Mia: Shaken Not Stirred


The true life stories of a NYC female.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Abbie's Christmas List


Several years ago Abbie hadn’t believed in Santa. I’m pretty sure her mom misses the days when Abbie was a non-believer.


“What would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas Abbie?” Mom asked.

“I want a PS3, a laptop, a cell phone, an iPod and a Kindle.”

Mom stared at the kid in amazement.

“A Kindle?” I managed to squeak out without letting the bubble of laughter escape my lips.

“Uh huh I love to read don’t I Maggie?”

“You sure do baby.”

My mom is directly responsible for the little bibliophile’s addiction. She gave Abbie my entire childhood collection of books when she was four years old. Abbie devoured it! Every few months mom adds a few books to her collection. The kid has figured out that rather than wait around for the shipments her addiction can be best served by an e-reader. Smart kid.


“That’s ah quite a list you’ve got there Miss Abigail.” Mom said.

I guess Abigail had been hearing this a lot because she gave a weary sigh.

“Yeah I know Maggie." she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

" What can I say I’m into electronics?”



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Wednesday, December 24, 2008

My Father's Words


I truly love Christmas, I’m certain that even if it wasn’t the date of my birth I’d still feel the same. I trace it back to my childhood because I was encouraged to believe in all that was magical well beyond the years when other children had stopped.


Christmas is truly a magical season despite the worries of everyday life. People are gentler and kinder what other holiday can make that boast? As I stood on line to pay for my purchases hummed “Santa Claus is coming to town” the cashier smiled at me as I handed her my debit card. A little boy standing on line beside me looked up at me and I winked at him. I continued to sing and he blushed trying to hide his smile behind his mittens. Finally he lowered his hands and began to sing along with me in that magical voice kids have. You know the voice it tugs at the heart of even the most jaded adult.

As I headed for the exit the usually gruff security guard beamed at me from high atop his ladder. He wore a silly Santa hat perched on top of his head and had a fake Santa beard glued to his chin, “Merry Christmas.” he said in his thick Jamaican accent, “I hope you’ll like what I’m leaving under your tree.” “I’m sure I will love it Santa and a Merry Christmas to you too!” I replied.

I walked towards to my car past a group of holiday shoppers and they smiled at me when we made eye contact, “Merry Christmas!” they called out as we passed each other. I put my bags in the trunk and observed a meter maid actually smiling at people and gently reminding them to move their double parked cars instead of reaching for her summons book. As I opened my car door one of the street vendors turned on his CD player and strains of “Oh, Holy Night” filled the night air. I decided to wait for my father out side instead of sitting in the car. The music inspired me to look up into the sky.

The night was so clear I was able to count the stars. I took a deep breath always a risky thing in the city and sampled the air. It smelled crisp, fresh, and clean. It had snowed a few days earlier adding to the joy of the season. The air seemed to shimmer, a by product of happy auras enveloping the world this time of year I thought. A man walked by holding his little girl’s hand; he stopped in front of the vendor to get her a scarf. As he wrapped it around her she asked “Is Santa really coming tonight daddy?” He nodded his head and she jumped up and squealed making everyone around her laugh.

My father walked up to me, smiling at the sight of the little girl. “Santa will be heading out soon little one” he said to me. I smiled at him, “Is there anything special you’re hoping he’ll bring you this year pa?” I asked. He stared at me and smiled “Nothing he can leave me now will ever compare to the gift he left me when I was 21. That really was the greatest gift ever. Nothing will ever top that Christmas gift.”

I wondered what could have possibly been that great of a gift that it couldn’t be topped. “What was the gift pa?” “Fatherhood” he replied. “Huh?” He reached over and gently tweaked my nose, “You were the gift little one. We weren’t expecting you for another three months but you were so impatient that you snuck into Santa’s toy bag and there you were on Christmas morning. No Christmas gif has ever been better than that.”

I’m certain that years from now when the time comes and my own child asks me what was the greatest gift I ever got for Christmas I can honestly say it was my father’s words. Merry Christmas.





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Friday, December 28, 2007

Icing on The Cake


Santa Claus and the birthday Gods hooked me up lovely this year! A couple of gifts in particular just floored me...

