Trial and Error

Tomorrow I will blog

2010-06-24T10:07:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking about returning to the blog scene for some time now. Everytime I think about it I say to myself, "tomorrow I will blog." But then tomorrow turns into another day and another and another and before you know it time had flown by and the blog is still untouched. Today I decided that tomorrow as arrived. So here I am infront of the screen typing words into space still wondering if I should be blogging or journalling. Does it matter? Maybe....

Not for the Weak

2009-03-30T12:32:00.003-04:00

Lebanon is not for the weak at heart. It is not for the weak at faith, either. It is for the brave, the trailblazers, the fearless. It is a land of contradictions, of continuous change, of consistencies and inconsistencies, challenges, opportunities and threats. Lebanon is a place that, at the same time, is appealing and repelling to the eyes, ears, nose and tongues. It is not a place for the weary, the doubtful or mocking. It is someplace where anything, and everything, is possible. And nothing but a journey to the center of the country can reveal that.

In the 3 years since I have been there so much has happened. So much bad, and not as much good – at least not on the public front. So many assassinations, sit-ins, demonstrations, political unrest, economic unrest, dragged the city on and wore it out. Lebanon was shelled from the outside, bombed from the inside, bankrupted, torn apart, bastardized. And yet it still stood. In the face of all, it remained, and remains. I thought it was a miracle but it really was the people – those unrelenting Lebanese with their will to push on no matter what the cost, what the prize.

A part of me envies those that hang tall, or short, in Lebanon. Those friends of mine who have found a way to make it work, to fight through the barricades and get married and start families. But a bigger part of me believes the country is better left to those who have remained in it. The rich are getting richer and the poor poorer so much so that you could almost reach out and touch that fine line of demarcation. The skyscrapers are a sure tell-tale sign but so are the people on the streets and in the stores.

Driving over a certain bridge in Beirut I could both conceptualize and visualize my departing from the opulence of the rich to the paucity of the poor. It is present in the buildings, in the roads, in the people. It is strikingly obvious you cannot ignore it.

Walking into a certain store in Beirut you could hear those who have and those who have not. Those who have not were asking their boss for their paychecks (it was already the 10th of the month) and those who have (or at least in this case have more) were telling their workers that they did not have the cash to pay them just yet. It was a classic case of cash flow issues. But it was also a classic case of expecting your workers to wait until you could afford to pay them and being certain they will not walk away on you – where would they go? They are lucky enough to even find a place that offers even sporadic paychecks.

This incident put a smile on my face – not a happy smile – but a smile of knowing I was back in Lebanon. The familiarity of it all, the certainty of knowing this is how it has always been and will always be, the confidence that this is a place I could navigate with my eyes closed without having to be a high-level communicator, without having to be cautious of hidden fees, of sale scams, of the fine print. It was a place of community, of interdependence, of sharing.

The weather was gorgeous and that was really a bonus- Jeff would have loved the weather, but he would have hated most everything else- the craziness of it all that is bitter-sweet.

I loved being with family; my cousins have grown up so much and have become such beautiful and successful people. It was great to see the transformation they had undergone since I last saw them in 2005. My grandparents have gotten older but my aunts and uncles have not changed.

What also remains unchanged is the power outages, the traffic, the noise and the dirty streets. Everyone still smokes everywhere and there is no consideration for babies, elders or the sick. It is simply a given that you have no objection to cigarettes and even nonsmokers oblige and are expected to do so. While Starbucks remains a smoking free haven, this is an anomaly rather than a trend. Surprisingly, that anomaly recently got a twin; AUB’s newest addition: the Charles W. Hostler Student Center, an $11.7M gift to the students of AUB and its alumni.

The traffic remains constantly backed-up and everyone still drives in that invisible middle-lane. Sidewalks are optional and there are just as many people on the roads as there are cars and the notion of a cross walk is just as foreign to the Lebanese as traffic lights. Vespas compete with hummers and 4x4s for driving priority and the sound of the horn is an undisputed constant. Despite this traffic jungle, astonishingly not many accidents happen on these narrow and decaying roads.

Sukleen is still as successful as ever - how the Lebanese could ever live without the Sudanese, the Syrians, the Egyptians and other "foreign" workers cleaning up after them I do not know. Trash cans serve decorative purposes only, and are secretly discouraged; If you did use them you would be denying some poor fellow the measly paycheck at the end of the month - and you do not want to bear the brunt of guilt of having put someone out of work, do you?

In all fairness though, a word praising the development of Beirut is due. Beirutis now are required to be armed with loads of 500 LPs in coins to feed the newly emerging and still expanding parking meters. Yes, you have read correctly. The streets of Beirut, while not all just yet, are now neatly lined with shiny new parking meters that are regularly manned by meter maids – male maids – scouting for that one car whose time has expired by no more than a minute in order to slap a ticket to the windshield. Surprised? Well, hold your horses, this is not where the story ends. I was certainly surprised to see that the government had finally figured out a new revenue generating mechanism that did not involve further sales tax, panhandling on the doors of other wealthy countries, or raising the price of gas, wheat, water or electricity. I was actually proud there for a minute until I was given the real scoop on this arrangement.

These parking meters were actually privately owned by a company who bought, installed and ran the meters, collected the revenues and paid the meter maids. That company is owned by no other than the city manager of Beirut! Yes, that is correct – the Beirut city manager owns a parking meter company, uses public land for revenue generation, collects the revenue and gives the government its share after pocketing undisclosed sums of cash. Welcome to Lebanon! Worse of all, if you do get fined you have to pay the fine at the meter where the ticket was written; don't ask, don't tell!

Good Luck Lebanon. May you become developed one of these days!

2008 - not just another year

2008-11-22T20:19:00.001-05:00

2008 has gone by so fast. In a matter of months we went from painting our house in Portland to packing our bags and moving back to the East Coast. We lived in Bethesda before settling in Arlington, if only temporarily.

From then on it was working and living in New York for a month, to working in DC and living in VA. Vancouver BC in the dead cold of January, San Francisco in the wonders of the Spring, Nashville in the heat of July, another visit to San Francisco in the Fall, and the seasons faded into each other. With Winter well on its way, it is Thanksgiving in New York, and December in Seattle and Portland.

And, if that was not enough to keep you guessing where Ranya is going next, she is on the fly again. Breaking the cold of the winter with a trip to warm Jordan at the end of November, she will hail the New Year in Beirut.

From being naturalized and obtaining her American passport, to voting during the historical American elections, Ranya conquered miles this year. Working at a hospital, then going on a job-hunting spree, she unexpectedly took on more responsibilities than she ever thought she would. Starting off as merely the office manager, she is now not only taking part in business development and procurement, but is also being sent as a delegate of the company to international conferences around the world.

But work and travel are not the only things that have occupied Ranya during 2008. Her very first football game was packaged in club level seats, and her spiritual journey pinnacled with concluding the Koran for the very first time in less than 30 days. Her yoga practice has taken a whole new dimension, with regular classes 4 times a week, and the presence of her husband to share the journey. New recipes were mastered with her cooking repertoire expanding to include items such as beef brisket, coconut mussels and finally mastering sfoof!

This year certainly left nothing to be desired, except maybe the pitter-patter of little feet. But that, my friends, is a chapter for another year. Stay tuned!

Homemade Strawberry Vinigrette

2008-10-13T17:25:00.002-04:00

Here's a wonderful way to get rid of that red balsamic vinegar that you bought ages ago and did not like.

Boil 5 frozen strawberries with a tablespoon of white sugar and 4 tablespoons of the vinegar. Once the berries are soft, transfer to a food processor and pulse until the berries are puried into the mixture. Return to pot and bring to boil again, reduce heat and leave to simmer 4 minutes. Pour into glass container and let cool completely. Serve with your favorite goat cheese and cranberry salad. I add dried apricots, sunflower seeds, endives and lettuce to mine. Yum!

The Visitor

2008-10-12T21:09:00.002-04:00

"In a world of six billion people, it only takes one to change your life."

excerpt from the movie, The Visitor

There are some movies that come and go and others that stay with you. Some that you see for fun, for a laugh, or to waste time. Then, there are those that take you away, absorb you in and remind you of things that you would have rather forgotten. "After a while you forget, you think you belong." But do you really? Do you really belong? Or is it just a smoke screen? Something you tell yourself in order to carry on? You really think you belong and you build your life around that belief. You live for years. And then, it all ends. In one sudden, unassuming move, it all washes away. You are removed from that which you had put together. You are taken away, no questions asked and no answers. You are suddenly back, back to that place from which you had tried to escape. Back to persecution, back to abandonment.

