Customer Appreciation Day

I don't consider myself overly sentimagical but the outpouring of love and support and laughs and condolences this week has made me rethink my position on Hallmark cards. I am thankful for everyone's comments, phone calls, and thoughts and prayers. I may not say it very often, but I do appreciate it when someone takes the time out of an assuredly busy schedule to reach out and offer some words of solace to me. So, me beloved bloggers and commenters, this one goes out to you.

*mwah*

Uncle Bhai Jaan

Inna lillah wa inna ilayhi rajioon. My Grandfather died today. "Nanaji". "Uncle Bhai Jaan". "Bhatti". The last few months had been physically difficult for him, especially after the latest stroke and coma. He awoke to find my parents there and had a nice few weeks with them, but his ability to communicate was greatly hampered. He passed away in his sleep.

He was the bearer of puns, anecdotes, and trivia. As an award-winning journalist, he was the master wordsmith of the family. With his steel-trap mind and his shelves of photo albums, he was the holder of the oral and pictorial family history. He always had a love of the good stuff: fatty foods, chocolaty treats, sneaky salty snacks. He could recite poetry that he learned as a child, drop names and dates of events that occurred decades before, and relate a joke about nearly any topic at hand. He had traveled around the world, lived in many countries, and documented his hilarious observations for the enjoyment of others.

He was deeply religious and loved his gigantic family with all of his heart. Like his father before him, he held a good education as the most important thing to give to his children. He wrote copious letters to family members (first, on onionskin thin airmail with carbon paper between the sheets to make multiple copies; later, on e-mail), he drafted volumes of newspaper articles, he edited books. During a school break one year, my teacher had given me the homework I would have missed while visiting Pakistan and he sat down with me to make sure I did it - even demanding that I clean up my chicken-scratch handwriting at the time. He loved to tinker, to invent, to improvise (hard to find the light switch in the dark? Get some glow-in-the-dark paint to outline the switch!). A chronic bibliophile, he passed his love of words to me. He came to my wedding and LB's wedding. As he got older, his strength began to fade (upon being hurried out of a car, he exclaimed, "I AM NOT AN ACROBAT!"), but his wit and humor never did. I'm so thankful that the last time I saw him, he was showering ZP with love. He was not just my Nanaji. Just like I am everyone's Baji, whether related or not, he was everyone's Bhai Jaan or, to their children, Uncle Bhai Jaan. He loved and was loved in return. May Allah (swt) bless his soul, show him mercy and love, and reward him for his good deeds. Ameen.

Inbox

As you may know, I work for the government. We all wear non-descript clothing, have drab attitudes, and generally plug away until we can retire. The interoffice emails are usually pretty humdrum too:

• The Non-Duty Hours Legal Studies Program and the Non-Duty Hours Technical Studies Program. This suspension became effective on Monday, March 16
• Recent TWAH deployments opened up several exterior offices on the 5th and 6th floors.
• OCIO will be performing emergency maintenance to EFS Web starting Friday, March 20, 2009 at 12:01 a.m. until 3:00 a.m., Friday, March 20, 2009. During this time, EFS Web will be unavailable.

But, today? Today, we got this! Yee haw! Sometimes, I quite dig living in this federal city.

Special effects explosion to occur in Washington, D.C. on March 25

The Metropolitan Washington Council of Governments has issued an
advisory that there will be a special effects explosion on Wednesday, March 25,
between 9:30 a.m. and noon on the Potomac River near Key Bridge in Washington,
D.C. The explosion is being filmed as a scene in a new television series
entitled “Washington Field” highlighting the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s
elite District field office.

In the scene, which will be shot just north of Key Bridge near Jack’s Boathouse, one of six nearby sculling boats will be depicted as being destroyed. The fire ball resulting from the explosion is expected to last about two seconds and reach 20 to 30 feet high. Please be advised that the boat will not actually be destroyed, that all explosive materials will be vaporized, and there may be a small plume of smoke. The sound will be a low thud, not a loud bang.

The Department of Homeland Security, the Washington, D.C. police and fire departments, and the Washington Airports Authority have been alerted. Traffic delays due to the filming are expected to be minimal.

Inmate Mail

TP has set me to task - Clean. Up. Your. Office. Or. Else. And so I came across a lovely letter from Yasminay from five years ago. And so I came across some incriminating photographs of TP from his early surly years. And so I came across a few letters from prison. What's that? You've never had an article written about and photograph featuring you in the Washington Post and then received a mysterious letter (right around the height of the anthrax scare) from a prison inmate as a result? Just me, huh? How about that . . . .