After having a stroke several years ago mom lost the ability to grip a pen. Writing her own name was nearly impossible but she could deal with that. It was the inablilty to pick up her pencils to draw that hurt her the most. Imagine being an artist and losing the physical ability to express yourself and create when the urge hits? Over the years she has slowly shown progress regaining the movement in her hand enough to write again but the complicated hand coordination of drawing and painting eluded her. Several weeks ago I saw her art supplies strewn all over the dining room table but didn’t give much thought to it at the time, she probably gave them to my sister to draw with I thought to myself. Ever since the stroke the woman had pretty much ignored her art supplies. To her they’d become painful reminders of what she’d lost.

After I was done opening all of my presents mom approached with her gift. It was a custom made skin for my laptop from Schtickers It was positively beautiful! Entitled “The 7 Virtues” the center of it featured an angel with black wings on a tarot card with my name above her. Behind the tarot card were wedges of gold with one of the 7 virtues written across each one. The angel looked vaguely familiar then it hit me the angel resembled my mother. “Ma this is gorgeous! Where did you get it? The angel kind of looks like you.” Ma's eyes sparkled and she gave me a smile. For once she didn’t even bother to cover the smile with her hand, a habit she'd picked up after her stroke. She’s very self conscious about her post stroke smile. “The angel does not look like me, it looks like my mother. It’s your grandmother. I drew it.”

I was stunned, “Pa did you see this?!” My dad got up and put his hands on her shoulders laying a kiss on the top of her head. I scanned my memory trying to recall if I'd ever seen this sketch in my mother's portfolio. I was certain I would have remembered it if I had. The last thing she drew before her stroke was the fairy I have tattooed on my arm. This had to be new. “Is this from before the stroke?” She shook her head, “No. I drew it a couple of weeks ago just for you.” My dad beamed with pride. "It knocked me on my ass to see her drawing again. I've got the original in a frame at work." I took a deep breath I don’t cry easily but this was pushing me towards the edge. “Oh ma, thank you! Is your hand okay, does it hurt?” “Ay Mia it's fine!", she said "I had no problem with my hand at all! And look…” she held her left hand up and snapped her fingers. We all stared at her in disbelief; she hadn’t been able to snap her fingers since her stroke.

The look on my dad's face was priceless, “Do it again babe!” my father demanded as he turned her around to face him. She gladly obliged snapping her fingers several times in rapid succession."Way cool right?" “Since when have you been able to do this?” he asked. “Since about five minutes ago.” She answered. This time it was my dad that choked up. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips but before he could kiss it she snapped her fingers again and again in his face. He started laughing and said, "Enough woman!" and grabbed her pulling her in for a big hug.

Yup like I said Mia must have been a very good girl this year because Santa sure as heck blessed me this Christmas. The snapping fingers, the sketch by far those are my favorites. Everything else...icing on the cake.

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Friday, December 21, 2007

My Favorite Childhood Memory of Christmas.



This is one of my favorite childhood memories and in what is becoming an annual tradition on this blog I am re-posting the story yet again. Maybe one day I'll have it printed out as a children's story for kids in the family....Enjoy I hope it helps take you back to the days when you believed....


It was the third week of December 1989; the city was brightly decorated in anticipation of the big day. I was six years old and in the 2nd grade when I first heard it. A horrible rumor was being circulated in the school yard. Up on the jungle gym there was a congregation of kids their eyes focused on one person, my best friend 8 year old Heidi. Heidi saw me at the bottom of the gym and called for me to come up. The kids were talking about Christmas and the rumor was that there was no such thing as Santa Claus! What blasphemy was this?!! There was dissention among the ranks in the playground of PS 145M!

It was a mixed bunch; some of the kids believed, some didn’t and others were on the fence. I had to admit the argument that the non-believers were making was a good one, but then again everybody knew that Santa was real I thought to myself. I mean for God`s sake, Santa had just been at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade! My dad had stood out there for hours with me waiting for Santa to make his appearance. Dad worked long hours and treasured his one day off! He wasn`t about to waste his day off standing in the freezing cold drinking hot chocolate if Santa didn`t exist! The only reason we even went to the parade was to see Santa! His appearance there signaled the start of the holiday season and the beginning of the count down to Christmas and my birthday! During my early academic life I was always the youngest student in class, a result of having started kindergarten at the age of four. In addition I was usually the smallest as well and classmates tended to be over protective of me because of this. So on this day they had all gathered around a six year old Mia to let her know the deal. They didn`t want anyone making fun of me because I still believed in Santa. That moment forever changed my life.

