scrantonicity

Random Bits

• My new favorite show that I've never seen a full episode of but have seen various clips: Flight of the Conchords
• Going to visit my in-laws next week - about time I got a hair cut
• Excited about Heroes Season Two starting up again
• Crostini and Labne - *contented sigh*
• Anthony Bourdain's non-fiction is decidedly better-written and more enjoyable than his fiction
• Going to see Sensai Abez avec HF Rat e Bebe Rat soon! Woot!
• If the Metro keeps catching on fire, I may have to demand to work from home sooner than I'm allowed.
• Treated myself to some Fresh Pink Jasmine Soap - smell me now, sukkahs!
• Getting anxious about our trip to Pakistan with ZP - any suggestions on food/sleep/play?
• Werner Hertzog is freaky
• Why, oh, why do the fattest people insist on sitting next to, if not directly on, me in the metro?

hi-yah!

Currently reading Comedy by the Numbers: The 169 Secrets of Humor and Popularity by Eric Hoffman and Gary Rudoren. Hee!

Currently listening to The Best of Elvis Costello: The First 10 Years by Elvis Costello. Woo!

Currently eating Trader Joe's Mac and Chee. Yum!

Currently watching Aliens in America. Hee!

Also, if you ever considered messing with me, please be aware that I am B.A.J.I. and you may want to reconsider.

Get Your Cyborg Name

Dog Days of Summer

With outside temps threatening to reach a 110 degree heat index, I think I will spend most of my day inside the air-conditioned confines of my office. That said, I don't feel like working right now. I need to catch up on e-mails, phone calls, and the like, but I'll start with me blog since it has been sorely neglected.

Um.

So, yeah, the newunion was fantastic. I can't report on the NY-NJ-PA leg since I wasn't there, but the DC portion was chock full o' laughs, ice cream, used books, photos, and late nights. Those who were up early got to walk to the neighborhood bagelry and hit up Safeway for breakfast fixin's (including, but not limited to, New York Super Fudge Chunk pints of ice cream that were inexcusably overlooked). Those who were up late got to enter into Scrabbie competitions and gup shup sessions that, on at least one occassion, featured a surprise guest appearance by 2 Scoops himself.

Oh, sure, the DC Fringe Festival was going on. Yeah, the national museums, zoo, and botanical gardens were within easy reach. But what did we do instead? Hit the Diner right around the corner and gorge. Lounge around Dupont Circle with used books. Send the girls off to walk to Georgetown and the waterfront while the boys and I and LB headed back to nap and/or read HP. At least on the drive to Eastern Market I got to point out the landmarks and monuments so that they felt that they were in the nation's capital instead of just any old city. Still, for a tiny weekend, we managed to pack in a lot of stuff: eating, walking, and bonding. Good times.

Meanwhile, in our daily lives, not much has changed. I'm still trudging to work and looking forward to the day when my commute will be 45 seconds instead of 45 minutes each way. TP has been keeping busy with work and a surprising influx of requests for interviews. ZP has graduated from toddling to walking to running. We had a visit from the folks and the Admiral last weekend. We'll be heading out to NC for a visit with TP's folks in a few weeks. And before you know it, we'll be breaking in ZP brand-new, fancy-pants, biodata-privacy-invading, high-tech passport on our way to Pakistan.


UPDATE: Ever wonder how to perform the elegant "Berries and Cream" dance? Wonder no more.

Newunion 007

DeGrouchyOwl: 7071.7 miles. Love your cynicism, your wit, and your ability to down a sour-cherry pie with a planet-sized scoop of vanilla ice cream in nearly two bites.

Yasmine: 2434.1 miles. Love your obsession with books, your gleeful energy, and if there was ever an eyebrow throwdown between yours and Hijabmans, your eyebrows would totally crush his and laugh while his eyebrows wept.

TwoScoops: 2276.4 miles. Love your goofiness, your insane stories of attempting to drown others, and your limitless ability to laugh at yourself and others.

Anju: 198.3 miles. Love your sweetness with ZP, your uncomplaining nature with respect to pull-out couches in the middle of room, and your skillful ability to herd Yasmine through Eastern Market.

Hijabman: 121.5 miles. Love your chill attitude, your rockstar status of being recognized several times a day, and your unyielding conviction that it's perfectly cromulent to sing Celine Dion outloud in front of others.

Najm: 14.1 miles. Love your random observations, your voice during prayers, and your willingness to let ZP attempt to tear your beard out.

It was such a fantastic visit and I still can't believe we pulled it off. We missed Chai and HBiddy and Izbot and Shaheen and Abez, but thought of them often. Thanks for the good times, gang. And for the rockin' thank you card - seriously, I was touched. Door's open for ye anytime. Come back soon!

xoxo, Baji

monster mash birthday bash

Happy Birthday to TP and Najm! May your Bastilley Birthdays be rife with crepes, cafe, and lots of cadeaux!

Feelin' Hot Hot Hot

It's going to hit about 100 degrees today. I feel like Elphaba right after Dorothy threw the bucket of water on her: "I'm melting! I'm melting! What a world . . . what a world."

Also, Georgia was tremendously fun with a birthday party for the Admiral, quality time spent with the fam, and a tear-free introduction of ZP to the swimming pool complete with toys, splashing of toes, and yazz flute.

Also, can't wait for the upcoming newunion! Maybe I can convince Yasmine to teach ZP the ways of the daggerchappals, Anju to donate some of her frequent flyer miles to me, Najm to bring me cannolis, Taha to show up finally, jeez, and Hijabman to install a jet engine into my brand new iMac.

your turn

It was LB's birthday this weekend (yes, the whole weekend).
It will be TP's birthday soon (and yes, Najm-the-vanished too).
It will be my Dadaji's birthday sooner than that (Georgia, here we come!)
End of the quarter rush at work.
Four gallons of paint waiting to be applied to the living room and dining room.
New flowers dying of thirst in this hot hot city.
Blogistan reunion (or a newunion since I haven't actually met half of my crackstar buddies in real life) coming up!

Soooo . . . what mischief are you up to these days?

sunny day, sweeping the clouds awaaaay

ZP slept from 8:30 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. without getting up once.
I slept from 9:00 p.m. to 5:30 a.m. without getting up once.
I don't remember the last time that happened.

I woke up refreshed.
I took a nice, leisurely shower.
I had a cup of espresso (courtesy of my brand new espresso machine).
I didn't have to rush around to pack my lunch because we have a two-hour meeting today that will include cake and pizza.
I walked to the Metro in the bright sun-shiney day.
The train was just pulling up as I came down the escalator.
I got a seat near a clean (i.e., not filmy with other passenger's oily hair grease) window.
As I crossed into Virginia and watched the morning sun glint off of the Potomac River, I heard the lyrics "The sky is open-armed" and wanted to yell, "hellz yeah!"


See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light
And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out

SpiderBaby

Welcome, True Believers! When we last left our hero, he had just turned one year old. His rite of passage was replete with trials, tribulations, and rewards. Pleasure came in the form of visits from his family and friends who showered him with love and prezzies at a gala affair held at LB and KG's place. Pain came in the form of a shot in the forearms and two in the turkeythighs. Insult was added to injury when his caretaker accidentally locked herself out of the house with our hero trapped inside the house for about an hour. His indignation was made quite apparent by his high-decibel vocal protests. Let's just say that he could be heard from across the street and leave it at that.

Nonetheless, our hero eventually overcame these obstacles and sallied forth bravely into his first year. He cruised in his TEK 911 police car up and down the streets of the neighborhood to warn evil-doers of his presence. With the help of his loyal sidekicks, he climbed the stairs of justice . . . well, at least he climbed the stairs. He patrolled his park and watched over its denizens with a careful eye that missed nothing.

This morning, I discovered not one, not two, but three spider bites on his tiny, fat foot. After staring dully at the red, swollen spots for a moment, trying to fathom how any creature would DARE to bite ZP (myself excluded), I put some ointment on the bites and (fakey fake) Dr. TP gave him some antihistamines.

