First I have to add it to my bucket list and then I can cross it off.
Today I mowed the lawn for the very first time in my life. I'm 28 years old.
In order to tell this tale, I'll have to back up a little bit. Let's start with childhood. Not only was I a spoiled only child, but I also had asthma. So certain chores were off limits in my mother's eyes. Dusting, vacuuming (dust allergy), and mowing the lawn (grass allergy), to name a few, were out of the question. See, I was really sick from 1-5 years and my mother always feared I still had that in me. As a teenager not wanting to do chores, I couldn't have agreed with her more.
As an adult, I've mostly lived in apartments which means mowing the lawn was again not my problem. However, over a year ago, my husband and I moved into our first home. We agreed that I would take care of the inside and he would take care of the outside. But really, I hire someone to clean our house so Hubby kind of got the raw end of the deal. But, while I've tried to encourage him a lot to hire someone for outside (you know, so I don't have to feel guilty about hiring someone for inside), he insists on doing it himself. It's a pride thing and supposedly, he enjoys it. After my experience today, I can only assume he is high while he does it.
So fast forward to about a month ago. Hubby has been working shift work at the plant for turnaround. What does this mean? A whole lot of crap I don't understand but mostly that he's working 12 hour days, 19 days at a time. Since the days have been getting shorter, he is not getting home in time to do the lawn which recently became a bit of a nightmare to look at--sorry, neighbors.
Side bar: I have a neighbor across the street that literally spends days weeding her lawn by hand. Needless to say, this woman already filed a complaint against us with the HOA. Well, I don't know that for a fact but I know a complaint was put in and I know that she's crazy. So 2+2=4. I was getting a little nervous that someone might say something to the HOA. Heaven forbid, our neighbors actually talk to each other. Rather than do the neighborly thing and come over to make sure everything's alright, their answer would be to report us. BUT I digress.
In order to avoid a potential complaint, Hubby came home early yesterday to mow the lawn. But in typical Houston fashion (even dead smack in the middle of a record breaking drought), it started to down pour literally right as my husband walks through the door. Now, he lost out on the overtime and he couldn't fix the lawn that I can tell he's starting to become ashamed of.
By the way, for the last week, I've been keeping an eye out for our neighbors' lawn services so that I could just ask them to run over the grass for us. Figured I could slip them some cash and it would only take 30 minutes or so, if that. But of course, similar to cops, when I needed them, they were nowhere to be seen. Uggh.
Today, Hubby did the unthinkable. He called me and told me to get prices for a lawn service. ::GASP:: I made a few calls, and quickly learned that the earliest I was going to get someone here was mid-week next week. The truth is the yard needed to be mowed last weekend. So these timelines, even if I get them to come then, weren't going to cut it.
So, in an effort to win Wife of the Year 2011, I put sneakers on and went into the garage to figure out this contraption they call a lawnmower. And the lawnmower won. I could not figure out how the hell to turn that thing on. I rustled through his work bench to see if I could find the manual, but I couldn't. I came inside and checked our filing cabinet for the manual, under Instruction Manuals of course. Nothing. I Googled it and the I YouTubed it.
With my new YouTube knowledge, I headed back outside to give it another try. Nope, still couldn't figure it out. Then I nosed around his workbench a little more and found the manual! The manual was for 4 different models though so then I had to figure out which model we have.
Then I got it to start! YAY!
I went up a small strip of grass, made a circle, and then...
And then...
Then, it stalled and I couldn't get it to go back on. So I had one little patch of grass mowed in a design of course. And not one of those cool designs like on baseball fields. Just a little loop that I stared at and thought how Hubby would say, "Maybe next time you shouldn't try to help."
But then, after MANY tries and probably doing some damage to his precious lawnmower, I got it to go again. And I mowed until it stalled again.
This went on for the next hour and a half. But I eventually got MOST of the front yard done--at least enough to avoid any complaints.
Did I mention it was 90 degrees outside today? How about the fact that our air conditioning was broken?
I was pretty certain I was going to die. But I didn't. So I will be adding, 'Mowing the Lawn' to my bucket list, purely just so I may cross it off.
Wife of the Year better come with some serious jewelry.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Special Kinds of Friends
An old friend came to visit me last weekend. I've known her since I was 12 years old. We've lived in different zip codes since we were 18. And yet, she's one of those friends that it doesn't matter how long it's been since the last time we saw/spoke to each other, we always pick up exactly where we left off.
Do you have these kinds of friends?
I treasure these friends immensely.
This friend that came to visit me is not the only one that I have this special relationship with. When I was 12 years old, my mother moved me (for the 5th time and for what she said would be the last time) to the town that I would later refer to as my hometown.
We moved in June. I had left behind friends. Friends that I had met just nine months earlier when we moved to that town. I spent summer pretty depressed--yes I'm using that word, because at 12, I dramatically thought my life was over. I cried a lot that summer. I was terrified to have to start all over again. This was my 5th school district and I was only in 7th grade.
If I could only go back to that summer and whisper into my 12-year-old ear, "It's okay. You're about to begin friendships that will last a lifetime. You're about to pass notes to these girls and sign them LYLAS* and you will truly mean that for years and years to come."
When September rolled around, I started all over again. And many of the girls that I befriended that fall, I still count among my closest and most treasured friends.
