I'm a Suburban SAHW Groupie

DH is only in his late twenties and he seems to be experiencing something of a mid-life crisis. He is trying to capture some of his youth before it slips away. Some could argue that it is mid-life for him because it seems as though he was born 30 years old.

You know how it is: boys and their toys. First it was the huge flat screen television; the masterpiece of art hanging above the mantel. Then it was the need to feel cool while walking into work wearing his tailored suits, French-cuff shirts and an I-pod. Last week DH walks into the house grinning from ear-to-ear and carrying a guitar.

He has been diligently practicing and has determined that he will be a “rocker” one way or another. Saturday night we went to a jazz club and his mouth was on the floor as he was watching the guitarist’s fingers pluck note-to-note creating fantastic sounds and emoting feelings of euphoria.

Yesterday, we were out and about doing the weekend chore circuit. DH receives an annoying work related call which lasted about an hour (I just love when this happens and I get to sit in the car staring off into parking lots of the suburban shopping frenzy). After the call, DH starts the car and angrily speeds off. We arrive at the undisclosed destination: the Guitar Center store.

Inside, it feels like an amusement park. Guitars of all shapes and colors line the walls with their dangling wires swinging like vines. Stacks upon stacks of amps piled in a haphazard fashion, serve as aisles. One was thrust in the middle of an oasis of freedom and creativity. Boys and men were sprawled all throughout the stacks, cradling one of the beloved guitars, trying their hand at rock-stardom.

The deep-throated bass sounds, coupled with the finger nail on black-board-like screeches, and various attempts, good and bad, of replicating masters such as Stairway to Heaven and Foxy Lady, swirled round and round as a carousel of fun.

I suppose I should be annoyed by these boyish antics, but honestly, I find my rock-star to be quite sexy!

Urdu

Help! Has anyone learned Urdu or in the process of learning?

This is a feat that I continue to suffer at. My hubby promised to help me, but inevitably, it gets pushed to the back burner considering we see very little of one another. Consequently, the dialogue we do have needs to be understood by both, thus occurring in English. I know roughly 100* or so (I am not sure, I may be underestimating here) words which we use in our daily vocabulary while talking to the cats or cooking, etc.

I have purchased a self-guided book and c.d. titled: Teach Yourself Urdu by David Matthews and Mohamed Kasim Dalvi. I have tried numerous times to get through chapter one, but have a hard time feeling like I am getting anywhere. I have now decided to create my own flashcards. I am hoping that this will help me get through the first chapter considering I am very much a visual cue learner. I have asked my hubby if he would agree to play word of the day with me in which I pick one flashcard which introduces a new vowel or consonant sound with a sample Urdu word provided. Hubby has to help me by using that word at least two times in the evening in Urdu or Englurdu sentences.

What have y’all done? What works, what doesn’t? Do your significant others help, if so, how? Have you found any professional tutors, if so, where? For the parents, does your Urdu speaking partner faithfully speak to the babes, and does this help you by learning elementary Urdu along with the kids?

Thanks for playing :-)

*On second thought, I do know a lot more than 50 words

Check Up

I resolved to lose weight and it has been a struggle. Through the month of January and the beginning of February I kept a daily food diary and up the ante on water, fruits, vegetables, and yogurt. Additionally, I kept a minimum twice a week work-out regiment and I did not lose ONE POUND; nope, nadda, nay, no weight lost.

Frustrated, I have caved and decided to try another “fad” diet. So over the last 12 days, I have put my hubby and me on the South Beach Diet, Phase I. Essentially, we have agreed to cut out all white flour and sugar from our daily consumption. This strategic wage of war against the bulge combined with the continued twice weekly exercise has prevailed. We have each lost 9 pounds. We plan to continue making more sensible eating choices as we graduate to Phase II, gradually adding the occasional piece of wheat bread or wheat-based pasta and brown rice.

I feel so much better for having maintained control and suppressed all cravings. It is amazing how hard it is to endure two weeks of restricted eating. Making such a conscious effort makes me realize how much crap I put into my body and also how much food fuel our bodies need absent the sugar and chemical additives. Take away the fillers such as bread, cereals, rice, and pasta one has to eat a lot of meat, fish, cheese, nuts, fruits and vegetables. This takes a lot of preparation, which is most difficult in our busy-day society.

I feel great for how my body is changing and becoming slimmer and more firm. I hope that I continue to place my health and happiness in the forefront by staying on the right path.