What on earth am I writing about? Watch the Visitor. Pretend you are an immigrant. Put yourself in their shoes. See how you feel. See what you think. What do you think?

I think life is full of surprises. Some good, some not so good. Some - like me - are forunate. Others, not as much. I will never get deported, I am a citizen now. But there are others, many others who will never have a chance at that. Who will always live with the fear of being randomly stopped in the metro station and find themselves in a detention facility on their way back to where they came from. And many of them, (I cannot generalise to say all of them) are innocent people, here to try for a better life, are here looking for safety and security. They will never know.........Or worse, they would have only started to know, to feel, to live, in time to be sent back, to be deprived, to be denied......... Why?

I'm packing my bags!

2008-06-01T07:52:00.002-04:00

New York here I come!!!

It is like a dream come true. I get the call on Wednesday and all of a sudden I am quitting my part-time sales job and gearing up for my month-long stay in NY! I am besides myself with excitement and I am quickly running out of people to call and tell. This must be one of the best things that has happened to me this year. And I am certain there will be more to come....

words to live by

2008-05-02T21:32:00.002-04:00

Those who shape our lives

2008-05-02T20:48:00.004-04:00

Another year, Another dish

2008-02-01T17:20:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year.

Another new year, another milestone in Ranya’s cooking. It’s been a while since I last attempted to create complex and labor intensive meals and with Mom leaving our freezer well-stocked, I had become more of a consumer than a producer. This weekend in January, however, brought about a change – a stride towards earning the title “house-wife” in all its Lebanese grandiosity. I made Kibbeh Arnbieh, and am actually proud of the outcome. I had delivered a meal close enough in taste, texture and look to what Jeff and I had last had at Tant Nano’s, and I want to share the story.

It all started with an unplanned stroll to New Seasons market, one of the more prestigious and spendy of the stores in Portland. Jeff and I do not typically shop there, except for such items as Organic Olive Ciabatta, Clover Honey in bulk, body wash in bulk, water refills and, when Mom was here, deserts. As a matter of fact, and come to think of it, we hardly ever get anything more than that from there, other than the occasional odds and ends when we find ourselves in a pickle. We do certainly, nonetheless, like to stroll over there every now and then, especially when the weather permits, to see what they are sampling and to browse their isles.

On this Sunday morning, I found myself at New Seasons while talking to Dad. I had received a blue tooth device from Jeff for the Eid and I was putting it to use after finishing my Starbucks Mocha. Jeff was still in the coffee shop reading his way through the $5 Sunday New York Times when I put my $.24 a minute call through to Beirut. One street led to another and then I was looking at a crate of blissfully colored blood oranges. They had a few cut open and I was instantly drawn to their distinctive crimson flesh and their characteristically colored.

In Lebanon, blood oranges, known as Laymon Mawardy, are a near staple in households when in season. Not only are they marveled for their wonderfully tart and yet sweet juice but they are also sought after for their beauty; a fruit that brings to mind the sun setting over a calm blue sea and rising at dusk from behind a serene white mountain.

Their juice serves not only as the primary source of Vitamin C to children and adults, alike but also as an ingredient in several Lebanese dishes. The most renown, and possibly the most difficult and time consuming of these, is Kibbeh Arnbeih, an explosion of flavors in your mouth. And that is the dish I brought to our table on that Sunday afternoon.

A concoction of juices extracted from navel oranges, blood oranges, mandarins and lemon stirred in with caramelized onions and tahini brings forth a dish that calls upon the taste buds to work collectively and individually to discern the complexity of the flavors. Sweet, tart, nutty, earthly, meaty, and, when mixed with rice, starchy. Kibbeh Arnbeih is a witness to how the simplest of the ingredients can bring forth the most complex of dishes.

You start with browning the onions, add the tahini and then slowly and steadily add the juice that has now turned a wild color of red and orange. Then comes the stirring process, and what a process: 30 minutes of continuous round movements – with a wooden spoon- over moderate heat. When the tahini breaks into an oil surface you know you are nearing the end of stirring. You add the kibbeh, stir a little longer, cover and let the flavors marry. Then, you enjoy!

Enjoy!

and the painting stopped!

2008-01-22T23:38:00.000-05:00

Visit our wonderful house at the link below and enjoy the virtual tour.

http://client.prudential.imprev.net/email/1817/23284/index.ipv

let the painting begin!

2007-11-05T20:57:00.000-05:00

Another one bites the dust....

2006-12-22T09:49:00.000-05:00

My phone rings at 6:30 this morning and Jeff and I wake up startled. My sister's voice comes on the other end - "Rania," she says. "Yeah - what do you want?" comes the reply. "It is 6:30 in the morning and you have woken me up. Is everything okay?" Of course, with everything that is going on in Lebanon these days and with the rarity of her calls in mind, only something serious would prompt her to call me without considering what time it is on the other end of the earth. "I am getting my visa," she explodes!!! YAY!! So, she got accepted at a university in Melborne and her visa application has been equally accepted and is in the final stages of processing. With only the physical exam still needing completion before it all becomes official, it looks like "another one (Lebanese, daughter, sister, wife, Al-Abiad) bites the dust" end of February or early March. I am happy that this has happened for her, but sad that yes "another one" is biting the dust. They are all leaving, going, giving up on Lebanon. I wish it was different.... But thrilled that now Mom and Dad can be peaceful about their children and can start planning their own transition out of Lebanon and into a more relaxed, secure and peaceful place.

there is no place like home!

2006-10-25T07:50:00.000-04:00

a woman's best friend

2006-10-16T12:55:00.000-04:00

Julie and Julia - a book I was reading

2006-10-10T10:48:00.001-04:00

So there is this Julie/Julia book that I was reading. Well I am done reading it, and by done reading it I do not mean that I have finished it but that I have finished reading it. I have decided not to read it any longer than I have, that I have invested enough time and energy flipping through it pages and that it was not worth more of my time, or energy. So I put it down and mailed it on to my mother-in-law who wants to check it out as well. Despite that, however, I would certainly not place it on my "favorite" list, nor would I recommend it to others for reading - not unless you had absolutely nothing better to do with your life and had a few bucks you wanted to get rid of, or if you could get it for free from the public library (an option I had not looked into).

Well when I first got the book I was so hyped up about it, it was like the best book I had picked up all year (which is not entirely true since I had read this other wonderful book earlier this year called Delicious, which I do recommend and whose sequel my mother-in-law bought for me when she was here in DC visiting with Jeff and my mother and I). So the first chapters of the book were interesting and were an easy read, so much so that I talked about the book to everyone I know. I thought that this book was going to be my inspiration and that if the author could do it so could I. I almost idealized her, and even went to her book signing (granted my mother and I left before we got a chance to have her sign my book, but hey at least I spent some time listening to her read from the book and actually made a point of checking her out). So this was my motivational book for a while until I came to. I realised that while what she was doing - the Project - was a really neat idea, the way she wrote about it and hence the way she wrote her book, was (for lack of a better term at this point, do not forget English is my second language) nasty.

back in the kitchen

2006-10-09T09:55:00.001-04:00

Whoever said that a woman's place is in the kitchen knew what he was talking about! I am proud to think that the kitchen is my kingdom - or queendom- and I am happy to call it my own.

In the past year I have hovered from one kitchen related activity to the next. From working in a restaurant and playing with someone else's food, to cooking in my mother-in-law's kitchen and freezing meals for her, to volunteering and now working at Sur La Table, I have been involved with perishables and everything that relates to them in one way or the other. I would say I have come quite a way in the road leading to mastering cooking.

In the kitchen I am happiest, and I am only happier when the audience I am serving compliments me on the final product. Some products have failed, some have risen to center stage on the table and others are simply no-repeaters. But the experience of bringing them about is cherished whatever the result. I am working on expanding my audience. That is why I marvel at living where family abounds, after all cooking needs to be enjoyed, and I need to be complimented!

three rings in C-Ville

2006-10-08T18:48:00.000-04:00

three left hands, three well manicured fingers, three watches (all reading the same time - one hidden under the long sleeve), three wedding rings (each in a different style), and three married women (each with her own story, sad, happy, or otherwise) came together one September Sunday.
Where did they come from, where are they going, what brought them together, what will keep them apart? Different histories, different experiences, different hopes and dreams. From either corners of the world, from beyond the oceans and across the seas, cultures as different as the countries that house them. Different styles, different genes, different languages. Yet here they are, united in a closed circle, surrounded by one another. Why? How? What for?