I'm not sure what kind of spider bit him, but I'll just say this:

Later in the morning, we were assisting our hero in standing and, on a whim, tried to coax him to come to one of us while the other was prepared to catch him if he fell. After a few failed attempts, he did it. He walked. On his own. About three steps each time.

"Oh my GOD! It must have been a radioactive spider that bit him because now he has superpowers!" I exclaimed.

"With great power comes great responsibility," TP responded. "Now he has to do the dishes."

Birthday Numero Uno

Happy One Year Birthday, Zainy Zoo! Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, you made your grand entrance onto the world's stage. Back then, you were just a tight ball full of baby fat, milk, and warmth, but not much else. Oh wait. The poop. Can't forget the poop. My God, the poop. I mean, honestly, how can such a tiny baby contain so much poop? Um. Where was I? Oh yeah, your growth and personality development since then have been staggering. You can talk, mostly about daddy (a.k.a. Daiwoo), your nanny (a.k.a. Tia), and doggies and kitties (a.k.a. Aiiiiii! Daiiiii! Kaiiii!). You can recognize the opening music to the Colbert Report and seemingly enjoy the jokes that we laugh at while watching it before bedtime. You love bedtime reading, even though some nights you are more interested in turning the pages yourself than you are hearing how the story ends. Luckily, I already know what happens in Goodnight Gorilla, so I don't mind you skipping pages, flipping the book upside down for a good gnawing, and then jumping to the end.

The playground is once again yours now that summer has arrived. You are equally enamored of sliding and swinging as you are watching other children do the same. Ever the gracious host, you proudly display your toys to all guests and then allow them to share them with you and play nicely. The only caveat to that last statement is if anyone dares to build a structure equal to or more than two blocks high, you are compelled to race over and destroy it, all Gojira-like.

For my very first Mother's Day, you gave me exactly what I asked for: you slept through the entire night. Next time, I'll know to ask for more! Your teeth are coming in quite nicely and I hope that the nightly brushing routine (sung to the "brusha brusha brusha, brush your little teeth" tune) stays with you. Still a gigantic fan of Cheerios, you have finally expanded your culinary repertoire to include falafel, latkes, and toasted rosemary sourdough bread. Although you have your moments of grumpiness, peevishness, and outright fury (especially when you spy your pacifier on the couch and can't reach it), for the most part, you are a happy, funny baby. You know that your father gets a kick out of you blowing raspberries and saturating anyone within a two-foot radius and so, when you remember, you begin your show with gusto just to get him to laugh. Woe is me for being in the path of your slobber. Still too macho to give me a proper smooch, your recent attempts which involve more teeth than lips, are still savored. You like to be scared, you like to be tickled, and you like to hang upside down like the monkey on one of your shirts.


You have changed our lives and made them fuller and richer. You are a joy to your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends. You are healthy, clever, and have excellent taste in parents. We love you to pieces, even when, and sometimes especially when, you are a beast. Happy Birthday, me wee one! Now get over here and give us all a hug!

Schrute v Ninja

Good advice from Dwight: Ninja Preparedness

Pandi's 'Pinions

Between baby, work, allergies, Cressie's brakes being shot, and house stuff, there's no time to read, reflect, and review! Anyway.

Books: Empire Falls by Richard Russo was a much more enjoyable, but in the same vein, book as The Shipping News by E. Annie Proulx's. In an attempt not to give anything away, it was a nice glimpse into a small northern town and its quirky inhabitants but it was disconcerting to read the climactic ending in light of recent real-life events. Is that cryptic enough for ya?

Music: Love this song, Lazy Eye, by the Smashing-Pumpkins-reincarnated band Silversun Pickups. Ah, the 90s.

TV: GAH! Only a handful of episodes left in Heroes! What's going to happen?! Is Peter going to explode but Nathan will grab him, fly him into space, and thus save New York and redeem himself? How will Hiro repair his broken sword to kill Sylar before Sylar begins his massacre? Will they (hopefully) kill off Nikki/Jessica, DL, and Micah before they annoy me to death?

Food: Santa Fe BBQ Rice Chips. A+

Boomerang

In the 1950s, my grandfather attended the Queen of England's coronation in Westminster Abbey. Five decades later, my grandfather-in-law is going to meet her when she comes to D.C. to meet World War II veterans. But before that, she'll be in my hometown(ish) of Louisville, KY for the Derby. Hey, Cybermom, if you see her, tell her we said, "hi" and "bring some derby pie for us when you get back!"

Excuse for Shopping

Yes, kids, it's true. Having a child will change you: physically, mentally, emotionally, economically, and spiritually. I was prepared for most of it. But the physical changes? I'm still not wrapping my head around that. I used to be skinny. Not slender. Not willowy. Not any other slimming poetic something or other. Skinny. As in, my clavicle was like a wire hanger. As in, I could fit into size 0 - 2 jeans. As in, if I turned sideways, I would disappear.

But then I hit 30 and my metabolism plummeted. Add to that the fact that I hated exercise but didn't change my eating habits. Stir in one baby and you've got the new me: tossing out my too-tight clothes, shopping for a bigger size shoe, and still not grasping that my body has changed so much that not only my belly, but my shoulders and hips and feet have morphed.

I kind of like having a little shelf (formerly known as my washboard abs) upon which to rest ZP when I'm carrying him around. But with the summer season fast approaching, I'm thinking that these bulky sweaters and eye-distracting layers are not going to be helping me much. Still, I really do hate exercising. Honestly, the only time I don't mind running is if someone is chasing me or if I am chasing someone. I was forced to play sports in high school (softball and field hockey) but once I was free of the requirements, I was quite content to count among the most strenuous of activities a vigorous Scrabble match. I've started walking to the Metro now which, in addition to the walk from the Metro to work, gives me about half an hour of fast-paced exercise. Isn't that enough? *sigh*

One of my Favorite Bandarikja

Top Five Reasons Why I Love Visits From Gojira:

5. She joins in with loudly clapping and lustily singing "Berries and Cream" while TP is on an important phone call with a professor from Georgetown.

4. She doesn't mind reading alone on the couch while TP, ZP, LB, and I take naps in the middle of the afternoon.

3. Get to recommend literature, reminisce about past travel adventures, and discuss celebrity plastic surgery in one conversation.

2. She makes an excellent nanny/playmate for ZP.

1. Get to talk in a Scottish accent morning, noon, and night without pause and without thinking.

Welcome to the Palindrome!

Happy Double Ones! Today, you turned 11 months old. You have become quite adept at using your TEK 911 police mobile unit as a walker and despite the obnoxious sirens and nasally mid-western voice of "Mommy" that blasts from the infernal contraption (padding and duct tape have only minimally reduced the decibles), you seem to favor it above all other toys. You can make your way confidently across the room and upon hearing praise ("Good job, Zibou Sisou!"), you immediately stop in your tracks, plop yourself down, and applaud yourself. The cuteness of it all almost overwhelms me.

Although you are capable of standing on your own - I've seen you do it when you were so distracted that you didn't notice that both hands were on the toy instead of one hand on the toy and one hand on the couch/chair/my leg/my face) - you still don't feel comfortable going it alone. Your other favorite toys (both favorites) are a collection of bright plastic geometric shapes that all turn into piercing arrows when it is dim and we are walking around shoeless.

We had a rough couple of weeks when you were hit with a triple-whammy of (1) a stomach virus, (2) a cold, and (3) teething. You slept badly, had no appetite, and were not your usual playful self. As much as I enjoyed your uncharacteristic cuddliness (usually, you are too macho to want to snuggle with us), I felt badly about your condition and only wished that I could suffer for you so you would not have to. Alas, only the first part of that wish came true - I did get to suffer alongside you when you shared your cold with me. Luckily, we seem to be pretty much out of the woods now and as soon as this annoyingly clingy winter passes and summer comes to town, we'll be able to enjoy some more outside time.

