Baby likes to pump iron

Baby has become my workout buddy. She likes to sit and watch and count my reps.

Fire in LB

Bye bye razor!

My razor phone decided to die on me Tuesday night. It didn't even say goodbye, it just DIED. I was able to get all of my numbers off of it due to the nice people at AT&T...but I'm fairly confident they only helped me out because I walked into the store with tears in my eyes. The last thing I needed to deal with this week was a dead phone, after everything that's been going on with my mom. Anyway, Madison was so sweet and went into storage and found his old phone for me to use. So thank you big bro!!

Calypso is Mom's candy striper

Some really funny (and probably inappropriate) valentines...

These unique valentines were taken from Right Wing News.

The Valentine I Will Never Forget

As a little girl, I always looked forward to Valentine’s Day. My mom always had a way of making the day special, by taking me out for a treat or giving me a present filled with hearts and candy. My dad would send huge stuffed animals and then as the years went on, he started sending me bouquets of coffee beans. Even in college, my mom would make sure to send me valentines. But I never realized how much I loved this day until I was thousands of miles away from home, in the middle of the desert, in a place where a day devoted to love was unheard of.

Celebrating Valentine’s Day in Morocco was, in the only word that makes sense, “hashuma” (shameful). Our Western world of dating and showing public love and affection was not accepted.

To be honest, when my first February 14th came around while I was living in Morocco, the last thing on my mind was about receiving any valentines. Instead, thoughts of the language and trying to figure out this new and entirely different culture filled my head. My Western persona only returned to me while I was at the post office, on Valentine’s Day morning.

After standing in line for more than an hour, trying to get the post master’s attention to see if I had received any letters or mail from back home, he finally handed me a padded envelope. The return address marked Long Beach, Washington, so I knew my mom had sent me something special. I signed for the package and started to walk back to the taxi stand to catch a ride home. I didn’t open the package right away, but instead I embraced it, trying to make the experience last as long as possible. It wasn’t a big envelope, just something normal, but it meant the world to me.

A taxi came and I crammed into the back with three other people. (A taxi holds about 6 people, not including the driver.) I couldn’t wait any longer and slowly ripped open the top, keeping it close to me so that no one could see its contents. I found a letter waiting for me, from my mom. I opened it in plain view of my fellow taxi riders, knowing that anything written on it could not be read by anyone in the cab. The letter read, “Something special for my Aurie, on Valentine’s Day.”

I was so excited and started to pull out what was in the package when all of a sudden I felt a huge burst of red wash over me. I knew what was inside and I immediately stuffed it back into where it came from. Still red, I quietly laughed to myself and prayed to God that no one saw what was inside. Needless to say, my mom didn’t let the fact that I was living in an Islamic country ruin my Valentine’s Day.

Once I got home, I sat on the floor and re-opened my package again. There, laid out in front of me, was a Victoria’s Secret bag, with a pink bra and underwear inside. My laughter turned a little to sadness, thinking of my parents so far away, but knowing I would see them soon eventually.

Since I’ve returned home, I have completely embraced my Western love for Valentine’s Day, no longer scared that someone might think of me as being shameful. But, I don’t think that person ever went away while I was in Morocco either, because you better believe it, I wore that pink bra under my Moroccan clothing the very next day.

Saudi Valentine

This article was featured in the New York Times today. I thought it was refreshing, reading how a Saudi Arabian woman views Valentine's Day.

My Saudi Valentine

By RAJAA ALSANEA
Published: February 13, 2008

TOMORROW will be my second Valentine’s Day in the United States. As I’ve discovered, the celebration here bears little resemblance to the one I know from growing up in Saudi Arabia.

Yes, there are dates. But in Saudi Arabia, we eat them. As for the other kind of dating — the kind that will fill restaurants here tomorrow night — don’t count on it.

Where I come from, dating in the Western sense is not acceptable, either socially or religiously. Though most Saudis sympathized with “the Qatif girl” — a young woman who was gang-raped while in a car with a male friend, then sentenced to 200 lashes for “mingling” — and relieved when King Abdullah pardoned her last year, that does not mean that sitting with a strange guy in his car is considered appropriate.