Susan, Rana and Ranya

Love and Family

Jeff

two mothers, and...

2006-10-08T18:45:00.000-04:00

alone again...

2006-10-06T10:04:00.000-04:00

It was the first mother on Monday and the second one yesterday. The return of the mothers has become the departure of the mothers.

the return of the mothers!

2006-09-28T09:34:00.000-04:00

as Jeff put it the other day.

Yes, the return of the mothers! Mine and his. Both at our already overcrowded one bedroom apartment for the remaing September days! One on the couch and one on an air mattress, and both in the living room. We have become hostages of our bedroom and the tiny hallway that connects that to the bathroom. We cannot even tread into the kitchen without waking any of them up, or at least cause them to turn in their sleep. Bags are now decorative items on our floor and our closets have become cramped with clothes and clothes and more clothes, among other items including shampoo, body wash, spices, chocolates, etc. One of our shelves even broke the other day from the weight of the things balanced on it. We had to empty the whole closet and wait for the repairman before we could rearrange our stuff in it. What an amusement at 8:00 am before heading out to work.

But despite all the chaos and the disarray, I would not have it a differnt way - well I would want to have it in a bigger house that would fit all of us comfortably, but that is about all that I would want different. Having both my mother and my mother-in-law over for a week, or even longer, amounts to the most fun and the best company I can have. They are both wonderful people, wonderful women, wonderful mothers. They both love Jeff and me unconditionally, and would do whatever would make the two of us the happiest. They are attentive to our needs and try their best not to step on our toes or do anything to make us uncomfortable, not that they do either.

They are both fun to hang around, and they can walk and drink coffee all day! Susan plays scrabble with me - an activity that I do not much of except with her - and Rana cooks for us; I have not laid a hand in the kitchen for a month now - except to make salads. The both keep us updated on world and family affairs. We have been shopping and talking and eating and walking since Mom arrived a couple of weeks ago and Susan a couple of days ago. What more could you ask for?!

It is just so nice having them both over. I just wish I had more time to spend with them.

A Call for Help

2006-07-27T07:14:00.000-04:00

Dear Family and Friends,

As I am sure all of you know Lebanon is under fire. And by “fire” I do not only mean rockets, bombs, and disproportionate destruction, I also mean financial hardships, loss of lives, loss of homes, loss of hope, and for many loss of a future.

I have been through the war once before and I have lived its aftermaths. I, and many of my friends, know what it is like to go without and yet we have survived. Now is our chance to help others survive and now is our chance to support our country. While many of us are here in the USA, our hearts and minds and thoughts and prayers are with our families back home; almost all of our families are back home living the war day and night. But this call is not only for our families, it is for the entire community – a community that found itself without the staples of a healthy life.

I am not going to ramble on about who’s at fault in what is going on, and I am not going to list statistics and figures and numbers. I am going to list a few organizations that you can kindly contribute to in order to assist the people of Lebanon.

If I could, I would be on the first rescue/relief ship that would take me back home. But, fate has it that I cannot. Instead, I am establishing my own rescue/relief ship by asking you – dear and loved ones – to send your contributions to Lebanon.

I also urge you to forward this call on to those you love and ask them for their support. We can make a difference.

Blessed are those who care.

Thank you in the name of the people of Lebanon.

(In alphabetical order)

· Hariri Foundation Lebanon Relief Fund. City Bank, Wisconsin Avenue, Bethesda, MD 20814. Account number: 24070249. ABA number: 254070116
· Relief Lebanon - International Committee of the Red Cross: http://relieflebanon.org
· Life USA: http://www.lifeusa.org/
· Mercy Corps: http://www.mercycorps.org/
· World Vision: http://donate.wvus.org/OA_HTML/xxwvibeCCtpItmDspRte.jsp?item=1393763&cmp=EMC-1216210&xxwvCampaign=1216210

The reason I am here...My Mother

2006-07-17T17:29:00.000-04:00

someone's grandfather?!?!?!

2006-07-16T21:21:00.000-04:00

Rania and Ranya

2006-07-12T09:55:00.000-04:00

Think about it -
You meet someone and then you get married. You meet someone and you become friends. You meet someone who was dating your cousin and then they break up, but your friendship doesn't. Then your husbands meet each other. Then, one day, maybe, your children will meet each other.
You meet when you were in college, single, carefree. Your topic of discussion are classes, homework, teachers, boyfriends, going out after school, parents. You celebrate birthdays and meet each other's parents. You grow up - but not apart. Then, you get married - and miss each other's weddings...But you still meet the husbands... And manage to get together as a foursome. Now, you talk about cooking, housework, husbands, and still parents! You now see each when you can, but talk almost always. You continue to grow and celebrate birthdays, but now you do that long-distance. You send birthday gifts and cards by mail - but you stay together...
That, in short, is Rania and Ranya - the blond and the brunette; the sensible and the reckless; the wives.

Signs you are in DC...

2006-07-04T20:09:00.000-04:00

Two men...

2006-07-04T20:04:00.000-04:00

... one whom I have known since I can remember and one I will never forget. And both finally sharing the same time and space in my life - if only for the span of a few days...

Austin

2006-06-30T16:29:00.000-04:00

some songs are just too sweet. this is one of my favorites... Austin by Blake Shelton (click on Austin, go to video on the website and then choose Austin to hear it live). I learned to love and appreciate Country music following moving here and getting married to a country music lover. While I do not like country songs across the board, I have developed an ear for quite a few of them. Below is an example. Enjoy the love!

She left without leavin' a number
Said she needed to clear her mind
He figured she'd gone back to Austin
'Cause she talked about it all the time
It was almost a year before she called him up
Three rings and an answerin' machine is what she got

If you're callin' 'bout the car I sold it
If this is Tuesday night I'm bowlin'
If you've got somethin' to sell, you're wastin' your time
I'm not buyin', if it's anybody else, wait for the tone
You know what to do and P.S. if this is Austin
I still love you

The telephone fell to the counter
She heard but she couldn't believe
What kind of man would hang on that long
What kind of love that must be
She waited three days, and then she tried again
She didn't know what she'd say
But she heard three rings and then

If it's Friday night I'm at the ballgame
And first thing Saturday, if it don't rain
I'm headed out to the lake
And I'll be gone, all weekend long
But I'll call you back when I get home
On Sunday afternoon and P.S. if this is Austin
I still love you

Well, this time she left her number
But not another word
Then she waited by the phone on Sunday evenin'
And this is what he heard

If you're callin' 'bout my heart
It's still yoursI should've listened to it a little more
Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong
And by the way, boy, this is no machine you're talkin' to
Can't you tell, this is Austin, and I still love you

I still love you

Speed Limit

2006-06-29T16:46:00.000-04:00

I wanted to write an email but I did not know who to send it to. So, I decided to just write it and post it on my blog and that way whoever is interested can read it and whoever is not would be spared having to delete one more correspondence from me.

Jeff arrives today - he has been in California since Monday. And while I did not drive him to the airport it looks like I will be picking him up - much to the detriment of my Mother, if she knows. Why so? Well, simply because this means I am going to be driving Route 66 at 12:33 am to be where he is and take him home. I must admit it is a scary prospect, but now I have no choice - he just cancelled his scheduled cab so I am his only ride.

Being married to Jeff has certainly been a growing experience for me - a growing and sometimes a conflict-generating experience; internal conflict-generating, that is. Let me explain:

Take for example this drive that I am going to make tonight. For years and years I had been cautioned against driving at night. My driving curfew was set at 10:00 pm in Beirut (and while I sometimes broke that curfew, most of the times I was expected to be home by then). I was not to take the car out after dark but if I was already out before the sun set I was expected to park by the assigned time.

I was not to drive in the rain - and certainly not in rain storms. And while lately Jeff has advised me to stay "high and dry" with the rain storms here, it is generally accepted, and even expected, that I can handle any climate situation. Why I even drove in the snow once, no pains were made about that. Rather, I was commended for that.

