love yourself some Christmas, something that was brought home to me today when my two besties N&N both texted randomly to tell me how much they love this time of year.

 

I couldn't agree more :)

 

 

A Harrowing Tale of Gingerbread

Have you ever built a Gingerbread house?  It looks so simple, doesn’t it?  I once tried, thinking, how hard can this be?  After reading a list of ingredients, gathering them together, which included a crap ton of candiliciousness, I anticipated all the fun it would be.  About two hours later I sat defeated amongst a pile of debris, icing in my hair, broken graham cracker cookies everywhere and a scowl permanently on my face. 

Here’s what I envisioned:

 

Here’s what I ended up making:

 

Actually I didn't get even this far because instead of using real gingerbread sheets, I opted for gingerbread cookies.

Fail.

After this I vowed never to try my hand at this particular task again. 

Fast forward practically 15 years into the future...

Several weeks ago my boss suggested we have a team building activity making gingerbread houses.  That’s today.  We’ve been split into groups of 3 and the kits have been provided with the ‘okay’ that we can bring in whatever else we wish to ‘add on’ to our master creations.

The group of 3 I’m apart of consists of two guys and moi, and um…okay I won’t lie, I was a bit worried.  Again past defeats have haunted me therefore I was not looking forward to round 2.  Still making the best of it as I could, we gathered together for one of many pre-meetings and pow-wowed.   I was pleased that the other two were as geeked out about this as myself.  Actually, maybe not as much as I, but close.  We put our noggins together and came up with a plan, a list of supplies born from all that effort which was quickly split up amongst all as to who will get what and we strategized a lot.  

In a few short minutes we’ll go upstairs for the 2 hour challenge.  I’ll show pictures once we’re done and I’m sure…it will be stunning.

Off I go!

Okay back and it’s been about 2.5 hours. 

Yes, there were plenty of broken pieces of this and that, royal icing was everywhere (including my hair again which I cannot for the life of me figure out how), a few decapitations of elves on a shelf (don’t ask), and a lot of smack talkin’ between the teams…we here at work are pretty competitive.  Things were borrowed, snatched and some were outright stolen.  The glares were thrown and the Christmas music in the background continued to lend an air of good cheer.  Possibly because we’d been working so hard (you know the real type of work) this stress reliever was welcome. 

Below are pictures of the end product from my team (psst, it's a barn, in case you didn't 'get it':

Santa sorta looks like he's creepin' off with some stolen merchandise, don't he?  The piping is abysmal but hey, never said I was a pastry chef :|

Sorta excited about the fence although I suppose we could have made more.  I adore the silo!

The reason for the cut outs in the window was to put lights inside and have them 'glowing warmly' out into the 'yard'.  There is a small light in there but you can't see it and unfortunately it's in the back and not in the front.  Please also note the pile of cut wood :)

Birds eye view, please also take note of the snow <3

 

It's entitled "Christmas in Connecticut".  See the barn and silo?  Isn't it neat?  I mean, it's not a pile of broken rubble which is what I'm glad about and we actually finished the damn thing, a fact I'm over the moon thrilled over.  And the biggest hurdle?  We had to transport it from the 6th floor back down to the 3rd.  The silo tilted slightly but a finger strategically placed kept it upright.

I am proud of our creation and whether it wins or loses is irrelevant, I'm proud of our efforts.

Maybe I'll try to make one at home now?  I'll have to think about it but may I suggest you gather the young'uns and try this for yourself?  Total hoot and the memories are worth keeping.

Happy Holidays!

#PeshawarAttack - Heartbreak and Tears

 

I dragged myself into work with a super heavy, aching heart.  My mind has been working overtime.  It’s filled with horrific images and yet I still cannot help but to continue to seek more of them.  I feel as if I see enough, I will become desensitized but that doesn’t happen, it never happens because I’m a compassionate, caring human being.

What am I so sad (and this is a gross understatement) about?  Did you watch the news on Tuesday, read a newspaper, opened up Facebook for an instant or even simply talked to another person?  Then you’ll know about what happened in Peshawar, Pakistan.  If you don’t know, then please go crawl back under the rock you live (sorry, that’s actually quite harsh of me to say and I know that plenty of people are busy with their lives and may not have had the opportunity).

