I'm DONE!

I am officially done with my Christmas shopping. Presents wrapped (well, excecpt for the Santa Claus ones, cause those don't get wrapped in my house in order to differentuate), tagged and under the tree. Stocking stuffers HIDDEN.

I'm proud of myself. I'm usually dragging around Z on Christmas Eve to find Santa gifts, but I was more organized this year.

Ok, also considerably more strapped for cash and a s*itload of time on my hands since I'm not WORKING or anything... But stilllllll. I'm DONE. Apparently miracles DO happen. Heh.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish all my readers a very happy holiday season, whatever your religious denomination.

I would also like to mention that I NEED QUESTIONS FOR THE INQUISITION THIS WEEK!! HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!????????? Come on! It's Christmas! Jeez.

*drumming fingers on desk*

Asshole Moments

And I am pretty sure I'm having one as I type. Let me check....... yeah, I am having an asshole moment.

In case you aren't sure what an 'asshole moment' is, it's when a overall loving, kind, understanding, caring, helpful and generous person (in this case, that would be ME) is having 'asshole' thoughts, or otherwise wrapped up in their own things so much that when they hear someone's good news, they realize that they couldn't really give a rat's ass, or find it in them, at that moment, to be the slightest bit happy for them.

Today I found myself DEEP, D.E.E.P. in an asshole moment at the dinner table. It is so unlike me to feel the way I found myself feeling when Z dropped his suspicions on me like a Nuke.

Sitting at dinner, he was telling me "I think Suz is pregnant. Az, her sister almost told me something, and she was talking to her infertility specialist (that would be Dr. Indifferent/Smartass that dumped my ass on Wand Monkey 2 yrs ago, for the record) on the phone, all whispering, and Az started to say something to me, but then shut up when she got 'the look' from her sister. " That would be his neice. The sister of the one that had TRIPLETS this year. And also the sister of the one that had the little baby boy a month after the triplets were born, that stole the name I had planned to use for my as-yet-unconcieved-son. I tend to trust Z's instincts when it concerns women he thinks are pregnant. Why? He hasn't been wrong yet.

Excecpt in MY case, that is.

Well, FUCK.

Like I wasn't in a bad enough funk as is? Like that physically painful desire for another baby isn't ripping my guts apart again, much like the pain of the ovarian cysts, goddamn them ALL, that are ringing my ovaries like "perfectly matched twin pearl necklaces". (For the record, the Doc that made THAT statement to me yet lives, for some strange reason.) That, while I have been taking care of my very sick triplet neices and nephew, whom I love to distraction, even Maya, the firstborn moody grumpy one, and while holding my admittidly favorite, Talya, and Khalid screaming cause he is jealous of the attention his sister is getting from me, I realise yet again just how much I adore babies and little children, and taking care of them, even when they are so badly sick. When I realize that only blogging and writing makes me as happy as sitting in that room with 3 6 1/2 month olds, an almost 3 year old, and my own 10-year old daughter and ME, on the floor in the middle of it all, playing and entertaining all of them. When I see the joy on their little faces when I walk in to the room to see them and they smile that baby gummy smile at me, my heart just melts.

I was holding Talya close to me, massaging her back to ease her breathing (lungs badly infected) and she was nestled so close to me, with one hand FULL of my hair and the other resting on my breast, and she would occasionally lift her head back to look in my eyes, smile, and then put her head back down. I found myself rocking her, humming a song and kissing her sweet head. She, and the other two, are such good babies, even as sick as they all are, bless them.

I love children. I think you get the hint, right?

So there I sat at the dinner table apparently with a funny look on my face that was somewhat dazed. So much so that EVEN Z noticed it and said "um, what's with that look?" I said "you know? I just can't bring myself to be happy for her if you're right. At least not right now. And that makes me even sadder. Cause I can't. I just can't." Then I got quiet (another shocker, that) and continued to gaze unfocused at some vague thing on the table.

He looked surprised because honestly! I am always happy for others when I find out they are pregnant and he knows it. Even when I had cycle buddies during my IVF trials (all 4 of em), and I didn't get pregnant, but some of my cycle buddies did, I was genuinely happy for them. I mean it. I felt joy that at least, if not for me, it worked for someone.

I feel, quite frankly, cursed. I'm frustrated beyond belief. And if Suz is pregnant, it is yet another failure on my part. Why? Cause, she has infertility issues ALSO, like her big sister Az. Because, she has had 10 frozen embryo's in cryo-freeze for 4 years or so. Her son is going to be 3 in February.

I'm fed up with the pitiful looks I get when people hear about another family member being pregnant, but not me. I'm particulary pissed with the comments that flow my way from Monster when another of her grandaughters ends up announcing a pregnancy, yet another pregnancy, and she makes her remarks about me and my womb being useless and lacking. That bitch. When she tells her son, "Yeah, don't hold your breath for that one (that would be ME) to give you another child. She's useless.". (Screw that old broad and the broom she rode in on.) If that comment didn't really hit so close to the truth, and hurt not quite as much as it does every time she says it, I'd probably rip her a new as*hole, but I don't.

I want a baby. So very badly. For me. And for Arianna most importantly. That biological clock you hear so much about, that I have scoffed at as a complete load of crap for years? Well, its ticking deafeningly loud in my head now.

But most of all? I'm dissappointed in myself and ashamed for my asshole moment.

I should be insanely happy. Why? I forgot to tell you all the good news from Dec 16th, which is National Day here in Bahrain.

Six years ago Z and I applied for a housing loan from the Government. They give you a big chunk of money to do a) buy a newly bulit house b) buy a piece of land c) build a house on land you already own or d) give you a piece of crap govt home or apt. We chose option A for a number of reasons.

1) they give you the most cash that way. 2) you get the approval quicker than the other options 3) we don't own any land, so option c was kinda moot, don't you think? 4) some other reasons. 5) doesn't Option d explain itself well enough? Yeah, I thought so.

The beauty is, the loans are peanuts in repayment amounts and interest on money borrowed. Also? Every now and then, His Most Gracious Majesty gets it in his head to 'forgive' 50% of the amount owed and with the snap of his fingers, half of your loan, and thus your monthly payment, is cut in half, which is hardly anything to begin with.

Now, mind you, the money they give is based on male salary income and is nowhere near enough to buy a house outright, but still, in our case, the government part is literally HALF of the cost of a house. So, we would need to take a loan for the remainder from a normal or Commercial bank to pay the rest of the purchase price.

The catch? You have THREE months to find a place. If you beg nicely, you can get an additional 3 month extension for a total of SIX months to find a place. If at that time, you don't have anything, they take the money alloted for you and give to someone else.

So yeah, for slightly more than we are paying in rent, we can be paying a mortgage payment! Yeah, a home of our own is within arms reach. (Yes, the day of the announcement in the paper, later that afternoon, I was out looking for houses driving around in the rain, wandering around construction sites) If I'm anything, I'm proactive. Heh.

So yeah, you would think the excitement of the house would overshadow the lack of figuring out which room could be a baby nursery, wouldn't you? Yeah, you'd think so.

My other problem comes into play here. Monster, it is a given, will be coming WITH US. SO HOW can I get all 'into' the idea of a new home? Of our first home? He knows I don't want this. Can't take this really, but still, each empty home we walk around, he's mumbling/commenting about which room should be his mom's and there goes my pleasure in it out the window. There is one house I fell in love with when it was being built 6 years ago and the whole top floor (its multi-level) is a Master Suite. I keep thinking defensively about that house. Why defensively? Cause that Master Suite is on the whole top floor of the house and is big. I could barricade myself up there concieveably. And that is defineltly a selling point. Well, that and the fact that it is across the street from the sea and all the windows face the water. But every mention of "Mom would probably be scared to live here, or Oh this could be Mom's room" gets another asshole moment starting up with me.

More house hunting tomorrow. I think I'll do this one on my own.

Faugh. I'm not a bitch. I promise you. Really I'm not.

Precious!!!!! Ohhhh PRECIOUSSSS!!!!!!!!Come Here Precious!!!

To begin with. I'm really perturbed that my local grocery store has NOT- I repeat NOT!!!! - imported Bordens ™ Egg nog this year. So yes, they are most definitely on my shitlist. No doubt about it. And my cat's s-list as well, since I always share with my fuzzy babies (since no one else likes it in the house but moi).

It's been a while since I've told y'all a good joke and I've decided that it's time that I rectify that sorry fact.

The last one I told was about the Southern Belles and "Mighty Fine". Loyal readers of my blog will know what I'm talking about. (To those that don't have the foggiest clue to what I am referring, scroll down and read through my archives, will you? I'm certainly NOT going to re-write it now! )

This is one of my very favorite 'clean' –well, you know me! It's sort of clean - jokes. Please keep in mind where I got this joke from…. My MAMA. (My Mama is sooooooooo cute and so damn funny too!) Here you go!

There is this very sheltered southern girl from a small town that has been accepted to an excellent college in a big city up North. Before she leaves for college, her Mama takes her aside and tells her to be wary of those big city men and not to let them take advantage of her and whatnot to help her avoid their clutches. With this information stored safely away, little Miss goes on off to college.

Miss Thing comes back home for the holidays from college and one day finds herself sitting with her Mama and Aunties. All this time, her Mama has been worried about her, hoping that she never had to use the advice she gave Miss Thing before she left for school in Autumn. Mama can't take it anymore and asks her daughter how she found the young men up North.

Her daughter dutifully replies "Oh mama, you were right, some of the men up there are just like you said! Good thing you told me about them so I knew not to go anywhere NEAR those types. I saw them coming towards me from 10ft away!"

Mama is happy and smiles smugly at her sisters and was about to make a comment to them when her daughter began talking again.

"But you know Mama? There were some OTHER types that you didn't tell me nothing about!!"

Mama, confused slightly, asked her "What do you mean sugar?" to which her daughter answers:

"Well, there are men up there that don't like makin love with women, but with other men instead! They call them 'homosexuals'. And also! There are some women that don't like makin love with men, but with other women and they call them Lesbians!"