Speed limit was set at 50 - kilometers per hour, that is. And now the slowest I drive is 35 miles an hour. Why if Mom or Dad were to ride with me they would be frantic about how fast I am going. "Drive Slow" has always been - and still is - my Mom's every advice when I tell her I am driving somewhere. But how do I explain? Going slow on the highway is by far more dangerous than going the designated speed. I sure do dread the first time she is going to sit next to me while driving on the highway here - that is going to be a tough one.

And how about "stay dry and do not go out in the rain." I am sure many of us had had that shoved down their throats many a times as they were growing up. But that all changed for me when last Saturday Jeff and I went to Riverdance at the Wolf Trap. For over two hours we sat under our umbrellas while it was pouring down on us. Had my Dad seen me, he would have surely wondered what on earth was I doing, or worse what my husband, who should be my protector, putting me through. "Making memories" that is what we were doing. And, while I did not enjoy the rain as much as I did the show, I must admit it was an okay experience.

And how about no eating in bed, do not wipe your hands on your clothes, put the dishes away as soon as the meal is done, take care of laundry as soon as it is dry, and so on and so forth. I hate to think of all the things that I now do differently. It scares me to think that I have changed, I am different person now than I was before. This is not necessarily a bad thing, it is just different. And different is scary until it becomes familiar. I am proud, though, that I am embracing change with an open mind - it is helping me grow and become my own self, a unique human being.

What I realized, though, is that changing does not mean giving up on your past or your parents or those who contributed to making you a growup. It does not mean you are ungrateful to what they have done, or turning your back on them. It merely means taking the best out of everything you learned and molding it to fit your form. It means giving special thanks to those you lost sleep over you and worried about you. It means honoring them and repaying them their debt.

Ranya's Travelling Feet

2006-06-27T16:01:00.000-04:00

From sea to shining sea and from ocean to bigger ocean my feet have been.

While on the East coast of the Mediterranean they embarked on land and air trips to sister coasts and neighbor seas. From the Syrian coast to the Turkish coast, my feet soaked the summer sun on sandy and rocky beaches. They traveled to the Red Sea whose waters they dived and took the bus to the Dead Sea where they floated in all peacefulness.

Soon enough, they left the warm waters of the Mediterranean for the cold Pacific.
The Pacific promised them newer ground and marvelous treasure. It imparted on them its different fruits and introduced them to exotic varieties.

From there they departed again – the Atlantic is now their home. Unfortunately, the Atlantic is too far to enjoy on a regular basis. Once they have been to its coast but many a times have then been to the Chesapeake Bay and the Potomac River banks.

But because of the distance separating them from the water, my feet have decided to remain grounded. And the ground is proving to be just as bountiful for them. So far they have been to 13 states and have more lined up for time to come. They have been to some states for longer and more frequently than others, but so the story goes - where there are loved ones there the feet roam. And there are loved ones both along the coast of the various seas and oceans and inland among the lakes and among other land.

Where my feet will go next only the future knows. But what my feet do know is that they will be going on their second trip to Minnesota in July, this time to stay at one of the Great Lakes. In November they will fly out to Seattle again and from there take the car to Portland for a second visit this year. Hopefully they will head to the Mediterranean again in 2007 - but that is still a ways away. For the time being, they will do their best to discover the area around them and keep moving!

I Carry ~

2006-06-21T15:48:00.000-04:00

Another inspirational poem I came across recently. One morning while I was still in my job hunting days with not much to do I decided to watch In Her Shoes. I am not a big fan of Cameron Diaz (and I actually would not choose to watch any of her movies, especially after movies like 'There is something about Mary', but this one I decided to watch because of the underlying 'sisterly' theme...As it turned out, it was another movie of Cameron's that I would not recommend (and I thought it was more of a pity-party movie aimed at wooing the viewer into feeling sorry for the character of Cameron (to whom I felt no sympathy). However, and after an hour and some of sitting through the movie something good came out of it. The poem below....

"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it
(anywhere I go you go, my dear;
and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;
which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)"

~ EE Cummings

One GIANT leap forward

2006-06-15T16:26:00.000-04:00

Today, I made a giant leap in the history of my fitness regimen. Today I did something that only a few weeks ago was unthinkable!! Something that I would have thought was "impossible," "obsessive," "one step too far," "undoable." But today, I scratch these terms from my glossary and I am proud to say that -

I exercised during my lunch break!!!

Can you believe it? This may have just put me on the gymoholic list but I do not care. And while others were eating or sitting in front of the computer screen, I was in my shorts and t-shirt making strides on the elliptical machine in our building's exercise room. And, boy did it feel good! Sure I was watching the Food Network while working out - but I was working out, and that is what counts. And, sure I only put in 25 workout minutes but that is definitely better than not putting in any minutes!

Yes of course I have been more fit in the past than I am now, and I certainly have been smaller than I am now. But as of today I placed myself on the fitness map, and I have given fitness (which had already existed in my dictionary) a central location on my map. As of today, there is no turning back to the dark ages when exercising was not part of the routine.

Diary of a tomato plant - part 3: Here I am!

2006-06-15T14:17:00.000-04:00

Here I am! Can you see me among the green leaves? I am the little green ball hanging down from one of the stalks. Wow! It did not take me long to come out – it has barely been a month since we arrived here and yet sure enough I am out already. This is exciting. Now, I can see the whole big world from a whole new angle. Of course my world is confined to the inside of the apartment and the building on the opposite side of the street and whatever else is in between. Still, I am enthusiastic about my change – and after all one’s world is as big or as small as one makes it. I am determined to make mine as big as I can and to learn and grow as much as I can while I can.

Now Jeff and Ranya’s world is much bigger than mine – way bigger. And this past weekend, it just got bigger when they discovered a new part of Virginia –historic downtown Charlottesville and Waynesboro.

Jeff and Ranya had actually been to Charlottesville before with their respective parents last year. They visited Monticello, the home of Jefferson, and ate fried chicken at the Michie Tavern. And it actually was the fried chicken that brought them back this year. Ever since that trip last year they had been talking about revisiting the place that had the “best fried chicken” they have yet to eat. So, this year they decided to make a weekend vacation out of it.

Ranya researched a nice bed and breakfast for them to stay at – the Trees Street Inn – in Waynesboro, around 25 miles west of Charlottesville. The Inn was spectacular, with a back porch, a pool and a sunroom. Their suite was very lovely, too. They had a four poster queen bed and a living room along side of it – not that they spent much time in their room but still it was nice that they had comfortable arrangements.

While the sleeping arrangements were splendid, Ranya could not say the same about the breakfast. Although she did enjoy the first day’s selection of fresh toast, butter and jam, granola and eggs and hash browns, the second day’s breakfast was less than satisfying. So much so that Jeff and Ranya ended up going almost straight to lunch from their after-breakfast nap.

Saturday was a full day for the Mikes. They woke up in time to see the sunrise at Skyline drive a 20minute car ride from their sleeping quarters. Following breakfast they headed back in the direction of Skyline drive but this time went a few more exits past it to historic downtown. There they spent time touring the Saturday Market (which happens to be one of Ranya's favorite activities and one she has not been getting her fill from ever since they moved to DC) and downtown Charlottesville.

For lunch, they headed out to Michie Tavern for a lunch of fried chicken, potato salad, stewed tomatoes and more fried chicken. Of course, desert was on their minds as well, and the sweet peach cobbler topped off the salty thighs and legs and breasts and wings. And that was all they could eat for the rest of the day. At least until dinner time - which for them came at an alarming time - 11:00 p.m!

Another drive to downtown is what was needed in order for them to eat. And after browsing all the listings on Magellan and then on feet, they decided on an Italian tapas place -Al-Dente. In all reality, that was one of four other places that was still serving dinner at that un-Godly hour in small town Charlottesville. Of course the bars were still open but they were not serving food - not even bar food! Ranya and Jeff were happy with their choice, though, and they enjoyed a cool, calm night out.

It was after midnight when they finally hit dream land again and wished they could stay there always. But they had to return to normal life in noisy Arlington and so the next afternoon back they went. I am glad they are home, though, cause I miss them when they are gone.

Diary of a tomato plant - part 2

2006-06-06T11:53:00.000-04:00

So I have been in my new home for a week. During this time Ranya visited me once and watered me once. Jeff, on the other hand, did not stop by to say hi but rather looked at me from a distance - from the comforts of the couch. My flowers are growing though I am not gaining much height yet. Although I am a little jealous of my other plant friends, I do like their company, especially in the dark night and when I hear police and fire sirens. Sirens scare me, but I feel safe behind the railings on the 11th floor.