Sunday, March 17th, 2002 3:40 p.m.
Asalaamu Alaykum, Ms. [Baji],
Proceeding from the verses of Allah's Book . . . (Al-Quran), I am writing you and sending you this letter card as a cheerful piece to keep you smiling and beautiful. I liked the picture that I saw of you and your cute little sister so much, I decided to make this card. Smile! I hope that it found you at peace [edited from "piece"] with yourself, healthy and strong, focus and feeling charming and very special, [Baji].

Notwithstanding,
My name is Mustafa Umar [etc.] and I am Muslim, who have been truely interested in corresponding and communicating with you every since I saw your pretty name and face in the (Wash. Post) Apartment section of the news paper . . . But it took me to develope the courage to write to you, [Baji], and to ask your permission to write to you and establish a friendly dialogue with you. And with the hope that you and I can be very good friends. On a peaceful, moral and spiritual level. You look so intelligent and strong minded in your photograph hugging your sister, that your smile made me feel good. I've been lonely all of my life in America and one day, Insha'Allah, I will change that. But I would like for you to know that I would love to meet you some day and I pray that you'll give me an honest chance to get to know you as much as I would like for you to get to know me and for all that this is worth, I pray that you won't have any negative hangups about being friendly toward me.

Sister [Baji] -- I don't know if you are a Muslim or not . . . there are so many people born in med-eastern and arab countries who have arabic names . . . but are christians and Jews . . . who hate Muslims and every since 9-11-01 Muslim started really hating each other. Inspite of the New World Order. Most people put all the Muslims in a poor catagory . . . even the people who have arabic names like your are unjustly discriminated against for your name sake. Which is so insane and childish. But if you have experience any ill favor or disrespect for being who you are which no-one can change. Learn to treat it as a compliment . . . Because, regardless, of what the the people in this world put you through . . . you are as beautiful as your name and thoughts and can't no-one take that away from you. So hold on Allah is Akbar and He is leading on and the victory is Allah.

[Baji] . . . when I look at your photo . . . I see a woman that I would love to talk to and I pray that you are as friendly as you look. But more than anything, as beautiful in heart as you are in form.

So Stay. Beautiful.

Omar.

P.S. I would love to hear from you I'll sned you a photo. Please write me back.
Thank you [Baji]. Salam!!

[editor's note: all spelling and grammar appear as written in the letter except the [Baji] part where he used my real name and that freaked me out and annoyed me b/c I HATE it when people over use your name, especially your real name . . .]

[editor's note: a follow up letter from my buddy Omar appearing a month later included questions regarding my ability to cook as well as homework in reading some articles he included]

Pandi's 'Pinions 2009

It's been a while, I know. I've been in hibernation and babysitting Baji's wee ones is no small task. But I have managed to work in a movie here and a book there. So, without further ado, here's the latest installment of Pandi's 'Pinions.

• Slumdog Millionaire: I'll be honest with you. The soundtrack is rockin', the story is compelling and exciting, and Dev Patel is adorable with his gushing but sincere appreciation for his limelight circumstances. Nonetheless, I can't say that it is an Oscar-worthy movie. It was fun. It was entertaining. But was the fairy tale yarn more important or eye-opening or prestigious than the others? Perhaps I'm not being fair since it wasn't until half-way through the feature that I got confirmation (from KG seated to my left) that my cousin (seated to my right) was wrong and the movie was not based on a true story which meant that every other flashback left me shaking my head and muttering, "no way" or "yeah, right" or "gimme a break." Once I was aware that it was fiction, I enjoyed it much more but it was hard to shake the initial resentful response. One scene I did love was the montage of the kids on the train. I think I just have a thing for Bollywood train dancing scenes. Quick shout-outs to Tropic Thunder (hilarious), Wanted (good mindless bullet-curving action) and Across The Universe (love the Beatles covers) and shout-downs to Into the Wild (excellent book but trudgy movie), The Visitor (as TP described it: "I listen to NPR and I like world music so I like this too"), and Leatherheads (I liked it better the first time I saw it when it was called Bull Durham).
• The Wire: I don't have HBO and I barely have time to watch shows in real time but thanks to a combination of Netflix and KG's mom, I managed to watch the full series of The Wire. It took a few months, but it was totally worth it. At turns depressing and gritty and nightmare-inducing (what if ZP turns out to be a corner boy?! interro-I'll-kill-him!) and yet beautiful and hopeful and funny (Omar Little rules). Set in nearby Baltimore, the series was more than just a "cop show" as it delved into themes involving criminal/police hierarchy, the inner workings of the public school system, the good intentions paving the way for the politicians. The butterfly effect is in full force and the show makes you consider the show long after the credits as you think back and realize that [spoiler alert - highlight to read] if Herc had sent Randy to Bunk like he was supposed to, then Randy wouldn't have been labled a snitch and have lost his foster mother to a vengeful fire AND the investigation on Marlo would have been wrapped up earlier not forcing McNulty to take such drastic measures which in turn affected the race for Governor etc. Now that's edutainment.
  