Anniversary

Yesterday, my hubby and I celebrated three years of marriage, Alhumdalilah. After waiting forever for him to come home from work, we rushed off to have a nice, quiet seafood dinner.

This is a silly poem I wrote to recognize the day:


As it is today, three years ago was very bitter and cold,
The officials warned, “Don’t Go”, but we were two young hearts determined and bold.

Off we went skating on icy roads in our trusty jeep,
To give our promises to keep.

You in grey and I in black, one would think it a somber mood,
But, anticipatory bravery and happiness were all the memories ensued.

Leaping over the staggering snow drifts at the homestead of _____,
We were bound to prove lasting love evermore.

We were met by our kind hosts and a stranger with green pants and a ruddy nose,
This jolly mayor carried far too many vowels one would suppose.

But, alas, those who bore witness performed with style,
Romantic hues, from the day’s sunset and the warm fire, surrounding all the while.

I said “I Do”,
You said “I Do”,
And then one joined by the other became “The Fearless Two”.

~

Hon, despite all the strife,
I could not be happier to have this life.

You have mad me a better woman than I could ever be,
You have helped me to bare witness to the all the beauty this world carries for us to see.

I love you then, now and forevermore,
‘Till the rocking chairs thump, thump on our patio floor.

A Journal Entry

Each night, just as I am drifting off to sleep, I am jarred awake. My chest tightens with the air of my gasp trapped inside and my heart feels as it is struggling to pump thy blood.

I become paralyzed by the fear resulting from the realization that I may never again live nearby by mother and brother. As the anxiety subsides, I am forced to consciously recognize this fact. I undergo a self-scrutiny much like holding a mirror up to my face.

A hurricane of questions swirls round and round:

Who am I? What have I become? Where am I going? When will my Mom die?

Does my marriage really mean “to death do us part?”

Will I ever connect to my brother, again? Will I remain close to my friends?

Will I be able to maintain a bond with my family at large?

Will I be able to maintain any of my familiar personality traits?

Could I become a mother?

How will I cope with the stress of pregnancy?

What will my life be once I am a mother?

My Mom had to work so hard after my father’s passing when I was 10 years old, so there has always been a wedge shoved between us, prohibiting us from having a very close mother-daughter relationship. I am very independent and have pride in my self-made ways and accomplishments. So why am I struggling to cope with this separation? We are only 10 hours away and my Mom’s retirement schedule will enable her to visit at least four times a year for as long as she can stand to be away from her home.

My out-of-control reactions are frankly quite surprising to me.

I think there are many things at play here. From my father’s traumatic death 20+ years ago, I have learned endearing traits such as avoidance, fear of abandonment and separation anxiety. I also learned to cope by becoming a perfectionist, which is substantiated by persistence and control. The death was so traumatic and taboo, that I never properly mourned and I now fear the inevitable which is my mother’s death. I had turned to the church in order to receive some solace and as a means of gaining closure. A representative of the church, a Catholic Nun, gave me a precious gift of agnosticism by telling me that my father was indeed burning in hell.

I say these things out loud so-to-speak as a means of undergoing the grieving process for the first time. I don not want to wear the badges of trauma and the carry the sorrows of the past. I want to move the surreal to the forefront, grieve it, forgive, release and grow.

Broken Reality

I recently went with a friend to see Brokeback Mountain. She and I went in with the expectation that it would be a stereotypical portrayal of homosexuality. Despite our presumptions, we went to see what all the hype was about.

I must say that I was very impressed. The cinematography and music were quite pleasing. The actors were very passionate and the overall feel of the movie was that of slow, low riding and quiet challenge of the viewers’ understanding of same sex love.

I appreciated the behind the scenes portrayal of same sex love. The characters were not depicted as stereotypical “flaming” or other traits one may associate with gay men. The characters were that of our brothers, uncles, friends, and unfortunately husbands.

In Brokeback Mountain, both men led dual lives as husbands and fathers. The wives were oblivious to the fact that their husbands were indeed acting in a sexual affair while out hunting and fishing with their buddies.

Like it or not, this behavior does take place in every society. It is the enshrouded secrets that lead to problems such as sexually transmitted diseases spreading to married women and their unborn children.

One does not have to condone same sex behaviors. At the very least, we should be aware that men and women of all cultures and religions lead secret lives of duality and engage in risky behaviors. It is time for dialogue. For these problems have always existed and will only get worse without proper education and communication.