Mama, scandalized, said "Oh, really?" knowing full well about both types when Miss Thing says: "Then there are men that kiss you and taste you between the legs!!" to which her Mama and Aunties all say, completely scandalized "REALLY!?? And what do they call those types?"

Miss Thing replies:" Well, I don't know what they're called, but I called him PRECIOUS!"

*ba-dum dum!* *Scarlett Cyn makes her curtsey*

Proof

Well, this is yet another amazing Monster story I have to regale you all with. But first, a reminder to get your Inquisition questions in before 12:01 Pacific Time Tuesday (which happens to be my anniversary, too)

Now, on to the absurdity of my day to day life things that make you wonder WHAT THE HELL?

Proof is what I'm offering you all today. Proof that I am totally justified in my fear of what Monster is capable of. Ok, that or that she is totally out of her f-fing mind.

I also happen to have a witness.

The other day, for NO GOOD REASON, I looked out Arianna's bedroom window and saw the strangest sight.

Monster in the garden with the big broom I use to sweep the front porch and walkways beating the hell out of a tree.

Yes, I said a TREE.

She had that broom in her hands, in the middle of the day, whacking the tree trunk with all her strength for about 5 minutes that I saw with a scary look on her face-yes, scarier than her USUAL look. (Isn't this some scary shit, y'all???) Nooshi is the witness to this insane shit.

She bear the crap out of the tree, kept right on swinging until she got tired, I suppose, cause she tossed the broom on the grass and stood there heaving for breath and shaking.

WHAT THE HELL?

I told her son –you know, the one I'm married to?-about the tree abuse and he shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Am I alone in thinking this really isn't all that amusing? I mean, perhaps- OK… MOST LIKELY- I WAS THE DAMN TREE.

Today I was looking at my poor abused tree and at all the scars on the trunk as a result of her –is ass whoopin appropriate here?- abuse the other day. The tree is seriously fucked up people. It's sad. Shitload of gouges and scars and abuse. Why the tree? Hell if I know what brought that attack on.

No wonder I have nightmares every now and then of her stabbing me in my sleep repeatedly and smearing my blood on the walls, writing stuff, which is interesting in itself in that… she can't read or write.

It would seem that anything is possible, as I've always suspected. If anything ever happens to me, I expect you ALL to testify, dammit!

Hold me, I'm skeered.

Just DO IT, willya?!

In case you haven't heard, there is the upcoming BOB's, or Best of Blogs Awards 2004 coming up hosted by BlogMechanics.com. . *hint hint*

If any of you are new to blogging or just plain clueless (like me half of the time), I highly recommend you check out this site for any and all assistance and it is the result of two really fantastic bloggers putting their blogging genuis together! (Could I really pimp them any more than this? Time will tell, now won't it?) Back to work bitches!

Anyhoo, back to the awards! It's a great thing, since there was a previous awards thingie but they were all asshats and only really considered political blogs, and doesn't that sound BORING AS HELL? Why read a political blog when you can read something infintely more interesting? (If you actually had to move your cursor over that, then you don't know me very well, do you?)

Check it out and don't forget, there is still time to NOMINATE your favorite blog before December 24! (you did it again with the cursor, didn't you?) You could really make a blogger's day by nominating them. Like, say, MINE FOR INSTANCE! So again, with the Gwen Stefani quote because it is really so appropriate: WHAT YOU WAITING FOR?

I'm a shameless thing, aren't I with all this self-promotion and pimping of blogs, aren't I? I must say, I learned from the best!

Disgusted Beyond Belief

While doing my usual visit to my 'sister' networks website- CNN, not cNN (cyn News Network, as I've been affectionately dubbed- I stumbled across yet another story worthy of mention here on my blog.

As I read the article headed "Wife wishes spouse never won lottery" or some such, after which I thought "What a load of crap! Must read!" I found myself with my ass on fire. Read: pissed off.

Was I pissed and, quite frankly disgusted not that his wife said she wishes he never won the money (Although that sounds like a load of malarkey. I'd LOVE to know what she bought herself with his windfall!)? No. Was I irritated that the dude has become a complete wastrel? Um. No.

What got me all bent out of shape was the cut the government took of his winnings, the 'poor' bastard. Prepare yourselves……. Of his $314.9 million dollars, the government taxed him………. $201.9 million. That is 64% (give or take a half a point) of his winnings and yes, as much as I hate math, I was agitated enough to do the math to figure it out. 64% of his lottery winnings went to the GOVERNMENT? That is just excessive in the extreme, dammit.

And while I realize that a take home of $113.million is nothing to sneeze at, and more than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes unfortunately, it sure as hell isn't $314.9 million, now is it?

Perhaps he is a drunk and a brawler, but hell, the dude gave 20 million to CHARITY y'all, so he isn't a complete asshat. To be honest, if I had been taxed that much, I'd probably look for solace in drink also!

I hope that he at least put most of his money in a Swiss bank account or in an offshore account in Bermuda so he doesn't have to pay so much annually to the tax man on top of the money they took from him initially.


Born free and taxed to death. Yeah, no kidding!

Inquisition Confession – Week 10

I am a happy woman today, regardless of the mind blowing (literally) migrane I woke up with this morning. Honestly, I'm still waiting for my head to expl*de, but it hasn't happened yet. I figured I'd better get this confession posted before it does. So,why so happy you may ask?

Because this week I have Inquisition QUESTIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Wooohoooo! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!

Let's get right to it, shall we my darlings?

Cheryl b., whom I missed dreadfully last week, made up for lost time with her question this week, I do believe. Seriously, I love Cheryl to bits. Check out what she nailed me with this week:

So at work today there was this really hot guy, and he was really really nice (to me and his son) and I would totally have asked him out, right. He was 4 foot tall. Which makes no difference to me at all. Would it have made a difference to you? (My bet is "no") And as a side question, have you ever seen (or wanted to see) midget porn? Love ya!

Cheryl darling, I love ya babe! You win your bet, sweetcheeks! You are right, his being short, ok, DAMN SHORT wouldn't bother me at all, especially if he was such a hottie as you say. ROWRRR. For me, its really all about personality and looks don't hurt either. Like this guy Albert in my college French class. Sweet Lord was he hot. Okay, he was sexy as hell. And, well, short, but he had the most beautiful smile, turquoise eyes, and golden skin. He also happened to be all of about 5'1-maybe. But he was HOT and charming and intelligent. Did I EVER have a thing for him. We were good friends, and, well, were united in irritating the professor out of her mind, and had many secret looks between us to instigate ultimate irritation for Mme. *sigh*. Now that I think on it, and him, he had a mighty fine caboose too!

As to your side question about midget porn. Did you mean to say TROLL porn?Waahhhhhhhahahahahahahaha. Troll. Heh. Troll! Porn! Hah. Ok. Um, no, I've never seen it, and never really thought on it before. I don't think I would. Z is probably a different thing altogether, since he was all surprised about them reproducing and stuff after that damn Oprah show, bless Oprah's heart! For the record, he says it freaks him out. Me? Well, unless.. naw. Not really. Have you? (Dumb question, I know, you having worked in a s*x shop before… but I had to ask!)

That question answered, it's time to move on to my new friend Mare Imbrium, who has tapped into my fantasy and that of most of the people that showed up to my house tonight. Mare asked:

Oh, here's my question. I had a couple of good ideas but I'm going to go with this one: If there were no consequences, what kind of a trick/practical joke would you like to play on Monster? I thought that would be a fun little imagination exercise for you. :)

Well Mare, you were absolutely right. It was a fun imagination exercise. And marginally depressing also.

The general consensus for the evening by everyone who's last damn nerve she was getting on was…...... Sleeping pills, and a lot of them at once. I swear, everyone kept saying "Anyone got sleeping pills to slip her in quantity? She doesn't shut up, is nagging incessantly and making cracks and remarks about Cyn!"

If you think I haven't seriously considered keeping her medicated secretly (so much for the secret NOW, huh?) day in and day out, you are out of your head. I've thought of it, and it was suggested to me by MORE than one of my physicians. It would seem that there is a medication for psychotic individuals that makes Lithium look like M&M's I could give her that is clear and a liquid and tasteless that would keep her silent and sweet as a baby lamb. A few drops a day in her morning tea and I'd be set. Baaaaa baaaaaa. Ok. She would be stoned to the gills. The only thing stopping me is….

If anything happened to the old witch, I would get blamed and probably all sorts of scary shit done to me by the children that would suddenly decide to give a damn, hence, the daily load of crap I have to deal with which has left Nooshi, my houseguest of almost 2 months who is leaving on Friday (SOB! Waaaaaaaaaaaah) ready to attack her ass….. DAILY. So, I guess Mare, I'd medicate her with this stuff daily. I've got THREE doctors ready and willing to give it to me, all I need do is ask.

*Sigh*

Last but not least is my darling Carrie Jo who asked me the hardest question of all:

What should I get my 13-year-old sister for Christmas? I haven't a clue...

Isn't Carrie Jo cute? Here I'm sitting wracking my own brain for a gift for my 10 year old and coming up with zilch, really.

Join the club babycakes! So far, I've gotten Arianna CD's, cassettes, and DVD's, cause, well, that's her kind of thing, ya know? My plan was for a stereo from Santa, so that ties in well. She is quite into electronics. She was hinting for PS2 games too. And for some squirrelly reason, she wants a water gun.

When I was 13, I was into electronics like cameras and such. Music, makeup and, honestly boys. And books. I was also into jewelry at a young age. Perhaps a bracelet? Nothing waaaay expensive. Just a nice bracelet? Or necklace with a pendant? She will treasure it always.

Did I wimp out on you Carrie Jo? Sorry babe. Best I can do with the exploding brain of today.

Thanks to my lovely lady friends for their questions. Until my next post, I bid you all adieu!

From The Mouths Of Babes


I got a good chuckle from my almost 3 year old niece today that I just have to share with you all.