You are still a big fan of Cheerios but lately you have been less than thrilled to eat anything else. Each descent into the high-chair is met with shrieks and tears until the first taste of something sweet. Then, you reluctantly eat your food but after halfway, you push the spoon away and/or act like you are gagging and it's just not good times. Once you are released, you excitedly make a lap around the family room before settling down and playing with someone's toes.

Um, sorry about that homemade haircut, me love. I promise, it was not my attempt to make you look like Jim Carrey in "Dumb and Dumber." I was just trying to get the hair out of your eyes. Instead, I replaced your baby wisps with a jacked up bowl. Then, after much reprimand from TP and LB, we took you to a professional to minimize the damage. You were fantastic at the salon and did not make a single peep while the Hispanic woman buzzed you. Now, like many a Pakistani baby, you are sporting a severe military haircut. Apologies, G.I. Zoo. Hopefully, it will grow out by the time your one-year birthday rolls around. Regardless, you are still super duper, A number one, hard-core adorable to me.

Am I Too Mahhhdren?

Arey, you are 52% Pakistani!

Shabash puut, your score puts you in the ranks of the REAL Pakistanis! Have some lassi to celebrate - maybe it'll encourage your true character to come out more often.

How Pakistani are you? (first class number one!)
Create a Quiz

Tix Mix

LB and KG have arrived safely in Paris and are staying with *my* friend (LB stole her from me).

In two weeks, Gojira will be stomping into town to stay with *us* (I stole her from LB).

In one month, ZP's grandparents, uncles, and aunties will be arriving to celebrate His Royal High(chair)ness's First Birthday.

In three months, we'll be heading down to steamy hot Georgia to make Literaunty's brand spankin' new house get that really old lived-in look by demolishing it.

In six months, we'll be embarking on a HUGE trip to Isloo with Cybermom and Cyberdad.

I don't care if there *is* a possibility of snow flurries this weekend. With all the flight schedules and plans to have the air saturated with friends and family, it's all summer to me.

sleep sleep

A Goodnight
William Carlos Williams

Go to sleep -- though of course you will not --
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,
scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady
car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls' cries in a wind-gust
broken by the wind; calculating wings set above
the field of waves breaking.

Go to sleep to the lunge between foam-crests,
refuse churned in the recoil. Food! Food!
Offal! Offal! that holds them in the air, wave-white
for the one purpose, feather upon feather, the wild
chill in their eyes, the hoarseness in their voices--
sleep, sleep . . .

Gentlefooted crowds are treading out your lullaby.
Their arms nudge, they brush shoulders,
hitch this way then that, mass and surge at the crossings --
lullaby, lullaby! The wild-fowl police whistles,
the enraged roar of the traffic, machine shrieks:
it is all to put you to sleep,
to soften your limbs in relaxed postures,
and that your head slip sidewise, and your hair loosen
and fall over your eyes and over your mouth,
brushing your lips wistfully that you may dream,
sleep and dream . . .

word of the day

I don't care if today's word, roborant, is pronounced "ROB-uh-ruhnt." In my mind, and when I actually get a chance to use it today, it will be "ROH-bo-rant," conjuring to mind an artificial life form gone crazy.

"Between cramming in as much work as I can before the end of the quarter during the day and quick, unfilling dinners and broken sleep during the night, I am in much need of a roborant."

Double Digits

Double Digits! Happy 10 month birthday, ZP! Finally, FINALLY, you pay close attention to the stories we read you rather than try to yank the books and test your teeth against them. When I pull out The Very Hungry Caterpillar, your eyes light up, you smile so widely that your paci falls out, and you scramble into my lap. You wait patiently with your hands in your lap through the introduction to the little egg that lay on the leaf in the exposition. As soon as that first apple appears, your finger jabs into the hole with unerring accuracy. You enjoy the rising action as the caterpillar, and your tiny, chubby finger, makes its way through the pears, the plums, the oranges. After the gastronome's adventures are complete and post-tummy-ache, you eagerly await the climax by twisting around to look at me, look at the book, look at me, look at the book as if to alert me that something delicious is about to happen. Not having given a spoiler alert, I don't want to give away the ending, but suffice it to say that you greatly enjoy it each and every time. The denouement involves me pointing out various colors, closing the book, and announcing "Theeee Endddd" while you pick at the sticky label that is peeling off of the back of the book.

You are standing, cruising, and crawling with ease these days and have been quite mobile and independent. The other day, TP was making some breakfast and you were playing quietly in the living room which we have surrounded with a large, plastic gate. After a while, TP realized that you were TOO quiet. He went to investigate and found out that you had pushed aside the unsecured gate, escaped your prison, and were hanging out in the dining room picking stuff up from the floor and most probably putting said stuff in your mouth. Sneaky Parker!

About once every week and a half or so, you grace us with a full night sleep. Otherwise, you are still prone to waking up at least twice, once at midnight and once at 4:00 a.m. and require us to pat you or rock you back to sleep. Although you've been a pretty good eater thus far, you've been a little more tight-lipped - literally - these last few days. The only way I could get some food into your mouth last night was to dip the spoon in a jar, hand the spoon to you, and run for cover as fast as I could. Even then, the majority of it ended up on your hands, hair, tray, clothes, the box of CDs next to the high-chair, pretty much everywhere except your mouth.

You've been extremely patient about the winter and now that spring is making its slow arrival, you are reaping the rewards. You still enjoy dining at Udupi and now have added Meze and Peacock Cafe to your repertoire of restaurants. Apparently, you've already gone to the zoo twice without us, which kind of saddens me (because I was not the one to take you) but also pleases me (because I know how much you love to be outside). Some excursions into the fresh air and sunshine still knock you out. Others result in playful giggles and wide, beautiful smiles.

mmm mattress

This is yet another example of the interesting things I am forced to learn for work:

The history of the word mattress is a small lesson in the way amenities have come to Europe from the Middle East. During the earlier part of the Middle Ages, Arabic culture was more advanced than that of Europe. One of the amenities of life enjoyed by the Arabs was sleeping on cushions thrown on the floor. Derived from the Arabic word taraha, “to throw,” the word matrah meant “place where something is thrown” and “mat, cushion.” This kind of sleeping surface was adopted by the Europeans during the Crusades, and the Arabic word was taken into Old Italian (materasso) and then into Old French (materas), from which comes the Middle English word materas, first recorded in a work written around 1300. The Arabic word also became Medieval Latin matracium, another source of our word.

Reading Aloud

TP settles ZP into his lap and opens up a book.

TP (in a lecturing kind of voice): "Girl. Boy. T-shirt. Pants."

Me: "TP, you have to add some flavor to it."

TP: "Car. Beep beep! Truck. Beep beep! Boat. Umm . . . Beep beep!"

Me (laughing): "TP!"

TP: "Leaf. Do you know what kind of leaf that is? It's English Ivy. Flower. Do you know what kind of flower that is? It's a daffodil. Duck. I think that's a female mallard. We'll just say it's a female mallard."

Our son is going to be a brainiac.

I think this should be the theme song to my new layout.

Hooray for Sensai Abez for the stealthiest, monkiest, prettiest layout ever! It's not an easy task to combine deadly warrior images with delicate designs, but ye did it! Many thanks for the fast and fresh look.