• Music? Thanks to fellow bloggers, TP, NPR and others, here are a few new (to me) tunes that get the Pandi Thumb's Up: The Heavy's Colleen, Getatchew Mekuria & The Ex & Guests Aha Begana, Black Kids' I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You.
• True to the New Year's Resolution, I have forbidden Baji from purchasing any new books and am going through the ones on the to-read shelf. When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris had some classic hilarity and, like the misleading cousin mentioned above, I can't help reading his material without his measured voice in my head which is great because he's a good narrator -- even in there. Unaccustomed Earth: Stories (Vintage Contemporaries) by Jhumpa Lahiri is about half way complete but I feel safe in recommending this to anyone who wants to read about the ABCDs growing pangs. I've finished nearly three whole pages of The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell but her wit and clever ability to make you learn about history through pop culture references will guarantee the completion and enjoyment of this book.

That's it for this installment! Stay tuned for the next time (which, now that the government has cut our bonuses and thus work is decreasing and free time is increasing, may not be too long from now).

REALTOR®

Today, a fellow trademark examiner asked me for some advice about an application I had refused based on the fact that REALTOR® is a registered trademark and therefore this person (who was not the National Association of Realtors) could not have it. When she called in a rage to have me explain each and every problem that was wrong with the application, I did so. She then demanded her money back. When I advised her that once the filing fee has been paid and an attorney has reviewed it, there is no refund, she decided to write a letter to the Commissioner For Trademarks. The walk down memory lane was so enjoyable that I thought I'd share the applicant's response with you for your viewing pleasure:

Dear Sir or Madam:

Please review your attorney's denial of this trademark and then return my application fee to me promptly. The reasons she gave were absolutely invalid.

By the sheer number of attorneys that contacted me wanting to represent me in this matter, it is obvious that you gave out my information without my authorization. Is this just another government scam to forward the American Bar Association's lobby? How disgusting. I will turn this matter over to my congress woman, Hilary [sic] Clinton to expose your corrupt practices if my money is not returned. Shame on you for robbing the small business owners of this country. Organizations like yours are why the American public deeply mistrusts our government!!!

When I realized what you were doing. I immediately withdrew the application, so please give back my much needed money. You have spent no time or effort on my behalf, so this should not be a problem, if you're honest.

Perviouslike on Heros

Scene: Night, Interior, Claire's Bedroom

Claire: I love you, Mom.

Sandra: I love you . . . just the way you are.

Claire: I just wish I could be normal. Then maybe things would have been different between you and Dad.

Sandra: Honey, things between your father and I were troublesome long before you came along.

*brakes screech*

*glass breaks*

Come on, writers. "Between your father and I?" Really? Happy National Grammar Day!

Overheard in DC

I love the "Overheard in D.C." segment on DCist. Cracks. Me. Up. Just the other day I heard "I can't be telling you "I love you" 27 hours a day!" Do we have a glut of these folks simply by virtue of being a slack-jawed yokel tourist hot spot or is this city a dummy-magnet? Any gems you've come across lately?

Her Majesty

[to be posted on March 8th but I can't wait that long]

Happy One Year Birthday, AP! A year ago, you made your grand entrance onto the world's stage. Back then, your claim to fame was your calm, your delicateness, and your shock of jet black, Gund-soft hair. You were oblivious to the jealous machinations of your older brother, the power of your hypnotic eyes, and the fact that you were wearing hand-me-down newborn clothes chosen from the baby boy section. Your growth and personality development since then have been staggering. Your talking skills are dwarfed by your singing skills (this is currently your favorite song) which, in turn, are dwarfed by your pantomime skills (the vehemence with which you point for the object of your desire or express your dislike for something is enough to shake the barrettes right out of your hair). You love bathtime because it's the only time you really get one-on-one attention and are guaranteed a song or two if not an entire medley complete with Daddy and ZP bringing a guitar in and serenading you while you lounge in bubbly warm water.

It's a hard knocks life for you with The Beast on the prowl and many is the time your head has met the business end of a Thomas the Tank Engine train. But as he finally understood that you were not taking over his stuff (Daddy included) and you were here to stay, he has been pleased and proud to announce himself your big brother, your protector, your secret giver of extra vittles. Your willingness to eat, let alone eat exotic foods, still astounds us. We were burned so badly by Dr. No that every time you lean forward and open your mouth for masala channa or banana or haleem or cottage cheese, we are blown away.