Today, while doing my daily nursing/doctoring duties with my triplet nieces and nephew down the street who are really so very sick with lung and sinus infections and then playing with them so they don't hate me for being the "bad guy" for giving meds and doing mean things like flushing out their noses, suctioning all the "boogies" and saline used to flush said nostrils followed by nose drops, temperature taking and administration of Tylenol infant and nebulisers as needed. Yes, I was in the doghouse with three 6 1/2 month olds and had to atone for my sins by playing, kissing, hugging, singing and entertaining them afterwards. God but it felt good to hold babies close in my arms and kiss their sweet heads, sick or not. I love children THAT much!

Their big sister, Leya, is my little pal, but my-oh-my is she a character! Herein lies my story.

After my medical/entertainer duties, it was Leya's turn with Auntie. Fine. After that, I left her in charge of watching over her sisters and brother (since she already has the 3 nannies firmly in control). She answered with a serious: "Yes Auntie. I'll take care of them!" but before I could leave the front door, she came running after me and insisted on showing me her new array of Christmas presents under the tree. I then worked her up about Santa Claus's upcoming visit. Next, was the eternal question from me since her mother had been racking her brain the night before wondering……

"What do you want Santa to leave for you under the tree Christmas Morning sweetie? Shall I send an email to Santa for you?"

You will never believe the answer I received in a million years.

Leya: " YES! SEND SANTA AN EMAIL FOR ME PLEASE! Well…… I want a really pretty dress!"
Me: "Ok. A pretty dress, and what else?"
Leya: "yeah, a pretty dress….. and……………………………. A bra."
Me: ------- *blank stare*----------
Leya: "I said I want a bra, Auntie Cyn! haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa"
Me: (Sounding strangled)"You really want a BRA for Christmas from Santa?"
Leya: "YES! A BRA A BRA! And I want panties too!"
Me: (weakly) "Let me check now. A pretty dress, a bra and panties? Is that everything?"
Leya:" Ummm…….also tell Santa I want LOTS of SWEETS in my stocking, ok?"
Me: (laughing my butt off)"So, let me tell you what I will put to Santa in my email, and if it's ok, I'll send it, allright?"
Leya:"Ok!"
Me: "Ok. How's this? 'Dear Santa, I have been a very good girl this year and a very good big sister to my new sisters and brothers. Could you please leave a pretty dress for me, a bra and panties, and lots of sweets for me on Christmas Morning? I will leave milk and cookies out for you to eat! I love you Santa. Love, Leya'. "
Leya: "Yeah, that's good Auntie Cyn! Send it just like THAT!"

I blackmailed her for my goodbye kiss and left the house laughing my ass off all the way on the walk home while dialing her mother's mobile phone no. I told her about her daughter's wish list for Santa and she, who was having a little snack at work, promptly started laughing so hard mid chew that she sprayed quite a bit out saying "OH MY GOD! ARE YOU SERIOUS??WAAAAAAHAAAA". Lovely, no?

God but I love children.

Trying

First things first. Here is your weekly reminder to please give me your Inquisition questions. You know the pertinent details. Just make sure I've got your question by Tuesday, okay? And now for your post of the day!

I'm really giving it my best shot to find a job, I really am, but then days like today happen that test my patience.

Today I went to the interview from Hell.

First off, I was called for a second interview of an initial meeting back in March 2003. Fine and dandy. I agreed to go because it was for a premier attorney in Bahrain and I quite liked him at the first meeting and was bummed I didn't get the job first time around. The woman that called didn't give me too many details over the phone, but as I recall, the pay was good in the past. But I have also noticed a high turnover rate at this law firm in the months since my last interview. What the hell, I figured, and I agreed to go.

First thing when I went in her office, we said hello, she looked at me, then said "I'm going to give you some tests.." then started rattling off information without anything for me to write notes on. Ok. Fine. Then I was seated in front of a computer that the keyboard was practically LEVEL with MY BREASTS. (Yes, it was as comic as it sounds) Then I was told "GO!" and on with the timing test with me typing like a lunatic with my hands wayyyyyyyyy up high. Sigh.

She was a particularly nasty person from right off but I did the tests then went back in the interview. She then proceeded to knock me down verbally and was very negative and the whole nine yards as she meandered through my resume. By this point, I couldn't WAIT to get out of there. I mean, look you freaking COW! I have EXCELLENT experience and 12 years of it too! And she is knocking it?? Bitch.

I tried to be as pleasant, kind and charming as I could be, but it took a lot out of me to do it. By the time that she said "Well, I don't think I need to take this any further, since you don't have enough MANAGEMENT experience, at least what I feel you need, blah blah more verbal vomit I wish you good luck in finding a job." Me: "thank you for your time, it was nice meeting you. Good day." It should have been a hint for me when I saw the look on the receptionist's face while waiting to be seen when psycho woman called her. She looked up to God for assistance and gave me the saddest face. Now it is all so clear. The worst thing? I wasted gas driving there and money for the damn meter. UGH. At least I gave it my best shot.

But hey! I bet I know the reason for the high employee turnover now, huh?

Now I am finding solace in my usual way. Cooking.

It's overcast and chilly and a bit windy if my wind chime outside is to be believed. Today there is pot roast with potatoes and carrots and corn. Fresh French bread and on the spur of the moment, I decided to do my holiday baking too! Pumpkin bread and also mincemeat cake. For the record, mincemeat cake is like a fruitcake, (no meat at ALL) but definitely, infinitely better. And also edible, unlike fruitcakes. Lots of vine fruits and apples and pears and orange rind. Perfectly spicy with nutmeg, cinnamon and allspice, raisins, dates, walnuts or pecans. Can be drizzled with whiskey, but since Z doesn't drink, sadly, it’s the non alcoholic version.

As I type this, it – everything – smells soooooo good. Who wants dinner?

A Dry Spell

I'm sorry to say, I've got nothin. But I really REALLY want to post today. A nasty case of writers block. Nasty stuff that.

So, regardless of of my lack of creative literary genius, I will instead issue a PSA.

I have recently finished forcing myself to read the book Holy Fools by Joanne Harris. In case you don't recognise the author, she is the lady that wrote Chocolat (Johnny Depp was in the movie). This has to be the only book IN MY LIFE I have ever literally forced myself to finish and suffered throughout the whole. It was such a drag that it took me one month to finish.

So what(?) you may think! Keep in mind a couple of things, if you will. 1) I am a speed reader since second grade and 2) I have no problem reading a 400-500 page book in 4-5 hours or less with excellent retention. Now then.... this precious book took me.... A FREAKING MONTH.

Why did I keep reading? Because. Well, I had nothing else to read and two... I borrowed it from a friend who got it from her MIL to be and I know, just KNOW she's gonna ask me how it was. The best part of it was.... the last two chapters. The rest of the book I had a hell of a time keeping track of who's head was up who's butt, to be honest.

So, my Good Samaritan duty for the MONTH is to tell all of you... Please, for the love of God and good books, DO NOT READ OR PAY GOOD HARD CASH FOR THIS BOOK.

A Random Observation and Brilliant Idea!!

A funny thing happened to me when I went by my local cold store down the street. This is the Bahrain version of a 7-11 or AM/PM minimart.

I was wandering down the aisle, and I happened to notice the condom display. One thing in particular caught my eye.....a product by Durex. Chocolate flavored condoms. The quote under the flavor notification was "for greater fun". This is their "Select Temptations" line. Hmmmm. Interesting.

Now normally I wouldn't notice condoms.. I mean, I"M INFERTILE, I'm 'blessed" (read: cursed) with God's own birth control. So it's not like I've really needed the damn things for the past 16 years or anything so that I noticed them at all is funny.

Chocolate flavored condoms for greater fun, eh? I suppose that this is to make giving a bl*wjob to a guy wearing a condom more fun for the woman? Yeah, whatever. So. Y'all just KNOW that my mind started wandering over this and I had an idea! (Aren't you all shivering in your boots now? I know you are!)

For REAL fun... they should make caramel flavored lube, so that you can make your own Banana sundae! (This is probably where Cheryl b. is gonna jump and hit the "leave a comment" button since she once upon a time worked in a s*x shop) Now THAT sounds like fun. What you guys think? What about pineapple or butterscotch or strawberry flavored delay spray/gel? I'm a genuis, huh? (Or just dirty minded, perhaps)

Ahhhhhhh, the workings of my mind continue to amaze and astound me!

The Inquisition Confession - Week 9

Well, we are on another Tuesday and you know what that means! Answers to the questions you asked. There's just one little bitty problem......

I had ONE, count it, ONE question this week. *blows raspberry at you who remained all SILENT* I would email you to nag (Ollie) but, well, Ollie, I seem to have misplaced both your email add AND URL in the big computer posession of last week. The rest of you slackers, you know who you are! The only one I can think of with a viable excuse would be this wiseguy cause he has had a fever of 102 and his whole family is dawg sick.

Me with hurt feelings and throwing guilt trips isn't pretty, now is it? Make it up to me for next week, hmmmm?

Fortunately Carrie Jo still loves me and as proof of such, we have the following question from her this week:

Have you ever considered being a flight attendant and why, or why not?

First off, Kisses and hugs for Carrie Jo. *squeeze, smoochy* Now then, for the answer I'm sure you are all awaiting with baited breath......

Nope. Never wanted to be a flight attendant. The reason was that usually jet lag knocks me right on my ass, although I've always loved flying and airplaines since I was a small child. In fact, one of my first words, after mama and dada was ai-pane, ai-pane. Don't ask why I had to say it twice, I always said it twice whenever I heard or saw one and would get ALL excited even as an infant. I also flew by myself cross country since the age of six. I kinda liked the idea of being a pilot, but then we get back to the whole jet lag issue, now don't we?

What I really wanted to be, which was kinda LIKE a flight attendant was a cruise director on a cruise ship. (It would seem that The Love Boat influnced me mightily) This probably would have been really good for me actually. I adore cruises and cruise ships, (been on several), but that option kinda appalled my Dad and stepmom when I answered their question with this job idea.

Julie McCoy my ass. Try THIS on for size: "Hi! Welcome aboard the ________! I'm Scarlett Cyn and I'lll be your Cruise Director!"

Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. MUCH BETTER!