And for the rest of ye, a quick update on my goings on:

• Walking to the Metro to get to work when the snow and ice imprisoned Cressie was not as bad as I imagined it to be.
• TP's Spanish Tortilla is still mouth-watering.
• ZP is in the 75th to 9th percentile for height but in the 3rd to 5th for weight (based on his height) or in the 10th to 25th for weight (based on his age). Either way, he is one long string bean!
• I got a professional haircut for the first time in over a year this weekend.
• When a clerk is rude or inattentive, the only revenge I allow myself is deliberately not saying "thank you" to them as they hand me the receipt.
• A Model World and Other Stories by Michael Chabon is not nearly as spectacular as The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay but that hasn't quelled my hope for The Yiddish Policemen's Union: A Novel
• I spent the better half of today trying to get my computer to recognize my camcorder. I get the USB alert boop-de-boop noise, but it doesn't show up anywhere. BAH! Meanwhile, I'm in the market for a new digicam. This is a good contender but any suggestions or warnings are welcome.
• ZP slept from 9 pm to 12:30 am and then woke up. I tried to resist picking him up and bringing him to the bed for half an hour while he fussed and fumed. At 1:00 am, I picked him up for three minutes, put him back down again, and then went back to my own bed where I tossed and turned for the better part of the night and into the morning when he didn't make another sound until 7 am. Ah me.
• Feeding a baby a tiny fingertip's worth of snow = acceptable. Feeding a baby a third helping of a larger chunk of snow = vomitrocious.
• I don't think I've gotten my eyes check or my contact lenses renewed in over a year. I should probably put that on my list of things to do along with preparing a will/trust/guardian (which I started this weekend), checking up on the college fund, switching from Dish to Comcast, finding out if Verizon will give me a new, free phone since the current one dies after a few calls, figuring out why my portable hard drive isn't recognized on every computer, clean the basement, organize my closets, dust, mop, hang up photos, wish HBiddy a happy birthday, and going to bed a decent hour so I can get up before dawn to walk through 4 inches of snow to get to work.
  

Greetings all. This is Abez, who is in the process of redesigning Baji's blog as well as shaking an angry fist in the new blogger's direction. They're making it messy for me, and we's having technical probs, so I apologize to Baji for the cookie-cutter template, and will replace it with original Bajitude as soon as possible.

away!

Welcome to nine months old, ZP! As feared, this month was fraught with marrow-freezing temperatures, stinging ice and snow storms, and brittle weather that makes us all weep crystallized tears. Thank goodness for fleece.

Your razor-sharp bottom teeth have come in quite nicely and your two big slabs of teeth at the top have half-emerged. All the better for treating random bits of my body as boti and gnawing at me when I'm not looking. Your motor skills are fantastic and you can cram not only Cheerios but thin grains of basmati rice with your little fingers and into your mouth. You despise lying down unless a paci is near at hand. You much prefer sitting, crawling, and standing/dancing. You are equally enamoured by Baby Einstein and This Old House. Many apologies for my failed attempt at being your barber but if you give me another chance and hold still for a nanosecond, I think I can do better.

You have taken quite nicely to your nanny and playmate despite the harried and hurried routine we have to put you through to get you there. Wake up at 4 am to be carried to the big bed. Re-wake up at 6 am for some milk. Say adieu to me as I hit the metro and the morning rush to get to work by 7:30 while you and TP return home for breakfast and the first nap of the day. Get dropped off at your work by 8:30, play, eat, sleep, play, eat, sleep, and greet me at 5 pm when I race from work to pick you up. Last nap of the day around 5:30 and then when TP comes home around 6 pm, play, eat, bath, book, bottle, and sleep by 9 pm.
zzzzz.

Disillusioned.
Am I still so naive?
Why do I feel betrayed when I'm not even the one suffering from the consequences of having selfish friends?
How could someone not come to the aid of a friend involved in a car accident because she had a prior hair appointment?
Why am I so shocked and confused when I hear of other people severely lacking altruistic inclinations?
Is looking out for number one at the exclusion of everyone else the norm and I just haven't gotten the memo yet?

*phone rings*
*looks at clock and determines that we've already spoken to LB and Cybermom so who could be calling at this time?*

"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Will Robinson. Someone called my cellphone?"
"Ummm."
*thinks back to when ZP was messing around with the phone and how we were laughing that he would call Australia and pose as the International Drainage Commission*
"OH! Sorry, I think our baby may have called you accidentally."
"How old is he?"
"He's almost nine months old."
"Heh, wait until he turns sixteen and gets his license."

Awww, baby's first prank phone call.

via FB:

OBSERVATIONS ON HIJAB
Author: Unknown
It has been my personal observation that some Muslim girls and women do not realize the significance of hijab. Hijab is arabic for protection and cover. Some people put a lot effort into their hijab, yet it serves no purpose. I am referring to the pointless hijab that some girls wear.

The first pointless hijab is referred to as the headband hijab. It is a band of fabric approximately 4 inches wide. It covers the back of the head and allows all the hair to be exposed. It doesn't serve much in terms of modesty, but at least it comes in handy in case of an unexpected tennis match.

The second pointless hijab is the dupetta, also known as the Saran wrap hijab. It covers all the hair, but it is totally transparent. Again it doesn't serve much in terms of modesty, but it keeps the hair nice and fresh.

The third type of hijab is known as the Mickey Mouse Hijab. It is when a girl wears a black scarf and tucks it behind her ear, so that her ears stick out.

We now move to my favorites:

The yo-yo hijabs. The first yo-yo hijab, also known as the Benazir Bhutto hijab, is the scarf that keeps falling down and needs to be constantly pulled back up....up, down, up, down, just like a yo-yo.

The second yo-yo hijab is also referred to as the convertible hijab. This type of hijab is predominant at any type of social event, i.e. an Aqeeqah, Bismillah party, Ameen party, wedding, etc. This is when an Imam or Qari comes up to the microphone and starts to recite Qur'an. At this point, all the convertible hijabs come up...until he says "Sadaqallahul atheem". I'm not sure, but apparently in some cultures that translates to "ok sisters, you may now take off your scarves".

I'm sure this may seem odd, but what's even funnier is when people do not anticipate the recitation of Qur'an at a social event, and are forced to be creative and use accessories such as a purse to cover one's hair. I was surprised to see a women hold her purse over her head as "hijab"..as if the multitudes of men surrounding her are not a good enough reason to wear hijab, but some guy reciting du'a compels her to hold a purse over her head. Her friends were more creative...one friend used her dinner napkin.

I was also laughing when I saw the communal hijab -- two or more girls draped under one dinner napkin during the recitation of Qur'an. Her other friend was still more creative. She used her coffee saucer on the back of her head. I wasn't sure if it was hijab or a Yamaka. I didn't know if she was a Muslim or a Jew. I felt like going up to her and saying "Shalom alaikum, sister".

And, people should remember that hijab is not just a protection from guys, but from a girl's nafs (ego) as well. It should prevent girls from having to spend hours in front of the mirror doing her hair. But, unfortunately, you see girls in front of the mirror for hours doing their hijab as they would do their hair, with all sorts of elaborate braids and the like. I wanted to go up to a sister and say "Is your hijab naturally curly?" I also felt compelled to go up to another girl and say "pardon me, but is your hijab naturally that color, or did you dye it?".

Well, the point to remember is that some people make an effort to wear hijab, but it is futile, because it is not fulfilling it's purpose. It's like using an umbrella with holes in it. Hijab is used for protection from guys as well as from the girl herself, and should not be used as an accessory or for beautifying one's self.

Anyway, that's it. If anyone disagrees with me or is offended, then you are disagreeing with the teachings of Allah subhanahu wa Ta'ala.

Have you guys see the clips called "God, Inc."? The newest episode is particularly funny.

Among the top five reasons I like my job is this: I must, as a matter of course, research stuff like cheese (I wrote a brilliant argument on why someone's trademark was generic for a type of cheese), the Pentagon (I denied the Department of Defense from registering a trademark until they complied with my requests), and the background on names like KITARO:


Kitaro is a yokai boy born in a cemetery, and aside from his mostly-decayed father, the last living member of the Ghost tribe. He is missing his left eye, but his hair usually covers the empty socket. He fights for peace between humans and yokai, which generally involves protecting the former from the wiles of the latter.