Alas, your wonderful sleeping habits of laying in a crib and drifting off have fallen by the wayside, in part because you sleep earlier than ZP and have to be cloistered from his super sonic night time screeching rituals and in part because we spoiled you and you got used to sleeping next to me on the bed while holding my hand. As you are getting older, you are becoming more aware of injustice (ZP yanking a toy out of your hands and running away), the comings and goings of people (if Daddy doesn't pick you up the moment he walks in the door, there is hell to pay for everyone), and the superhero-like level of hearing you have (the moment the television turns on, you whip your head toward it before the picture even hits the screen). Such a girl, you are quite eager to dole out hugs, you are happy to lay your head on someone's shoulder, and you are extremely adept at giving smoochies. If you ever find a monkey within grabbing distance, you are more likely than not to plant a nice, loud, wet one on its head. Like your brother, you like to be scared, you like to be tickled, and you like to travel.

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 lord over us with your regality. Happy Birthday, me wee lass! Enjoy this limited-time-only clip show in your honor!

Amused or Offended?

From the files of LB:

-----Original Message-----
From: Augusta
Sent: Tuesday, January 06, 2009 9:33 AM
To: Brian
Subject: FW: website details
Brian,
Please look over the show information provided by "LB" at PBS, it is below her contact info. Let me know when you get a chance and I will confirm it with her.
Thanks,
A :)


-----Original Message-----
From: Brian
Sent: Tuesday, January 06, 2009 10:51 AM
To: Augusta
Subject: RE: website details
Augusta -
Careful, if I'm not mistaken - I think "LB" is actually of the "male" gender. One of those Muslim names, ya know? I don't know for sure, but he/she has already probably encountered some confusion - part of the territory WHEN YOU LIVE in the U.S. right?
Brian


From: Augusta
Sent: Tuesday, January 06, 2009 9:50 AM
To: Brian
Subject: RE: website details
I talked to her on the phone, it's a lady. She speaks clear as a bell English! :) SCORE!!
A :)

M is for Mystery

Coma. Comma.
Then what?
I don't know
which is worse.

Coma.
No pain.
No joy.
No suffering.
No ecstasy.
No worries.
No chocolate.

Comma.
, but then he had a miraculous recovery!
, but then he had a successful recovery!
, but then he recovered.
, but then he woke up . . .
comma. ellipse.

Coma. Comma.
Then what?
I don't know
which is worse.

Uncle Bhai Jan

My Nanaji (Grandfather on my mother's side) was born in Hong Kong, has been an army man, a Japanese prisoner of war, graduate of a poultry farming course, and a journalist -- not your typical Pakistani resume. He has traveled the world and written tomes about his observations at home and abroad. I think his sense of travel adventure, along with his sense of humor, are what I inherited most from him. This is not to say that the other side of the family doesn't have its share of cut-ups. It's just that their sense of humor leans towards the fart jokes, the ribald limericks, the reverse prank calls. My Nanaji's sense of humor was more light-hearted and a constant presense in his every day life: any time there was a lull in the conversation (or even when there was not), he was at the ready with an amusing anecdote, a riddle, an outright jokey joke.

A few days ago, my Nanaji suffered a stroke. He seemed to be in stable condition for a while and managed to drink some milk, chat with my Dadaji, and go out for some fresh air. But he is in his 90s. He has already gone through one quadruple bypass surgery, he has been feeling weak for months, and his prognosis was not good. My parents were vacationing in Florida and when they got the news, booked their tickets, packed one handbag each, and headed to Pakistan for a few weeks. They arrived at 3:30 a.m. and planned to visit the Naval Hospital where my Nanaji was being cared for later that morning. Apparently, the situation has taken a turn for the worse and some time during the night, he slipped into a coma. Nothing is certain. Nothing ever is. My father is consoling the family by gently reminding them that at least in a coma, he feels no pain, no suffering, no agony.

Please pray for him. May Allah (swt) bless his soul, show him mercy and love, and reward him for his good deeds. Ameen.

**UPDATE: your du'as seem to be working - he is out of the coma and is eating, sleeping, and chatting with friends and family. Thank you and keep 'em coming!

Abandon Brain Cells, All Ye Who Enter Here

In response to several suggestions/requests on various topics, I present to you the following:

1. Horsepower is not the only thing it takes to go fast. A car’s power-to-weight ratio is a huge factor, and it’s overlooked far too often. Think about it: 400 ponies should give you great performance. Definitely true in a lightweight sports car, but 400 ponies in a lumbering tour bus, not so much. Same horsepower, different vehicle weights, different power-to-weight ratios. It’s calculated by dividing the horsepower by the vehicle curb weight. The result equals the number of pounds each horsepower has to motivate -- the lower, the better. Improving a car's power to weight ratio involves reducing the overall weight of the car and increasing its ability to produce horespower and torque. By eliminating unnecessary accessories and replacing existing parts with lightweight alternatives and by allowing the engine to burn fuel more quickly, you will be able to increase your car's performance.