It's not to say that I haven't met some pretty wonderful people since then. But, no one can ever take the place of these girls in my heart. We have a special bond and to be honest, I've talked about it with many of them too. So I know for a fact that I'm not the only one to feel that way--guess that really wouldn't be a very special bond if it was just me.
Sometimes I chalk it up to being together for those formative years. We went through our awkward phases together. We went through our bitchy phases together. We went through our silly phases together. And we all came out alive.
I can't count the amount of hours that we spent just hanging around in someone's basement, innocently laughing until our stomachs hurt. We grew up together. We experimented with who we were together. We experimented with who we were apart. And still, all these years later, we made it.
I know that you're supposed to feel lucky if you can count how many good friends you have on one hand. Somehow I can count how many good friends I've had since I was 12 on that one hand.
Amazing.
*LYLAS: Love You Like A Sister
Do you have these kinds of friends?
I treasure these friends immensely.
This friend that came to visit me is not the only one that I have this special relationship with. When I was 12 years old, my mother moved me (for the 5th time and for what she said would be the last time) to the town that I would later refer to as my hometown.
We moved in June. I had left behind friends. Friends that I had met just nine months earlier when we moved to that town. I spent summer pretty depressed--yes I'm using that word, because at 12, I dramatically thought my life was over. I cried a lot that summer. I was terrified to have to start all over again. This was my 5th school district and I was only in 7th grade.
If I could only go back to that summer and whisper into my 12-year-old ear, "It's okay. You're about to begin friendships that will last a lifetime. You're about to pass notes to these girls and sign them LYLAS* and you will truly mean that for years and years to come."
When September rolled around, I started all over again. And many of the girls that I befriended that fall, I still count among my closest and most treasured friends.
It's not to say that I haven't met some pretty wonderful people since then. But, no one can ever take the place of these girls in my heart. We have a special bond and to be honest, I've talked about it with many of them too. So I know for a fact that I'm not the only one to feel that way--guess that really wouldn't be a very special bond if it was just me.
Sometimes I chalk it up to being together for those formative years. We went through our awkward phases together. We went through our bitchy phases together. We went through our silly phases together. And we all came out alive.
I can't count the amount of hours that we spent just hanging around in someone's basement, innocently laughing until our stomachs hurt. We grew up together. We experimented with who we were together. We experimented with who we were apart. And still, all these years later, we made it.
I know that you're supposed to feel lucky if you can count how many good friends you have on one hand. Somehow I can count how many good friends I've had since I was 12 on that one hand.
Amazing.
*LYLAS: Love You Like A Sister
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Day Not One But Two Friends Called With The Best News
Today was a good day. I LOVED today!
It started as a regular day. I snoozed probably one too many times. Got to my office as quickly as I could--you know that room off the living room--and began my work day. It's been a rough couple of days at work and I was facing how to handle those challenges first thing in the morning.
My cell phone was dying so I plugged it in in the kitchen. About a half hour later, I heard it beep the text message beep. This was very exciting. See, my phone goes off all day long for emails but most of my emails are from companies that I've signed up for the mailing list. I rarely get personal emails and hardly ever get texts in the middle of the morning.
I got up and checked the message. It was from a male friend of mine. It read "Can u call me real fast on the dl Im [popping the] question today. On way to get ring n do it'. I literally screamed--one of those moments it's really good that I work out of my home.
I of course called him immediately. He was nervous, was telling me his ideas, and asking me what I thought he should do. Side note: Even someone who's only known me for 2 1/2 years knows that this is my area of expertise/interest and I should be the go-to. Love it! I talked to him for a few but I won't give away the details (his FIANCEE is one of the few people who know about this blog and it's not really my story to tell).
I worked and waited to hear back from him. I called my husband. I called my mother--who did not answer for the record. I tried desperately not to blurt it out over IM while the soon-to-be-popped-question-receiver and I chatted. Probably another good reason I work from home because if I had this information and we still worked together, I'm not sure I could have hid how I was feeling. I tend to wear my feelings all over my face.
Eventually, around mid-afternoon I got the word. I did all my expected screaming. Shed a couple of tears. Did I mention I'm a sucker for love and weddings? What a great day!
Later in the evening, after I thought it couldn't get any better, my friend that I grew up down the street from--one of the girls in my wedding--called me from the East Coast. Before she could even get a word out, I tell her that I had been dreaming about her for TWO weeks. It was true. She had popped up in a bunch of my dreams. I would be sitting at a table with a celebrity and on the other side of me there is my old friend.
She said, "Wow. Maybe you have some kind of intuition because I'm calling to tell you something. [Girlfriend's name] and I are getting married."
For the second time today, I screamed. Shed a couple more tears. Then she couldn't understand me for a minute because I was yelling for her to tell me everything. The problem is when I get excited and start yelling I don't believe my cell phone can pick up my frequency. So I had to calm down a bit so she could tell me.
We spent the next hour catching up (it had been a while since we talked) and I did my best to get all the details (she's not really a detail kind of girl).
And there you have it. One regular day turned into an AWESOME day where two friends that I love told me they were getting married. What a great day. Now I can't wait to start helping them plan the weddings!
For my TV fan readers, here's my favorite.
It started as a regular day. I snoozed probably one too many times. Got to my office as quickly as I could--you know that room off the living room--and began my work day. It's been a rough couple of days at work and I was facing how to handle those challenges first thing in the morning.