Kitaro has an assortment of strange weapons at his disposal, including:

remote-controlled geta sandals
a detachable hand, also remote-controlled
a magic chanchanko vest which can protect its wearer from danger
Spiny hairs which can be shot like arrows
Another hair which can serve as an antenna for detecting spirit activity

Stealing a page/idea/post from Abez because I am too strapped for time to prepare a proper update:

I am reading
Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal (pretty funny and weird)

I am listening to
The Crane Wife by The Decemberists (even though it is now January)

I am looking at
a pix of ZP with wild, rock star hair. (even though I'm at work, because I can get away with it)

I am taking
The yellow line and then will transfer to the green line.

I am eating
chana masala (that I made on Sunday... mmm, leftovers)

I am wearing
jeans, long-t, long sweater, and sketchers (because they're the S)

Your turn, bloggers and blurkers.

Happy Eight Month Birthday, Sir Zain! Like the Bionic Man, you are better (at eating), stronger (at standing), faster (at scooting) than before! We haven't quite secured all of our valuables and breakables from your clutches, but since you are our most valuable and breakable possession, we will just continue to concentrate on you. You still have odd mouse-colored hair but your resemblance to yer pappy remains, chubby cheeks, cleft chin, and all.

I'm pleased to report that from all accounts, you are having a groovy time with your nanny and Moxi Baji. We were pretty lucky with the warm weather this winter and you got many a chance to go to the park and scope our potential friends/enemies. Alas, the bitter cold is upon us now and I hope you don't get too stir-crazy with cabin-fever in the next few months.

We are so relieved that you are starting to accept different flavors and foods without making a face as though we were force-feeding you the most atrocious garbage we scraped off of the bottom of our shoes. Your favorite dinner appears to be daal chaval which pleases me greatly. Among the more exciting achievements this month is your dexterity. The lightening fast way you whip your chubby little hand out to secure a Cheerio and pop it into your mouth is awe-inspiring. I believe the swiftness of your movements may rival your leg kicks when your feet are shod in shoes; the rapidity of which made your Nanaji exclaim, "such tremendous speed!" Bon apetite, my little beast!

First Day of School/Work

After a restless sleep, I woke up this morning to the news of a train derailment at Mount Vernon where I change trains every single day. I watched the weather report lamenting the departure of our amazing spring-like temperatures and warning of downpours and chilly weather ahead. I tried to catch a few more winks between 5 a.m. and 7 a.m. but my overactive mind wouldn't let me. Today is ZP's first day of school and/or work.

Even though we knew this day was coming, we still scrambled around to get everyone dressed (ZP wore his preppy sweater vest and 'smart' corduroys for his first day), fed, and out the door on time. We dismantled the pack-n-play and loaded it into the car. We grabbed the jars of baby food and shampoo and last minute items. We stuffed an excited baby into his car seat and drove five minutes away to his new nanny's place (actually, the couple with whom we are sharing the nanny own the place but you know what I mean).

When we arrived, the couple were there to greet us, reassure us, and show us around again. ZP put on his shy face, tilting his head and tucking it under my chin as he observed the new people and surroundings. He caught sight of Moxi (his new baji) and displayed some interest in her by raising his head and then some more interest in what she was eating (rice crispies and bananas) by pushing away from me. Rosario was beaming when she saw him and clapped her hands and put her arms out for him to jump into. He hesitated and returned his head to my shoulder for a moment as he eyed her. I walked him around the room, pointed out different things, and held on to my brave face for as long as I could. In the end, I chickened out and handed him to TP to do the transfer. I couldn't bear to hear ZP crying and clinging to me when I knew eventually he would have to go to Rosario. Turns out, he was pretty comfortable in her arms anyway.

After giving Rosario instructions on feeding, cleaning, napping, etc. (all of which she responded to with a nod and a "yes yes" which translates into "girl, I have four children and have taken care of other children; don't worry."), we said out goodbyes to a sleepy and disoriented ZP and left.

TP dropped me off at the metro. I blindly entered the station and rather robot-like went through the motions of inserting my card, going through the turnstile, walking to the approximate spot where the doors to the train would open near the stairs at my last stop, and stared straight ahead. My head was buzzing. The train arrived and I boarded in a daze. My thoughts were so jumbled: "did I pack enough toys for him? what if he cries so much he throws up? I forgot to tell her not to spank him!" When we arrived at Mount Vernon, I didn't know whether the metallic taste and smell I experienced were the remains of the earlier train derailment or the blood in my mouth from biting the insides to prevent myself from bawling in public. My frantic heart was in my throat, leaking a bit from my eyes, threatening to escape through my nose. Logically, I knew that he'd be alright. Emotionally, I was the commander of panic station.

As the train emerged out of the tunnel and into the rain to cross over the Potomac River, I made my daily du'as to ask God to protect and bless my loved ones. But like a scratched record with a broken needle (or for you 21st century types, like an audio glitch on an mp3 recording), I just kept repeating "please please please". Please take care of ZP. Please let him be happy, and well-fed, and well-loved. Please let him learn, and have fun, and be healthy. Please watch over him, guide him, reward him. Please please please.

My view of the river and trees and city was abruptly cut off by the return of land and the tunnel. The gray skies gave way to pitch black. With the lights inside the metro throwing my reflection in the windows back to me, I saw myself: eyes glassy, mouth tight, brow furrowed. I remembered how we used to tease my mother when she would be anxious about something and her forehead would create two vertical lines between her eyebrows. We called them "elevens." The thought of inheriting those elevens made me smile a little. The thought of being as good a mother to ZP as my mother was to me made me smile a little more. All I can do is love him, protect him, guide him, and do what I can to make his life good. Insha'Allah, I'll have the strength, patience, wisdom, and humor to get through his life, let alone my own.

The thing that will get me through this day is the knowledge that I'll be seeing him again in a few hours when I go to pick him up. I'll sweep him into my arms, go home, and we'll play on the yellow mat and eat Cheerios. And I'll tell him how much I love him, how much I missed him, and how much I pray for the best for him. Please please please.

Happy New Year and Eid Mubarak, all y'all! Back to work. *insert sound effect of whipping* It's difficult enough getting back into the mode of working after a four-day weekend (combo New Years and National Day of Mourning days off). But add to the mix a bright, sunny day, and only a few more days left until poor wee ZP joins the rush hour melee of the DC working world next week when he begins going to his nanny, and you've got one wistful, sluggish mommy. Alas, my parents are leaving on Sunday and ZP, TP, and I will miss them much. My mother always used to say that whenever we left, it felt like our visits were like a whirlwind and the subsequent quiet was kind of a downer. I know how she feels! And I know ZP will feel it too. He's gotten so used to having constant company, a rotation of adoring adults, a steady flow of attention and personal servants and carriers. I guess he's going to have to toughen up now that he has to share a single person's attention with another baby. I guess I'm going to have to toughen up too. Ah me.

Randomicity:

• Am I doomed to get a hair cut twice a year (and by my MIL at that)?
• I wonder if I'll get to see a matinee "For Your Consideration" as a New Year's outing.
• I need to find a new eye doctor - I can't keep patronizing the one back home anymore - too far and few between.
• Am I a bad mother for secretly taking a bit of delight when tough guy ZP, in a rare show of need/cuddling, actually tightened his arms around me when the vacuum cleaner was running (which he immediately followed with a loosening of his arms and a few angry words in the direction of said cleaner)?
• I don't wanna exercise.
• My Dwight Schrute Bobblehead is busted and I'm not sure that superglue and/or a neck brace fashioned out of paperclips will repair it. Maybe duct tape?
• MAN, I hate winter
• Despite his alternately arrogant and self-deprecating way about him, I am really digging Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain.
• I am nervous about sending ZP off to his new nanny starting January 8th; all du'as and well-wishes are much appreciated.
• Where did this year go?