When my dad picked me up from school that day I wasn`t my usual hyper self. I wasn`t interested in going across the street and visiting my grandpa at work before I headed home. I didn`t want to stop at the candy store and spend the dollar grandpa had slipped to me through the playground fence during recess. I showed no interest in all of the festive decorations on display throughtout the neighborhood. The four block walk home was a quick one for a change. "You feeling okay pumpkin head?" dad asked, I took a deep breath looking down at the sidewalk, I had an awful knot in the pit of my stomach. This was the moment of truth… "Papi today someone at school told me Santa Claus wasn’t real." He froze in his tracks and bent down to look at my sad face. Dad looked kind of sad himself. He knew I wasn’t ready to hear the truth," Santa is real", for a minute that was all I needed to hear.

Later on I spoke to my older cousin Jessica on the phone about it she told me the rumors were true. She had a bunch of gifts under her tree at that very moment! I looked over to our tree, there was nothing underneath it, except my big ol’ tuxedo cat “Sam Sam the Meow Meow Man”. Jessie instructed me to check the closets. Nothing there except clothes. She told me to check under the beds, all I found was a few dust bunnies and my new Safari Barbie that had been missing since the night before. It now was handicapped Barbie, my dog “Letty” had chewed the hand off. I hung up the phone and went over to my mom to show her my Barbie.

My parents were checking my uncle`s homework when I approached them. Mom took one look at my Barbie and began wrapping her arm in the white plumber’s tape she got from my dad. It looked like Barbie was wearing a cast… ”you can pretend that she was hurt on safari and your doctor Barbie fixed her arm.” I leaned into my mother twirling one of her long auburn ringlets in between my fingers, "Mami, Some kids at school told me today that Santa Claus is not real." My dad looked at me and said, "Again with this Mia, who told you this?" "Heidi", I replied. "Well she`s a freaking liar! I never liked that little girl. You can tell she`s a liar, she`s got them little beady eyes." “And Jessie, pa she told me that TiTi Letty is the one that buys the gifts. They got them under the tree now." My dad ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation."Mia, I hate to tell you this but your cousin is a liar, she`s always lied. Her first words were a lie. She can’t help it; she takes after her father’s family!" Mom looked at my dad and started laughing, "Honey let me handle this." "No Maggie! How the hell is that girl gonna tell la nena that Santa isn`t real? Just because he doesn’t visit her house doesn’t mean he doesn`t exist in ours." I could tell my dad was upset, my mom and my uncles were laughing. Whenever my dad gets angry the most outrageous things spill out his mouth and my mom can’t help cracking up. Mom looked into my eyes and asked, "Well pumpkin what do you believe, here in your heart?" I told her I didn`t know and gave her the speech the kids had given me about parents buying the gifts and the Santas in the malls all being fake. Mom took a minute and then asked me to make a list of the things I had been told, she assured me there was an explanation for it all... and she did explain it all.

She told me that Santa was indeed real but that when a child stopped believing in him he stopped visiting that child`s house. He was then taken off of Santa`s toy list and it was up to the parent to purchase the kid`s gift. That`s what had happened to my cousin Jessie and some of the kids at school. My mom pointed out the fact that we never had presents under our tree prior to Christmas morning; yet when we awoke on Christmas there`d be so many gifts piled around the tree we were lucky to see the tree. This was true, I had never come across any gifts hidden in our closets and my mom didn`t keep any areas of our apartment off limits to us. Oh yeah and the elf dust, all of our Christmas presents always had silver and gold glitter sprinkled over them. My parents used to tell us that the elves did this to make sure no one sneaked under the tree before the sun arose on Christmas morning and opened the gifts without the whole family being there. If you tried to open a gift the elf dust would be disturbed and the gift inside would disappear without a trace. She asked me. “Mia do we ever go out without you kids?” “ No mami.” I replied. “ How would we shop, you guys are always with us? Do you think we go out and get all those gifts on Christmas Eve? We`re here with you or at grandmas on Christmas Eve." Hmm she`s right, I thought. How on earth would they get all that stuff on Christmas Eve without us knowing? My mom also brought up the fact that even though we never wrote Christmas letters we always had just what we wanted underneath the tree on Christmas morning.

