Take a Cab Instead

What is the deal about parking in Kuwait? We all know there is a shortage of parking spaces wherever you go, but why is it that some idiot always decides to make the situation worse by taking up two or more spaces? I don't support it, but I can understand if someone who drives a Hummer, Escalade or some other land yacht has problems "docking" the vehicle between two narrow lines, but there is no excuse for a Mini to straddle spaces. A few days ago, my mother and I took advantage of the beautiful weather to drive out to Al Kut mall. The last time I tried to go, I abandoned my quest because the lines into the parking lot were too long. Friday, the lot was crowded as cars snaked in and out of the lanes in search of the perfect spot. I don't mind the hunt, but it was infuriating to see car after car after car taking up more than one space. What is the reason for such obnoxious behavior? Is it poor driving skills?(It's a rhetorical question, but I had to ask.) I tend to think that it is utter selfishness, the whole me-first attitude that propels drivers to cut you off on the expressway and stop a lane of traffic as they try to make a u-turn from a non-turning lane. The Government recently cracked down on the issuance of driver's licenses. It's going to take a lot more than forbidding some low wage worker from South Asia from driving to improve the traffic situation. Don't even get me started on the thousands of small childern on restrained by car seats or seat belts. I recently saw a mother driving, talking on her mobile, and holding an infant in her lap. God forbid her airbag deploy because the child would have been instantly killed.

Lost & Found; Karma Revisited

The missing puppy has been found. After five agonizing days of wondering where he was and how he was being treated, a colleague alerted me that he thought he saw my dog on the grounds of Bayan Palace (for my U.S. readers, the palace is a compound used by the Government for visitors, like Blair house, and is also the site for some security elements). We dashed out of the office and spent 30 minutes walking and cruising the perimeter of the palace while I yelled at the top of my voice, "Kamir, come here bubble!" I asked the gardeners if they had seen a dog and had another colleague call the palace guards to see if they had seen a dog and to seek permission for me to search the grounds. And then, suddenly, he appeared at the fence. He was dirty, thirsty, and stinky, but otherwise in good condition. I still can't figure out how he got onto the grounds and find it interesting that of all the places he could have gone, he went to a royal abode. All of us -- my mother, myself, the wanderer, and the two other dogs -- finally got a good night's sleep. I'm deeply grateful to all my co-workers who began searching for him the minute they heard he was missing, and especially appreciative of good friends who gave up their weekends to console me and help me look for my beloved beast. The International Veterinary Hospital was also supportive as were the volunteers from PAWS who had lots of good ideas on where to look and who made follow-up phone calls. While part of me hoped to find Kamir at the Friday Market, I am greatly relieved that he was not there. While most of the dogs and cats I saw there appeared to be well fed and relatively healthy, it was heart-breaking to see so many beautiful animals tied to poles by short tethers, startled by bratty kids shooting off firecrackers, and menaced by even brattier kids who found it amusing to yell at and scare the dogs while their parents watched in indifference. I'd like nothing better than to put a permanent end to the sale of domestic animals this way. Some of the puppies were too young to have been away from their mothers and it sickened me to see some of the dogs transported in the trunks of cars. We need to prove our humanity by better treating our animals. Related to the recovery of my four-legged friend is revisiting the Karma issue. Previously I pondered the issue and its affect on relationships. Once again, I'm thinking about Karma, but in a new way. Many of my friends here told me they were convinced Kamir would return safely because I'm a nice person and my behavior would be rewarded. While it's a great thing to hear, I have a lot of deep, dark thoughts and questioned whether I would be favorably rewarded. I guess I was, because Kamir is back. But also, yesterday, the date of his return, I wore a ring that my father used to wear on his pinky finger. (It fits my middle finger.) When I put it on yesterday, I told my mother I was wearing it because it always brought me luck. And voila, Kamir appeared. So was it fate, intervention from my father, or some other mysterious force? I don't know and I don't think I'll dwell on it. I'll just be thankful for his safe return, the generous help and support of so many, and the fact that Kamir is now afraid to go outside.

More on the Missing Puppy

He is reddish brown with a white face and white stomach. He weighs 27 kilos and is missing several teeth. He has a burgundy collar which a purple tag that says "charmer." Other tags are proof of his vaccinations and a number to call if he is lost. He has a microchip. If you see him, please leave a message on this blog or call 962-0791. Thanks!

My Baby is Missing

My best friend, my companion, my baby got out on Wednesday night. He's been missing for 24 hours and I am devastated. If you see him, please contact me. His name is Kamir and he is 15 years old. He is starting to show his age and needs special medical attention. He disappeared from the Bayan, Block 6 area. There is a reward for his safe return.