There are a lot of news reports out there giving totals, some say 100 children, some 141, some say there were 80…I don’t care about the number actually, 1 is too many.  A bunch of disgusting sub-human evil creatures who call themselves the TTA (Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan) entered a school and started to shoot at anyone/anything.  One report I read today says that a teacher was set on fire in front of the students, who were then forced to watch.

Why was this all done?  What could possibly be a good enough reason for these madmen?  Well, do terrorists every have a ‘good’ reason to begin with?  Nope.  But what is theirs?  Per them, it is because Pakistan itself is fighting against the Taliban regime within and without their boarders.  This is why.  They killed the very people who share their faith in retribution because they believe the Paki government (and in this case anyone even slightly connected) is a pawn of the Americans.  Maybe to some degree this is true but then again but having spoken to a lot of people that are actually from Pakistan, they too think terrorism is evil and needs to be eradicated.  It’s not about supporting America’s agenda, but their own safety and welfare of the country that is their Motherland.    

But here’s the biggest mystery of all, one that I can’t wrap my mind around:  why are children becoming the casualty of war?  And I assure you, the fight against the Taliban/Al Qaida/ISIS/terrorism is still most certainly a war.  Just when we think we have overcome them, they come back to show the rest of us that they are not only still around, but growing in numbers.  Still, regardless of whether you’re looking at Syria, Palestine, Pakistan, Afghanistan…anywhere that there is political unrest or outright fighting, the civilians are the true casualties, not the fighters who chose to engage or the leaders who send their men/women into the fray.  Those who make up the bulk of the populace are those who are effected the most.  Such a shame.

I want to stop wondering  what those moments of terror were like for those wee little souls who faced death so unexpectedly.  What went through their heads, how desperately did they try to flee and when did they realize that they were going to die?  And the parents?  Parted from their kids, trusting they were safe at school, what did they go through and are still going through.  That teacher who was burned alive, her family?  What agony must they suffer and more importantly, her suffering...my God.  I cannot stop myself from thinking about this nonstop.  My problems are so trivial compared to the pain of this.  I need to remember and remind myself nonstop when I feel my world issues weighing me down because at least nothing like this has happened to me.

At one time I used to think that these people are nothing but ignorant uneducated sheep that follow an evil leader who twists the very meaning of the Islam to fit their own agenda.  This is true to some degree but to another I cannot say this anymore.  There have been far too many converts who are not from some village somewhere being brainwashed by fundamentalist clergymen but rather fairly well-educated folks who are still choosing this course of action.  Yes, maybe their minds are fertile breeding grounds for stupidity but that’s hardly a good enough reason to me.  I mean I know plenty of fairly dumb people but they don’t go rushing out to join a terrorist organization.

As I did after so many similar tragedies, I sat glued to CNN as the coverage unfolded minute by minute in agonizing detail.  What got to me at one point were the images of wailing mothers/fathers bent over the lifeless bodies of their children, alive just that morning, dead within a few short moments later.  After hours of this, I finally turned off the television and tried to sleep but that too was fleeting.  The blurry faces of those kids haunted my thoughts, the anguished cries of the parents reverberated in my brain.  And I thought to myself, If you feel this way, someone who is this far removed, what must those individuals be feeling who are even now arranging for the Janaza (funeral) of their beloveds?  I won’t even try to figure this one out.

Today though, a friend of mine stopped me to ask whether I have any family in the area who may have been affected.  I thanked her for her concern and said no, most of my family has now immigrated to the USA (thank god) and those who are there are distant members and are safe in the capitol city of Karachi.  [Side note:  I do have Pakistani ties since one of my dad’s brothers moved there, married and proceeded to have a brood of kids.]  She was relieved and I was glad to be able to tell her this although I was quick to also inform her that I have plenty of Pakistani friends who have been deeply effected by this, not necessarily because they knew someone who may have been involved/killed but because well, they’re Pakistani’s.

So this is what I’m addressing today: the reality of being a Pakistani in this day and age.