The reason I am jealous from my plant friends is because they seem to get more attention from Ranya than I do. She constantly waters the Mint and Jeff comes out and cuts off some stems for their salads and sandwiches. I know that they like Mint in their Labneh sandwiches and Jeff likes it in Tabbouleh. This morning, Ranya harvested the remaining of the Parsley that she had planted a while ago. Now, we are going to be without parsley for a while - at least until the new shoots come out; Ranya had planted some new seeds some few days ago but parsley takes a long time to get started. The Basil is still alive, although I do not think that it is doing so well. I heard Ranya saying that if the Basil does not show progress soon she is going to have to get another one. Of course it would be great to have one more companion, but I do not know if that means that the present Basil is going to be thrown out or if they are going to keep it.

The newest sprouts on the block are the Rocca. Well actually, you can say that they are the oldest on the block if you wanted to be totally accurate; that is because the present Rocca is the second growth and they are already making their way out towards the sun. Ranya actually imported the Rocca seeds from Beirut knowing very well that they do not exist in the US. Now, she and Jeff are very happy with the results and with the wonderful Rocca and Onion salads they have. Ranya also imported another Lebanese herb - Rcheed- but Jeff preferred the Rocca so now the long black planter is housing only that. There also were some Radishes at one time, but those were also eaten - enjoyed alongside fried fish and baba ghannouj.

The weather has been nice lately, not too hot and not rainy either. Although there is current talk of thunderstorms I do not think those will materialize. They have been talking about these for a while now but all the excitement is for nothing. Every night I muster my courage against the thunder and the lightening but my energy goes to waste. So, tonight I am not going to make a big deal out of it. I really do not fear much for myself because my pot is low on the ground and away from the railings. I fear for the Mint and the Rocca the most because they are placed on high shelves and they are very close to the railings. They do not seem too scared, though, and I think that is because they carry enough of their own which makes them feel safe.

Diary of a tomato plant

2006-05-30T07:22:00.000-04:00

I do not know how old I really am, so I am just going to say I am One Day old. Although Jeff and Ranya brought me home two Saturdays ago, I remained sitting in my confined little pot until this morning when Ranya finally moved me to my new home and that is why I am going to call this Day One.

I think one reason why it took the Mikes so long to move me was because my new home was not ready yet. But then you would think how hard can it be to make me a bed of potting soil and water it? It might not be that difficult but Ranya and Jeff are busy people and they had been taking road trips away from the city the past couple of weeks, so it took them a while to get back to the gardening store and get another bag of potting mix.

Two Saturdays ago, the Mikes went to Amish country in Pennsylvania and Ranya got to see real Amish people. They were different, she thought, and she was very surprised to realize that they do, in fact, ride buggies to places they wanted to go. That was very interesting, she thought, and she was glad to have experienced the sights, the sounds and the smells of a different place. Jeff, too, was happy to get out of the city where it is busy and loud. It is important for him to get away from it all every once in a while and the road trip was refreshing.

Last Sunday, which also happened to be Jeff’s birthday, they drove to Rehoboth beach in Delaware. While it may not have been the prettiest, it was the closest to their domicile. They had had a late start, while with having breakfast at Leopold’s and all, so they wanted to go somewhere relatively close. The drive was again enjoyable up until they arrived closer to the beach where they hit a horrible traffic jam. As soon as they found a parking spot (which they paid $10 for) and turned pedestrian, they unwound and had a good time. On their way back home they took a pit stop at some friends’ house in Annapolis, had a barbecue dinner and then returned home, exhausted and smelly! Why, it was almost 90degrees that day and they were out in the car and the sun all day.

So now that the weekend is over I am finally settled. I know I am going to get plenty of sun and I know that Ranya will come back and visit and water me often. I just hope I get pruned regularly to stay healthy and pretty and bear fruit.

beach and mountain

2006-05-21T13:22:00.000-04:00

There might be another place in the world where this is possible: sitting on the beach and watching the snow-covered mountains. There might be another place in the world where you can sit ajacent to the splashing waves enjoying a coffee on a warm winter day. There might be another place in the world where people come together to celebrate the wonders of the World and the glories of the Earth. But for me there is no other place; no place other than that where I belong. No place like Lebanon.

on children

2006-05-20T18:41:00.000-04:00

"this is for all mothers, and futures mothers, out there. some of you have learned this the hard way and some are yet to learn...."

"And a woman who held a babe against her bosom
said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow.
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The Archers sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and HE bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the Archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable."

Gubran Khalil Gubran- The Prophet

blue, iris, view

2006-05-20T18:18:00.000-04:00

This is the reason I fell in love with Portland....

And, why I now miss it so much.

The sky has not been that blue or that clear since we left for DC. Here, the horizon is crowded by one concrete park after the other; green and blue are distant objects and silence is a rare commodity. Hundreds of motor vehicles compete for the streets and thousands of feet for the sidewalks. The air is constantly filled car horns, police, ambulance and fire truck sirens, airplanes whizzing and helicopters flying over. Smog and pollutants stink the surroundings and humans and non-humans are always moving in one direction or another. Smiles are always reserved for a selected few and courteousness is a rare commodity.

Yes, welcome to DC: the land of the plenty – of self-important people that is. Some people are in love with DC, some people are indifferent to DC, and some are just passersbies....

on marriage

2006-05-16T15:12:00.000-04:00

"the following is an excerpt from Gubran Khalil Gubran's greatest work: The Prophet. It is the section that Jeff and I chose to read during our wedding ceremony almost two years ago. I was going through my old files again and came across it and thought I would share it."

Then Almitra spoke again and said, And what of Marriage, Master?
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.
Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.
But let there be spaces in your togetherness,
And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.
Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

On from Ondine

2006-04-28T17:12:00.000-04:00

Welcome to Ondine, the place I landed in when I landed here going on 3 years now. Ondie, built in 1968, is more like a Russian prison than a student housing complex, with three deadly-slow elevators, washers and driers on every other floor, no 13th floor and no common room I wanted to be in. Ondine, on the edge of the university campus, a mere two blocks away from the campus police station and less than that from the fire station. Ondine, 1612 SW 6th, Avenue NW, Apt. 1511, Portland, OR 97201.

So how did I end up in student housing and in Ondine out of all the places? Well, it took a fair amount of research and striving to nail down a place to stay. See I arrive well into the end of the summer semester at Portland State and all the housing contracts had already been negotiated and sealed. I was left with my ingenious outreach and good luck – or tough luck, depending on how you see my experience at Ondine.

Ondine is not all that bad if you do not care whose mattress you are sleeping on, or who your neighbors and roommates are, if you are not bothered by the loud parties and the fire alarm pranks in the middle of a very very cold night. Ondine would not be that bad if you were anything other than a freshman… but if like me you were a “spoiled” Lebanese girl, used to her own (or least another family member’s) bed, room, bathroom, kitchen, closet, and everything else needed for a living, then you are in for major issues at Ondine…..

Not only did I have to share 20' by 11' with Megumi - my Japanese roommate- but I also had to share the bathroom and the kitchen with two other Asian girls (A1 and A2)- our suitemates. What did M+A1+A2=? a smelly, and I mean smelly arrangement. Let me tell you more….

A1 and A2 apparently had busy day lives – what they did with their lives, I have no idea. But what they chose to do with their evenings, I knew very well: cooking! And not just any kind of cooking – Asian cooking…. A1 and A2 always opted to make use of the kitchen in the late evening hours and utilize nothing less than authentic Asian ingredients accentuated with sesame cooking oil that stunk the already stale air for hours longer.

I kid you not. One frosty October night, A1 and A2 decided it was time for a meal at 11:00pm. They must have put the sesame oil on the electric stove, forgot they had done that, set off the fire alarm, nearly burned the unit down, and caused poor me to sleep with the windows wide open. The place smelled of burnt oil for days after that; my sheets smelled, my clothes smelled and even my books smelled. I was not happy. No sirry; I was not thrilled.