To the jackhole who broke into our car, rifled through our stuff, left all the CDs on the seats, and took about $3.00 worth of change but thankfully didn't break our windows or locks:

Merry X-mas. Jerk.

Tagged by Wayfarer regarding six weird things about me. But I was already tagged by Musical Chef a while back for ten things and before that I did a hundred things which includes, but by no means is limited to, at least six weird things about me. I can't think of much more! So how about limiting the six things to . . . um . . . six weird non-mainstream movies (which takes out Memento and Adaptation and Being John Malkovich stuff) that I liked:

1. 12 Monkeys
2. Donnie Darko
3. Kontroll
4. Time Bandits
5. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead
6. Ghost World


or six weird recent books that I liked:

1. "If on a Winter's Night a Traveler" by Italo Calvino's
2. "The Time Traveler's Wife" by Audrey Niffenegger
3. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon
4. The Cheese Monkeys: A Novel in Two Semesters by Chip Kidd
5. The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break by Steven Sherrill
6. Middlesex: A Novel by Jeffrey Eugenides

or six weird foods I've eaten:

1. Frosted Miniwheats with all of the wheat rubbed off and a mere curve of solid sugar left behind.
2. Alligator
3. Impala
4. Mussels
5. Carpaccio
6. Sushi

Oy, ZP Sahib, welcome to Seven Months Old! Congrats on your two teeth; just like you, those jagged pearls are deadly but cute. Mubarak on being able to sit up unattended; no longer do we surround you by a thousand pillows to prevent you from toppling over. Mabrook on standing on your sturdy legs; if the Admiral had his way, ye'd be working on your sealegs next! Sorry for all the battles we've waged against you to get you to accept formula when your sensitive and discriminating palate insisted on the real deal. Apologies for those non-masala'd peas but I promise we'll give you the good desi-flavoring before too long. And please excuse us for all future mishaps, wars, and boredom as the winter months approach. Lastly, forgive us for taking such delight in making you look ridiculous/adorable. We love you to bits.

Note to self: when attending the office "holiday" party (which everyone knows is really a Christmas party, the fact of which is reinforced by the gianormous X-mas tree towering in the lobby of our government facility), try not to cram as much cheesecake, whipped-cream "Death By Chocolate," cookies, cheese, mashed potatoes, brownies, cupcakes, and fudge in one sitting; instead, try to space it out over the course of the day.

Tag, yer it.

• Three things that scare me: Any harm coming to ZP, any slight inflicted onto ZP, any sadness suffered by ZP.
• Three people who make me laugh: TP, LB, Gojira.
• Three things I love: 25th Anniversary Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake, ZP's laughter, traveling.
• Three things I hate: capers, selfish people on public transporation, vomiting.
• Three things I don't understand: accounting, urdu poetry, intolerance.
• Three things on my desk: a phone, speakers, and soon my head.
• Three things I'm doing right now: Thinking about dessert, listening to ZP babbling to Nanaji downstairs, smelling post-shower squeaky fresh and clean.
• Three things I want to do before I die: write a book, see ZP grow up to be a good man, give TP one more smootch.
• Three things I can do: pass for native in many countries, recite arcane trivia and tv/movie lines, spell out the alphabet in sign language.
• Three things I can't do: easily let go of grudges (but I'm working on it), enjoy running, swallow pills without water.
• Three things you should listen to: NPR, something by Matador records, and yo' mama.
• Three things you should never listen to: Crappy commercial radio, naysayers (except for Debbie Downer), evil-doers.
• Three things I'd like to learn: how to knit, another language, some easy hi-yah moves.
• Three favorite foods: Desi, Italian, Mediterranean.
• Three beverages I drink regularly: Chocolate Silk Soy Milk, water, Limonata (although the Pomegranate Blueberry Juice from Whole Foods is AMAZING and I just wish the cost weren't so prohibitive because at $3 a pop, it's not worth it 'regularly' otherwise, that'd be #3).
• Three TV shows I watched as a kid: Thundercats, The Muppet Show, The Greatest American Hero.

Happy Thanksgiving! Had a great time at home with the family: ear-piercing rounds of taboo, shopping with free mom-bucks doled out to each of us, and eating eating eating. New sweater, new kicks, and a new roll of fat to add to my collection. Of course, the star of the show was this little turkey:

Happy Six Month Birthday, me wee one! I cannae believe that six months today, you came into my life. That whole month was a blur. We had just moved into our new house one week before you were born. That week before you were due was crammed with working until the last minute, packing up our CoHi house and shifting over to our Admo house, and getting your Nanaji and Naniji settled for the long haul. I still remember watching you undulate beneath my skin and kick the remote control off of my tummy. The day you were born was equally mad with the giddy but mind-numbingly painful contractions, the pushing and tearing, and the prayers and laughter. You arrived as a tiny ball of fury and garnered your nickname as "The Beast" when it came time to nurse. Eager to absorb the world around you, you refused to lay your head down and cuddle. Instead, from day one, you kept your head high. Wobbly, but high.

Five months ago, you were still working on growing out your angry eyebrows and filling out your chubby cheeks. It was a blazing hot summer and though you adored going outside, the over-100-degrees days kept you inside with me where we walked back and forth between the family room, the dining room, the kitchen and back. Over and over and over again. Then up the stairs. Then down the stairs. Then up and down and up until TP came home and I got a chance to drag my unshowered, underfed carcass upstairs and collapse in bed for an hour or so. Just when I started feeling like an unappreciated slave to a non-responsive master, you started to smile. A genuine smile, not one of those "I have a huge surprise for you in my diapers" kind of smile. Made everything totally worth it.

Four months ago, you were sturdier, more alert, and already an accomplished host as we welcomed (with pleasure and also a bit of selfishness) family and friends to come and stay with us. Along with our evening strolls to get some fresh air and relief from the house, we started taking out to exotic locales like Whole Foods, birthday parties, and concerts. You enjoyed going to restaurants and favored the loud, brightly lit ones (Udupi and Jaleo). You had an unfortunate episode of thrush and a needle-heavy visit to the doctor's office, but for the most part, you remained happy and healthy and heavy.

Three months ago, you demonstrated your appreciation for humor by gracing us with the most insane cackle and giggle combo ever. Your laughter was ear-piercing, random, and heart-stealing. We would go to great lengths to get you to laugh with such gusto, including, but not limited to, singing songs, using scary voices, and pinching your brontosaurus thighs.

Two months ago, I cut my own heart out and returned to work. It was so hard to do and the only thing that made it bearable was that I knew you were in good hands and that (Insha'Allah) this was only temporary until the day I could start working from home. I thought of you every moment and could not get home fast enough to sweep you in my arms and try to snuggle with you even though you were already too macho for such sappy expressions of love. As a DC resident, we introduced you to the local flavors of the Eastern Market, the voting booth, and the Smithsonian. Although you inherited your eyebrows, your cleft, and your skin tone from your father, you did manage to inherit the ability to travel well from me as was proven by our calm and quiet trip to Florida. I can't wait to get your passport picture taken and start help you start racking up the air miles!

One month ago, you started sleeping a little more, going out to the park to observe the big kids, and eating actual foods. When we introduced you to honeydew and cantaloupe, you exhibited great pleasure followed immediately by great frustration that we weren't fast enough in giving you more. You celebrated your first Eid with a stylish shalvar kameez, a lunch at Lauriol Plaza, and lots of quality time with the grandparents. Our little milk-fed veal, you are already busting out of the 6-9 month old clothing and although you are getting taller each month (some of those outfits make you look like you are wearing capris or flood pants), you seem to remain a skinny mini. Lavender-scented bath time is enjoyed by all but you certainly keep us on our toes while you explore your own and try to fit all ten toes into your mouth while simultaneously throwing gang signs and grabbing your privates. Now that you can sit up, you prefer that immensely to lying on your back. You still take great delight in your multi-colored bees and fireflies but now have also discovered that books taste pretty darn good and my chin is fun to gnaw on. And now that you have your own laptop computer attached to your highchair, one which allows you to play DJ and chew on a sunflower, you are pretty content to sit on your own and look very busy at work: holding all calls, canceling meetings, and banging on your desk.