Well, that's all she wrote. I *stomps feet* expect a better turn out next week sukahs! Capiche?

Is Hell Exothermic or Endothermic?

I bet THAT topic line got your attention, now didn't it?

You all know how I just LOVE to PIECES interesting little tidbits of information and quirky facts and the like, so of course I HAD to share an email I recieved with you, because quite frankly, it amused the hell out of me. I'm seriously considering sending this to my Dad who also loves this kind of stuff and to my Aunt (his sister) who is a Physicist and up until May of this year worked for NASA as a rocket scientist, among other things. I'm sure she'd get a kick out of it too.

Enjoy! I know I did. Rread on my loves, read on!

The following is an actual question given on a McGill University chemistry mid-term Exam paper:

Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)? Support your answer with a proof.

Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyles Law (gas cools off when it expands and heats up when it is compressed) or some variant. One student, however, wrote the following:

First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So, we need to know the rate that souls are moving into Hell and the rate they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Some of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there are more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that most people and their souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyles Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand as souls are added.

This gives two possibilities.

If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

Of course, if Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.

So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Ms. Celine LeBlanc during my Freshman year - that "it will be a cold night in Hell before I sleep with you" - and take into account the fact that I still have not succeeded in having sexual relations with her, then (2) cannot be true,
and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic.

The student got the only A!

M.I.A.

Yeah, that would be me. Sorry I've been on the down low lately and oh so uncharastically silent. You see, last week, my computer went completely insane and had the computer version of a nervous breakdown. It really wasn't very pretty. Not in the least. I guess my repetitive cussing at it didn't help at all. No, I don't imagine it did at that. See, Explorer decided it wasn't going to play nice with me anymore. Then other programs started going all wacked out and shutting down and freezing up, etc.. et al... so. I now am the happy owner of...........

A brand new hardrive, extra SUPER memory (Therefore upping my speed. Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!You know it's all about speed with me, now don't you??) and a bunch of other stuff added in to make it all nice and purty. Yeah. So. It better be fine or I'm gonna go beat some asses bigtime, cause? I stood on their heads at the PC Doc this afternoon for THREE HOURS. (Told me it'd be ready at 11am today, I decided to be realistic and went at 4:15pm.... I left at 7:30pm cause it wasn't done! Still. ARRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Assssshats.

Do you all forgive me? Love me still? *sniff, sniff*

Post Inquisition questions for me already! You know the deal my loves: Cutoff is at 12:01am Pacific Time on Tuesday. Answers to follow.

Inquisition Confession - Week 8

Sorry darlings I’m a wee bit late this week. Some, ahem, inet naughtiness prevented me from posting on time. Forgive me?

Well, better late than never! Here you go babies!

Mare asked me : What was your favorite age for Arianna? Which was your least favorite? (Always cheating with the two questions, I know.)

No problem Mare! My favorite age for Arianna was from 4-6 months to about age 3 or 4. Actually, I love children at those ages in general. My least favorite? I’d have to say… um so far (?)…. NOW. I have a scary feeling that the worst is yet to come though. Could possibly be now is a pain in my ass because she is hitting puberty a bit early….

Cheryl b was kind this week and asked : What is your favorite holiday food?

Even easier. Turkey. Well, that and the Mincemeat Cake and Pumpkin Bread I make from scratch each year at this time. Speaking of which….. It’s time I get my butt in gear with the baking of goodies, innit?

Carrie Jo got me but good by asking…If you were presented with the opportunity to spend Christmas with Duran Duran, what would you get them for gifts and why?

I mean, my first response would be, um, ME with a nice big bow on my head under the Christmas tree. Then, when I mentioned to Z your question, he got all cute and mentioned the name of one of my favorite songs from their new album called “Bedroom Toys”, to which I replied, “Then again, bedroom toys would STILL constitute ME, and said bow & Christmas tree…. (well, except for Andy and Nick… they don’t really yank my chain, if you get my drift.)…”

Sigh. A difficult one that. Damn Carrie! Actually, Nick and Andy are pretty easy… Nick some new synthesizer thingamajig or electronic geegaw or perhaps something artsy fartsy because he loves those kind of things and Andy perhaps a new custom electric guitar for the very same reason! (I am assuming I breathe money, here people!) Also, for Andy? Some new shades, cause I am sick unto death of the ones he is constantly wearing dammit! The other three are a wee bit more difficult.

John, hmm…. He is a romantic sensualist if I remember correctly, so…. I think perhaps a lovely relaxing day at an excellent spa resort with lovely things like massages and spa treatments and the like. Yes, I think men should do these things too. Definetly. I’d also pray that he would DYE THAT HAIR BACK TO his lovely minky brown… cause the white blonde he’s got it now makes him look…. Well, older than he is. Otherwise, he looks just as gorgeous as before and barely aged, damn him.

Simon, he is a reader and thinker, so, most likely some good books…. And, I would STILL try and give him ME for Christmas!! How I would love to have him at my mercy for…. 24 hrs. (Simon, if you read this? I TOTALLY MEAN IT!)

Well, that's all folks! Until next week's questions, I bid you all adieu from the confessional!

My Christmas List

Well, my tree is up and my house is decorated, but there is something still for me to do.

My Christmas list to Santa. Perhaps you think I’m too old for a Christmas list? Well, I’m not. Do I actually believe in Santa? Well, no. But I DO believe in the whole IDEA of Santa. Arianna is 10 now. She is at that tender age where she still wants to believe in Santa, but isn’t quite sure if she does. To make things more difficult is where we live, none of her friends here celebrate Christmas or the whole Santa thing, and as a result, tell her there is no such thing as Santa. When she asked me if he exists and if so, why he doesn’t go to their houses I said, “He comes to our house because you believe in him. When you stop believing, he stops coming. If you believe in him with your heart, he will come. Your friends don’t believe, not really, and don’t celebrate Christmas anyway. That is why he doesn’t go to their houses.

That bit of brilliance saved my ass another year!

So, without further ado, here is MY Christmas list:


Dear Santa,

HI! Just writing you my usual wish list for this year. Hope the elves are behaving themselves and not swinging from the rafters drunk like last year! I heard Donner and Blitzen had a falling out and ended up butting heads, breaking a big piece of Blitzen’s antlers off and that Dasher accidentally got caught up in the scuffle and got a hoof to the backside. Ouch, but that musta hurt bad!

Anyway, as you know, I’ve been a good girl ALL YEAR, (Go on, check your list… and then again just to be sure!) and even on those few occasions I was naughty, well, you know ME…I was naughty in the very best way! *wink wink!* Here you go!

I would like the following:

* A job. I was hoping you could pull some strings, maybe??

* A webcam (for more pleasurable Instant Messasging)

* A 7.2 Megapixel Sony Cyber Shot…Because it would really, REALLY improve my blog, you know?

* My own domain name (www.scarlettcyn.com naturally!) and a lovely new blog home at TypePad. Yes, I’m greedy, how bout a kick butt new layout while you’re at it?

* I really, really want one of these so very badly in Charcoal or Black, PLEASE???????? Of course, the Navy one is nice also.(I’m so tired of drooling over the TWO new arrivals on the road here!) I know it’s a bit big to go under the tree, so outside will do just fine! Heh. V-8 Hemi! Vroom, VROOM!!!!


* A MUTE switch for you-know-who.

Well, I guess that about does it Santa. I'd appreciate what you can manage.

I also wanted to tell you that the usual late night snack goodies will be waiting for you with milk. I'm so glad you didn't cave in to the whole Atkins thing. I love your belly like a bowl of jelly just like it is! SMOOCH! A plate full of carbs will be waiting....

Love, hugs and kisses,

Scarlett Cyn


Well, that's my list y'all. I wanted to remind you stuffed turkeys not to forget your questions for the Inquisition this week, !!!

Christmas Memories!!!

I love Christmas and all it brings with it. It has always been my favorite time of year. My parents always made Christmas (and holidays in general) a happy time for me as a child. In fact, my earliest memory ever is of lying under the lit Christmas tree late at night as a baby and looking up at the lights and then seeing my Mama coming to pick me up and smiling at me. I could not have been more than 4 months old, but I can see it as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Ahhh, the good old days.

Even after my parents split up, both of them continued with the traditions. I know the hardest thing for Mama was that Dad got me during summer and at Christmas. But I tried to look at the bright side, and that Santa made TWO stops for me. One in Florida and one in California. I missed my Mom, but I was glad to see my Dad too. At any rate, I made a good haul come Christmas, no? Mama did her best, and I knew I’d get the best presents (the ones I really, REALLY wanted from her.) I always felt sad for Mama alone on Christmas though. I really did. Dad would get me nice things too, don’t get me wrong, but they were more on the educational side or practical stuff with the occasional play toy tossed in. Did anyone ever get a Dataman? I got one. And the spelling version of Dataman also. (I was a sucker for gadgets and buttons. Still am in fact) He was a good one for getting me educational tools and books. But he would also make sure to get me a stuffed animal. A couple of years, he got me but good. This was his famous thing, and he did it to everyone, and he always got you with it, without fail.

Picture this: A 7-8 year old me, who’s main love in life at this point is Barbies and coloring and … Barbies… and… well, you get the idea. I rip off the paper and there is a box for… a model airplane. (In my head: “What the heck did Dad get me????”) Out loud “OH thank you Dad!”, with a big grin. Then I open it… lots of tissue… etc… and there, low and behold, Barbie outfits. WOOOOOHOOOOOOOOO!!!! Dad was good sometimes with the surprises. Best thing about Christmas with Dad? The train set. We would set it up together at the base of the Christmas tree and each year, add a car, or more track, or some such. Then, fiddle with it until it worked, listen to Dad cuss under his breath when he cut or shocked himself. Then…. Watch the cat freak out when it was running and laugh like two lunatics that got an extra dose of the “Good” meds at its antics.