My cell phone was dying so I plugged it in in the kitchen. About a half hour later, I heard it beep the text message beep. This was very exciting. See, my phone goes off all day long for emails but most of my emails are from companies that I've signed up for the mailing list. I rarely get personal emails and hardly ever get texts in the middle of the morning.
I got up and checked the message. It was from a male friend of mine. It read "Can u call me real fast on the dl Im [popping the] question today. On way to get ring n do it'. I literally screamed--one of those moments it's really good that I work out of my home.
I of course called him immediately. He was nervous, was telling me his ideas, and asking me what I thought he should do. Side note: Even someone who's only known me for 2 1/2 years knows that this is my area of expertise/interest and I should be the go-to. Love it! I talked to him for a few but I won't give away the details (his FIANCEE is one of the few people who know about this blog and it's not really my story to tell).
I worked and waited to hear back from him. I called my husband. I called my mother--who did not answer for the record. I tried desperately not to blurt it out over IM while the soon-to-be-popped-question-receiver and I chatted. Probably another good reason I work from home because if I had this information and we still worked together, I'm not sure I could have hid how I was feeling. I tend to wear my feelings all over my face.
Eventually, around mid-afternoon I got the word. I did all my expected screaming. Shed a couple of tears. Did I mention I'm a sucker for love and weddings? What a great day!
Later in the evening, after I thought it couldn't get any better, my friend that I grew up down the street from--one of the girls in my wedding--called me from the East Coast. Before she could even get a word out, I tell her that I had been dreaming about her for TWO weeks. It was true. She had popped up in a bunch of my dreams. I would be sitting at a table with a celebrity and on the other side of me there is my old friend.
She said, "Wow. Maybe you have some kind of intuition because I'm calling to tell you something. [Girlfriend's name] and I are getting married."
For the second time today, I screamed. Shed a couple more tears. Then she couldn't understand me for a minute because I was yelling for her to tell me everything. The problem is when I get excited and start yelling I don't believe my cell phone can pick up my frequency. So I had to calm down a bit so she could tell me.
We spent the next hour catching up (it had been a while since we talked) and I did my best to get all the details (she's not really a detail kind of girl).
And there you have it. One regular day turned into an AWESOME day where two friends that I love told me they were getting married. What a great day. Now I can't wait to start helping them plan the weddings!
For my TV fan readers, here's my favorite.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
My Magic Words
One of my close friends here has a no-fail way to get her to go out. All you have to do is call her, tell her there will be alcohol, and that you'll come pick her up. She can rarely resist.
Yesterday, we learned my magic words. Mutton Bustin'--AKA the greatest rodeo event EVER.
My friend called me in the middle of the afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to the Pasadena Rodeo. And then she said my magic words. See, her friends had small children and they would be entering in Mutton Bustin'. Even though I was laying on the couch, still groggy from my nap that I had just taken, I immediately responded 'yes'.
This Jersey Girl, who grew up going down the shore, taking the train into the city, and heading to diners in the middle of the night, LOVES the rodeo. Since I've lived in Texas, I haven't missed the Houston Rodeo and each year I learn about these local ones and we head to those too.
Three main components made me fall in love:
Yesterday, we learned my magic words. Mutton Bustin'--AKA the greatest rodeo event EVER.
My friend called me in the middle of the afternoon and asked if I wanted to go to the Pasadena Rodeo. And then she said my magic words. See, her friends had small children and they would be entering in Mutton Bustin'. Even though I was laying on the couch, still groggy from my nap that I had just taken, I immediately responded 'yes'.
This Jersey Girl, who grew up going down the shore, taking the train into the city, and heading to diners in the middle of the night, LOVES the rodeo. Since I've lived in Texas, I haven't missed the Houston Rodeo and each year I learn about these local ones and we head to those too.
File photo. Houston Rode 2010. That's me ON the bull.
Three main components made me fall in love:
- Mutton Bustin' (already mentioned)
- Calf Scramble
- Festival food
Photos from Galveston County Rodeo 2010
File photo. Random adorable kid at the rodeo.
I CANNOT wait to dress up my kids as cowboys/cowgirls.
File photo. I love this pic because I feel like the bull's facial expression says it all.
File photo. Not the best shot but I still like it.
The many cowboy hats in the foreground,
and of course, the bull riding really makes it scream TEXAS!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Misadventures in Making Myself a Better Person
I've recently been making decisions to make myself a "better" person. One of these things is to be more creative. So, I enrolled in a photography class.
But it's me, so there was no way it could have gone smoothly.
I'm not taking the photography class anymore. Yes, just a few posts ago, I wrote about how excited I was and today, I'm telling you I withdrew from the class.
The difference is that I went to the instructor's own website. Don't ask why I didn't think to do this before. I guess I just assumed the instructor would be talented. I still strive today to be like my photography teachers and professors that I had while I was in the past.
I don't know if it's appropriate to share the photographer's website, especially since I'm about to say some not so great things about his work. So, I'll leave you with this image: Think about the shots you took when you were a kid. Heads were chopped off, fingers were in the way, etc. The "art" in those shots are comparable to the art that's displayed on this man's website.
So, I showed my friend that was taking the class with me the site. She too was shocked. We decided that there was no way we were going to be able to take this man's class seriously. We called to withdraw from the class.