Thanks to all the attacks around the globe, Pakistan has gotten a pretty bad rap.  The citizens of this one particular little country are sometimes called uneducated, sometimes backwards, sometimes loud, sometimes zealots and sometimes terrorist.  They are viewed as child labor embracing, pedophiles who love to rule over their womenfolk with an iron fist, using Islam as the tool to do so. They are not looked upon with any sort of warm and fuzzies, half of the world seeming to think that the problems we face today would be erased if that very region was wiped clean.

For those individuals I say:  SHUT THE EFF UP.

Let me explain something important here; I am Bangladeshi.  What significance is that?  In case you don’t follow Bangladesh history, the country fought a fairly bloody war against Pakistan in 1971 for liberation.  There are still people who hold a grudge for this reason.  I’m not one of them.  I hate war, I hate anything that has slightly to do with war hence I would not simply support one because one of the countries involved was one that I was born unto.  This also doesn’t mean that I do not respect nor love Bangladesh and am heartily glad for its independence.    

I remember as a young teen, a friend had said to me, “I hate all Paki’s.”

I was confounded by this very effusive and anger-filled statement.  “Why?”

“Because they tortured so many Bangladeshi’s and…blah blah blah…”

I nodded my head, understanding.  I did btw, no doubt.  War is unfortunately a sensitive topic and if we all agreed then I mean, no war, right?  But then I asked her, “so now, the south should still hate the north because they lost the Civil War?”  She looked at me, confused herself now. 

“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”  She said, lifting her chin up stubbornly.

“To me?  It does.  Why are we still harping on something that has been settled long ago?  Isn’t that how hatred keeps spreading?”

Clearly I’ve never been that person who holds grudges anyhow and can intellectualize almost anything (almost) so this was a no-brainer.  I’m proud to say that some of my best and closest friends whom I’ve grown up with are Pakistani, not were… are.  These are people who have added value to my life in so many uncountable ways, have cried with me and shared in my joy.  These are folks who have reached out to me in my darkest despair and who, whenever I see them, are quick to hug and ask how I am.  They are enthusiastic about their religion, something I see nothing at all wrong with (hell, look at middle America), traditions, culture, family values.  Sure, not all are educated but not all are uneducated and ignorant.  Which country do you know where the masses are in fact well read, well-educated and well rounded?  Any community, big or small, are made up of a mixed bag of people, just as Pakistan. 

Oh, and another very important clarification:  All Paki men do NOT subscribe to a ‘women are 3^rd class citizen’ sort of mentality, they do not wed their kids off at the age of 14 and beat their womenfolk if they get too mouthy.  Give me a freakin’ break if you believe for an instant that malarkey.  Have ever met a woman from that region?  Believe you me, I’ve have and they are very, very smart, have an iron first themselves over their families and yes, they listen to their male counterparts but at the same time do what they feel is right.  Do not underestimate women living there, at all.  And no, not all of them are like that but then again, and I repeat, there are all types everywhere. 

Here’s the most imperative message to get across that pertains specifically to the event at the school:  Most Pakistani’s vehemently oppose terrorism of any sort.  PERIOD.  You’re thinking back to a few news reports where they show a bunch of morons burning an American flag and rejoicing?  You do realize the media shows you what propaganda they would like you to believe, right?  Unfortunately though, a few crazies who have dominated the spotlight of news and media have convinced the rest of the universe that if you live in that region (or if you believe that there is no God but Allah (swt) and that Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) is the last prophet), you must be JUST LIKE THEM.

Um…no.  Sorry, wrong, try again.

 But that’s all we see, right?  These terrorists wearing their stupid black garb, masked and indiscriminately killing anyone/anywhere are splashed across every possible mode of information sharing.  We are told that these are the people to fear and not, “but don’t fear those who may look/dress something like them.”    We are told that Islam spreads hatred and death to the infidels, but not that it’s a terribly warped interpretation of what Islam actually says.  We are told to suspect anyone who may be sporting a beard or wearing a black niqab (the face cover), but not that most likely those are everyday citizens of the world like yourself who in their region this is the popular garb hence wears them and that you shouldn’t suspect anyone by look alone.  We are told to be afraid when someone so much as says “Allah hu Akbar” but is not told that the same phrase is sung across the rooftops calling worshippers to prayer 5 times a day, can be one of the most stirringly spiritual things you may ever hear.  We are told now to fear the brown, not get down with it. 

