It's Time

I could try to write something more beautiful, more profound about Ramadan, but sometimes it's better to recognize when someone has already found the perfect words, and just borrow them:

This month is a feast... not of noise, but of silence; not of banquets but restraint; not of forgetfullness but remembrance. This month is a feast for the faith. - Tariq Ramadan

Concrete Canvass

This is, I guess, one way to protest. And a good way, I think.

Surprise!

When I said my sister and her kids' arrival from Dubai was pending, I meant pending. Last Monday, Dubai-sis and the Little Angels arrived in Montreal as part of a little surprise for my parents, who weren't expecting them for another two weeks. The accomplices in our little plan were my sis and her hubby in Dubai (well, they were actually the engineers, the rest of us were accomplices) and my sister and I, plus our hubbies, here in Montreal. We've been keeping our little secret for months, casually fake-counting-down the days until their arrival with my parents, and finally, the day had arrived.

At the airport, my sister's flight arrived shortly after another one from Mexico city, and the cbc was there to cover the Mexico flight given the whole swine flu, thing, so we were hanging back as we waited for her, hoping that my parents wouldn't happen to be watching the news on cbc that night... She told us later that the porter who helped bring her bags out walked really slowly so as not to come in contact with "the mexicans" as he would say it, and kept telling her to keep the kids back. Now, my dear sis makes a point of avoiding the news (too depressing, she'll tell you) and had essentially spent the last two days in transit. When she'd left Dubai, the story was still breaking. By the time she'd arrived, it was everywhere, but she'd missed the whole thing. All she could think was "why is my porter racist? How unfortunate..."

I took Tuesday off work, rented a van, and she and I drove up with the little angels alternately fighting and falling asleep in the backseat. We called my parents when we were about 40 minutes away, and they were confused, then surprised, then thrilled. My mom actually figured we were on some sort of three way conference call when she heard my sister's voice on my phone.

Now, they're here for the next three months. Next up is my california-sis and her little angels' arrival in late June. It's gonna be a par-tay!

I had figured I would cry when we saw each other at the airport, but the reality was that it just felt so natural, so as though we'd never been halfway across the world from each other, that I just fell right back into my routine with everyone. I'm pleased to report that Little Angela still adores me just as much as I adore her, and she's trained Little Angel well. Whereas she calls me "Khalto Noosa", he - in his two-year-old manner of pronunciation, calls me "Katto Nooda" (this is a full-fledged graduation from "Nonno", what he called me last year as a one-year-old before they moved, and equally adorable).

So, spreading the joy and reporting on the beginnings of a fabulous summer of aunthood. More stories to come, I'm sure.

Happy Earth Day

M and I watched An Inconvenient Truth last weekend. Wow. Depressing. Important. Scary. Effective.
In honour of Earth Day, I suggest everyone watches it. And then act on that fear. We had already switched most of our light bulbs to the EFC bulbs, but now we're going to switch the rest. And buy green cleaning products. and wash with cold water. and install low-flow aerators on our faucets. We have no car and we bike/walk a lot, so we feel okay on the transportation front.
I encourage everyone to ask themselves what they can do.

Nailbiting

The habs need one point between tonight and Saturday. They're leading by 1 goal with 20 minutes left. I'm glued to the radio and Mike Boone's hilarious blog.
If they win, or tie in regulation, tonight, they're into the playoffs and we avoid this.
If they lose, it goes down to Saturday night and Noha is nervous all weekend. My little sis, who lives down the street and just as close to the Bell Centre as I do, wants them NOT to make the play-offs so that we don't have to deal with bad traffic into the spring. I am die hard; I will bear the traffic for my beloved team. I will bear any annoyances of downtown life, including honking horns and too much noise at 2 a.m. post game... In fact, if it's because of a win, I will not only bear it, I will revel in it.
Go Habs Go!