My friend was on the phone for about 3-4 minutes. Withdrawn.
I called, requested to withdraw and the following 15-minute conversation ensued:
Note: ::Inner monologue::
School Rep: Why are you withdrawing?
::Great. How can I put this delicately? Ummm, you're instructor's a joke::
Me: Well, I did some research on the instructor and found his personal website. I just don't think his work is in line with what I would like to do.
School Rep: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
School Rep: Can you hold for a minute?
Me: Sure.
Approximately 30 seconds of holding
School Rep: Do you mind speaking with the instructor's boss?
Me: Sure ::Great. This is escalating. This could only happen to me::
Head of Dept: Hello.
::Yes, this is how he started. I thought, is he going to say something? Does he know why I'm on the phone with him?::
Me: Hi, this is blah blah. I was speaking to the representative to withdraw from the photography class.
Head of Dept: Would you mind explaining to me why you're withdrawing?
Me: Well, I came across the instructors website and just don't think that his work is in line with what I would like to do with my photography.
Head of Dept: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
Head of Dept: mumble mumble mumble ::I could tell he wasn't on the right site, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.::
Me: So, you see how most of his work is just point-and-shoot, right? This just isn't the type of class I was looking for.
Head of Dept: What kind of class were you looking for?
Me: I was expecting a class that was more, ummm, artsy. ::How can I delicately put that this photographer's work is not as good as mine? I'm hoping to learn in my class not teach the instructor::
Head of Dept: Oh, well. So-and-so is a renowned Houston photographer.
Me: Well, I assume he's putting his best work on the website and this just isn't something I was looking for. I have a camera worth a $1000 and want to learn the proper way to shoot with it. ::He has his camera set to all auto-settings and he's just framing the shot in the center and clicking a button! He would produce the same work with one of those disposable cameras::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well, thanks for letting me know.
10 minutes later my phone rings.
Head of Dept: Hi, I just wanted to let you know that the photographer's website is blahblahblah.com.
Me: Yes, I know. That's the site I was on. ::I KNEW IT! I could tell he was on the wrong site. I can't believe he's calling me back thinking that this work is better? Do not even want to see what site he was on before::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well sorry for bothering you.
Rather than just leaving it there, I decided I was going to be "helpful". To do this, I emailed him a list of sites of photographers I like and those that I have hired. I assumed he would see the VAST difference in technique and just drop it. I explained that I aspired to be like photographers I would hire.
He wrote back and said that the photographer takes his students out of the classroom and shoots with them. He also thought a conversation with the instructor would help. Whaaaat? How do either of those things make a difference? The photographers I sent have beautiful skills and technique. This guy's taking shots I took when I was 7.
After all these attempts, he wasn't getting it. So in my final email, I had to come out and say it. I just didn't like his work. I couldn't take a class where I didn't respect the instructor's work PERIOD
So now my husband thinks I'm a quitter--did I mention he doesn't have an artful eye? Even showing him the photographer's website all he could say was "Does he only shoot women?" Ahh, my husband. So insightful.
I'm keeping my eyes open for another class but also picked up a very thorough instruction book. I might just start assigning myself some projects and see how they go.
So in typical Chubby Transplant fashion, MISSION: TEMPORARILY ON HOLD DUE TO RIDICULOUSNESS AROUND ME
But it's me, so there was no way it could have gone smoothly.
I'm not taking the photography class anymore. Yes, just a few posts ago, I wrote about how excited I was and today, I'm telling you I withdrew from the class.
The difference is that I went to the instructor's own website. Don't ask why I didn't think to do this before. I guess I just assumed the instructor would be talented. I still strive today to be like my photography teachers and professors that I had while I was in the past.
I don't know if it's appropriate to share the photographer's website, especially since I'm about to say some not so great things about his work. So, I'll leave you with this image: Think about the shots you took when you were a kid. Heads were chopped off, fingers were in the way, etc. The "art" in those shots are comparable to the art that's displayed on this man's website.
So, I showed my friend that was taking the class with me the site. She too was shocked. We decided that there was no way we were going to be able to take this man's class seriously. We called to withdraw from the class.
My friend was on the phone for about 3-4 minutes. Withdrawn.
I called, requested to withdraw and the following 15-minute conversation ensued:
Note: ::Inner monologue::
School Rep: Why are you withdrawing?
::Great. How can I put this delicately? Ummm, you're instructor's a joke::
Me: Well, I did some research on the instructor and found his personal website. I just don't think his work is in line with what I would like to do.
School Rep: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
School Rep: Can you hold for a minute?
Me: Sure.
Approximately 30 seconds of holding
School Rep: Do you mind speaking with the instructor's boss?
Me: Sure ::Great. This is escalating. This could only happen to me::
Head of Dept: Hello.
::Yes, this is how he started. I thought, is he going to say something? Does he know why I'm on the phone with him?::
Me: Hi, this is blah blah. I was speaking to the representative to withdraw from the photography class.
Head of Dept: Would you mind explaining to me why you're withdrawing?
Me: Well, I came across the instructors website and just don't think that his work is in line with what I would like to do with my photography.
Head of Dept: What was the website?
Me: blahblahblah.com
Head of Dept: mumble mumble mumble ::I could tell he wasn't on the right site, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.::
Me: So, you see how most of his work is just point-and-shoot, right? This just isn't the type of class I was looking for.