Some daredevils do meet in coffee shops or restaurants that have partitions to separate the tables so nobody can see the illicit couples. After all, being a Saudi means knowing what the rules are — and how to sidestep them without getting in trouble. But most young women prefer to get to know the guy through accepted channels like the Internet, friends, family or the phone.

These days, Saudi relationships start on Facebook or through Bluetooth. We “date” over the phone or by instant messaging, and we enjoy exchanging gifts — through our chauffeurs or housemaids.

Ten years ago, though, before the Internet and cellphones, we had less room to maneuver. Guys took their chances by handing out their land-line numbers to any nearby female, just in case there was an eligible young woman hidden under that shapeless abaya and niqab. I remember my mother yelling at boys who would knock on our car window and “number” her — offer her cards with their home numbers.

All these strictures do not mean that Saudis don’t long for love. Songs and novels show how affectionate and passionate Saudi men and women can be. It’s just that some believe love is that warm feeling a couple develop after their parents have arranged a match and the marriage contract has been signed.

Still, romantics dream of that surprise on Valentine’s Day. To them, love will begin a new chapter in their lives, a chapter of eternal happiness like that they read about in Nizar Qabbani’s poetry. My university back in Riyadh turned all red for Valentine’s Day: red roses, red teddy bears and red shirts, even though the celebration is not acceptable religiously. What matters to all is to find love somewhere around the corner, hidden in that mall or behind the tinted windows of a car.

Rajaa Alsanea, a graduate student at the University of Illinois at Chicago College of Dentistry, is the author of “The Girls of Riyadh.”

Karate chop!

I've started taking Kenpo Karate classes. It's a class focusing on self-defense which incorporates Eastern and Western martial arts concepts. It's only once a week but it will provide me with a good foundation for when I have to learn Semper-Fu.

Happy Birthday Brett!

Happy Birthday!
Bonne Anniversaire!
Buon Compleanno!
Mabrok l'3id dyalk!

Pole vaulting Queen

Paris vaulted at 10 feet yesterday during her track meet. Way to go Paris!!

Not exactly Bob Marley

Last week I found out that the new bar in Astoria was going to have a birthday party for Bob Marley. I've always loved Bob Marley, and during my time in Morocco, he kept me company on lonely scorching hot nights in the desert. His songs, telling me "everything was gonna be alright", helped me get me through the tough days.


I had been looking forward to Friday all week. My good friend Candyce was in town and after I told her how awesome this concert was going to be, she decided to stay over and go with me. Well, much to my surprise, the concert wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

Maybe my expectations were a little too high. I mean, I've seen numerous Bob Marley posers who have done a pretty good job at channeling the rasta spirit, complete with dreadlocks and hemp clothing. Even in a tiny little bar in Thailand I thought the real Bob Marley was singing right in front of me.

So when the band started up last night and the lead came on stage, I was pretty much in shock. There standing was an old man, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, fedora and about 80 extra pounds than normal...not to mention he was white. He went by the name of "Ma Barley." The songs were reggae-esque but nothing like I expected. All I could do was turn to Candyce and say, "I am so sorry."

Even though the music wasn't that great, it was still a fun night and something I will always remember. I felt a little better when the band closed the night off with "No Woman No Cry."

I took a couple pictures with my phone so sorry if they are a little blurry.

Moral of the story... Astoria is not the place to find the rastafarian king.

Bond #22: Quantum of Solace

007 has returned...Bond, James Bond, will be back this year with "revenge in his heart" after being betrayed by the beautiful and treacherous Vesper. I guess the movie is going to pick-up right where it left off, making it a sequel we will never forget. Even though we will have to wait until November for the debut, I'm going to start shakin' my martini now.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today may be Super Tuesday, but in my opinion it's only super because it's also my mom's birthday. I love you!!

Poor Brady Baby

I guess it just goes to show... only defense wins ball games. It's alright though, I still love Tom.