Today, you are half a year old. Alas, we celebrated with yet another doctor's visit in which you were jabbed no less than four times (regular shots plus an extra bonus flu shot). But the day is bright and sunny and despite being mid-November is actually warm enough to enjoy some time at the park where you can sit in your bucket seat, throw your arm nonchalantly across the back, and swing, swing, swing. I love you, Zainy Zoo!

What the shaq is this?! (interroinfringement!) They've named a papdum after me! Too bad it tastes crappy. TP, our local gourmand, the snootiest of the snoots, the guy who watches so much Food Network that he's started picking up the lingo and saying stuff like "Wait, I haven't plated it yet," gives it a thumbs down.

Snoo.

Top Five Things I Love About TP - Weekend Edition

1. Willingly volunteering to babysit ZP while I got to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan with LB, KG, and Noozles even though he was already watching him all week long and the weekend is his only break.
2. Unselfconciously kneeling down and giving loud smacking kisses to ZP while waiting in line at Safeway just to make him smile.
3. Preparing coffee for me this morning just the way I like it.
4. Letting me take two, TWO, naps today.
5. Making me a manchego cheese and avacado sandwich for lunch.

Top Five Things I Love About ZP - Weekend Edition

1. Giving me a huge belly laugh when I sang the diapo-changing song to him over and over again, even way past diapo-changing time.
2. Eating half a banana with most of it going into his mouth instead of on his hands/hair/bib/me.
3. Sleeping from 10pm to 4am last night.
4. Learning how to roll over from your back to your tummy and returning to your back without screaming in indignation or expressing your fury at the highest possible decibles.
5. Just being so unbelievably adorable.
   

Top Five Things I Love About LB and KG - Weekend Edition

1. Inviting me for a night out with their pals and feeding me chocolate orange pound cake.
2. Despite her congestion and aches and pains, LB darting off like an Olympic athelete when she heard ZP wake up and call out from upstairs.
3. KG attending an estate sale and thinking of and picking out a gift for ZP.
4. LB's arguing with me about the tiniest things and escalating it until our friend got uncomfortable - just like old times.
5. Sharing my love of all things Joss.

This video is hilarious (even though the one dude's Brit accent is atrocious). Clickety click. Thank Allah it's Jummah.

Check out the sheer joy on this mug:




If he could talk, I'd imagine he'd be screaming something along the lines of "OH MY GOD! NINTENDO 64!!!" like this kid:

Eid Mubarak, all y'all!

Despite the gray clouds, the dead car battery (poor Cressie), the teething aches (poor ZP), and the work obligations (poor TP), we are thankful for our health, happiness, and our time together and we hope the same for ye.

Happy Birthday, Uncle KG!
Time for an airplane ride!
Neeooowwwwhhh!!!
Wheee!!!
*splat* (drool bombs)
Wheee!!!

Hittin' the big kid swings with attitude and panache while sporting a fancy motorcycle jacket from the high streets of Paris. Whether it's fleece-demanding cold or onesie hot, ZP is always stylin'. Aw yeah.

LB won a free iPod Shuffle whilst shopping at Safeway the other day. First, she couldn't believe that there wasn't a catch to it and almost offered it to the cashier. When she discovered that Safeway was having a promotion and all they wanted was her Safeway card (which she had), she accepted the freebie. Then, because she has a fancy pants iPod Nano already and KG has a hard-core iPod, she took pity on my dated, rubber-rimmed Rio-toting self and gave it to me. I actually quite liked my Rio but I haven't uploaded any new songs in ages and am not quite sure where the charger is and I love free stuff (who doesn't?). So today, I joined the ranks of the ubiquitous iPod-people and slipped the razor thin mp3 player into my back pocket and listened to my favorite tunes while blocking out all sounds of my fellow Metro-riders various wheezings, conversations, and coughing. Hmmm, I could get used to this. Anyway, YAY FOR LITTLE SISTERS! HOORAY! When Diapoman gets old enough, it's his.

Brrr, it's freezing! As much as I adore the beautiful foliage that comes with the fall package, I detest the cold weather that soon follows. Right now, it's still sweater season so I'm happy. But right around the corner is the ice and snow and wind that freezes your blood and cuts your lungs and phooey on all that! It gets dark so early - which during Ramadan is a bonus but during the commute home is not. Already I'm the last to sleep and the first to rise and getting up when it' still pitch black outside has always been the roughest part of Ramadan for me. The streets are going to get pot-holey, the park outings with ZP will be curtailed, and the sniffles will begin. Boo creepy foot doctor. So now I'm off to unpack my warm and woolies, to bring out the heavy comforters (where is my tiger blanket?), and to wrestle ZP into long sleeve shirts and long sleeve pants. Hope ye are staying warm and well.

Thanks for the love, y'all! I'm glad this blog hasn't become a barren wasteland after all. Hope to have some pix of ZP up soon, but in the meantime, enjoy these pearls of insanity:

LB should be thankful I never snuck up on her and secretly videotaped her doing one of her song-and-dance routines. See poor fat kid demonstrating his mad Gnarls Barley skillz here.

And if you wanna go a bit more old school, check out these guys, the "Chinese Back Dorm Boys," lip synching to Backstreet Boys.

Roll call! Who still comes here? Bloggers and blurkers report lest I let my fatigue get the better of me and just wrap up this blog and store it away indefinitely. I start working full time again next week and I'm not sure I have the energy or creativity to continue. Kinda feel like this. Ah me.

Living in DC, I'm spoiled with free museums. But not everyone is as lucky as I am in this respect. But they WILL be on September 30, 2006! Check it: Free Museum Day. Alas, the Spy Museum, one of the few fee-based museums in DC, is not participating. Jerks.

Happy Birthday to meeeee! Please drop off all gifts and hugs in the comment box. Thank you.

Ramadan Mubarak, all y'all bloggers and blurkers!

Pandi's 'Pinions

Been a while, no? Pandi just got back from a trip to Venice, Florida and has the following 'pinions to report:

• On ZP: Even though he looks nothing like his Mommy, he travels remarkably well. His slumber during the majority of the flights, lack of explosive diapers, and simple happiness in people-watching, hanging out, and even being carried around by flight attendants made the trip much more pleasant than anyone anticipated. A+.
• On the beach: Nothing to report thanks to the stupid Red Tide warnings. F-.
• On the shopping for housewares: Target has become surprisingly expensive from what we remember it to be. Luckily, there was a Walmart right across the street. And a Home Depot. And a Pier One. None of which are conveniently located in Washington, D.C. and so seemed almost foreign to us. Also amazing: the amount of space given in the parking lots. Equally exotic: the superfriendly cashiers. The sales clerk in Target gave us a TV for $95, knocking 20% off of the sales price because there was no remote control, warranty, box, or owner's manual. B.
• On the Country Club: So snooty that they wouldn't allow us, fresh off the plane, to dine for lunch - even outside!- because we were wearing jeans and t-shirts. When we returned for dinner in the evening wearing "nice clothes," we were almost turned away again because the kitchen closes at 8 p.m. But remembering us from the afternoon and feeling guilty when it was obvious we were well-mannered, nice folks, the concierge seated us after all. C average.
• On the weather: Freakin' hot. B-.
• On southern bugs: Freakin' HUGE. F.
• On the birds: Fearless, fascinating, and fun to point out. B.
• On the sunset: Like nothing we get in the northeast - watching a big, red ball of fire sink in the sky sure is hypnotic. A.

Yesterday, we set out into the beautifully sunny-but-crisp day to fufill our civic duty and vote. We arrived at the polling area in about two minutes because the place is right behind our house (with a sturdy trebuchet, I could hurl a water balloon at the closest voter). I saunter up to the "E to R" line (which by 3pm was non-existent) and announce my name. The granny manning the list scrolled down to where my name should have been, double-backed, triple-checked, and then looked up at me.