Every year my parents would take us to Rockefeller Center late at night a week after the tree was lit and my dad would put each of us as close to the tree as possible. We would whisper our Christmas wishes to the tree. Mom explained that our wishes traveled to the North Pole in the air and hung over Santa’s workshop like snow flakes until the elves copied them down on paper then they'd be blown away by the wind and disappear in a brilliant shimmer.

As for the Santas in the malls they were fake but for a good reason they were raising money for charity. Only the Santa that appeared at the end of the Macys parade was real and the only reason he was there was to remind the children of the world that he really did exist. And what about the letter Santa left us every Christmas on the plate where the cookies we baked him had been? That wasn`t my parents handwriting, it was really fancy lettering! My father had the handwriting of a serial killer and my mom couldn`t do anything that fancy in gold letters! Plus it was written in GOLD! Where on earth would my mom get a pen with gold ink?! We weren’t millionaires you know. Oh yeah and the alfalfa and water we left out for the reindeers was always gone, just a few stems here and there strewn across the fire escape remained as evidence that the reindeers had been chowing down while Santa attended to business in our apartment. Everything my mom said made sense. My God this woman was fantastic! Not only did she have the power to fix my Safari Barbie but she was the smartest woman on earth! Hands down and I was lucky to have her as my mom! As my mom explained my doubts away I looked at my uncles for reassurance. My mom’s younger brothers, 11, and 12 were the closet thing I had to big brothers. They were like Gods to me. My parents took over the job of raising them after the unexpected death of my grandmother when I was 2. My uncle Abbie had been staring at me the whole time my mom was talking to me. When I was done it was he who said, "Mia, Santa’s real. Chino and me saw him once when we were little." My uncle Chino quickly nodded his agreement. The next day at school I told my friends everything my mom had told me and they were shocked, some wouldn`t believe me no matter what I said.

Christmas Eve finally arrived, by the time we finished baking cookies for Santa it was time for bed of course I didn`t fall asleep right away on Christmas Eve. We always had a sleep over in my uncles’ room. Uncle Abbie would let me crash on his bed and he’d sleep in a folding cot next to me for that one night. We stayed up watching Christmas movies every now and then changing the channel to check in channel 4`s Santa tracker. Slowly we all passed out one by one. I drifted off to sleep a little happier that night secure in the knowledge that Santa was real. I was in a deep sleep when I felt my mom nudging me to wake up, she whispered, "Mia! Mia!" My eyes seemed glued shut and I struggled to open them and to wake my ears up to make out what ma was saying, “Shhhhh Mia come here, Santa was here! Shhhh nena be quiet you`ll wake the others.” As I got up from my bed I noticed I was covered in elf dust! I looked on the floor and there was elf dust every where! Around my bed, my uncle’s cot, my baby brother’s crib, and it led to the living room! I woke up my uncles and we went out to the living room to investigate. As usual there were lots of presents under the tree all covered in elf dust. I ran to the biggest one addressed to me and my mom reminded me that the sun wasn`t up yet. The presents were still protected by the elves spell and dust so I couldn`t open one up yet. One of my uncle’s pointed to the plate that had been filled with cookies when we went to bed. On the plate there was a letter from Santa, in it he wished me a happy birthday and thanked me for believing in him when all my friends had stopped, and there were Polaroid pictures! Pictures of Santa in my house! Pictures of him standing over me and my uncles, even holding my baby brother! There were pictures of him coming into my house through my fire escape! Oh my gosh Santa was real and I had proof!!! After our vacation was over I went back to school with proof in hand that Santa was real. All the kids were amazed at my pictures. I think that year a few retained their faith and others regained it. I know that it kept me believing for a few more years.

Now I look at the pictures and I laugh, I can see that one of my uncles was pretending to be asleep and was smiling as Santa stood over him. I now can recognize my dad`s black work boots tucked into his Santa pants. I laugh now that as a six year old I didn`t know my mom was a master in the art of calligraphy or that she had several gold ink pens purchased from Golden’s Art Supply store a few blocks from where we lived. It was she who wrote Santa’s thank you notes every year! Now that we are all adults the job of keeping Santa alive for the new generation has been passed down to us. I’m the one who eats the cookies and writes Santa’s “Thank You” letter leaving it on the plate next to the half empty glass of milk. My uncle Chino is the one who empties the dried alfalfa out into the garbage and pours the water down the sink. We don’t have a fire escape anymore so he strews the stems in front of the door and leaves a trail leading to the exit that leads onto the roof. Uncle Abbie is the one who sprinkles magical elf dust on the gifts and tells my little cousins his son among them, the story of how Santa came to visit us on 109th street after I almost stopped believing in him. After he’s done telling the story he always shows the pictures and the kids are always amazed. Those photos have become a family legend now; they are kept in a locked box and only taken out on Christmas Eve.