Head of Dept: What kind of class were you looking for?
Me: I was expecting a class that was more, ummm, artsy. ::How can I delicately put that this photographer's work is not as good as mine? I'm hoping to learn in my class not teach the instructor::
Head of Dept: Oh, well. So-and-so is a renowned Houston photographer.
Me: Well, I assume he's putting his best work on the website and this just isn't something I was looking for. I have a camera worth a $1000 and want to learn the proper way to shoot with it. ::He has his camera set to all auto-settings and he's just framing the shot in the center and clicking a button! He would produce the same work with one of those disposable cameras::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well, thanks for letting me know.
10 minutes later my phone rings.
Head of Dept: Hi, I just wanted to let you know that the photographer's website is blahblahblah.com.
Me: Yes, I know. That's the site I was on. ::I KNEW IT! I could tell he was on the wrong site. I can't believe he's calling me back thinking that this work is better? Do not even want to see what site he was on before::
Head of Dept: Oh, okay. Well sorry for bothering you.
Rather than just leaving it there, I decided I was going to be "helpful". To do this, I emailed him a list of sites of photographers I like and those that I have hired. I assumed he would see the VAST difference in technique and just drop it. I explained that I aspired to be like photographers I would hire.
He wrote back and said that the photographer takes his students out of the classroom and shoots with them. He also thought a conversation with the instructor would help. Whaaaat? How do either of those things make a difference? The photographers I sent have beautiful skills and technique. This guy's taking shots I took when I was 7.
After all these attempts, he wasn't getting it. So in my final email, I had to come out and say it. I just didn't like his work. I couldn't take a class where I didn't respect the instructor's work PERIOD
So now my husband thinks I'm a quitter--did I mention he doesn't have an artful eye? Even showing him the photographer's website all he could say was "Does he only shoot women?" Ahh, my husband. So insightful.
I'm keeping my eyes open for another class but also picked up a very thorough instruction book. I might just start assigning myself some projects and see how they go.
So in typical Chubby Transplant fashion, MISSION: TEMPORARILY ON HOLD DUE TO RIDICULOUSNESS AROUND ME
Thursday, September 8, 2011
My 9/11
Now's there's tears on the pillow
Darlin' where we slept
And you took my heart when you left
Without your sweet kiss
My soul is lost, my friend
Tell me how do I begin again?
My city's in ruins
My city's in ruins
Sometimes I wonder if 9/11 shouldn't have affected me as much as it did since I didn't lose anyone nor did I know anyone that lost someone. This is hard to believe since I grew up only 20 miles outside of the city in a town where a lot of parents commuted there. But I guess, we were all blessed.
But still, I remember much of this day as though it was yesterday. I can't believe it's been 10 years.
Had you met me prior to the fall of 2001, I would have told you something about me. Something that typically now takes years for me to build up the trust to tell you. Although after only a few short weeks, I will be telling you here.
I am half Arabic. Half Palestinian to be exact.
Half Palestinian. Half Euro-Mutt. All American.
When I was growing up, I used to tell everyone that fact. I thought it was cool because it made me different. I wasn't raised exposed to the culture so I wasn't telling everyone because I necessarily identified myself as an Arab. But for me, it meant I could stay in the sun longer with little-to-no sunscreen and I rarely met anyone else that could say the same thing. I was raised in NJ. Pretty much I was surrounded by Italians, Jews, Irish, and Indians.
I left for college at the end of August 2001. I was only 17 miles from home (still only 25 miles from NYC), but I made the decision to stay on campus to get the "full" college experience. It was the first time I would ever be away from home (I never even went to camp growing up). By Tuesday, September 11, we were only through Freshman orientation and the first week of classes. I had made some friends by this point--roommate, classmates, and floormates.
For some reason, I chose a Women's Studies class for my freshman seminar. Now, I believe in women's rights--hell, I was raised by a female police officer. But, I'm far from the stereotypical liberal arts college feminist. I stuck out like a sore thumb in this class. Maybe I was there just to make it interesting. Lord knows, I argued with everyone about every topic.
On Tuesdays that semester, I only had one class. It was that women's studies class (something about women in literature, I can't remember the exact course name now) at 9 AM. On this morning, like many others, I rolled out of bed, brushed my teeth, and threw on a bra under my pajamas to head to that class. I didn't turn on the TV and I didn't wake up to a radio alarm.
We sat there for 50 minutes "talking"--well, mostly I was talking and the majority of the rest of the class was whining--about how fairy tales affect female children. The damsel in distress role taught our young girls that they needed a man to save them, blah, blah, blah. Listen, I enjoyed a LOT of fairy tales as a child. And yes, I wanted my Happily Ever After. But I was also surrounded by really strong gifted women growing up. I knew I could be happy and never have to compromise who I am. Sure, my prince may have to kiss me to wake me up but if it was too early, I was going to tell him off.
My friend (a floormate that I had only known for about 2 weeks) and I walked back to our dorm. We huffed about how we felt everyone had overreacted. She went into her room and I walked just a few more doors down to mine. My roommate was still asleep--she didn't have an early class on Tuesday. The dark room was very inviting. I got into my bed, the low bunk, curled up under the covers, and planned to go back to sleep (the truth was this was the whole reason I went to class in my pajamas, so I could go right back to sleep after).