"It doesn't look like your name is here, sweetie. Did you recently move?"
"Why, yes. Yes, I did."
"Oh, then let's check this other list."

She pulled out another stack of papers but to no avail. Self-righteous thoughts of disenfranchisement and Republican conspiracies flitted through my head.

"Hmm, not here either. That's alright, you can vote on the special ballot. Are you a Democrat?" she asked as she naturally reached for a blue Democrat card. More than 285,000 Democrats are registered in DC versus 30,560 Republicans.

"Um, no," I responded, "I'm independent."

(pause) "Ohhh, you can't vote in the Primaries!"

(mental slapping of forehead) "Oh yeah. I forgot."

Ah well, at least one of us voted. . .

Today, I took the day off and we took ZP out for his first Metro ride and then to his first museum visit to the recently renovated and reopened National Portrait Gallery. My favorite exhibit was William Wegman's Funney/Strange exhibit (yes, the guy who does all of those dog photos and no, I didn't spell "funney" incorrectly). ZP's favorite part was probably the stained glass window in the ceiling.

After the museum, we treated a friend of mine to some birthday ice cream at Haagen Dazs where I tried the new flavor, Mayan Chocolate: dark chocolate with a hint of cinnamon. I'll give it an B+ because although I liked it very much, (a) it was no gelato and (b) I could only have a small amount before my tongue felt completely coated in thick sugar. Still, it was inifinitely better than that Naga - Sweet Indian Curry and Fresh Young Coconut in a creamy custard ice cream I got from Vosges in NYC. Blech.

Now that I'm commuting again and need new reading material, I'm open to suggestions. The last few books that really wowwed me were Italo Calvino's If on a Winter's Night a Traveler , The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, and The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. I tried this program to figure out What I Should Read Next (which I discovered via Bookblog's site), but didn't really find anything that attracted me. What are you reading these days?

Today was my first full day back at work. Not that the last three months haven't been work - indeed, the hours have been longer, the physical labor has been more intense, and the pay is doled out in smiles and cheekage rather than cold hard cash. I headed out into the sideways rain (curse you, Ernesto!) to catch the Metro while toting a book (the first non-baby-related book I'll have read since the beginning of the year), a heavy-duty machine, and picture of me wee one to show off to my co-workers.

When I arrived, I was told that my office move was planned between 9am and 5pm. It appears that the government is taking its cue from the cable company when it comes to scheduling. Nice. Still, hard to complain when the move takes me away from my windowless icebox to a window office with a view of the Potomac River, the Beltway, and possibly a federal prison (the last is up for debate). While the computer guy did his thing, I lollygagged around, showing pix of ZP and catching up on everyone's summer.

Before I knew it, it was lunch time. I hardly knew what to do with myself. It has been so long since I've gone out for lunch without a stroller, diaper bag, and 15 lbs. of curiousity. I treated myself to a pizza and the least healthy drink with which to wash it down - Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie Milkshake.

I returned to my office to organize a few things, managed to get a few hours of work done, and then kept looking at the clock until it was time for me to run home, back through the driving rain (where I counted no less than five busticated umbrellas left for dead on the sidewalks), to my two favorite guys. They were both alive and smiling when I came home so I guess Daddy and Baby's first full day together was a success. And now? Four day weekend, aw yeah! Udupi, Eastern Market, a BBQ, and possibly a movie! Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

My Seven Names:

1. YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: (first pet and current street name)
Jinx Ontario

2. YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your mom's side, your favorite candy)
Aziza Yorks

3. YOUR "FLY GIRL/GUY" NAME: (first initial of first name, first two or three letters of your middle name)
T. Sha. (I don't actually have a middle name, so I'm stealing my son's)

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal)
Orange Monkey

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born)
Shariff Merthyr Tydfil

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom's maiden name.)
Hustabh

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (your favorite color, favorite soda)
Orange Limonata

thx, Chan!

My parents are here this weekend. Results:

Last home-cooked meal courtesy of someone else for a while.
Lavish all-expenses-paid lunch at Jaleo.
Gigantic hole in the ceiling with insulation and brick showing.
Free babysitter while LB and KG and I check out the tax-free weekend in Maryland only to return home empty-handed.
Pancakes and/or aloo paratha for breakfast.
Alterations of old kameezes (is that a word?) to make new ones to wear with jeans.
Quality time for ZP to spend with his Naniji (who enjoys playing with him, contributing to his college education, and bathing him with his socks on) and Nanaji (who ravages his vocal cords by making silly-talk and raspy sounds to make ZP laugh insanely and then who walks the hyper beast back and forth to get him to calm down and sleep).

Six Degrees of Blogeration Updated and Revisited

Rule -- degrees are established by one live person actually meeting, laying eyes upon, hugging, or clobbering another live person. * indicates blurker or blogguest status

First Degree

Baji -- Lil Baji*, Cybermom*, TP*, Chai, H-Biddy, Musicalchef, Ismo, Broheme, Ushi, Slowmar, Gunnar and Mothman*. (me relatives)

Baji -- Abez, DeGrouchyOwl [collectively, "the Zistahs"], Chan, Najm, Upyernoz, Gojira, Keltie, Noozles, Lamisse* (a.k.a. LaMushy), and Taha* (a.k.a 2 Scoops)

and the new additions: Hijabman (a year ago) and Chat&Chai (today!). (me crew)

Second Degree

Baji -- Chai or the Zistahs -- Karrvakarela, Waleed , da Momma, Poppie , MnM, Lil Gray Crayon, Knicq

Baji -- (LB* or Lamisse*) -- Yasmine, Somayya, and Chocoholic

Baji -- The O Bros -- Akrites

Third Degree

Baji -- the Zistahs -- Poppie -- Usual Suspect and Anju

Fourth Degree

Baji -- Najm -- [Safia or Ayan, but nobody's met Ayan, or come on there's gotta be someone!] -- Shaheen

Did I miss anyone?

Yay! Thanks to the heads up from KG, I'm going to buy this disc and spin it!



Okay, I know, that's a Pixies lyric and not Radiohead, but it fits. If I like it, or more accurately if ZP likes it, I'll report back and recommend it or trash it. Stay tuned and rock on!

T minus one week until I return to work. Until then, I'm trying to cram in as much stuff as I can since Cybermom is here to help.

New driver's license reflecting new address - check. Granted, I hadn't showered or cleaned up much for the new picture since I thought they were just going to use my old picture that they had stored digitally, but the DMV loves to throw ya for a loop, no? Thank goodness it was in the pleasant, air-conditioned Georgetown location instead of the crummy, hot, cranky-staffed Judiciary Square one.

Shopping for new clothes - check. Got some dressy shirts and cozy cords to wear back to work which should last all of about a week or so before I revert to my jeans and t-shirts because if I can get away with it, why not?! (interro-slacker!)

Haircut - check. I haven't had my haircut since the winter months and since I wasn't willing to shell out $50 for a simple straight cut and don't like making appointments, I had my MIL cut my hair. The only thing was that getting my locks cut in the garden outside resulted in multiple mosquito bites which I could have done without.

Organize ZP's room which has, from the day we moved in, doubled as a large storage closet - work in progress. Maybe tomorrow I'll sort through everything. Maybe not.

Take daily pix of ZP to send to Cybermom and dad - check. Here is the latest of my wee monster post-bath looking a bit Arabic according to some:




and this one is fresh off the press:



Go to a few concerts - check. Only two more free summer ones left!

Watch as much Colbert Report, Good Eats, and Reno 911 as I can - check. But I swear, if I see another one of those male enhancement ads, I'll put my foot through the tv. The music alone is enough to make me change the channel.

Take naps - check. Although, I think another one is scheduled for right about now. Ciao!