Let me give you another glance at what living in 1511 was like. Megumi was an exchange student. She was at Portland State for only one semester and I think that this thought conditioned her life choices. See Megumi probably thought that four months were not long enough for her to wash her sheets, and so she slept and re-slept on the same sheets from the day she moved in to the day she moved out. She must have also thought that showering and washing your hair once a week was sufficient to maintain personal hygiene and that is what she practiced.

Megumi also owned one plate, one set of chopsticks and one pan-cooks-all. All her ingredients were shipped to her from Japan – except for dairy products which she rarely used and vegetables which consisted mainly of cabbage and scallions.

Megumi would spend hours on her Japanese keyboarded laptop, do homework, go to class and sleep. She rarely spoke to me – actually I do not remember having any conversations with her except for when I asked her if she wanted to go in on getting a phone line for the room and then asking her to sign the release papers when I moved out of 1511. She would let the phone ring and not attempt to answer it.

Then, one day I left and she left and all that is left from that roommating period is a name. I did have her email address at one point, but I do not even remember what happened to it. I do not think I used it once, although I would have liked to. But it is too late for that now….

Megumi is gone, and so are A1 and A2. Portland State University is gone. Ondine is gone. Portland is gone. Oregon is gone. What is left are memories and stories; some amusing, some not so amusing. But all worth telling….

He's here!

2006-03-23T11:55:00.000-05:00

Magellan Mike has joined his sister CRV in a union that is bound to bring happiness and peace of mind to the Mike family.

With pre-loaded detailed maps of the 50 united states, Canada and Puerto Rico, Magellan will make sure Ranya finds her way home back from the mall, the restaurant, her friend's and anywhere else she might have driven herself to (Ranya had experienced several instances of getting herself lost after arriving to her destination; she forgot to map the way back or could not figure out how to read the map she printed out!).

Jeff will also benefit from the advent of Magellan. Magellan also comes preloaded with the location of nearly 2 million businesses, banks, ATM machines, gas stations and restaurants, among other points of interests. With that, Jeff will no longer have to wonder where to golf, he would simply browse the golf category on Magellan and off he goes... Who knows, he might even play a good game that day ;-)!!!

2.9 inches wide and 2.2 inches high, Magellan is lightweight (a mere 9oz) and portable. A TrueView® 3D screen shows upcoming turns while a female voice prompt directs Ranya and Jeff turn by turn to their destination. And Jeff can certainly rest assured that Ranya will still find her way should she take the right turn when Magellan explicitly instructs her to go left (sometimes Ranya has two lefts and two rights!); Magellan automatically calculates the new route when Ranya deviates from the one she is on.

A gadget? Maybe. An expensive accessory? Maybe. But one thing is certain: with Magellan in the car navigating the roads of Virginia and DC will be a breeze and Ranya will be able to make it home!

Welcome home, newest member!

Inspirational

2006-03-14T08:19:00.000-05:00

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference."

Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

"Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,A
nd miles to go before I sleep."

she let herself go

2006-03-09T11:08:00.000-05:00

"on a singles cruise,
To Vegas once, then to Honolulu.
Let herself go to New York City:
A week at the Spa; came back knocked-out pretty.
When he said he didn't love her no more,
She let herself go." (click on the link to hear the song)

She stood up for all that she missed. Went to the lake, spend time with friends, buy a new car… she became true to herself and to her desires. She had been sacrificing for him, their home and their children. She was at the grocery store when he left her a note; “said he didn’t love her no more.” Did she lose sleep? Did she cry? Maybe some…but then she moved on…

For all that its worth, that is what many of the friends I left back home should do; move on, and let themselves go, stand up for their rights and decide that marriage is in fact an equal partnership and a joint venture. It is not about what one person wants, it is about what the couple wants. What is best for the new family, the wife, the husband and the children.

I have been waking up recently thanking God I am not married to a Lebanese - not that I would have married one even if I had stayed in Lebanon (Lebanese men are just not my style). But after much observation of the interactions between Lebanese couples, I now wonder even more how my counterparts could live like that. I see that there are basic rights that my friends are denied, say in matters, equal partnerships, respect, attention...(and the list goes on).

Take for example naming a child: how could a husband enforce what to name the child just hours after the baby is born without even remotely considering the wishes of the mother? How could a husband decide to buy a family house and write the title in his name only? How could a husband sacrifice the needs of his wife and child and bend backwards to the whims of his mother and siblings?

I frown when I think of the things that Lebanese women tolerate in order to avoid confrontations in the domicile. They pile it all on themselves, sacrificing their opinions and their needs in the hope of maintaining a marriage. I ask one of my friends: “why?” “I do not want to start an argument,” she responds. I thought marriage was about communications. I try to tell her that much, but she brushes me off before I finish with my sentence. “We are living in Lebanon, and I am just happy to be married.” Now isn’t that shocking…marriage is considered a privilege in Lebanon, a rare commodity bestowed on a lucky few. That is too bad…

I hate to see my friends in such a situation, but what is the alternative they have? Get a divorce and live alone? Be a single mom? Maybe just having a man under the roof is enough for them. But I think they should let themselves go…

A Pittsburgh Winter

2006-02-18T21:34:00.000-05:00

President's Day 2006; I have the weekend off from work (something that should not be taken for granted now that I am in the restaurant business). The plan: a weekend at 5700 Bunkerhill Street, Pittsburgh, PA. The verdict: a wintry winter two days with temperatures barely recording in the teens (Fahrenheit, that is!) giving me a taste of the "coldest weather of my life", to quote Jeff. I must admit it was cold, but to me any temperature falling below the freezing 32 O is too cold (and I thought I had it bad in Portland, OR!! and then in DC. Pittsburgh surely is something else!).

The four hour drive through "flyover country," to use a DC term, was almost uneventful until I took the wheel a couple of hours into the ride. Almost instantaneously the heavens welcomed my driving first with a flurry and then with a full blast snowstorm. For someone who is new to American driving and a virgin snow driver the drop came as an unexpected surprise. I had been driving CRV Mike for a little over a month now but never during the last decade since I got my driver's licence did I face such severe driving conditions. The snow lasted only so long, but the cold lingered on and on. Even now as I sit to jot this down and leave the cold outside I know that when it is time to go home I am going to be put face to face again with the unbeatable force of the chill. And face it I will.

While long johns underneath woollen pants, three top layers and a jacket, a scarf, a hat and a pair of gloves wrapped most of my exterior, my face remained victim to the bites of the wind. The raw cold struck my cheeks and instantaneously infiltrated to my blood and bones. Within seconds my whole body became one glacier on the move.

Is this the coldest I will ever be in? I sure hope so, but chances are I will find myself in circumstances where I have to weather Mother Nature again. In the almost three decades I have been around I moved from one temperature zone that I thought was unbearable to one that actually was more so.

In Lebanon, winter strikes full blast around December. Storms and chill come around the end of the year and into the first couple of new months. The temperature around then: 14O. Celcius, that is.

The next climate zone stop, Oregon. When I was getting ready to move out of the Mediterranean and into the Pacific the answer I consistently got to my “how cold is it” questions was: “not cold.” Only later did I realise that the answer I was getting was relative to where Jeff was living and in no way meant to be a comparison. The actuality I got: cold! Or rather, colder. The temperature: in the 40Os (single Celsius degrees, but still not quite freezing). And I thought that was cold! But cold was neither in Lebanon nor in the Northwest. Cold was waiting for me in the Midwest, and it welcomed me once in the Mid-Atlantic (and that was in April!!!).

Now that I have almost paid my dues to Winter, I suppose the next stop should revere Summer; my Mediterranean blood demands it.

So I am getting married, a 2004 introspection

2006-02-08T16:16:00.000-05:00

So I am getting married. Wow. I would not have thought this to be happening. And for it to happen with a person whom I really really want to be with for the rest of my life. It is just amazing and so hard to believe. And yet it is true. He wants me and I want him and we are going to do it.

“I have not been married before,” I tell him. And why do I say that? We have been together for a while now, how is that any different from being married? I am doing a good job being with him and being around the house, how is any of that going to change when I have a ring around my finger? I do not suppose it will. But still the prospect of actually being married is so new to me. New and exciting and something I know I want, not because I want to get married but because I want to get married to this particular man.