I didn't turn on the TV. Didn't even turn on my computer.
Just as I was closing my eyes, that friend of mine that I just "dropped off" at her room started banging on my door as hard as she could. ::BANG BANG BANG:: I opened it to find her hysterically crying. It was hard for me to make out what she was saying. There was something about planes and the Towers. She told me to put the news on.
By this point, my roommate was awake too. We turned the TV on--it didn't matter what channel. They all had the same thing on. The first Tower had already fallen. My friend and I sat on my lower bunk, jaws open in disbelief. Our eyes filled with tears. My roommate sat up in her top bunk and did the same.
We soon learned that this had been going on the entire time we were in class. I have guilt to this day for that reason. People were suffering, people were dying and I was in class listening to a room full of 18-year-old know-it-alls complaining about fairy tales.
They played the image of the planes crashing into the Towers over and over. Even today, this image doesn't just evoke emotions from me but my eyes instantly swell with tears.
We watched the second Tower fall.
After that, much of the day is a blur. I don't remember speaking with my parents but I know I did. I don't remember leaving the room--not until the evening, at least. I spoke to all my friends to make sure their families were okay but I couldn't tell you which ones I spoke with that day and which ones I spoke with during the rest of the week. I remember at some point in the day/evening trying to call my now-husband and not being able to reach him. He was in Atlanta so it was safe to assume he was okay but I still wanted to hear his voice.
The only thing I do remember from that foggy period is that I was horrified that I would see my last name appear on the list of attackers. My maiden name is a very common Palestinian name. Just as a coincidence, I hadn't told anyone what my ethnicity was during the short time I was at school. Surprising, since prior to that day, it was something I bragged about.
I wasn't concerned that I knew anyone that could do this. I was concerned that people would find out what my last name was. People would know that I was Arabic. With the way the world was in that moment, I didn't trust anyone to know my secret. In fact, my roommate that I remained close with wouldn't find out my truth for another year and a half. You see, I was raised in NJ and have olive skin. Everyone thinks I'm Italian. That was fine by me.
It's nice to think that everyone lives in harmony, but no one knows how people will act in a moment of tragedy. I wouldn't blame anyone either. It's nice to run around and pretend we're blind to race, creed, gender and ethnicity. But we're not. People do awful things when they're afraid.
So for years to come, this was my secret. It was never really a burden. It was just something that I didn't share.
Recounting 9/11 today made me realize one thing. It was the day I lost my innocence. I remember so many details leading up to that moment, and then suddenly it becomes as blurry as any other memory.
My heart is still heavy for those who lost someone they loved that day. I still have so much respect for the men and women that ran toward the smoke, into the fire, into the falling buildings when everyone else was running out. I still cry when I really sit down and think about this or see images from that day. It's a moment that changed my life. Not for the better and not necessarily for the worse. But it changed.
During a week when just about everyone is reflecting, this is my story.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
I Used to Write Poetry
I wrote this late Sunday night. Ironically, it's almost poetic. <--- Don't read that as groundbreaking or talented. I'm just saying it has a flow to it like poetry.
My husband had never seen Basketball Diaries, so we watched that tonight. I've seen it before. It's a pretty good movie. Something he definitely should have seen. And let's be honest, my crush on Leonardo DiCaprio has only gotten bigger over all these years.
I couldn't help but think while watching it, I used to write poetry.
I used to write poetry.
I used to draw.
I used to be so creative.
When did I stop? Why did I stop?
Is this one of those awful side effects to being an adult? All of a sudden I had to stop being creative.
I can't believe I stopped writing poetry. I used to be really proud of the poetry I wrote. I used to think it was such a great way to express myself.
Why don't I write poetry any more? Why aren't I creative any more?
I just let this part of me disappear. I never fought for it. I just let it go.
In a lot of ways, I haven't changed at all. But in a lot of different ways, I can't even recognize myself.
Oh, this life crisis is really getting to me.
Well, to continue on int his fight for creativity, I bought some sketch pads and charcoal and drew this last night:
My husband had never seen Basketball Diaries, so we watched that tonight. I've seen it before. It's a pretty good movie. Something he definitely should have seen. And let's be honest, my crush on Leonardo DiCaprio has only gotten bigger over all these years.
I couldn't help but think while watching it, I used to write poetry.
I used to write poetry.
I used to draw.
I used to be so creative.
When did I stop? Why did I stop?
Is this one of those awful side effects to being an adult? All of a sudden I had to stop being creative.
I can't believe I stopped writing poetry. I used to be really proud of the poetry I wrote. I used to think it was such a great way to express myself.
Why don't I write poetry any more? Why aren't I creative any more?
I just let this part of me disappear. I never fought for it. I just let it go.
In a lot of ways, I haven't changed at all. But in a lot of different ways, I can't even recognize myself.
Oh, this life crisis is really getting to me.
Well, to continue on int his fight for creativity, I bought some sketch pads and charcoal and drew this last night:
This is my version of the Born to Run album cover.
It's something I wanted to do since the Big Man passed away.
Last night, I finally did it.
So in the last month, in my quest to bring creativity back to my life, I started a blog, signed up for a photography class, and began drawing again. I might just be heading in the right direction.