2. Batman is the best because unlike other superheroes who can fall back on their God-given/Gamma-ray-given/Spider-bite-given/Alien-given powers, Batman has to rely solely on his wits, his cunning, and his own human strength. Yes, he has money, but what he chooses to do with it in conjunction with his self-reliance and his love for the city and its inhabitants is what lifts him above the rest. He has to fight evil in the form of villains but also the darkness within; which means every time he chooses to defend the good or beat back his own vengeful wrath to avoid killing mercilessly, he is winning a battle . . . a jihad, so to speak. Wait a minute. Is Batman a Muslim?

3. Owl - possibly because she is so smart, has big eyes, and is most active at night?

Chai - because she likes chai?

2 Scoops: As far as my ailing memory serves me, I remember that one of the first times LB and I met "Najm" (now my cousin in law! see what happens when I like you? I make you part of my family!) and "Taha," (which i guess makes THAT the first ever blogger newunion), we were a little hesitant and just sort of took it easy at the beginning to get to know one another. Solidifying my permanent "Baji" status, I treated everyone to sushi in Georgetown and then to ice cream at Ben & Jerry's. We all got in line and Taha had some difficulty choosing just one flavor. By then (a whole hour into meeting each other) we were comfortable enough with each other for (a) him to plead to his new baji if he could have two scoops and (b) me to agree. He was so freaking excited about having two scoops of ice cream that, as we stood outside of the store and watched his unbridled glee and enthusiasm spill willy nilly, his nickname was born.

Icubaji: Five years ago, when I was first introduced to the world of blogs, I decided to create my own. The name "Baji" had already been taken by some ignorant fool who clearly did not know that I am the one and only Baji around. Toying around with some variations, I recalled a time when a bunch of us drove from Louisville to Florida one year and the young cousin of my friend picked up a toilet paper roll, used it as a spyglass, and excitedly exclaimed in a childish, lispy shriek, "I thee you, Baji!" Voila.

4. Trademarks are not the same as copyrights or patents so stop asking me about the latter. If you want to trademark a word or design or both, you should file the application through TEAS PLUS (which is $50 less than regular TEAS) online. If you are already using the mark in commerce and can submit a "specimen" (i.e. evidence of use such as a tag or label for goods or an ad or website for services), then you should go under 1(a) which is use-based. Otherwise, if you go under 1(b) for intent-to-use, you'll have to pay $100 down the line when you do, eventually, start using the mark in commerce. There is no need to hire an attorney UNLESS there is some complication (such as someone already using the same or similar mark in commerce for the same or similar goods/services or the mark is descriptive of the goods/services or the mark is scanalous pandalous, etc.). If there IS a complication, the USPTO will let you know and you can decide at that point whether or not to hire an attorney to respond. More info, can be found on the USPTO's website. If you want to try to search the public records yourself to see if anyone is using the mark, you can use TESS which is also on the USPTO's website.

5. Abez: Her Scrabble skills are lethal. Her baking skills are world renowned. Her web designing skills are wicked (this blog case in point). Her "Right Brain/Left Brain" dialogues would leave me rolling in the aisles. Her brief but exciting visit to our humble abode was too short. Her generous heart, strength of will and faith, and sense of humor are a source of inspiration and joy to others - whether she knows it or not.

Your turn. My mother is on the search for a new, simple, inexpensive computer. Suggestions?

Turning Japanese, I Really Think So

There is a small travel agency down the street that specializes in arrangements for travel to and from Japan. Recently, presumably because there was not enough demand for trip arranging in this day and age of travelocity, orbitz, etc., they pushed the agency part into the back and renovated the rest of place as a Japanese grocery store. I stopped by there yesterday to stock up on Pocky Sticks* and ended up perusing the entire contents (they boast something around 700 items) of the store. It reminded me of a miniature version of the mega-grocery store H Mart. It reminded me of my desire to visit Japan (with Gojira who, hopefully, will advise me on what is a soap dispenser and what is an air freshener). It reminded me of this excerpt from David Sedaris's "When You Are Engulfed in Flames" about his trip to the grocery store in Tokyo:

We went there twice yesterday and found ourselves completely lost. The milk I recognized by the red carton and by the silhouette of the cow, but how do you find soy sauce when everything on the shelves looks like soy sauce? How do you differentiate between sugar and salt, between regular coffee and decaf?

There was an abundance of "chicken flavored" items, a smattering of "salad flavored" items, and the rest was a mystery to me. In the end, I could only buy a few other goods that I recognized by the photograph on the packaging or else by the English translation. Again, score one for subtitles!



*We are in the midst of Toilet Training Boot Camp for ZP and one thing that seems to work is offering Pocky Sticks as a reward for each successful trip to the bathroom. Half a stick for number one, a whole stick for number two.

mi mi mi!

20 things about me. Actually, 25 things to appease those who have not yet read this.