But how do I really feel about getting married when my parents are halfway around the world and when the only person from my side who can attend is my childhood friend? How do I feel about not getting the attention and not having my day in the sun? How do I feel about not shopping for a dress, about not shopping for a reception outlet and doing all the arrangements? Actually, not that bad about certain things and bad about others. I know that one day I will get my day in the sun and I will be clad is a long white dress with Jeff at my side, but until then I am satisfied with what we can have for now. I am sad, however, that my parents, and particularly my mother, can’t be there. I do not know how hard this is going to hit me, right now it has not really dawned on me. Maybe I am suppressing the feelings or maybe I am being realistic. Either way I hope I do not break down in tears on my wedding day.

So when is the big day? We do not know yet, we are still working on arranging the day. I want it to be on the 4th of July, that way I would feel special with the fireworks going off in the distance. I would be able to make believe that they are for me, they would have been if I was in Lebanon, but that is part of another life. Right now I am here, in the US, with the love of my life and we are about to make yet another step into our successful future together.

We have come a long way from a year ago and we are still proceeding in our journey. It is not going to be easy and I see every dip in the road as a chance to learn and an opportunity to grow. And I have grown a lot in the past eight months. But there is still a lot of growing up for me to do. My sister says that I have not changed, but what does she know? She does not live with me and has not seen me in a long, long time. I look at myself in the mirror and marvel at what a different person I now am. I think I am more self-disciplined, more patient, less demanding and less spoiled. I still need attention but at least I do not stomp my feet that often anymore nor ask the world to stop cause I am feeling down. I have realized that there are other things in this life than me and that I do not make the world go round. I might make the world of one person go round but there is no reason for me to ask him to stop in his place because I am sad and be at my every beckon when I need something to be done. I have learned lessons of patience and I am sure they will serve me well.

I do wish my parents were here. They would have been proud of me.

Future Mrs. Mike

Ranya and the Sauté

2006-02-06T17:18:00.000-05:00

So, what exactly do we, or rather I, sauté? Well many things to be exact, or not! Just taking a look at the menu should give you a glimpse into just how many of our dishes require that sauté person. From flipping omelets in the morning, and sometimes throughout the day, to flapping crepes and twirling pastas, sauté is responsible for bringing out the best of la Madeleine. And for a week that sauté person was me, assisted of course by Lucy, Jose or Rodolfo (whom, for some reason, I always call Fernando), the three Hispanic sauté experts (you would not think that Lucy did not speak any English, though, judging by her name)!

Working with Jose was the better experience of all three. Maybe because he spoke some English or because I helped him during the more quiet evening shifts, it was obvious that he and I made a better team than the other two and I. In all three situations, though, the sauté station still ranked the highest on my “favorite station” scale. Boy was I made to cook! And cook I did!

Whether it was the knowledge that someone else was going to clean the pans, pick up the trash or prep the ingredients, or the heat radiating from the gas stove that created that affection between my and the stove remains to be discovered. What I did discover however, was that there were no limits to what I could do while behind the counter; flip an omelet in mid-air and not worry about its falling on the clean kitchen floor (well, I did worry about it falling apart, but then after it did it was not too bad – it was all part of the learning process!); set the pan and its contents on fire without worrying about burning the food (I had always wondered how they did that on T.V. and was really excited to be able to do it myself. There is just something special to seeing the contents of the pan go ablaze and then settle back down); put too much clarified butter, oil, tomatoes, onions, sauce and not have to think about the loss of an ingredient (well I do, since I have to think about my food cost); and, create my own variations of the meals without having someone wag his finger at me – I was the manager after all! (I even put together two Lebanese dishes one time using the ingredients I had on hand – I felt like an Iron Chef!).

It was not all play and no work, though. It was work after all, and important work at that; the reputation of the food and the satisfaction of the guest was in my hands and I had to ensure that they got what they were expecting. And that is why I had my Hispanic assistant to one side and the recipe book and the quick guide on the other hand!

But neither of those would be present in the next phase ...More to follow...

Announcing the successful delivery of CR V Mike

2006-02-01T08:33:00.000-05:00

Delivery Date: Sunday, 15 January 2006
Delivery Time: 1:00pm
Date brought home: Thursday, 19 January 2006
Height: 66.2in.
Weight: 3406lbs
Towing capacity: 1500lbs

Jeff and Ranya Mike would like to announce the latest addition to their family of two – a 4WD 2006 Honda CR V. The newest member was brought home on Thursday, 19 January 2006 after successful deliberations with the local Honda dealer in Arlington, VA.

The new vehicle comes equipped with a 5-speed manual transmission, cruise control, and an Anti-Lock Breaking system. Not only are there front side airbags, but we also have side curtain airbags, side-impact door beams and child-proof rear door locks (we have to think of the little ones coming in the future!).

There is enough room to comfortable seat 5 people with reclining front and back seatbacks and sliding fold and tumble rear seats. The height of the driver’s seat is adjustable, which is quite important for someone with my small dimensions; with this option I can at least see the front of the car (an important detail, wouldn’t you think?). An AM/FM/CD/Cassette audio system compliments the beautiful beige interior (notice the cassette option, one of my favorite features in the car; now I can listen to my old Arabic tapes brought with me from Lebanon over 2 years ago).

With a remote entry system along with an immobilizer anti-theft deterrent system and a panic button on the key, I am sure that the car and I are safe when I have to drive to work early in the morning or from work late at night.

To make things more interesting, they included a removable folding picnic table which doubles up as the cover for the spare tire in the rear storage well. Jeff also got his sunglasses holder (which comes in handy when you do not want to lose your sunglasses).

Our CR V is a breeze to drive and a pleasure to have. Enjoy checking out the photos.

Welcome to my garden of 2005

2006-01-29T12:52:00.001-05:00

Or garden-wanna be! Well it is my patio but I am trying my best to turn it into a gardening area, since we rarely use it for anything else.

As you can probably tell from the photos there is a tomato tree, a mint plant, a lot of basil, parsley, and a few other pots with lots of green sprouts coming out of them. These are flowers and radishes in the making. I am holding my breath to see how many radishes I will actually harvest since I crammed so many in such a tiny tin box. For those of you who know the song, I may well end up with radish that "I will pull and pull and not be able to pull it out".But I am happy with the progress of my green thumb so far. I never really thought I could do it, since I had many a failing experience with plants and animals in Lebanon, but now I have mustered enough heart to try it again.

The tomato started with a tiny plant and we have replanted it three times already and bought an iron cage for it. It has numerous flowers making their way into actual fruit, and one green baby tomato still making its way into prime time. I will surely let you know what it will taste like when I finally harvest it. I am planning to make tabouleh someday from my garden, or patio. That will be the day!

Other than enhancing my gardening skills I am working on my people skills. I am expecting a group from Turkey on 9 July and that should be interesting. We will be going to North Carolina, New Jersey and New York. An interesting assortment of places, wouldn't you say? But why complain, a free trip is a free trip even if it was on business.

Speaking of trips, what are you guys up to this summer? Any trips? How about a trip to your keyboards to drop me a note....

Write soon.

~Ranya, the gardener

"Wise men speak because they have something to say; Fools because they have to say something." - Plato

La Sandwich

2006-01-29T12:37:00.000-05:00

Ah! La Sandwich! What a marvelous creation. What a simple yet fulfilling concoction of bread embracing many layers in-between its extremities. Who would think that a wonderfully soft piece of perfectly baked leavened flour combined with the befitting ounces of meat, dairy, and vegetables comes out to be not only a most satisfying meal, but also one of the most popular items on any menu?

Well, that is the truth, if not the whole day, at least during lunch hours. Let me tell you, I crank out more sandwiches in one day than I could possibly eat in a month! Is it a wonder how these things come together one, two and three at a time while orders for more keep piling up on the ticket hanger! That is when the rush of working the sandwich station comes flowing; how many “correct” orders can I crank out at in an acceptable time frame? After all I do not want to leave the customer waiting too long for the meal and I certainly do not want to mess up an order. But my! did I mess up orders and had to re-do them. It is one thing to read that the customer wanted mayo “on the side” but then another to remember to do that when you are wired up to build a sandwich in a pre-set way: bread, mayo, lettuce, filling, tomatoes then more bread. Good thing I had a well-trained sandwich person looking out for me, and for the orders, or else we would have had some pretty unhappy customers during some days!

It is fun though; trying to remember what goes into each and every sandwich. Good thing there is a guide posted on the wall for instructions; cause let me tell you some of these sandwiches are not that obvious. And with the several types of bread and dressings that come into play, it is tough to keep them all straight at first; buttery alpinette and pesto mayo for this sandwich and Parisian baguette with horseradish for that sandwich. And then you have the regular mayo, the honey Dijon mustard and the regular mustard, the house dressing and the Caesar dressing,,,, it can get messy!