Heheh... the world of the nanoblog

I couldn't resist. I had to post this. Too funny:

A Word About Will Power

I'm on day 14 of my sugar-free, wheat-free, dairy-free diet. This week I endured

• a friend's baby shower at work, where home baked cake, breaded chicken wings, and a traditional kosovar bread-roll of some sort were being served - on Wednesday
• the left-overs of said baby shower on Thursday, and
• a benefit event to raise money for Palestine - where the food being sold came in the form of sandwiches, tarts and butter rolls, and brownies, on Friday

Today, I subjected myself to cake-baking. No one told me to make the cake, I just really wanted to make it. For the first time in probably my life, I didn't lick the left over batter off the pan. Instead, I made a second batch of cake for myself where I replaced the wheat flour with Kamut flour, the milk with almond milk, and the sugar with stevia (big mistake about the stevia, horrible aftertaste, but now I know to use honey for next time)...
I haven't cheated yet. I think what stops me is that I've made it all so public. If I broke down now, I'd have to tell you all. I'd have to post it to Facebook. I'd have to start counting at 1 again. If I only had myself to tell, I would have broken down at least 5 or 6 times by now. I'm sure of this because I've made the "no more allergens" promise to myself countless times before. I've typically made it to mid-morning of the same day the promise is made; on the days my will power has been phenomenal, I've made it to just before bed time. But in the end, I've always caved.
I like to think this isn't just my lack of will power, but how humans work in general. We need to own up to someone or we cave. I've figured out what makes me tick, what motivates me. I know I'll break sooner or later, but my plan right now is to go on for as long as I can. And when I break, my plan is to announce it, lick my wounds, and start over. It's worth it. I feel so much healthier. And it's easier every day.

7 Days Done

So I told you about the 7 day challenge I gave myself last week to avoid wheat, sugar, and dairy products. Well, I'm happy to report that I'm now on Day 8!
In total honesty, I didn't really think I'd get this far. Sure, I might have been able to make it on the weekend, or on my first Monday, when I was working from home, but on Tuesday, I was back in the Ottawa office, with the pharma plus, in all its Toblerone-selling glory, and the Marcello's, with its rice pudding and nanaimo bars and apple fritters and chocolate chip muffins. Well, at 2 p.m., as the afternoon yawning came in, I went down and got a coffee and some celery sticks. Yup, celery sticks...
Wednesday and Thursday were similar. On Friday, I spent most of the day in the Montreal office, and had to walk by the best bakery ever 5 times, without buying anything I couldn't eat. I discovered that the Pharma Prix sells almond and date bars in the back of the store. I checked the ingredients. I bought two. They were yummy, if overpriced, but they helped me get through the day...
7 days may sound like not a big deal, but before I started this, I was eating "allergy food" nearly every day, often more than once a day, so I'm really, really relieved to have gotten this far...
Oatmeal is one of my best friends when I'm craving dessert. Put some dates or berries in it, sprinkle a little cinnamon or cocoa on top, and it's gooey like something baked would be, and just sweet enough.
My next goal is to hit next Sunday. If I get there, that's 14 days. I'll keep you posted.

If you're confused about the Credit Crisis, watch this...

I'm pretty responsible with managing my own personal money, but when it comes to economics or the global financial crisis, I'm essentially a first-grader, no matter how much I try to read up on it. If you want to actually understand what the heck happened and why we're all going to be poor (sorry to be such a debbie-downer, but someone has to face the cold harsh truth), watch this video. I think I FINALLY understand what's going on.



The Crisis of Credit Visualized from Jonathan Jarvis on Vimeo.

I want my hour back!

This weekend, we turned the clocks forward to daylight savings time, and while we won't have to deal with the sun setting until nearly 7 p.m., the downside is that I suddenly feel so behind.
Daylight savings time (DST) used to happen on the first Sunday in April, and all through university, this hour-thievery had such an enormous effect because it was always, always, always right around exam time. I felt like the time people were out to make sure I couldn't have just 60 more minutes to figure out a proof, to solve a program that refused to compile, or even to just sleep so that the next day's studying would make some sort of sense...
Two years ago, the U.S. decided to move DST three weeks earlier, and being the good Canadian neighbours we are, we of course followed right along. It was necessary, 6 weeks of time difference (three in the fall when setting clocks back, three in the spring when setting clocks forward) between places like New York and Toronto would have wreaked havoc on the business world, but you wonder why Uncle Sam really thought it was such a good idea to do it anyway...
The theory was that it would save energy, that 3 weeks of extended day light would mean people would turn their lights on later, blah blah blah, yadda yadda, insert more detail...
There is NO way to ever measure whether this worked. What I do know is that at work, we were thrown into a frenzy working on the DST project, making sure all IT infrastructure, systems, and applications were DST ready... It was many hours of overtime for many people. Some did so much OT they bought flat screen TVs with the money after. Others took vacations. (Me, I just did the boring thing and put it in the bank). It was like a mini version of the Y2K freak-out 7 years earlier... We love to have to worry about whether something wrong with the machines can possibly cause the whole world to end.
In hindsight, I look back fondly at the DST project as the first really technical, large scale project I worked on. But I still got up this morning and realized that instead of the 9:50 blinking on my clock, the time was 10:50. And I still feel groggy while I write this. And I still feel, well, honestly? A little jipped.