Where's My Bahoo?

My FIL called this weekend asking, “Where’s my Bahoo? Why haven’t you bought your ticket to come to Pakistan?”

Some quick updates-

I have been very busy with many interviews and the entire rigor moral that accompanies. I have been researching the organizations and their programs, printing references, updating my cover letter for the umpteenth time, googling the directions, getting lost, putting on smiley interview face, and feeling crushed when I find that it isn’t the “right” job or worse, yet, that I am not the “right” candidate.

I have been quite emotional. I am so very sad about the present plight of Muslims. I, too, grow tired of defending. How much more can we explain away, tolerate, and defend? For what price are we willing to support the senseless heretics? How sad it is that even the most devout believers, who are, by far, the majority, feel powerless to change and are scared for themselves and the future of Islam.

This is not an attack, but speaking my fears out loud in hopes of returning to my path to the greatness that Islam has to offer. I have met and read about so many beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, respectful, peaceful, spiritual, and artistic Muslims. I have seen the beauty from within. I now witness so many of these beloved people growing tired of the defense.

In the midst of all of this sadness and self-conflict, me thinks, “At least my Abbu Ji loves me!”

Where's the Islam?

I made a trip to the downtown library which is the main branch, with what I would presume a large collection. I searched for Lahore Girls, the Kite Runner and Muhammad: His Life Based on the Earliest Sources, by Martin Lings. The library was out of the first two books. Apparently they must only carry one copy, because this was my third attempt to check out these books. I made a request to put these books on hold and asked the librarian about the Lings’ book. She informed me that they don’t carry it and we checked the shelves only to find a handful of books on the prophet. She said, “Here take one of these.” I informed her that I didn’t want one of those; I wanted the Lings’ book, because it is deemed to be one of the most unbiased and factually accurate biographies (according to my family, friends and many fellow bloggers). She says, “What do you need it for class?” What? As if my only interest for a specific book about the prophet could be as a result of a mandate. Arghhh.

So, I decided to stop by my local Border’s Bookstore. The bookstore is located in a fairly affluent area of town which is noted for its multi-cultural and diverse inhabitants. I was able to locate the religion section because of its large size. The section spanned an entire wall and is undoubtedly the largest subject of the bookstore. Several large placards were lined along the wall indicating religious preference with fairly large bookcases containing various books under each. They were as follows: “New Age” “Christianity”, “Christian Fiction”, “Christian Influence”, “Judaic”, and “Eastern Religions”. I re-read them, looking for “Islam”. Scan, scan, re-scan, nope, not listed. Stunned, this peaked my curiosity.

Perhaps, Islam is in the Eastern Religions section, I thought? Nope. Mind you, there are several bookcases devoted to Christian and one entirely for Judaic books. Under Eastern Religions, there are several bookshelves dedicated to Taoism, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc. I began to get more upset as I searched for “Islam”.

I must have looked like a madwoman as I scanned the shelves, shuffling back and forth amongst the peaceful people sitting in their chairs, absorbing their new treasures. I thought to myself, “How could the fastest growing religion with millions of followers, one of the BIG three, not have a section at this corporate monster?” Surely, it has to be here, they can’t be that blatantly racist, there are thousands of Muslims who live here.

Finally, I located eleven, count ‘em ELEVEN books, two of which were anti-Islam, which took up one half of a bookshelf under the “Christianity” heading. Furthermore, not one copy of the Koran could be found.

I am stunned and insulted. I debated about approaching management about this concern of mine. But, I decided to first go home and find out, via my trusty internet, whether or not there are other people who have noticed this trend in their local Borders. I found one man out of Toledo, Ohio who voiced the same concern. He tried, unsuccessfully, to get his local Muslim group, Toledo Muslims, to join him in signing off a letter to the Border’s headquarters. Although, he did not get any fellow brothers and sisters to give their john hancock, he was successfully in his solo venture. His local Border’s now has a proper heading of “Islam” in their religion section and they now carry the Koran.

From today’s experience, I gather that this man’s fight has not influenced the corporate strategy. I plan to approach management with this by presenting a letter. I would like to know whether or not this is a problem of local or national scope. Please share with me your findings, if you are a Borders shopper. I'm most certain that the stock must vary by area demand, so I am curious about your experiences. Join me and giving Islam the literary space it deserves.