What really pisses me off the most?  The Muslim community has been criticized for not speaking out against terrorism by political pundits and idiots who are but brainless followers of those same pundits who have not done a lick of research or watched even a smidge of intelligent TV (yes there is such a thing).  Excuse me, what?  WHAT?  Are you serious?  May be I have an elite group of friends who do so all the time, maybe I’m within the minority but no…wait no no, I’m pretty sure I’m not.  Or maybe it’s just my television with all the Muslim groups coming out of the woodworks condemning any and all terrorists actions (I’m not talking about other extremist groups, so don’t even go there…actually in this case, didn’t the terrorist organization in Afghanistan actually condemn this heinous action as well?).  But I’m pretty sure CNN or their ilk isn’t catering only to me, go figure.

Mosques, Muslim advocacy groups, intellectuals, celebs, politicians, individuals, all have spoken out.  Some nutbags in some outlaying town in some outlaying neighborhood may cheer and hail the terrorist as heroes but they are few and most certainly do not represent the common populace nor sentiment.  Yea, we’ve condemned these terrorists from the word ‘go’ and may I point out, long before 9/11.  I know I have.  But I have a very selfish reason that goes hand-in-hand with it as well.  I am a proud Muslim and I do not want my religion to be disrespected, misunderstood or hated.  Yup, there you go.  Oh and also the main reason?  KILLING IS WRONG.  Ground breaking thought for a Muslim, right?

To be honest, I feel bad for my Pakistani friends and feel their frustration.  They’ve probably gotten the worse reputation recently and it has only sunk with time. They want so badly for their country to be shown in a good light (as any citizen of any country would), to be revealed for the kindness that resides within, not to be rejected by all of humanity as a country chalk full of terrorists.  I watch my Facebook feed rife with them decrying these barbaric terrorist actions and can feel their pain and sorrow.  I feel sorrow that they have to vocally reject terrorism because if they don’t, then surely they agree, right?  It’s one of the stupidest things I’ve encountered so far.  Just because I do not talk about it, doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion.  Has it ever occurred to anyone wondering that maybe, just maybe, some folks are just quiet and like to keep things to themselves?

Anyhow, may Allah (swt) grant Jannat (heaven) for every single soul that died Tuesday.  That is all I can say honestly. And to my Pakistani friends?  Stay strong and true to yourselves.

A Year Without Seasons

 

I received a new blog topic challenge!  (I really need to quit asking for them…really...reallyK)

Topic: A year without Seasons          

At first I thought, “How does one season up a year anyhow?”  You know, I’m brown, think masala.  Now you’re trackin’ and possibly rolling your eyes at the same time.  That thought made no sense and thankfully I’m a wee bit smarter.  Still, the problem is that I live on the east coast of the US.  Believe you me, we have seasons.  They are palpable.  And I couldn’t fathom anywhere on the planet that actually doesn’t have them either.

So seeking clarification, my girl S (the scallywag who is only too happy to issue these ridiculously impossible challenges to me in the first place) explained that during her year in Bangalore, India, as an international school teacher, the temperature more or less stayed steady at 10C, give or take.  As she texted, “no snow, no breath taking heat”. 

Well…okay so I do know places like that.  In fact, I lived in a place very much like that for 3 years.

In a past life, for it seems that way, I once inhabited a home in Los Angeles.  After getting married, I moved out there to join my hubs and his family.  I’d never been to this part of the world, funny enough since I had been traveling all over the world from the age of 3.  As we were descending towards LAX that very first time, I peered anxiously out of the window wondering about the new life I was about to embark upon.  All I could see, however, was miles of concrete, swimming pools, and yes, mountains but more or less clumped together.  The city itself was huge and sprawling and…dry, so dry. 