1. I tried to have short hair in my youth but after being confused for a boy on several occasions, I resolved to keep my hair long. I usually had it all the same length except one time when I ran a "Speed Buggy" over my head, got the hair tangled up in it, and ended up with bangs and another time when I tried to use a spiky curling iron on my hair, got the hair tangled up and burned in it, and ended up with bangs. Now, I'm just used to it. Unfortunately, that hasn't made the mistaken assumption about my gender stop - at least when it comes to the online world.

2. The most amazing things I've seen in my life include the synchronicity of a bajillion prayer-goers at Mecca during Hajj (it's like a choreographic dream), the vastness of the Grand Canyon, and the birth of me wee ones.

3. After reading "The Princess Bride," I became obsessed with William Goldman and read everything he had ever written, even an instructional book on how to write screenplays.

4. I used to look down on people who cursed freely and frequently because it indicated to me a lack of imagination and an attempt to sound cool. However, there are times when certain words or even entire phrases go through my head - when someone bites me and draws blood, when someone punches me in the bosom, when someone cuts me off in traffic. One of the more creative invectives I have heard was from the movie "Citizen Ruth." Classic.

5. I used to hate baths. When my mother would send me upstairs to take a bath, I'd run the water in the tub and sit at the edge and read a book for what I thought would be the equivalent time it would take to clean up. I think the stink lines that emanated from my body tipped my mother off.

6. I once walked from the bridge connecting Cairo to the island of Zamalek after spending several hours in the claustrophobic museum through the hottest part of the day under a brutal sun because LB argued with the taxi driver over a few cents and forced us to get out and hoof it back to her dorm.

7. I have visited nearly 30 countries. The only country in which I was not, at least once, mistaken for a native was in China.

8. I have a blog. I have had one for five years now. I considered dumping it time and time again, but always seem to keep it alive nonetheless. Sometimes I read other people's blogs to educate myself. Sometimes to laugh. And sometimes to get annoyed or mad. Deliberately. I can't stand the author or the writing or the subject matter but I just keep visiting it because I'm in the mood to be put out. I believe the correct term is "maddy waddy."

9. I have eclectic tastes. In books (the bookshelf sports classic literature next to the trashiest romance pulp next to graphic novels next to hip, irreverent fiction), in music, movies (I'll be just as likely to see a foreign film as I will a sci-fi film or a Desi fillum or a stupid comedy or a brilliant documentary or an animated film), etc.

10. I envy my sister's gift of organization and creativity.

11. When I was in college, I stopped wearing a wrist-watch. I used to have a pocket watch that hung from my neck by a leather strip. In law school, I had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle watch that, when flipped open, would say, "It's pizza time" or "Cowabunga, dude" (I can't remember which). I have a Rolex that I wore for a while but now it's sitting in a box while my cell phone does double duty.

12. I will always prefer being hot over being cold. If not for the mosquitoes, I could have it be summer almost all year long.

13. When I got my first video game console (Atari), I played Space Invaders so much that I developed a blister on my thumb from clutching the joystick so tightly with my sweaty little hands.

14. I watch TV with the closed captioning on and DVDs with the subtitles on because I don't want to miss a thing. It all started after 9/11 when the constant roar of helicopters above and police sirens below prevented me from hearing anything.

15. [cribbed from upyernoz] When I was growing up, my parents made me take all kinds of lessons. I took tennis lessons, swimming lessons, piano and flute lessons, ice skating lessons, ski lessons, golf lessons, cooking lessons, sewing lessons, painting lessons (the last three from my mother). I never became a good tennis player, swimmer, flute player, ice skater, skier or artist, but I did learn how to have a whole bunch of disparate hobbies and to do them all half-assed.

16. As athletic and fit as I used to be, I hated to run unless it was towards something (a base, a ball, a goal) or away from something (another person, a bee, my sister). Now, I just hate exercise all around.

17. I have met Mohammed Ali and he has been to my house.

18. When I was in high school, one of my best friends got me hooked on "Days of Our Lives" to the extent that I'd tape it so I could watch it when I got home from school. Now, I can't stand more than a minute of it and I can't even see what I found so compelling about it.

19. When I was in high school, another one of my best friends and I used to listen to Dr. Demento followed by Dr. Ruth on the radio on Sunday nights and discuss what we learned during study hall the next day.

20. Death only scares me in that I worry what will happen to my husband and kids without me to boss them around and take care of them.

BONUS FIVE
(for those of you non-facey types)

21. I know "The Lord's Prayer" by heart because I attended Catholic school for three years.

22. I have had to get my fingerprints taken so many times now that I've lost count. The most recent time was a few weeks ago. You'd think with all the CSI-type techmology out there, they'd already have copies or access to a database that has my prints already.