Update to Fresh Start... Again: In week 2, I LOST .2 pounds. That was one of the first times ever in my life I saw that size fraction of a pound and was so happy/proud of myself. This is the whole point of what I'm doing. I want to celebrate the little things and be proud of myself for them. Last week, I was proud I lost .2 pounds. And I was even more proud of myself for being proud of myself.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
How We Spent Our 10th Dating Anniversary
WARNING: HUSBAND AND HUSBAND'S FAMILY SHOULD NOT READ THIS
Here's another way my in-laws screwed up my husband. Well, let's be honest. This is another way my MIL screwed up my husband.
Can I digress for a minute? What is with the mother-son relationship? I know I don't have a child yet so maybe I can't speak, but I don't know a single man that has a healthy relationship with his mother. Ugghhh...
So, I've mentioned it before. My husband is ridiculously sensitive. And not in the hunky dark and damaged way. No, in the whiny I-have-to-watch-every-single-word-out-of-my-mouth way. I assume this has to do with not getting enough love as a child or not being hugged enough or not getting enough attention (or being loved too much as a child or being hugged too much or getting too much attention--although my hunch would be the first list in his scenario).
We've been together for 10 years now. However, spending the first 7 years apart meant that I didn't see this side of him for a long time. It was sexy that when we were leaving each other at the airport and his eyes filled with tears. I was under the impression he was acting this way because he was just so much in love with me.
Nope. When I moved to Texas and we moved in together, I found out that his really mature way to resolve fights was to stop speaking to me for DAYS at a time. This made for an even lonelier time during my loneliest time.
Why do I bring this up today? Especially the day after I tweeted how excited I was that we were going to have a date night and celebrate our 10th anniversary (we officially started dating 9/10/2001).
The day started like it was going to be super romantic. He said we should go out to dinner, a fancy dinner. My pick. Wow, this is going to be good, right?
Well, I picked the Melting Pot. We hadn't been there in a while, it's one of my favorites, and I've been begging to go for over a year.
Since we were heading into Houston, I wanted to do something fun there--not just travel for dinner and come back. So I promptly went online and found The Music Box Theater. We had the whole night planned.
When it was time to go, I was still about 15 minutes away from being ready. Side note: I have NEVER been this girl. I was always the one waiting on all my other friends. This started about a year ago. I told my husband he might want to give me fake times from now on.
So we were on the road late. Whoops. We went to the theater picked up our tickets and headed to dinner. We got there about 20 minutes late. Our waiter was awesome. I thought we were making great time. And then, he hands us the dessert menu--the real reason we're here. I check my phone (because who wears a watch anymore?). It's 7:30. Yikes! We need to leave now. Well, the awesome part was that our waiter gave us a rain check for the dessert. PHEW! We paid and then sped away.
We went to the show at The Music Box Theater. And let me tell you, it was AWESOME! The troupe was funny. They were talented. To say we were entertained for 2 hours is an understatement. You could hear my husband after many songs say, wow and there were times that I laughed so hard I cried. My cheeks hurt at the end of the night from smiling and laughing so much. If you haven't figured it out yet, I highly recommend the show and definitely plan to be back for all their next shows.
When it was over, we hopped back into the car and headed back to the Melting Pot for dessert. We chatted about the show on our way. We sat down in the restaurant and all of a sudden, my husband wasn't talking to me. Whaaaat? I had no idea what happened. I tried to make conversation. But when it's one sided, it can only last so long. So we sat for most of dessert in awkward silence. Awkward silence?? We're celebrating 10 years together. We should be able to talk about paint drying and still be able to carry on a conversation.
I looked him straight in the eyes and I said, "Did I say something? Are you mad at me? I really don't understand what's going on here." FYI, I'm a bit of a straight-shooter. He mumbled, no. After more of this awkwardness, I asked him, "Are you tired? You're like a completely different person from before." No. That second no is the one that means, Yes, I'm mad at you but I'm not talking to you so don't try to blame this silence on me being tired.
Well, I STILL have no idea what happened. I racked my brain. Here are my two options that could have spurred this:
It was too late. I was pissed. He took a really romantic dinner and a really fun night and honestly, ruined it for me. If you had to sit across from that puss he was making, trust me, you'd feel the same way. PS That silent treatment/sit around with a puss on my face comes from his mother. This is exactly how she resolves issues too. Really excited about signing up for that fun trait.
When we got home and started getting ready for bed, I asked him one last time. What was with you tonight? "Sometimes you have to understand that your sarcastic comments really bother me." Whaaaat? again! Please remember, from the time we were talking to the time he abruptly stopped, all we discussed was the show. THE SHOW. Or the parking spot. These are not topics I think warrant getting feelings hurt.
And to boot, I was right. He looked me right in the eyes at dessert, lied to me, and continued to ruin my night. My only comfort in dealing with this crap is that I truly believe he's preparing me for CHILDREN. Ugghhh!
So that's how my really romantic husband--who yes, I love dearly but am really not liking him right now--ruined our 10th anniversary. Awesome.
Here's another way my in-laws screwed up my husband. Well, let's be honest. This is another way my MIL screwed up my husband.
Can I digress for a minute? What is with the mother-son relationship? I know I don't have a child yet so maybe I can't speak, but I don't know a single man that has a healthy relationship with his mother. Ugghhh...