What do I mean by this?  Well if you’ve ever been to my home state of Maryland, you know that trees are everywhere.  We’re not speaking about Baltimore City, because like all other cities around the globe, it is structures and sidewalks for the most part broken up by small parks.  But as soon as you drive out of the city limits, you find green everywhere.

LA wasn’t like this.  It looked beige to me.  And when we exited the airport headed for the awaiting car, the heat was pleasant, not nearly as humid as Maryland which equated to good hair days.  But as time went by, life settling down as I seamlessly (or so I let it appear) morphed into a housewife, I realized that the weather was the same…every single day. 

At first it was so nice to be able to walk outside without first checking the weather.  Back then, there were no easy phone apps that gave up that information so instead I would have to turn on the television and search for the information.  I liked the flexibility of not having to determine which jacket would be the right ‘weight’ and instead simply walk outside with the comfort of knowing that  I wouldn’t either freeze or bake to death (much like what S said about Bangalore, a place I’ve never been to, sadly to say).

But the first fall in Cali proved that I wasn’t exactly averse to the changing of weather.  I think it was something on the news about the fall colors changing in the North East.  I sat there, brows scrunched wondering why…oh and then I saw the date.  Crap, it was fall.  I remember getting up and going to the window and staring out, noting the palm trees as well as the beige landscape that lay before me.  It looked like the middle of summer here still.  And the longing for home became a slight tightening around the heart.

By the time December 1^st rolled around, Californian’s were busy putting up decorations, stringing lights, blasting carols wherever and whenever.  But no nip in the air, no sweaters, no fuzzy slippers, no hats and gloves or coats, no cold noses or hands in need of a hot cup of cocoa and most importantly…no snow.  No smell of snow in the air even.  The intellectual side of me knew not to expect it but possibly deep down inside I hoped…which was totally silly.  I think the weirdest moment was when I saw palm trees boasting Christmas decorations.  Huh?  What?

Sure, I understood it, again the intellectual side of my brain kicking in but it somehow didn’t make sense.  Soon after the slight tightening around the heart became a deep ache of homesickness.  I explained to P what the holidays were like back home, filling him in with the joys of playing in snow, making snow men and snow forts, catching snowflakes on your tongue and ooooo, snow angels!   I disgorged the memories of the smell of a real tree, how no matter where you went the air was perfumed with a combination of cinnamon, cloves, peppermint…the warmth and comfort of a roaring fireplace when the world was cold outside.  And as I spoke, my eyes shimmered with unshed tears. 

I was barely able to get past that first because I was in a perpetual sense of fog of confusion.  Summers were bearable but winters threw me for a loop.  The very next Christmas holiday, I cheered myself up by starting some of the old well established traditions of putting up a Christmas tree and decorating the heck out of it.  And because of the depression I would suffer, the hubs would take me somewhere that I could frolic in the snow.  I so appreciated him for that.  And eventually, by the time we packed up the 4-Runner and headed out-of-town bound for our new home in Silver Spring, MD, I had come to love California and appreciate it as well. 

There were some wonderful advantages of living in perpetual summer, having direct access to the beach whenever I wished and it was only 1 mile away.  And yes, the best thing about California was that if I did want snow, I could travel to Big Bear or Tahoe or just slightly up north to find it.  I’m not even debating all the plus points of that side of the country; however, it didn’t take long for me to realize that for me, I thrived on watching the seasons change. 

What do I so adore about seeing summer slip into fall into winter to spring and back to summer?  Well, I suppose it’s a combination of 4 things: 

God’s glorious ability with a paint brush – I know a lot of you science freaks out there will debate this speaking of all sorts of photosynthesis processes that go into a leaf changing color but to me?  It represents the very presence of God.  Seeing the colors of the trees changing, flowers budding and blooming…each season characterized by a certain blend of hues and I love that it’s never static.  Never been on a drive through the fall foliage or spotted the first bud of spring?  Well find a spot where you can witness this and you will automatically understand what I’m saying.

Renewed hope - Somehow to me it seems as if when spring comes around, there is a renewed hope for a fresh start.  I don’t know, this is something more emotional then intellectual but there you have it. 