But the Chips Were So Much Cheaper...

Is this not utterly depressing? Apparently a new study by the Heart and Stroke Foundation has found that food pricing across the country can vary hugely for a lot of healthy foods. How much, you say? Well, in Toronto, you pay about $1 for a bag of 6 apples. In Calgary, you pay over $5. Sorry, but what? And it's not like this is a "who cares" item of interest either. We're hardly eating well as a country as it is.
My favourite quote from another article on this study:

"You have to wonder why we control the price of alcohol but allow such price inconsistencies for healthy food - and not just in remote regions of the country - but even between larger metropolitan areas."

Well, at least we know we all pay the same amount for something, eh?

Momentous

I want to be there
for something enormous
for a moment
that stretches into an hour
a day that stretches into a year into
a new reality

that stretches into
a way of thinking
of being caring touching speaking
in kindness
in love
of speaking good
instead of insinuations

I want to be there for truth flowing
for justice for all going
from theory to practice
for the end
of war
the end of all the givens
to be there
not only as witness
but as actor
for the moment
that starts the motion
that starts the march
to good

60 Minutes - A Great Segment

For anyone interested in more detailed history on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict - one that goes back more than 1 month - this segment that aired on 60 minutes last Sunday is a good explanation of the current conditions in the West Bank. Food for truly depressing thought...



Watch CBS Videos Online

Political Olympics

If you're interested in the current Canadian political Olympics (Parliament resumes tomorrow - will they stay? Will they go? Will they all decide to abort the whole system to anarchy? Will they just sit down and get something done?? (of course not, that's not what being an elected representative is about!!)), you'll love this article.
The heading: Let the games begin
The sub-heading: Why solve Canada’s woes, writes Paul Wells, when there’s politics to play?

Really, honestly, worth reading. I laughed because I didn't want to cry...

In the Spirit of Doing More

I love this song... Ironically, I've been thinking about making my life count for more than just me pre-the big contribution inauguration speech... But since I'm hoping it's on all our minds after Tuesday, enjoy this as more inspiration:

The Overground Underground (or "I can't feel my toes")

There was another Gaza demonstration today - around 10 000 of us showed up, and it was a good mix of people too (not just Arabs or Muslims. Seems to be that as the crisis goes on for an extended period of time, more and more people are becoming aware of just how bad it is...)
We marched from Dorchester Square at Peel and Renee Levesque all the way to the Complexe Desjardins at Renee Levesque and St-Urbain (1.1 km away).
After the Demonstration, we were too cold to walk home outside, so M introduced me to a new area of the Montreal underground. Now, having lived in the city for about 10 months (and living downtown!) I've walked the underground in the core downtown area a fair amount, but this was a whole other area I didn't even realize was connected. We walked for about 40 minutes without stepping outside at all and exited 3 (3!) minutes from our place for the last bit. Not only could I actually feel my feet by this point; they were actually warm. And I should clarify that the underground is actually a stretch of tunnels and overpasses, so the term underground is not 100% accurate. Sometimes, you're inside and at street level. Sometimes you're a floor up...
But here's the coolest part: on our walk, we came across two separate wedding parties using random parts of the underground as background for their wedding photos. Now, some areas are just regular brick wall, or completely ordinary, but some are actually extremely artistic. The first bride and groom were taking photos against a yellow background. The second were in Windsor Station, taking their photos at a pretty elaborate staircase. I took no pictures of either couple (though I did congratulate them as we passed), but here are a few grainy cell phone shots of a neat tunnel area on our route....