The one time we weren’t laughing so hard is the year Dad decided to have a live potted Christmas tree. He figured he’d plant it in the yard after Christmas was over. Nice thought. One problem. This was also the year Dad added this newfangled ornament to the tree. I’m sure you’ve all either had one or heard it. The Christmas ball that when switched on, chirps like a canary? Seems that this year, Tiger the cat, she forgot all about the goddamn train running below. Tiger always was an extremely alert and intelligent cat.(This is the cat that walked through my not-yet-dry watercolor paint set left on the counter where dad TOLD me to put it when we were out of the house, and proceeded to redecorate the walls. Shoulda named her ass Picasso. Multi colored paw prints EVERYWHERE. On the walls. Some of them so high she MUST have taken a flying leap. Then? She knew she did bad, decided “I’d better hide my ass quick!” and somehow climbed up to the top of Dad’s bookcase that was almost as tall as the vaulted ceiling and I will never EVER know how she managed it. She hid there looking at Dad’s red face terrified with the evidence all over her white booty looking paws (yes, all FOUR)….in pink, purple, blue, red and green. The cat didn’t budge for hours and hours and it was really too high for dad to crawl up and drag her butt down) So, she heard that canary noise, the bird chirping and quickly identified the source. She was staring with such intense concentration at the tree, circling round and round, planning what she was going to do, you could see the moment in her face that she realized it was coming from the silver ball. And by the time Dad realized her intent it was too late. One second she was on the ground, the next she was IN THE TREE and the tree wobbled, we both jumped up to right it and take said pussycat out, but it was waaaaaaaay too late. Tree flipped over, cat, pot, dirt, decorations and all.

It took forever to clean up. The chirpy ball thing never went back on the tree again.

I have been decorating the Christmas tree by myself since I was about 12-13 years old (because I wanted to and I was good at it!).

One year in fact, I got it in my head when I was about 14-15 to decorate the bushes outside the little house Mama rented for she and I. Problem was, our landlord, Kassamir, from Lithuania, was Ebeneezer Scrooge reincarnate. He was COMPLETELY against it. His petite and adorable little wife Anna (whom he later drove to suicide with his bitching about the cost of her dialysis twice weekly. I ask you, how can you fight for your life and go on when the man you’ve been married to for over 50 yrs bitches incessantly about how expensive it is for the treatment to keep you alive?) was the cutest little thing you ever did see and quite liked me. Kassamir was about, oh, 6’3 or so, and Anna, about 5’0, if that. But she was a feisty thing that had old Kass by the balls for many other things. I asked Mama and she said I have to get permission myself,so I did what any determined, intelligent young girl with a plan would do when presented with such an obstacle as a Scrooge not wanting you to put lights outside…..

I went behind his back to Anna. Yup. I went straight to Anna and she hugged me and told me to put my lights up and leave Kassamir to her. Hrumph! Off I ran and had those lights up in record time! Unfortunately, Kass saw them before Anna saw HIM. He came and was yelling at me and told me why I put when he said no, etc.. and next thing I know, here comes Anna flying out of the house and in between us. He kept screaming and I will never forget what happened next!

She jumped up and smacked him in the face but good. Then she proceeded to tell him SHE said I could put the lights up, and that I can put the lights up for Christmas and to leave “My little girl alone” and then proceeded to continue in Lithuanian. Hah. Mom took a pic of those lights, and still chuckles over them.

Anyway, I still love to decorate for Christmas. My house is always covered with decorations and people LOVE my tree. (Yo! You who have seen it in person, speak up! You know who you are.) I studied merchandising, so I know my stuff, y’all.

Each year, without fail, I always add a little something to my Christmas Décor collection. It’s either an ornament for the tree, or something for the house. What I adore is the 3Ft tall Santa Claus in the old traditional robes that I picked up three years ago. His robes are Emerald and wine colored velvet with a silk cord tie and ‘fur’ trimmed at the sleeves and hem with a brocade sack of toys slung over his shoulder and a filled stocking in his other hand. His face is porcelain and has a beautiful long hair beard. I have an almost identical (considerably smaller) one as a tree top.

I love wrapping presents and singing carols too. There is one thing missing in all my Christmas happiness now that can never be regained.

My Nana. I miss her so much all the time. She was my life. I adored her more than I could ever verbalize or put into words and I know the feeling was mutual. She passed away a few days before Arianna turned one. Nana always did so many special things for me. But there was something she did every single Christmas. She always made certain particular cookies and fudge from scratch and would pack it in a festive tin for me (and a tin of “eat two and you’re higher than Mt. Everest” Rum Balls for Mama) and pack it with the Christmas gifts she sent in a box with more packing popcorn than you ever saw in your LIFE. Every year, the same thing for me. I couldn’t wait for the box. And when they came, I’d dig through each box (there were usually several) till I found it.

It isn’t that I miss the cookies so much. Cookies are cookies. It’s just the sentiment and love behind it that I miss. Plus? Ok, the cookies were damn good, ok? You know what the best Christmas gift I ever got was?

A few years after Nana died, my last Christmas in the US, I opened a Christmas gift from my Aunt Arlene. (Dad’s sister) It was one of the last things I opened. After I finally got the tape off and the paper off (she must have stock in scotch tape, I swear.) it was a plain white box. I lifted the lid and saw that it was a simple Recipe book; the kind you buy in a Hallmark store and write your own recipes in. At first I thought that kind of odd of her. But then, I decided to look through it. It was really quite nice, and tabbed in sections, Appetizers, soups, starters, main courses, meat, chicken, etc.. blah… all of the pages blank. And then I got to the Desserts section and the hot silent tears started pouring down my face. I started sobbing soon thereafter, though.

On page after page, (according to the note included in this section, Aunt Arlene had apparently gone through Nana’s recipe books and marked the things I liked that she would make for me each year), one by one, in my Aunt’s small, neat and very precise handwriting was Nana’s Holiday Cookie Tin recipes. That recipe book is something that I will treasure forever. I keep it hidden in my closet with the potholders that she knitted for me, that I refuse to use. I touch them every so often instead and think of her arthritic hands making them for me and I can’t bear the thought of them being ruined, touch my cheek to them and put them away again.

She loved Christmas too and made a big deal out of it. Much like I do. Like my Mama does too. My Mom always has said that my Nana was the best Mother-In-Law anyone could ever dream of and she (mama) was always grateful to have Nana in our lives. Mama loved her so much too.

Well, it seems that my Christmas post lead me straight through Memory Lane all the way to Nana’s house. Hmmmm. I think it’s time to put up my Christmas tree now. Yes indeedy.

Excuse me please. I need a tissue.

Afternoon Delight Gone Wrong

A funny thing happened today. It was another one of my “OHMYGOD I HAVE TO BLOG THIS!” moments, but with a bit of a twist, you see.

Something strange occurred today. Nooshi, our darling houseguest, went out with N (hamsters-story update later bout them) shopping and all. Arianna went out with Az and her 3 yr old to the Ritz Carlton’s beach club. Z and I were watching TV. Then, well, Monster goes out too. After a while, Z looks at me and says “Did you realize we’re home alone?”. I have to admit, it took a few seconds for me to register and remember where everyone was.

I’m sure you ALL can imagine what happened next. I mean, really! This being home alone happens, like, NEVER. You can bet your ass I wasn’t channeling Macaulay Culkin, that’s for sure.

So, ahem, after…. um, you know. I was there just kind of, well, relaxing with my eyes shut when Z attempted to make an observation-botched it- and ruined all my warm fuzzy numb feelings with one simple question.

Curious, aren’t you? Ok, I give. I’ll tell you. Ready?

………….


………..are you sure you’re ready?……..

………………..positive?………………………..ok.

He said to me “What’s with the Smurf on your face?”

Me:*thinking, mind clearing rapidly: “Did he just say SMURF or am I imagining?”*

Z: “Smurf on your face. Heh.”

Me: *Eyes flying open in absolute hysterical mirth. “He DID say Smurf!!!!!!* “YOU SAID SMURFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA”----really loud, I mean SO DAMN LOUD, MY LAUGHING” HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHHA!!! Question is, what is that smurf DOING on my face???” Hahahahahaaaaa heee heeeeee heee heeeeeeee

Z: “Oh shit, I said Smurf instead of Smirk. WAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

Me: “Is it Papa Smurf or Brainy or Handy Smurf??” Waaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha—More extremely loud uncontrollable and totally hysterical laughter, except now it is BOTH OF US laughing like mental patients allowed to self-dose meds.

Z: “Waaaaaaaaaaaaa…. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…… HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA….wheeze…. wheeze….. Haahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

Me: “Well, at least… gasp, chortle, guffaw, shout shriek…….. ahahahahahahahha,it isn’t…….. hahahahah Gargamel….!!!!!!! Hahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa”

Continues for about 4 minutes of me and him laughing uncontrollably until I finally shout in the middle of my gut wrenching laughter…”HOW THE HELL AM I GONNA BLOG THIS????? I HAVE TO BLOG THIS!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AHHAHAHAHHA where the hell is my asthma inhaler??? Hahha “must……..*wheeze* BLOG…….*gasp* …. This!!!!!!!…… MUST…haahhhhhaaaahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa *puff, inhale* wheeze,,, laughing……. *puff, inhale* heee heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehahahahhaaaaa heeeeeeee.

Of course, he then said the most WRONG thing possible to me…….

“You’ll never blog about THIS! Never. NO WAY. Heh.” All smug and sure of himself.

I think I’ll quote Tweety Bird and Bugs Bunny on this one, shall I?

“He don’t know me very well, DO HE?”

I’m a GENUINE MILLIONAIRE!

Don’t I freaking wish!? Actually, I am.

It seems my dear friend Genuine gave me 10 million bucks. (Isn’t he a sweetheart?) I mean, geez Gen, I know I’ve been out of a job for a few months, okay, FOUR MONTHS, but still! 10 million is MORE than enough to help me get by.

But, you know, since I would be completely stupid to look a gift horse in the mouth, I’ll take it!

Oh shit. This is an imaginary $10 Mil. Just great. Oh what the hell, I’ll play along. It’s nice to dream.

Genuine is having a fantasy-ahem!- a daydream that he can be in Bill Gates’ shoes for a year, and decided to be generous as we all know him to be, and share the love.. AND the money. Such a kind and giving man, our Gen. He is curious as to what we-the readers of his blog- would do if we had $10 Million. So, since he is an imaginary Gazillionaire, I get to be an imaginary multi-millionaire. Ok, that works for me.

