Eid al-Fitr

taken in al-madbasa and in the old city of bethlehem, 2007.

feeling oddly intact

it's strange feeling happy again and thinking about being with other people. i'm starting to back away from all of those inherent questions about relationships and expectations and what you thought you had versus what actually was. at the end of the day, i think we loved each other, but love didn't exactly make us perfect partners. and whether it's a matter of timing or of me just not being that extra special person, i can't know.

as the great justin bobby is wont to say, "truth and time tells all."

but in the meantime, i'm not really a masochist. not even in the service of love. i want to be happy, and that may mean being happy alone or happy with someone else. either way works for me.

say it with me, for justin bobby...

what i've gotten used to, is that, for the foreseeable future, i won't be happy with him.

and that's surprisingly okay.

The caffeine hangover

Lately I've given up coffee in favor of a rapidly-expanding addiction to energy drinks. My current favorite is Power Mix, a Saudi-produced mix of effervescent goodness sold in a subtly-designed black can. Its light taste and herbal infusions make it seem good for me. I mean, ginseng! It's herbal. It's healthy. It's TOTALLY mitigating the fact that I can't stay away from my crack in a can.

Yesterday, I had the brilliant idea to mix my energy drink with soda water. Think about it: all that flavor with more effervescence. (And yes, I DO love the word "effervescence".) So I poured 1 part energy drink into a cup and mixed it with 1.5 parts soda. Then I realized why they sell that stuff in opaque cans: it looks like a fizzy urine sample. And yet, I kept drinking it.

Unfortunately, I had also eaten enough hummus and falafel for breakfast to feed the entire staff, so in my stomach there was now falafel and fizz. The fizz, oh my God the FIZZ.

This morning my stomach feels like my 5th grade science project, the one where you build a volcano replica, fill it with baking soda, top it with vinegar and stand back to watch the flowing chemical reaction. With nowhere to explode just yet, my volcano of a stomach is inflating faster than Nicole Ritchie.

The experience is, suffice it to say, MOST uncomfortable. In fact I might have stayed home on such an occasion, but that's not so feasible when you have stomach problems of the chronic variety. If I stayed home every time my stomach hurt, I'd have to put "couch potato" on my resume.

Speaking of menstruation...

When I got back to the land of milk and honey and falafel, I realized what I'd left at home. Cotton balls. Not a big deal. Certainly they're available here.

But buying more required a trip to the store, and we all know how I love to procrastinate.

Faced with the prospect of stubborn yet chipped nail polish and no cotton, I searched for something else that would be durable and absorbent. What, I thought, would a self-respecting girl scout do in this situation?

Adult diapers.

Cut into strips, I used them for two days. Everything from nail polish remover to clinique clarifying lotion went on those strips. And it totally worked.

The adhesive backing was slightly problematic, but you should definitely try them in a pinch. Unless you're not the menstruating type. In which case, I suppose you're just SOL.

Tampons would, of course, be more logical, but I can't bear to reenact those commercials that demonstrate leakage-stopping lateral expansion.

Sleepy(less)ness and spots

On this trip I realized something very important about the way my body responds to world travel--my jet lag happens in the manner of a time-release tablet. Initially, I can't feel anything other than, of course, the residual stress from airport "security". Or, as I like to call it, "harassment". Then I keep going along, feeling a bit sleepy but fine, provided I incorporate a nap on day 2. By day 3, the tablet has fully released, and the coma kicks in.

Suddenly, I'm hit by the combined forces of narcolepsy and gravity, and my head WILL NOT come off the desk.

Unfortunately, it WILL come off the pillow every hour, on the hour, while I'm trying to sleep at night.

To make matters worse, the combination of 12-hour flights and menstruation means teenage-style spots. Let's just say I'm trying to avoid all mirrors.

Fringe benefits

My single favorite thing about the office is the boss-man's habit of bringing in food. Sometimes it's simple fare: pita bread with tangy yogurt, for instance, or pita with various salads. Other days it's much more impressive.

Today was one of those days, with a big pot full of khitha (sp?) spread out among two huge platters and accompanied by a dozen bowls of yogurt (laban). We divided ourselves into groups around the platters and ate hard-core family style--spoons and fingers digging into the shared platters, no bothering with personal plates.

It sounds slightly disgusting by American standards, but it's actually quite lovely. In fact, it rather reminds me of communion.

Or it did...until I sneezed, and my snot was the color of khitha.

Hazardous duty

I have quickly become the office klutz. It started with a bang when I managed to knock over my chair...while I was in it. In fact, I fell forehead-first into the desk on my way down. I was sure I'd have a black eye by the next morning and was oddly disappointed when I didn't.

Today I spilled coffee all over my pants because I forgot that one shouldn't talk with one's hands while one is holding a hot beverage. I'd like to think I've learned important safety lessons from these events, but I suspect not.

Thank goodness for traveler's health insurance.

Is clumsiness classified as a preexisting condition?