Gaza

My older sister is on a trip to Egypt right now, visiting extended family. Below are her thoughts on Gaza and the atrocities taking place.

I can't tear myself away from the T.V. screen. News clips of people, normal people, desparate people, devastated people.

Mothers crying. People bleeding. Body parts. Running, running. Men grabbing people off the streets & rushing to the ambulances, and bringing more and more people. The news reporter tells me that there's no more room in the hospital for any more people.

Little Bodies wrapped in white cloth. A father breaks down crying next to the body of his dead child. I think of my own children, in bed asleep. Thank God. I should go in. I should sleep. I got up early . . . I wonder how long they've been up. I wonder if they will sleep tonight. If they will wake up tomorrow.

A mother is talking, her face is wet and tired. Her eyes are puffy. "They took away my children. This morning. I have 3 daughters and one son left. They took my 5 daughters this morning." Her daughter talks about this morning. She was telling her sisters "we're all going to die."

Five daughters. Five sisters. Five. Who will they mourn? How will they mourn? When will they mourn? They have to keep runningfrom the soulless, pilotless planes dropping randon bombs. But where to? Where do they run to?
"There's no safe place in Gaza, we've been told," an aid worker said.

I grab the remote. I want to see the coverage people are getting in Canada and the States. Is it like this? Do they see the suffering? Or is it watered-down, political collateral damage?

I'm searching for CNN. Finally, I find it. They're talking about Gaza, about the air-strikes. They're being sympathetic with the Palestinian people. They talk to an Islamic Aid Worker who's barricaded into his house. At first, I feel relief - 'they're acknowledging them - these poor forgotten people who's humanity is so rarely portrayed. But wait, I watch longer. No, no. They're rolling the same 5 clips over and over again while they talk about the attrocities: a burning building, people standing and shuffling in the street, ambulance workers gathered around somethng, a clip of the hospitals, people in the street. Again and again. No close-ups of people. No sadness, no tears, no children, no breakdowns. The rubble and the destruction of buildings, of overcrowded hospitals. Where are the pictures that I saw on the Arabic channels? What about the mother who lost her children? What about the little boy crying & trying to run? The look in their eyes? The fear? The loss?

"93 % of communication is non-verbal," I remember from my university days in psychology. Only 7% is the words that we hear.

I flip back to the Arabic channel. They are human beings and I must see their humanity. I don't know, after what I've seen today, how I'll sleep tonight. No. I know, deep down, that even if I stir for an hour or two, eventually, in the safety of my home, and the warmth of my blanket, and the company of my children, sleep will come.

How will they sleep, without safety, without shelter, without having had dinner, without knowing wen the next bomb will drop, without her daughters, without her husband, without his baby, without their their father? After they have seen today, how will they ever sleep?

Retirement Ceremony deep breath

It's sports weekend in Montreal. Tonight, the famous and infamous Patrick Roy will have his jersey retired by the Montreal Canadiens. Tomorrow, the Grey Cup, the Canadian much much much poorer cousin to the NFL's super bowl, is being played here between the Montreal Alouettes and the Calgary Stampeders... needless to say, my attention will be on tonight's hockey game.
The habs have been playing awful hockey lately, (scraping by with some wins, but not really deserving them) and they tend to play even worse on ceremony nights, so deep breath here... and in the words of the always hilarious Mike Boone:
The only thing that might mar a magical evening at the Bell Centre is the possibility, given the volatile nature of the honouree, that Patrick Roy Night could become the first jersey number retirement to degenerate into a lectern-clearing brawl. But we're probably safe. No one wearing a tuxedo has thrown a good punch since Frank Sinatra.

Little Angela is 3

That's all... Happy Birthday to my articulate little darling...

President-Elect Obama

Pride. Happiness. Relief. That's what I'm feeling right now.
Everything that can and needs to be said about this election and this moment in history is better said by people more knowledgeable and articulate than myself, but I wanted to share this one beautiful phrase I saw on a message board last night:

Rosa sat so Martin could walk. Martin walked so Obama could run. Obama is running so our children can fly.

Congratulations to everyone for common sense and hope prevailing, and congratulations to all African people and people of African descent for what this personally means to you.