Gen honey, you asked for it, you got it!

First things first.

I’d pay off mine and Z’s debts in full and get an excellent attorney to protect my ass (ets) and tell the banks we owe money to KISS MY GRITS.

I’d buy a lovely condo by the beach for my Mom and hand her the title. In the drive would be a cute little sports car for her to scoot around in and make sure she had enough money each month and the best doctors. Mama’s hip like that and she deserves the very best!

I’d put a few hundred thousand in an account for Arianna’s college tuition and fees.

I’d pay monster a monthly fee of maybe $3,000.00 or so to stay away from me and bug off. (look she has 7 kids, I shouldn’t be the only one supporting her, dammit!) Cause the only thing she loves more than herself is MONEY. (If you think I’m buying HER a house, you’re out of your damn minds!) Say it with me now: “AW HELL NO!”
If 3,000 seems like a lot, I’m thinking all inclusive here. She should be able to pay rent here in Bahrain for a place, utilities, food, phone, and have some left over for shopping. Ie: OUT OF MY HAIR. Priorities y’all, priorities!

Daddy doesn’t need the money…. Since he’s invested heavily in property over the years. Instead I’d buy myself a lovely home in South Florida right on the waterway near his home so I could be close to him, Nothing over the top… just right, with a little dock on the property for my boat. My speedboat.

I would buy a couple of properties to rent out here in Bahrain as an investment, a couple for several reasons: 1) NO property taxes, 2) The cost of land and houses to purchase in dollars is low when you consider the fixed exchange rate, and the value is skyrocketing in leaps and bounds like Tigger on acid 3) high rents make for steady income.

I will open some type of construction or contracting company in Qatar. It is booming right now, and there is loads of money to be made, so, all income would be good for my children and future grandchildren. It takes money to make money!

So what if I have money already? Nothing lasts forever! Not for me to just sit and spend although I have no problem spending at anytime! I’m a planner, what can I say?

Speaking of children…. I’m going to the BEST Infertility doctor on the planet, wherever he/she might be. Gimmie my baby (ies)! IVF is tricky; I could end up with twins easily. Two birds with one stone and all that!

Of course, once I had my babies, it would be time for… my tummy tuck. Wheee! And a slight breast reduction/lift. (Stop crying guys. Only down to a D cup or so!) I’m happy with the rest of me. I’d pay for Mama’s facelift though. I’m not being mean, she would love to have one, even though I think she still looks beautiful. I still remember when I was in 3rd grade in the school lunchroom and Mama came in to give me something. All the kids at my table and the one on either side got quiet. Mama came in all smiling at me like a golden angel looking so beautiful as usual, and gave me what she came to give, and left again. All the kids were saying… “I didn’t know your mom was a movie star!!!!” all awed. I was so proud that day!.

A lovely little manor house in either Scotland or Ireland sitting on a few acres with a beautiful view. Like 5 acres at least. That really is my dream, that. I’d split my time between this house and the Florida one.

You knew it was coming, didn’t you? Shopping. Whenever I feel like it, dammit. I love decorating and shopping, and now I have at least two homes for me to fix. And fill. With clothes, and furniture, and stuff. Heh. Not crazy-what-the-hell-is-she-gonna-do-wear-it-once kinda shopping. But shopping.

Now then. I would donate money to charities often. For AIDS research, Cancer research, and perhaps selfishly, finding a cure for Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, since there isn’t one, and it affects so many people’s health in so many ways like it does mine. PCOS isn’t life threatening usually, but I would hate for my daughter to suffer from it like I do. It is a big fear of mine. I would like to see cures for all three in my lifetime. That would be wonderful.

Now that I’ve done my Good Samaritan thing, it’s time for me to treat myself….CARS! (Scarlett likes her cars, oh YES SHE DOES!)

I would travel for pleasure a few times a year and make sure I took my good friends with me to enjoy even more! My expense. I’d throw separate, KI*LER Blog parties too! Fly everyone down for the weekend, and have an absolute blast, singing karaoke drunk to the gills and wonderful food, dancing and activities.

A case of Crown Royale and a case of excellent and very expensive wine for Genuine as a thank you for the money.(Never let it be said I’m not an appreciative lady!) I know he’s filthy rich, but hey, it’s simple manners!

I wouldn’t want to spend it all. No. I have income coming in from businesses and investments and would keep the bulk of the money in savings. I’m a planner and I spend wisely by nature. I’m one for getting the best value for money.

So there you go Genuine. Curiosity appeased now? *wink*

I wonder what MY readers would do with 10 million?

Size DOES Matter!

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving yesterday! I did. I love turkey day. Yes I do!

I just had to make a quickie post about the turkey I worked on yesterday. The turkey weighed in at around 48 pounds. That sucker was SO BIG. Goodness, it took forever to cook.

Yes, I said 48 pounds. But it tasted great.

I also had to share one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a while (well, until today, but that’s another post!). My student, after quite a few glasses of Chivas Regal on the rocks (of which I poured some into my empty water glass and he told me “Hey! That’s whiskey!” and I said “ yeah, I know”, and I promptly downed it!) said to the room at large: “But a turkey is just a big chicken, isn’t it??” We all gave him a huge “NO!” and he said “Yeah, it is. It’s just an INFLATED CHICKEN, right?”.

Inflated chicken?…………….

*Shocked faces, mouths gaping in disbelief*

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

“Um, no. A turkey is totally different from a chicken. They are distant cousins or some such, but…. An inflated chicken? Heheheheheheheeeeeeee NO.”.

I think I’ll leave y’all with that thought.

Change of Plan

Hello all! First things first!

It’s after 1:00am on Thanksgiving. Hiya! Yeah. Like I don’t have anything better to do. Well, remember how I said how I was saying how nice and cool it was yesterday around 1pm-ish at 90 degrees? Me and my BIG mouth.

It is cold as a witch’s tit outside. (I’ve been dying to use that phrase for ages! Thank you for humoring me.)

Speaking of tits…judging by the reaction of my breasts, (hee heeeee!) plus figuring in the damn wind chill factor, it’s at least in the mid 40’s tonight-easily. It was 67 late in the day and it’s a hell of a lot colder now. Of course, that didn’t stop me from standing outside looking up at the beautiful full moon hanging in the clear sky with tons of stars shining bright with my loose hair blowing about me in the wind a little while ago! Nope! An absolutely gorgeous night. I love looking up at the stars. I always have.

Anyway, it’s about damn time it gets cold, I say! It’s finally acting like late autumn, early winter here on this little island. Heh. Lets put it this way.. I’m wearing my fuzzy pink slippers. WHAAAAT? I have tile floors, for Chrissake! Jeez.

Well, back to my topic, eh?

There has been a slight change of plan for Thanksgiving. Now I’m giving cooking lessons.

Yeah, you read correctly, THANKSGIVING COOKING LESSONS. Me. Giving. Cooking. Lessons. Then eating at the student’s house. Oh what the hell!

Move over Emerill, Scarlett’s in the house! BAM, Bitch! Take that!

The FATHER of the triplets (‘J’) wants ME to teach him the proper thanksgiving doo-dads. From the thawing of the BIGGEST FUCKING BUTTERBALL I EVER DID SEE, to the homemade stuffing…. Yadda yadda yadda. All of it. See, HE loves to cook. He does most of the cooking in the house, or the maids do. But, he wants to learn a proper roasting turkey technique. (Thanks honey, for bragging on my roast turkey and cornbread stuffing!) Yeah, Z bragged like hell (he DOES LOVE my cooking) and next thing I know, I’m being told to save my stuff for Christmas, and make a shopping list, carte blanche-he’s buying- and to teach him from A-Z.

I thought I would let you all know, since it is SO damn important, now isn’t it? I can’t help it, I am tickled at the whole thing. Notice he didn’t want me to teach his wife, Z’s neice? She was muttering something about getting recipies from the internet and he said “F that, I’m just gonna get Cyn to teach me so I can do it from now on myself!”. Bless his heart, I’ve NEVER seen a man love food quite like him! His brain is not in his skull but in his stomach. He is a real sweetheart though.

I’m still trying to get over the shock that I’m going to give my stuffing recipe away. I mean, it’s really simple, but oh-so-good, and even picky CHILDREN have begged for thirds.

*sigh* A girl's gotta do, what a girl's gotta do!

PS: PLEASE DO NOT PUT STUFFING IN THE ASS OF THE TURKEY WHEN BAKING! I know it looks all pretty and stuff and they do that on TV and in movies, but it is SO not healthy. In fact, you can get really sick that way. Cook it separate, and then, towards the end, when all the lovely turkey juices are in the bottom of the roasting tray? Cram it AROUND the bird, NOT UP IT”S BUTT. Got it? Then cook for another 30 min like that or so.

This PSA was just because I care about your well being.

Happy Turkey Day!

Well, we have arrived at my second favorite day of the year. My very favorite is Christmas.

Ah... even though it entails me being in the kitchen pretty much all day... I love it! It's fortunate that I enjoy cooking. I find it quite theraputic, actually. So... that being said, there is a Butterball turkey calling my name and loads of work to do.

Like the homemade cornbread, sage & onion stuffing. A big, perfectly golden roasted turkey,Southern candied yams. Lots of mashed potatoes & gravy, cranberry sauce, hot white dinner rolls, steaming hot veggies, etc... At the end....................

Pumpkin pie.

Scarlett Cyn loves her some pumpkin pie, I tell you. In fact, I don't like to share it much. Yeah, THAT MUCH I LIKE IT. Apple or sweet potato pie you can have all to yourself, in fact! But the pumpkin? Um, no.

Well, after some thought, perhaps, if you ask me real nice... I might give you some.

I wish I wasn't so far away from my family at this time of year, particularly my Mom. That's the hardest. My Daddy makes the best roast turkey I've ever tasted in my life. (He's a great cook! Mom is good too, but even she will say dad makes a killer turkey!)