I think I'm in Love

After a decades-long quest, I think I have finally found what I’ve been looking for. I’ve searched and searched, and suffered many disappointments, but I’m finally satisfied – at least for now. In case you think I’m writing about some man, let me clarify that after a series of rants, I’m finally raving … raving about my new jeans. I think I have found my perfect pair. A little history: growing up, jeans were only for the weekend and I was in my teens when my mother finally let me and my sister wear them to school. Of course, they had to be ironed with a razor sharp crease down the leg. When my mother was angry with us, she sent the jeans to the cleaners where they were starched and pressed which made getting dressed in the era of skin-tight jeans very difficult. I have lain on the floor to wiggle into my jeans. By my senior year of high school, my favorite pair of jeans were men’s Levi’s which had been so well worn that the denim felt like soft flannel. They had faded to an almost white, the belt loops had come off, and one pocket was missing. Thinking they were rags, my mom threw them away, thus the start of my search, which was complicated by the fact that I need a 36” inseam. In college, my uncle’s girlfriend introduced me to Gap jeans. They were long enough, but not quite right. Over the years, each time Levi’s launched a custom-fit program, I was measured and bought a pair of jeans. I even sat in the tub in the San Francisco store so that my 501s would shrink to fit. I got some decent jeans out of the program, but something was always not quite right: too high of a waist giving the Mom-jeans look, a straight leg that was a little too wide since there was no tapering from my thunder thighs to the hem, or a really heavy fabric that never gave. I’ve also tried every designer option available. I did guess jeans when they were popular and wore once, a pair of Dolce & Gabbana jeans that were cut too low for my comfort. I’ve invested in a few pairs of 7 for all mankind, which I believe only truly look good on stick figures. And I have a great pair from a tall company, but they are so ornate and detailed, that they can’t be worn too often. In the spring, I discovered Christopher Blue jeans, but while everyone is wearing dark denim, they only make a faded style in my size. I was ready to give up, but while lolling around on vacation, I read an issue of Real Simple, which I always considered to be real stupid. There was an article on the best of everything and at the top of the list was Lucky Brand Jeans, which come in tall sizes. I ordered 2 pair since I had nothing to lose. They are low-rise without being obscenely low (meaning I can sit and bend without flashing anyone), long enough that I can wear a slight heel with them, dark enough that they can be dressed up, and while there’s enough room to fit my ample things, they are snug enough around my narrow (for my build) hips that I don’t have to wear a belt. They are so comfortable that the first day I wore them, I even took a nap in them. How I wish I had found these jeans before. But maybe it’s true that good things come to those you wait and had I not had so many jean failures, I would not appreciate this sweet success.

My Reading Rant

Aaarrgh!!! I was really looking forward to my vacation and the opportunity to catch up on reading. Not serious stuff – although I do have one serious book with me – but rather, fluff, you know, bestseller nonfiction. I wanted a good story that did not require a lot of thought. I wanted to be able to coast though a book and just enjoy the ride. Completely missing Sex and the City, at the top of my list was Candace Bushnell’s latest work, Lipstick Jungle. What a rip-off. The book had to have been published based on her name only. I was annoyed by the characters and 353 pages I read in search of a plot. Moreover, the references to pop culture as well as the secondary characters and stories drawn from the tabloids just got to be too much. Yet, I read the entire book. Why? I can’t explain it, but for some reason I feel compelled to finish books that I start, even when they are really bad. I think that at some point, the story has to get better. It rarely does. The only upside is that I did not pay full price for the book. Gotta love Amazon.

Cutting up Cosmo

While at KCIA airport, I decided to kill some time by checking out the duty free. I was browsing the magazine rack and saw the latest edition of Cosmo. I rarely read the magazine, but was intrigued by 3 cover stories: something on understanding the male mind, a list of 100 things to do in bed, and something about your hidden sexual self. If you’ve read any of my previous posts, you know I need all the help I can get when it comes to figuring out men. I was leafing through the magazine and questioning why I would pay KD3.750 for it, when I noticed 2 of the 3 articles that I wanted had been cut out of the magazine. WTF?! I was irked because they were charging almost $12 for an incomplete product and also perturbed by the idiots making the decisions on what is haram and what is halal in this country. Information itself – not that Cosmo should be considered the definitive source for anything – is not dangerous.

• Why cut out pages on tricks in bed when women wearing hijab sell at charity bazaars creams to pinken the nipples. (I kid you not; it was “pink nipple cream” from China with before and after pictures on the box.)
• Why ink out advertisements when satellite offers all varieties of porn. (Following the death of King Fahd, all I got for a week was prayer or porn.)
• Why edit a nude portrait by one of the great masters yet run right next to it a picture of Tyra Banks and who she underwent a sonogram to prove that her boobs are real?
• And why sell Cosmo at all if you remove the silly sex stories which is why women buy the darn magazine in the first place?