Childhood memories - The very smell of fall and winter brings to mind childhood happiness’s and summer, the promise for fun.  Certain memories are easily triggered by the soft gentle touch through my hair or a familiar scent of something lingering in the air that pulls me back in space and time to a moment where life indeed was simpler and since I had a childhood that was much better than many others out there (this is me being thankful for my blessings), the reminiscences are not unwelcome.

A dose of reality – This is a weird one I realize.  But as one season fades into another, I cannot help but be aware of how time is speeding by.  Unlike the child I was, this adult is only too aware of how time has now become a commodity.  The season changes remind me that I need to focus on the here and now.  The brutal fact is?  I will not live forever.  One day I will not be around to see the flowers in my hedges bloom, nor be excited about the prospect of a day off from work because of snow.   There will come an instance when I will not be anxious for long heat filled summer nights nor crunching through a carpet of fallen leaves.  Every change of season I realize that much like trees and flowers, I too will fade but unlike them, I will not come back (not unless Zombie’s are real).

Would I move back to Cali?  No, I’m an easterner at heart.  When we moved back here (the DC/MD/VA area) I was joyous for the first snowfall, and then subsequently cursed it because it made my commute to work dreadful, but that’s a part of the charm, right?  I sorta feel bad for those who have never lived through the passage of seasons, who are unaware of the tangible differences it can make on a person’s psyche/mood/attitude, some good, and some not so good.  Not to say that other places don’t have their own seasons, I realize this.  In fact I believe India has 6.  Good grief, talk about overkill.

Right now though, it’s rainy and dreary, I can see it coming down from my vantage at my office desk.  We have yet to see a good solid snowfall yet, the type that keeps you close to home and hearth but I’m sure January will more than likely make up for this oversight.  I am a wee bit jealous of those in the west who are still walking around in shorts and t-shirts sans jackets but then again I do love me some outerwear!

'Aight, another blog down.  Whoop!

P.S. Hey S, did I do good?

Apathetic to the Whole "Birthday" Thing...Meh

My birthday is quickly whizzing it's way towards me and this year I want to do precisely what I wanted to do last year...nothing.

 

It's not that I don't love celebrating them, just  not mine.  I don't know when the joy of it disappeared, probably around the time I realized that my biological clock was an epic fail and that growing older only meant more failure.  I'd rather it be just any other day.  I'm not saying this to be shy and humble, I honestly mean it.  I do not like my birthday nor do I need any attention but my family are those folks who aren't about to listen to me and will celebrate it anyhow, never mind how I may feel about it.  Of course I love them to pieces for loving me this much and trying to make it special but the internal demons of mine just sort of sit back and make me uncomfortable.

 

Anyhow moving on.

 

I'll share a few happy memories though of myself when I was a kid in regards to my birthday, maybe that will cheer this otherwise pretty depressing blog up.

 

Yes, as a child I loved the coming of my birthday, particularly because it was accompanied with the birth of Jesus (I realize this isn't the time of year that Jesus was actually born but hey, who am I to argue?).  The lights, the good cheer, the whimsy also played into it. 

 

Now even as a kid I was pretty non-demanding.  I didn't aspire to lofty heights of gift receiving.  I knew my dad worked hard and was generous to begin with so why ask for  more?  Every birthday of course my parents would ask me what I wanted and I would spend quite a bit of time in answering, mulling over options carefully, checking out prices, making sure the economy of it was reasonable.  I had no interest in busting the bank account.

 

My brother, on the other hand, had no such qualms.  He was (and still is) a big techie who was into all the electronics that one can imagine a boy of his age to be.  And he did not demure when asked what he wanted for his special day.  The gifts ran the gamut from:

 

This is a Walkman.  You shoved a tape into it and jammed out.  This is the great great great greatttttttttt grandpa of the iPod, just in case you were wondering.

 

Another oldie but goodie (sorta like myself).  The Atari gaming console.  This was also the great grandparent to the Xbox except it wasn't wireless so  you had to sit within 5 feet from the TV and practically go blind.

 
 

Hello Computer.  This was some cutting edge shiz here.



 



And then on his 18th birthday he asked for this:

 

Labron convertible, which he wrecked within 1 week of getting it home because he was showing off with his buddy John in the car and that too down our neighborhood street, practically right in front of my aunts home.