I hope all of you will take this time to say a prayer of thanks and to count your blessings, no matter how bad things may be.

I'm thankful for my decent health, for my beautiful daughter,my hubby,my family, my wonderful friends and blog readers far and wide who know I am sending each and every one of them my love on this Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Confession Week 7

Here I sit typing away waiting for the storm to break. Earlier today I was thinking to myself when I went out “You’ve totally lost your mind woman! It’s 90 degrees (32) outside and you were just thinking how nice and cool it is today! Yeah, It was actually ‘cool’ at 90.” Jeez. Since early afternoon it’s been overcast though, and suddenly became extremely windy. I love the wind because it sets my wind chime on the patio off! Hee hee. It seems we are due for some kick ass thunderstorm system to blow through tonight. Woo. Hoo.

Without further ado, I will get to this week’s Confession.

Mare Imbrium asked me the following thought provoking question:

What is the secret to staying married for 14 years, especially during the onslaught of baby/toddler hood?

Well Mare’s question has really given me pause for thought and made me….well, think. I don’t know if it’s a secret or what, but, I’ll answer as best as I can, how’s that hon? By no means is my marriage perfect, but, well, I guess it can best be described as a potentially never-ending work in progress.

Prepare yourselves; this is going to be a long-ass answer.

First of all, I firmly believe that marriage is NOT easy by any means. I think that these days (OMG, I sound ancient, don’t I?) people give up too easy. Now I don’t mean you shouldn’t leave his ass in a millisecond if he’s going to swinging bars or hitting you or some such or you’ve discovered his unquenchable need for H*okers or some such. If you are truly unhappy or miserable or being mistreated or you are the only one making a real effort at your relationship, then no, there will come a point when you need to move on with your life. Ever seen “WAR OF THE ROSES”? It’s a bit camp and stereotypical, but watch it closely. If his touch makes your skin crawl or watching him chew his food makes you want to scream or choke him, it’s probably a good idea to re-evaluate your situation, you know? (A good film by the way!)

But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about a generally ‘normal’ relationship here, people. It takes BOTH partners to make it work, patience, understanding, some occasional sacrifice and lots of give and take (hopefully) in equal measure and not taking the other person for granted. Marriage is work, it doesn’t just happen all by itself. I’m famous for my analogies, and so I will give you one now:

Marriage or any relationship for that matter is like a car. (Stop laughing!) It needs guidance. Yes, you can start the engine and put it in drive, but you need to keep your eyes on the road ahead and your hands on the steering wheel. It needs maintenance. The occasional oil change/ service and car wash so you can see out the windows. It needs gas (love and affection) to keep running. You can drive the car on a perfectly, seemingly straight road, guiding it over the speed bumps in your life (problems, troubles) steering it through traffic and intersections (work and family) but consider what will happen if you take your hands off the wheel. The car will continue to go straight for a time, but eventually, it will do one of a few things: 1) roll off the road into a ditch 2) veer and hit a tree or parked car 3) generally crash with oncoming traffic 4) make you end up on the wrong end of a red-light. (Can you think of other things? I could go on for ages with this analogy, you realize? I think you get the hint though!)

If one partner is giving all the time (or most of it) and the other is doing all the taking, that will eventually put quite a strain on the relationship, guaranteed. I won’t pretty things up here, Egad! Why would I do that now after all this time? The give and take ratio in my own marriage is NOT 50-50. more like 85-15 (me 85%) This is where my patience and understanding (or weakness if you want to think of it that way) comes in. In my own defense, my patience and understanding are not unlimited. When I’ve reached my boiling point, he knows it, believe me.

It all boils down to the old cliché: “It takes TWO to Tango” my friends. Otherwise, you end up dragging someone around like the dance floor of your life.

As you all have some idea, I HAVE put up with a lot. There is actually a lot that I haven’t yet related as well, and not only with Monster, but she is a big part of it. I think that I am probably TOO understanding, actually, but that is me. I am by nature a giver. I enjoy receiving as much as the next person, everyone needs to be on the receiving end, but I am, and have been since I was a little girl, happiest when I am making others happy. That does not mean I will happily allow myself to be used and ‘walked on” like an area rug. No, cause honestly I HATE being used, it pisses me off in fact. But I digress.

I also think it is the “little things” that really do matter and help things run smoothly. Be careful, I’m going to go a wee bit “Stepford Wife” on you now.

Be feminine. A little lipstick or lip-gloss and mascara never killed anyone and there is NO excuse for not wearing a bit for your husband. Screw that, wear it for you first, him second. It will make you feel pretty. Don’t allow yourself the excuse that you can’t do it because you are busy with the baby/chores/work/cooking …etc. It’s all a matter of time management or perhaps I should say multi-tasking. Mascara and tinted lip-gloss or lipstick can be slapped on while you’re on the toilet, so there IS time. It isn’t as if peeing takes such intense concentration, or anything ELSE for that matter, so why not? It takes no longer than a normal bathroom trip to do. Every now and then, wear your hair down if it’s long-ish, not just in a ponytail. I know you feel haggard, we all do, but you don’t have to look it. Does that make sense?

If you’re a good cook or just like to cook, cook his favorite meal once in a while. Or the thing you make best that he likes. Let your feelings for him show, all the way to your eyes. Direct eye contact with a man is the equivalent combination of a deer and headlights. Get my drift? Put perfume on not only to go to work. Put some on for him… then, have him smell where you put it. First the wrist, then the forearm….. then, lean in for the kill… ahem, I mean, arch your neck and let him smell it there. (most men are simple creatures –sorry fellas, but you KNOW you are!- get them that close and they are probably already a wee bit frisky).

Frisky is good. Keep that interesting too. Missionary gets the job done, but is damn boring after a while, don’t you think? I sure do! Don’t forget kissing. Kissing is a lovely pastime. And not just a peck, either. I mean a curl your toes kind of kiss passing in the hallway… then both of you wander on with whatever you were doing.

Once the kids start coming along, it is more important that you have time out of the house, together…. Just the two of you. Even if money is tight, you don’t have to spend a load of money to have a nice hour or two out together. Leave the baby/kids/whatever with Grandma or Auntie or a friend for an hour or two. Ideally all night every few months would be great so you can have a great rest and a lovely romp with your honey wherever the mood strikes. Yes, I said WHEREVER. Drive somewhere and just walk around holding hands. Talk occasionally. It doesn’t really matter where you go or what you do, as long as you are together without the screeching of your kids. Don’t talk about the bills and problems. Just enjoy being alone together. If you are only gone a couple of hours… DON”T CALL TO CHECK ON THE KIDS. They will be ok with whomever you have left them with; otherwise you wouldn’t have left them there, now would you? So shut the damn cell phone off if need be and just… BE.

The most important thing I can say is together time. Most especially when you have a child/children. Mommy/Daddy time is EXTREMELY important. Mommy/Daddy time is different than the time mentioned above. I know that what with work and household chores the immediate urge for most women is that once the kids are in bed to jump in and get the house in some sort of order and get prepared for the day to come. Laundry is a never-ending nightmare from hell. The world won’t come to an end if you take 15-20 minutes out of your evening chores for a cuddle on the couch, so do it. A lot of marriages go bad once children come for this important reason, and I really think it is a shame and totally unnecessary. I have seen this first hand in relationships of people close to me, and it saddens me. The wife gets caught up in motherhood and neglects the husband emotionally and physically. It’s like the husband was only good to be a sperm donor or something. I’ve watched this happen and I’ve also heard the comments about it from several husbands. In some instances, the wives didn’t let the husbands touch them after they had their babies for months and months! One in particular moved her husband into the guest bedroom when she came home from the hospital with the baby and he stayed there for over a year! They went from having an overactive love life to NONE. See what I mean? Sperm donor. Men might not like to admit it, but they need to feel needed by the woman in their life. Just think of how they are when they get sick! Me personally, I have always made an effort to give attention to Z. He can never say he felt neglected or unloved or anything else after I gave birth, that is for damn sure! Once of our nieces decided she liked how I did things and has taken a page from my book. So far so good and she has a normal relationship with her hubby as opposed to her sisters.

My constant efforts (all 85% of the give and take) and attention love, and sacrifice on so very many levels, not to mention my stubborn pig-headed determination in the face of Monster’s constant and frequent avowals and prayers to see us divorced if it kills her (I SO don’t want her to win. Childish of me, I know, but there it is!) have kept me married for so long. Of course I love him. If I didn’t I wouldn’t still be here. But to follow my own advice, never take anything for granted.

We’ve been together since I was 18. If our marriage breaks up for any reason, I know that with clear conscious, I can say I gave 250% and then some.

Whew!

Cheryl b asked: I know you said that you would answer any question, but you don't have to answer this one if it makes you uncomfortable.

If you could magically get pregnant and be guaranteed a perfect pregnancy and healthy baby at the end of it but had to leave your husband would you do it?

Nope.

Because of infertility problems and all the hell that it puts a relationship through, I can understand how that can affect and potentially dissolve a marriage. But if someone leaves for that reason? I think there was more wrong with the relationship to begin with. But that’s just my opinion.

Bonus question: Who is your favorite Muppet's character and why? Mine has always been Miss Piggy.

I’ve always been fond of Miss Piggy too, the little nympho oinker. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I always loved Foz E. Bear too. Why? Cause, no matter how bad things went, he kept on chugging. On with the show! The eternal optimist of sorts! Plus? He’s so cute! Gonzo too. The two old geezers up in the balcony always cracked me up with their smart-ass cracks.

By the way Cheryl… thanks babe! Now I have the theme song from The Muppet Show in my head now. Love you too honey!

Apparently it is deep question week. Here comes what Carrie Jo asked me:

What is your idea of Afterlife? How do you picture it? And do you believe in reincarnation? OK, that's three, but they're all related!

Yes I belive in an Afterlife, absolutely. A relative of mine, a couple actually, had life after death experiences and they described it the same. Very beautiful and peaceful, the whole white light and joy, peace and the feeling of never wanting to leave, etc... that you've all undoubetedly heard of before.