So, I've mentioned it before. My husband is ridiculously sensitive. And not in the hunky dark and damaged way. No, in the whiny I-have-to-watch-every-single-word-out-of-my-mouth way. I assume this has to do with not getting enough love as a child or not being hugged enough or not getting enough attention (or being loved too much as a child or being hugged too much or getting too much attention--although my hunch would be the first list in his scenario).
We've been together for 10 years now. However, spending the first 7 years apart meant that I didn't see this side of him for a long time. It was sexy that when we were leaving each other at the airport and his eyes filled with tears. I was under the impression he was acting this way because he was just so much in love with me.
Nope. When I moved to Texas and we moved in together, I found out that his really mature way to resolve fights was to stop speaking to me for DAYS at a time. This made for an even lonelier time during my loneliest time.
Why do I bring this up today? Especially the day after I tweeted how excited I was that we were going to have a date night and celebrate our 10th anniversary (we officially started dating 9/10/2001).
The day started like it was going to be super romantic. He said we should go out to dinner, a fancy dinner. My pick. Wow, this is going to be good, right?
Well, I picked the Melting Pot. We hadn't been there in a while, it's one of my favorites, and I've been begging to go for over a year.
Since we were heading into Houston, I wanted to do something fun there--not just travel for dinner and come back. So I promptly went online and found The Music Box Theater. We had the whole night planned.
When it was time to go, I was still about 15 minutes away from being ready. Side note: I have NEVER been this girl. I was always the one waiting on all my other friends. This started about a year ago. I told my husband he might want to give me fake times from now on.
So we were on the road late. Whoops. We went to the theater picked up our tickets and headed to dinner. We got there about 20 minutes late. Our waiter was awesome. I thought we were making great time. And then, he hands us the dessert menu--the real reason we're here. I check my phone (because who wears a watch anymore?). It's 7:30. Yikes! We need to leave now. Well, the awesome part was that our waiter gave us a rain check for the dessert. PHEW! We paid and then sped away.
We went to the show at The Music Box Theater. And let me tell you, it was AWESOME! The troupe was funny. They were talented. To say we were entertained for 2 hours is an understatement. You could hear my husband after many songs say, wow and there were times that I laughed so hard I cried. My cheeks hurt at the end of the night from smiling and laughing so much. If you haven't figured it out yet, I highly recommend the show and definitely plan to be back for all their next shows.
When it was over, we hopped back into the car and headed back to the Melting Pot for dessert. We chatted about the show on our way. We sat down in the restaurant and all of a sudden, my husband wasn't talking to me. Whaaaat? I had no idea what happened. I tried to make conversation. But when it's one sided, it can only last so long. So we sat for most of dessert in awkward silence. Awkward silence?? We're celebrating 10 years together. We should be able to talk about paint drying and still be able to carry on a conversation.
I looked him straight in the eyes and I said, "Did I say something? Are you mad at me? I really don't understand what's going on here." FYI, I'm a bit of a straight-shooter. He mumbled, no. After more of this awkwardness, I asked him, "Are you tired? You're like a completely different person from before." No. That second no is the one that means, Yes, I'm mad at you but I'm not talking to you so don't try to blame this silence on me being tired.
Well, I STILL have no idea what happened. I racked my brain. Here are my two options that could have spurred this:
- There was a bit with "Judy Garland" and "Liza Minnelli" during the show. My husband told me that he didn't get it. So I had to explain that they were mother and daughter. I was a little surprised that he didn't know this. So if at any point in my explanation, I said, 'oh, you didn't know that' it becomes that I'm a condescending bitch. But I don't remember saying anything like that in my explanation but as you can see, I could have said anything and the meaning can be construed to just about anything.
- There was no parking near the restaurant so we had to park pretty far. I was wearing these killer 5" heels. Oh, they are they sexiest shoes I have ever owned! I digress. So, as he parked, he asked, "Is this okay?" It didn't really bother me. The restaurant is in a strip mall and we were like 2 stores over. The problem was there was a HUGE crack in the pavement in the spot that neither of us saw. When I got out, I [almost] took a pretty bad tumble. Totally twisted my ankle (not the permanent damage way though). So I think I mumbled something like, "Oh, yeah, great spot. I almost killed myself." Now please understand, I was mad at the SPOT not him. He didn't see it. I didn't see it as I was stepping out into it. No what I've learned over these last 3 years, I might have hurt his feeling with that statement. You know, the one I made while my ankle was throbbing. Awesome.
It was too late. I was pissed. He took a really romantic dinner and a really fun night and honestly, ruined it for me. If you had to sit across from that puss he was making, trust me, you'd feel the same way. PS That silent treatment/sit around with a puss on my face comes from his mother. This is exactly how she resolves issues too. Really excited about signing up for that fun trait.
When we got home and started getting ready for bed, I asked him one last time. What was with you tonight? "Sometimes you have to understand that your sarcastic comments really bother me." Whaaaat? again! Please remember, from the time we were talking to the time he abruptly stopped, all we discussed was the show. THE SHOW. Or the parking spot. These are not topics I think warrant getting feelings hurt.
And to boot, I was right. He looked me right in the eyes at dessert, lied to me, and continued to ruin my night. My only comfort in dealing with this crap is that I truly believe he's preparing me for CHILDREN. Ugghhh!
So that's how my really romantic husband--who yes, I love dearly but am really not liking him right now--ruined our 10th anniversary. Awesome.
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