 

Right out of the showroom too.  After all it was an important milestone which deserved an important gift.  Incidentally, Dad was more than willing to give me a car for my 18th as well but I said no.  I didn't feel as if I was 'responsible' enough and therefore continued to drive the hand-me-down Mazda 626 (which was a badass ride anyhow).  I wanted to wait for my 21st which is precisely what I did.  I sure was a stupid kid.  *smh*

 

I was indeed very conscientious.  One year after saving up my Eid money, I bought this:

 

Oh how many random nights I slept in this thing in the living room.  And even, on occasion, in bed.

 

That's right, a Care Bear sleeping bag.  Now that I think about it, it may have been Strawberry Shortcake because I was big into that, or maybe even Little Orphan Annie...anywho...I was so excited about it too and a bit proud of myself because I was able to buy it without the assistance of my parents.  My brother thought I was dumb as hell because had I asked the parentals, they would have ponied up with nary a word.  But no, I was going to do it, just me.  I even remember the Toys'r'Us I purchased it from, which was in College Park near the Indian stores...ok I'm rambling.

 

One year, I think I was turning 10, my mother asked me what I wanted for my upcoming big day.  Again I spiraled into the normal thought process which takes at least a week, scouring toy magazines that are abundant during the holidays.  I watched the commercials on TV avidly, as if my life depended upon it and then the big light bulb moment...I wanted Operation, the game, not to be confused with an operation. 

 

 

Dad took me to the store and bought it for me; I was practically giddy with excitement as I held the  plastic covered board game close to my heart.  Before this, I hadn't told anyone what I wanted, thinking that what I would come home with would impress the lot of them.  I remember proudly showing it off to my mother who stared at it, looked back at me, and said, Are you sure you don't want anything else with this?  I shook my head, eyes full of love as I looked down upon the still unwrapped box and a bit perplexed.  Why would anyone want anything other than this?!?! I wondered dreamy-eyed (this is how I look at a piece of chocolate mousse cake now).  She persisted though, We can get you something else, if you want.  This is just 10 dollars.  I would not budge.  I didn't want anything else.  I had what I wanted and that made me happy.  She glared at my dad, almost accusingly and he held out his hands in defense as if to say, Don't look at me, that's what she asked for.

 
I played that game to death.  I shared it with all my friends and some who I didn't even like.  I squealed with joy when I could get one of the pieces out without the red buzzer nose going off and I took care of it, never having lost any of it.  I'm not sure when it was thrown out, it may still be somewhere in the recesses of our home but I highly doubt it.  However, whenever I'm in the toy store, usually with one of my nieces or nephews, if I see the game, I can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It still is a good part of my memories, even if it cost 10 bucks.
 

I didn't care then that it was 10 dollars or that I let a perfectly great opportunity for maximum buying power slip through my fingers.  I'm pretty much still like this.  I love the gifts that I receive, still get joy in unwrapping them in front of the person because what's the point of doing it alone but the thing is, I don't give a rats-behind what's actually in the box, whether it's worth $1 or $1000.  Here's the way I look at things:  If I really want something, I'll get it, or save up to get it.  If it's a steep ticketed item, then I guess I'll be saving up for a lot longer.  I do not expect anyone to give me anything for free and I am humble enough in understanding that when someone buys me something, they may be pinching some serious duckets in order to do so.  The effort means way more to me than the item itself, although I also cherish the gift. 

 

Additionally, do not believe in re-gifting.  Not that I'm particularly selfish, but again it goes back to the effort someone has put into getting me something/anything.  I will at least wear/utilize it once and most likely in front of that person so that they know it has been appreciated.  People who seem 'disappointed' in a gift received confuse the hell out of me.  These people obviously have expectations and that is seriously messed up, or so I think.

 

This was another slight glimpse into my psyche.  Y'all have seen a lot of that throughout the course of my blogging.  I don't know whether you appreciate this but I'm going to keep writing until someone tells me to stop and even then...maybe not.

 

Okay, back to doing something more constructive, like watching paint dry, but not really.

 

Have a good one!