Remembering the sandwich fillings is much easier though. Many, if not most, of the fillings are preset and stored in the refrigerator below the counter. Now, that is another thing I practiced doing; preparing sandwich presets while minding the correct weight of each item; so many ounces of beef, turkey and ham, so many slices of bacon and cheese, and so much zucchini, squash, mushroom and red peppers. You would not think there was so much to making a sandwich; just slap on a few things and voila! Well, that is at home but not here, and probably not in most other restaurants. Things are so meticulously prepared and organized to the minutest detail.

Let’s hope I get the hang of “all of this” before any of you decide to visit me one busy day. “All of this” still involves a few stops along the way. Next stop – Sauté Station. Turn up the heat; Gas stove here I come!

They make it all seem so easy on TV

2006-01-18T08:26:00.000-05:00

I have been an avid viewer of the Food Network since we moved to Washington, DC and subscribed to cable. For over a year I have followed some of the most popular, and not so popular, shows both during the daytime and in the evening. From Rachel Ray’s 30-minute meals, a show and a host who compete for my “Least Favorite” category with Emeril Lagasse and his various shows, to Alton Brown and Paula Dean, both of whom are among my "Most Favorite," I am hooked to channel 54 on our TV set, the preset channel for Food Network. I do not even need to click away looking for shows to watch when in front of the TV, I simply speed to 54 and there I am in front of a cook whisking something or the other in the bowl and making recommendations to do this and not do that in order to ensure the success of this and all other future recipes.

Watching these people "perform" cooking techniques in front of a camera, sometimes in real time, I was brought to believe that I am certainly capable of emulating the professional grasps of utensils and the nonchalant mixing of ingredients. I sincerely believed I was capable of the creating the perfect icing on a cake and the perfect food presentation on a serving plate until yesterday when I started Part Two of my training.

With the tossing of the first, then the second, éclair into the garbage, and the unhappy facial expressions of my trainer, I came to understand that the term "piece of cake" actually refers to eating rather than making the cake. I could never have thought that the simple act of icing a caramel cream puff or dusting tiramisu with cocoa was really not simple at all.

It was fun, though, trying my hand at the different tasks it takes to put out a caramel cream puff and a fruit tart on the display tray. I learned patience while assembling more than 20 individual fruit tarts one fruit piece at a time and attention to the minute details while creating the lemon tarts and then the crème brûlée, some of which I torched away!

After hours of laboring in the pastry kitchen I proudly marched out with a sample of the products I assembled. Ah, yes! While I was not as successful in putting the final touches, I did well in creating the fillings for most of the pastries that day which was the easiest part; throw in a pound of pastry cream, add egg yolks, heavy cream and turn the industrial mixer on for 10 minutes and voila! the base for many of the tarts yet to emerge from underneath my still inexperienced hands!

Despite all the challenges, though, I must admit I have not had that much fun in the kitchen in a long time. That fun, though, faded in comparison to the fun I am to have in the sauté and sandwich stations. But that is part of another story. Stay tuned!

La Patisserie

Teta

2006-01-16T16:18:00.000-05:00

The last time I saw my grandmother’s house was years ago. We were having lunch following her funeral. After that the house was closed down and only a selected few were allowed the keys to enter it. It became more sacred than it had been when she was alive to oversee its running.

I remember the evening she passed away. I do not remember the day, date, year or time, but I remember the sequence of events that eventually led her body to be stored in the cold until the Friday she was buried. Or at least I remember what I did that evening, things I am yet to forgive myself for.

Funny how I now think of myself as selfish. Funny because I had always known I was a little selfish, yet I never regarded myself as such in the capacities I now reflect on. Growing up makes one look back at things through different lenses and makes the reality different than what it was previously thought to be. To me this reality becomes much more real and much more harsh. Yes, I had been selfish, I had deprived those who now matter most to me from what matters most to them, love, attention and the benefit of the doubt.

The evening my grandmother was to pass away I was out with friends having fun. This is not unusual for the young girl I had been, or any girl of my age at that time. Grandma was most probably sleeping at that time, or getting ready to go to bed. I do not remember who was sleeping over at her house that evening, her children and grandchildren had worked out a schedule to always have someone sleep with her in the room to keep an eye out for her. She was an old woman and had many health problems. My grandfather had passed away years earlier and we did not want strangers sharing her house with her. Thinking long and hard, I believe there was no one with her that evening and it was her maid that took notice of the changes that had come about her.

I was still chatting in my friend’s car in the garage under the building that my grandfather had built over 26 years ago to grant himself and his male children independence and security of residence when I noticed the unusual things going on in the building. It was too late for so much activity and certainly my cousin was not called in from miles away if nothing of concern was happening. And yet I was so taken by the conversation that I brushed off the activity as insignificant and not needing my attention and continued to converse into the night. When one of my cousins approached me and told me that grandma was really sick I brushed him off too, I was all too familiar with grandma being “really sick”, after all I had spent many nights by her side.

When I finally decided that it was time to head up home, I thought I would at least drop in to check out what was the case with grandma. The door to her apartment was widely open and the house had an eerie silence to it. Both of my cousins were in her room and she lay there on the bed pale and yellow. One of my cousins then helped her up to a sitting position so that she can breath better. I exchanged a couple of words with my cousins and walked up the remaining flight of stairs to our apartment. That was the last time I saw my grandmother’s chest filling up with air.

The next I saw her she was lying still on white sheets in a hospital ward where they rested her until all her children were able to come in and bid her farewell. Still then I did not realize the gravity of the reality and thought that her departure was of no immense consequence on me. I was so wrong. And I had to wait years to find out just how wrong I was. If only I could turn back time I would not call on her to life again, that would not be fair to her, she was in a lot of pain and suffering. I would be more sensitive to what she was going through that evening and would have at least stayed around with her longer than the couple of minutes I thought were sufficient. Now I realize how lucky both my cousins were to be the last two people to feel her warm, I could have been the third, but I was too entangled in my own self. I failed to understand the importance of a human being who had been through 80 years of life and who deserved more attention that she had received.

Wake up at 4

2006-01-15T10:12:00.000-05:00

I have always been a morning person, but I had never thought that my days were actually going to start with a 4:00am wake-up call which lead straight to a shower and an already picked-out uniform, black pants, either a black, burgundy or royal blue shirt and black flats, and work by 5:00am. This certainly is different! But, I sure am enjoying it, at least so far .

What I am actually not looking forward is when I do not have to wake up so early but rather stay up till midnight when I work the closing shift. I sure am not an evening person and I am praying that caffeine will accompany me as I try to win over the night.

Tomorrow I work from 5-3 and bring week 1 to a close. My day tomorrow starts with a solo morning bake and I am pretty nervous. While there are all sorts of charts and tables to help me along, I need to be ahead of the game and know the baking temperature and times, including rotation time, for over 20 items. I am also required to know the preparation method and the finishing of each of these products. I did a quasi solo bake today and it went well, with a few minor errors, but tomorrow is the big day!

The people I am now working with are pretty nice, considering the only method of communication between them and me is pointing, nodding and smiling! Almost half of them (if not more) do not speak English and I sure do not speak Spanish, at least not as of yet (maybe sometime down the road I will take Spanish lessons, if only to communicate with my pastry chef, my prep person, my saute lady and the dishwasher!). Some of the others are African and so I get to practice my French with them. One is Persian, with no common language area between us and another is Moroccan and so Arabic comes into play. The place is sure multi-national and multi-lingual but the clientele are almost a 100% American! They are a good group of clients, actually better than ones I would get had I been in the Georgetown location.

I am so far attempting to keep as much of my "normal" life as possible though I am falling behind on emails and talking to my friends and family. I am still motivating myself to exercise and cook at home and I hope this will continue to be as I delve deeper into the manager's responsibilities and come home with a number of work-related issues and headaches! Until then, though, Jeff remains a supportive marriage "associate". He wakes up with me every morning and drives me to work and then helps recite my homework in the evening. What more could a restauranteur-to-be ask for?

Ranya, a restauranteur-to-be

The only man who is really free is the one who can turn down an invitation to dinner without giving an excuse.
Jules Renard