If any of you have ever seen the movie "What Dreams May Come", it is a beautiful film and really makes you think. I would hope that Heaven or whatever you want to call it is something like that. I also think that loved ones that have passed on come to help you from one world to another. I 've heard too many stories of the dying that right before the leave they call out to a loved one long gone right before they take their last.

This may be comment provoking as well, but I also believe in a type of reincarnation. I don't necessarily belive that people come back as spiders, etc... but I HAVE been to a place for the first time and felt deep in my soul that I've been there before even though, in this life, I haven't. I felt it when I went to Edinburgh. I knew my way around like I'd been there several times before, hard to describe, really. It would explain the pull I've always felt for Scotland, definetly.

I am in no way begging for a religious discussion, so.... I just think that perhaps some people's souls have unfinished business or lessons to learn and come back.

Anyway, there you go. That's it for this week's Inquisition Confession. Lordy, but I feel like Dr. Ruth today. Maybe I should think about starting a seperate blog for assvice (advice). Or just a weekly advice thing. Hmmmm, something to think about.

Shrimp Decapitation, etc...

I realize it’s LONG overdue, my post about my escapades. But first things first.

Just a reminder to get your questions in before Tuesday 12:01am Pacific Time for this week’s Inquisition. Now, on to my promised post!

It involves a new (!) fast and powerful twin engine boat, the sea, me, wind in my hair, loads of laughing, sandy beach, and... me fishing successfully! It also involves some shrieking and fits on Monster’s part, AS USUAL, but I will keep that to as much as a minimum as possible. Oh ok, and a fair amount of cussing at fish on my part, but hey! It worked to some extent.) Where to begin?

Well, first, N, remember her? The hamster owner from a previous post? Well, she called her cousin, who has the previously mentioned boat and arranged for a day out since my friend Nooshi is visiting us still. (Love her!) So out we went, or so we thought. But first? Monster had to have a big-ass hissyfit. Oh yes! You see, we are NOT ALLOWED to go out and have fun. Oh no siree. For example, the previous night? We had gone to a friends house for a quiet evening and some drinks, and chatting and music. Z, Nooshi, and myself. We were out till 2am. Thank you to ‘P’ for the lovely evening AND the delicious bottle of White Cabernet Sauvignon he graciously let me finish ALL BY MYSELF. (I didn’t realize it, but he kept refilling)*grin* . He’s such a sweetheart, really. Anyhooo, on the way home, Z gets a message (designated driver that he was) from his sister saying are we all ok, and that their mom is calling her nonstop wondering where we are. Pissed is more like it. Anyway, before he can reply at the next red-light, the mobile rings… it’s sis. What follows next is a minute by minute blow by blow of our whole day. See, she has been having FITS about us actually going out and having fun most nights. Especially for not taking her along. Ugh. I’m sorry. But if ANYONE comes to stay with me, you will be taken care of and entertained properly, dammit! There isn’t LOADS to do in Bahrain, granted, but I’ll figure something out. So. She was PISSED. Again. (This has been a nightly thing going on, btw.) Her excuse is that she should be informed of where we all go and with whom, what we do, and ETA also. (I can hear you all cussing all the way over here… yes, you Carrie, Cheryl, and Hula!) Did I neglect to mention it’s Z’s 40th B-day today? HAPPY BIRTHDAY HONEY. (Yes, a 40-year old man is supposed to report to his mommy his whereabouts and goings on.) As is he tells her practically anything.

So. He told her we were going to the beach. (a white lie. Didn’t mention the boat or anything else, OR who was going). When she heard the word beach….. She freaked the hell out. Started screaming and shrieking and throwing and slamming things. Cussing at… well, me as usual (but that is NOTHING compared to the special curses/hexes thrown my way this evening) but everything in general about us going out all the time. Then, when she saw that N (hamsters) was coming… she really freaked. Yes, she loathes this particular granddaughter almost equally with me. THAT is really saying something, believe me. I grabbed Arianna and hustled her and Nooshi and N out of the house. Yes, Arianna just shakes her head and told Nooshi “She’s a psycho old lady, try and ignore her screams… I know it’s hard. I wish she would shut UP.”. (Out of the mouths of babes)

We all took off praying we didn’t all drown at sea from the curses raining down on our heads.
We arrived at the resort where Captain keeps his boat moored. It’s actually one of my favorite places in Bahrain. Perhaps because when you are there, it doesn’t feel like you are still IN Bahrain any more, but have actually gone somewhere else. I admit, despite all the hassle when leaving, I was really looking forward to this. I had spent a lot of my young years on boats and being on the water during my summer visitations with my Dad. Each summer we would go with his friend that owned a boat for about a week or so and have a good time clowning around. It was on one of these trips that I got my nerve up WAAY too late to try my hand at water-skiing. By the time I got my feet in the skiis and my fist on the rope, the water had become horribly choppy……. I think you can guess what happened! Anyway, I have lots of fond memories, like of clamming, which is really such a blast (especially when there are manatees in the water around you). I love clamming and fishing, just not eating the fruits of the endeavors is all! I saw my first space shuttle launch from the deck of a boat in fact.

Onto the boat we went, gassed up the fuel tanks and we were off full throttle! Ahhhh! So great! The engines and boat were 3 months old or so, and real powerful. Wooohoooo! A lovely GPS so we didn’t get lost and loud music blaring on the stereo system! Wind in my hair and the sun shining and a big old grin on my face. Nothing calms me quite like the sea.

During the trip to an island that belongs to Bahrain, Nooshi and I were really in hysterics at Z and N’s antics in the bow of the boat. They were getting all the “turbulence”… haa. And Z was acting all naughty, as usual. He and N were flopping around in the front, hanging on to the railing and then, in a calm moment, he reached over when the wind flipped up her tshirt in back and gave her the worst massive wedgie I’ve ever seen in my life. I was howling with laughter. Well, Captain, her cousin and Nooshi were also cracking up as well. I swear, he pulled the waistband of her undies up to her bra strap. The look of horror on her face was priceless.
When we arrived at the island it was actually a narrow strip of sand that when the tide is in is completely covered by water, but when the tide is out, you can walk quite a long distance. There were yachts moored everywhere. Big ‘uns. Really gorgeous. So, out onto the powdery white sand we trooped. We took photos for Noosh to take back home with her and then… I started my sea shell hunting and strolling along the water’s edge with the waves lapping gently at the shore. It was so lovely and relaxing. Quiet and peaceful. We stayed for quite a while. Then decided to go out into the deeper water for a bit, and then ended up fishing.
By now the sun was beginning to set in the sky. The colors were absolutely beautiful. My favorite time of day has always been sunset. If I catch it, I will stop what I’m doing to watch it whenever possible. The pinks and oranges and pale blues fading to lavender and darker purple were gorgeous. As the boat skimmed across the water I watched the sun sink into the horizon from the captains bench behind the wheel.

Now it was time for fishing. Yaaaaay! Yes, we fished in the dark. It was actually quite good and very peaceful and relaxing.

I was fishing freehand... which means no pole, just a role of fishing wire and a hook and weight on the end... oh yeah, and some fresh shrimp dangling, even though the boat was equipped with special equipment welded into the frame of the boat for catching BIG fish. I was happy with my simple line. I caught 5 fish in about an hour or so. (actually 7, but 2 were too small and got tossed back in) 2 of them looked like a type of pike fish and were, quite frankly, kinda ugly. Also? It had sharp teeth and one kind of squealed a bit. I felt bad for that one. One was about as long as your forearm and the other a bit longer and fatter. The other 3 were a different type, local to the gulf. I also got in a fight with a couple of the pike type fish.... he won, big old bastard. (Bait, hook and all. But it was a big sucker). N also had good luck and kept getting fish as well.

Some of you may be wondering what happened to the fresh fish that was caught. Now remember y’all, Scarlett likes fishing but does not like FISH. NO FISH. Ew. Unless they are in a movie, an aquarium, on the end of my hook, or... no, that's about it. So. The male cousin who's boat it was, Captain, cousin of N (aka Hamster Owner who also was there), got possession of said fish.

About the decapitation comment and why Captain got the fish? Now, while I like fishing immensely (HAH! Z caught NOTHIN! Poor baby, but he DID set up an apparent all-you-can-eat buffet for the critters in the sea) I do not like TOUCHING them, nor the shrimp that was used for bait. Why? Well, when you get right down to it? I’m such a girly girl. While I may like fishing, clamming, playing basketball, etc.. I’m not much for, um, touching squishy stinky fish, so to speak. Ok, at ALL. Soooooooooo, Captain was baiting my hook, ok and hooking my line when I lost my fight with said pike-ish fish, and since the shrimp was FRESH, ie: whole. he was fixing my line all pretty like. ie: now we get to the shrimp decapitation part. Meaning, it will be a cold day in hell before I can stand there and calmly rip the head off the shrimp, toss it overboard, then rip off the tail, and toss that over the side also, then shove a very sharp and small hook in it JUST SO. So. Captain got my fishies. Capiche? Gawd, they were flapping about forever... taking forever to DIE. How sad. That didn't stop me from cussing a blue streak at the fucking pike fish that got all the way to the boat and into the air and THEN, the asshole broke my line, hook AND SHRIMP in mouth and plopped down in the water. The pig. It was HUGE. I'm sure it was him that came and ate my bait twice afterwards. grrrrr. One big fish as I was reeling it in hand over hand- it was heavy- well, said fish got cussed at under my breath in Persian but good. Captain was standing next to me laughing his ass off at my verbal assault of the fish that was fighting me. Heh.
But I won, and into the bag it went!

Otherwise, when I was just standing with my feet apart and braced against the waves that made the boat bob in the water while waiting for a bite on my line, I would do one of two things: 1) I would close my eyes and listen to the tranquil sound of the waves splashing the hull, or 2) watching the reflection of the moon and strong clear moonlight rippling on the water and occasionally looking up at the clear sky at the stars.
All to soon it was time to go back in and head home. The ride in was nice, the breeze off the water balmy, not cold. All in all, I haven’t been so at peace and had such a lovely day in ages. Yes, it even topped my beach visit a week ago.