Gizmos

So I'm trying to lay out everything I need for my vacation which starts in 3 days. And I'm growing increasingly frustrated because of all the accoutrements I need for the electronic gadgets which are now part of my life:

• There's the laptop and the clunky battery pack and electrical cord.
• I not only need the ipod, but there's the AC charger, the cord so that I can copy music from my PC to the device, and the adapters so that I can use it in the car.
• The digital camera needs the battery charger.
• And of course I need two charges for my phones since is one is a Nokia and the other a Motorola.
• Even my toothbrush is electric which requires a charger.

Is anyone else overwhelmed by all the stuff that is supposed to make life easier?

If It's Ramadan, Why Am I Getting Ready for Christmas?

I leave for almost 4 weeks of vacation (well deserved in my humble opinion) at o-dark-thirty on Friday and I have yet to pack. I've been out every night this week and the pile of work on my desk is growing instead of decreasing. Yet, I blog. Why? HRHSamboose guilted me into updating my site in her most recent blog. So I write for the 3 of you that occasionally check out this page. Anyway, it's only the beginning of October, and yet I have finished much of my holiday shopping. In part because I am anal & obsessive, and in part because I am a professional shopper*. I've taken care of the gifts for all 5 of my godchildren and the other little kids whose company I enjoy. They are all in the same age group so I tend to buy gifts in bulk or according to a theme (last year they all got a certain type of book and this year it's a game), but I put a lot of thought into finding something both fun and educational, so it's not like I'm copping out by not personalizing each gift. For the first few years of their lives, I bought a separate gift for each one, but it got so stressful around birthdays and holidays when I had to remember what I bought and for whom. I've selected, but not ordered, my mother's gift. Although the odds of her reading this are extremely slim, I still won't reveal the gift lest someone spill the beans. Let it suffice, that I indulge one of her vices and have created a monster. Likewise, I've picked out my sister's gift. Lately I've been giving her jewelry because I think she needs it. She often looses it, but I've moved beyond that. I give her something I want her to have and something I think she deserves and I've learned not to care whether she wears or misplaces it. I'm most excited about the gifts that I have identified for my friends here. I came across something silly, but that I think they will appreciate. I spent a lot of time picking the right one for each person, and it's gonna kill me to keep my mouth shut for the next 2 and 1/2 months. All the items are sitting in my shopping cart on Amazon, and I'm trying to balance ordering them in time for December 25 with having the items around my house goading me to distribute them early. Yes, presents, like chocolate, talk to me. I still haven't selected gifts for my niece (23 yrs, working on her master's) and the man in my life. Any suggestions? *On professional shopping, I've often thought that for my next career, I would be a professional shopper. But I don't think I would handle well a client that disagrees with my purchases. So, I'll just shop for myself and think what it would be like to spend someone else's money.

I think I'm my Mother

For years now, I've been steadily turning into my mother. Today, I think the transformation is complete. Allow me to explain... As a child, I was very much like my father -- quiet, reserved, easily hurt. Physically, I also took after him -- tall, long feet and limbs, as well as flat feet and a flat derriere. There's more, but you get the idea. Some traits of my mother I knew I inherited long ago -- a love of shopping, a taste for the finer things in life, no patience for fools, etc. But over the years I noticed that I started picking up her habits -- leaving change in my pockets, buying gifts for myself, but today I noticed I have mastered her most amusing and possibly her worst habit. My mother names people. The monikers are always fitting, but not always appropriate. They endure because they are funny. For example: One of my sister's first boyfriends neglected to give her a Christmas gift after she spent all her allowance on him. We remember him as Cheapskate. Mommie spent 40 minutes in the back seat of my car with one of my friends who did not quite appreciate the usefulness of deodorant. To this day, that friend is known, within the family, as Stinky. A man who was deeply in love with my sister was, and always will be Boring. A previously mentioned ex, who was substantially older then me, became Old Seasoned One when he failed to show excitement for something accomplished that he had experienced long ago. And there are more. I admit I've christened some people. Old Seasoned One became Osama Bin Idiot. But Tuesday night, I don't know what happened. I was at a concert with some friends and the more I looked at the band, the more familiar they became. And then it struck me. One of the guitarists could have been a Hobbit in the "Lord of the Rings." He was small in stature, had the wavy hair, and his ears were slightly pointed. The drummer also perplexed me. By the end of the night, I realized he was a dead-ringer for the Captain from Captain & Tenille, complete with Greek fisherman's hat. Everyone laughed and I didn't give the names out of malice, but why did I do it at all?