23. When I concentrated really hard on something, I had a tendency to bite my lips (I've now since stopped that habit) or chew the inside of my cheeks (working on it). Upon reading the final book in the Dark Tower cycle by Stephen King, I think I may have been close to biting my way right through.

24. I have low blood pressure. In my youth, if I got up too quickly, I would often get dizzy and, on occasion, faint. One time, I fainted in a bathroom in college and the floor was filthy and disgusting but felt so cool to my cheek that I just lay there for a while. One time, I was praying during Hajj and I fell right smack down on my face and the impact forced my glasses to busticate my nose. One time, I had just had an appendectomy and I had to use the restroom and as I was fainting and sliding down the pole that held my IV, the nurse right outside my door saw me and helped me back to the bed.

25. I never thought I'd see the day when the President of the United States and I share a name.

Gruesome but Necessary

I'm working on my will because naming a guardian for my kids has been on my mind for a long time now. Not so much the naming but the preparing of the documents to make it all nice and legal and binding. It's been well over a decade since I took Estates and Trusts in law school and so I'm just surfing around for (free) samples of wills before I decide on what I'm going to cobble together. FYI, www.nolo.com is THE BEST when it comes to explaining legal stuff in non-legalese. One of the ISNA-sponsored ones contains this gem:

Should I die as a result of murder, I direct that the adjured murderer, principal or accessory in the murder shall be disqualified to receive any part of my estate.

I sooo want to add a "DUH!" to the end of that provision. Maybe I'll include it in the addendum. Consider yourself warned! If you murder me, you absolutely positively will NOT get your bloody mitts on my Buffy, The Vampire Slayer Series DVDs.

g-tastic

I have finally moved into the 21st Century. Stop. After seventeen years, I'm letting go of my AOL account. Stop. I have gotten a g-mail account. Stop.

I have also learned (thanks, KG) that in order to access the feed to this hallowed blog, you have to enter "http://icubaji.blogspot.com/atom.xml" into the reader because just the name alone doesn't cut it. Something to do with my web designer/sensai using someone else's template and all sorts of wacky code mix-ups ensue. That is all. End transmission.

Gotta Get BACK in TIIYYYEEEEmmmme

As the rest of the nation takes the first, joyful steps towards the bright future, we seem to be stumbling back in time. First, in an effort to save money, I rented the least expensive car which turned out to have neither power locks, nor power windows, yet ironically had satellite radio. When we arrived in Venice, we found out that the house's water system had been corroding over the years and whenever the hot water was coursing through the copper pipes, much of it was leaking through pinholes throughout the line, up through the base of the house, and into the carpets. This meant that each person was limited to about 5 minutes of hot water before the cold set in. No problem, we thought, we'll just make do with lightening showers. Alas, after day two, it became apparent that hot and cold alike needed to be shut down. In anticipation of being able to do laundry, we made do with packing only one suitcase for the four of us. Now, however, no washing machine. I remember finding these lovely sunshiney yellow dinner sets from Villeroy and Boch that we were planning on using for the great home-made dishes Mom would make. Now, however, no dishwasher - mechanical or human.

The worst of it, though, was the near disappearance of bathroom niceties. We had gotten so used to being able to use the facilities whenever we wanted, to stroll in wearing nothing but a robe, to wash our hands, hair, teeth, etc. at will. My parents are very friendly folks and when news of our "disaster" and "catastrophe" as my normally-sedate father put it reached the neighbors' ears, they immediately offered their guest bathroom. We took them up on the generous offer to allow us to troop through their house at all hours of the day and night to luxuriate in their hot and cold running water. We used a garden hose in the back to fill up two Home Depot neon orange buckets so that we could have water to boil or at least warm up to wash our hands and a few dishes when needed. Just our luck, historically sunny Florida decided to turn nasty and temperatures dropped into the 40s and 30s. This meant that not only did we have to get fully dressed with sweaters, socks, and shoes to use our "outhouse" (technically, it was outside of our house so the title fits), but we had to heat up the water in the buckets because it was nearly frozen.

We bought paper plates and utensils. We bought bottled water. We were miserly with our water rations. The plumbers came for two hours the first day and accomplished nothing. We should have harnessed the water from the steam coming out of our ears if we had the energy to do so. The next day, the plumbers returned and by the evening, we had one working toilet, shower, and sink. We were ecstatic. Tomorrow, we may even have a running kitchen sink and even a working washing machine. By the end of the week, we should have completely entered the 20th century. To give you an approximation of our joy at not having to brave the frigid cold just to go number one, I refer you to the great exuberance of the inauguration attendees you see on the news lately who, with tears in their eyes, exclaim that, "I didn't think I'd see the day."

Obamapalooza

With the threat of marrow-freezing weather awaiting us as it does every winter, we decided to hightail it to Florida to visit my parents for a week and bask in the sunshine. Deciding to take advantage of the three day weekend afforded by MLK Day, we booked our tickets for mid-January. January 17th to the 24th to be exact. This was back in November. Before the election results had come out. Before we understood that Inauguration Day fell on January 20th. Before we realized that we'll be in retirement mode while everyone in town (and many from out of town) would be in the midst of Obamapalooza. Do'h!

I try to console myself by remembering that it is unlikely we'd be able to participate in any of the history-making events occurring in our backyard since we have two wee ones, we have little tolerance for the cold, and even less tolerance for tourists. I'm glad that we can celebrate vicariously through family and friends who intend to be in attendance for the insanity. But I can't help but feel wistful that I'll be missing out on the various activities planned for that week. We live about a mile from the White House and probably could have seen the parade. We may have run into Oprah. We could have heard Bruce Springsteen play for free. We could have mingled with leather fetishists. Ah well. We'll get dressed up and have our own Toddler Ball. We'll prepare our own speeches ("Ask not what Mommy can do for you . . . "). With homemade meals (mmmm . . . haleem), a chance to show the kids the beach, and an entire week of fun in the sun, I can't really complain. Except, you know, for the complaints recited above.

Get Off My Lawn or I Will Commence With The Fist-Shaking!

In my youth, I was pretty easy-going and not much disturbed me. The image in my head of the young me is that I sort of floated through life, oblivious to much, pleased by the little things. I find that as I get older, I am more easily annoyed. Granted, I don't have the bottomless well of rage and sense of indignity to which some have easy access and upon which some seem to delight in drawing (*sidelong glance at TP*). But, there are certain actions, statements, behaviors, whatnot that get my dander up and I can actually feel the red indicator in my crotchety meter rising. Here is a "How to annoy Baji" primer for those of you who like to live dangerously:

• Clip your nails in a public place. Whether it's on the Metro or in a conference (I've witnessed both), it is completely unacceptable for you to snip pieces of yourself and let the chips . . . err . . . clips fall where they may. Are you seriously so important and busy that you don't have time to groom yourself in the privacy of your own home? I don't want to see you filing your nails (ugh, nail dust entering the atmosphere and into my nose and lungs!), trimming your cuticles (blech, bits of skin discarded on the floor right in front of me), or cutting your fingernails (each clip clip clip successively louder than the last until I want to jam an emery board into my ear to stop the sound . . . or better yet, into YOUR ear).
• Position yourself directly in front of the elevator doors and just assume that it will be empty upon opening. It's not that difficult to stand to the side, wait a beat, and then enter. Sometimes these folks plant themselves in front of the doors while people (i.e., me) try to exit and they either don't move aside or, even worse, try to board before everyone has disembarked. For those people, I utilize my "what to do if a mountain lion attacks" skills and try to make myself appear as large as possible to make them back up or go around.
• Stand in line at the store with only some of your items while your partner-in-crime continues shopping and dropping off items at her leisure. This happened to me at the ghetto CVS up the street one day and when you have a cranky two-year old and a hungry baby waiting patiently but just barely, the last thing you want to deal with is waiting for Shaniqwa to saunter back with some detergent she just saw was on sale while Latisha holds up the entire line and disregards the anxious teller's comments about moving it along.
• Board the Metro while I'm on it. This may seem like an overbroad and vague activity but invariably, I am annoyed by someone doing it. It's not that I want to deny anyone the opportunity to use and support public transportation. It's just that so many people do it in such a head-banging, foot-stomping, loud-voiced, stankonia way. They sit right next to you when the car clearly has other open seats. They cough and sneeze directly onto your head and don't bother with the niceties of covering their mouths or wiping their hands before they grasp the handrails. They try to take up more than their allotted seat. They try to talk to you when you are clearly reading and don't want to be disturbed. They open up the newspaper to its full wingspan despite the fact that you are blanketed by it in the process. Occassionally, they fall on you. For more information, please visit this site.
• Ignore me and my attempts to give you cuddles and smootches but wait until the precise moment that I'm getting someone else to drink her milk and go to sleep and then pounce and demand something (attention, your own milk, an episode of "Sunny Day," anything) and start this new version of communication called "screaming" that you have developed an unnatural fondess for and try to use at every inopportune opportunity.
• Wait until the last second to ask me to review and edit something you've written and demand a response ASAP even though you have known about your deadline for days, weeks, months.
• Ask me if I'm pregnant when I'm already toting an infant around. Or toting nothing at all. I am well aware of the leftover baby fat encircling the girth of my belly. I just want to purchase my groceries and/or enjoy the dinner party and then go home. The next time someone asks me that, I'm going to punch them in the face and/or never visit again.

I'm sure there are eleventy bajillion more things to add to this list so just consider this Volume I and stay tuned. OR ELSE!