Those pictures have served us well; they kept me and my siblings innocent just for a little longer than usual. They’ve kept our little ones believing when others have tried to get them to take a step away from their childhood before they were ready to. I don`t think my parents realized the magic they were creating when they snapped those pictures. I`m grateful for it, because as a result I still believe in the magic and spirit of Christmas, after all we have picture proof that Santa exists.




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Friday, December 14, 2007

Christmas Belle



I heard all this commotion going on in the living room and raced in to check it out. At first I couldn’t tell what the source was until one of the glass ornaments fell off the tree and shattered. My cat Belle was napping in the tree nestled in between the branches in the middle of the tree. I'm thinking a certain lil' kitty is laying in wait for Santa.





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Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Christmas Spirit





Earlier today I was speaking to a Muslim friend out in England and he was telling me how sad the holiday season was making him.He had dated a Christian woman for years and while he’d been with her he had learned to love and embrace the Christmas spirit. While he didn’t embrace the religious aspect of it he totally gotten into the whole hark the herald, joy to the world, love thy fellow man, tree trimming, decorating, partying, egg nogging, figgy pudding, gift giving sprit of it all. They'd broken up two years ago and while he didn’t miss her he did miss taking part in all of the holiday hoopla with her friends and family since his friends and family don't "do" Christmas.

Friend:Mia now instead of making me happy Christmas makes me sad. It makes me feel like I am missing out on something.

Mia: Stop being so greedy. You just had a holiday. Ramadan and Eid were not too long ago. You don’t see me getting all bummed out on your holiday and bringing your ass down. I get into the whole Ramadan groove along with my Muslim relatives without converting. I'm not a Christian and I embrace Christmas, heck I bear hug it!

Friend: Yes but for you it's different. It's your birthday so of course you get all into Christmas!

Mia: True. But even if it weren't my birthday I'd still be into it. Dude the feel of the air is different,people are different. Can't you feel the change in the aura of everything around you? How can you help but not be infected with the spirit of it all? Just embrace the love it symbolizes the good will to men and all that other fun stuff.


I'm not sure if he got what I was trying to tell him. My friend this song is for you …. Hope you get the spirit back or at least have a laugh. You don't need to be a Christian to catch the fever of it all...


The Drunken 12 days of Christmas.mp3

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Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Fat Santa




Somewhere in an unknown part of the universe exists the secret head quarters of The Political Correctness Gestapo Squad. The squad is comprised of all forms of human society. Most likely picked on as children for one thing or another and unable to forget the past the adult members of the squad are easily identified in public because of their dour faces and ramrod stiff walk thanks to the stick permanently embedded up their asses. Every now and then they issue a PC degree so idiotic it boggles the mind and makes me wish that through the power of telekinesis I could remove said stick out of their asses.

The latest decree from the PC squad has been issued by their England branch with an active interest in a shopping mall in England. No fat Santas allowed. According to them Santa Claus yes THE Santa Claus the very same guy who used to feed my addiction to all things Barbie back in the day is too fat and because of this he will be banned from setting up shop at their mall unless he slims down. They seem to feel that his jelly belly is a poor example to children and have set up a boot camp of him and his helpers.


WTF?! Come on people get a life... what next are they going to wash his mouth out with soap because when he laughs it comes out “‘Ho-Ho-Ho”? Is PETA going to run up on his ass and accuse him of reindeer abuse because he keeps them out all night pulling his sleigh? When is the madness going to stop? Maybe the next step will be to go after Buddha and his rotound belly.

(Sigh) The world was sure a nicer place when I was eight years old. I hope he leaves them a lump of coal in their stockings.


Link:Stores to Santa: Slim Down or Else

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Thursday, December 28, 2006

Christmas


As I write this out the memory of Christmas day ’06 seems kind of blurry but still clear enough that the imprint of it remains in my heart. The evening was something else. It was filled with a traditional Boriqua culinary feast, booze, fantastic music, dancing, singing, booze, Aunt Nora’s butter cookies, booze, mom’s chocolate mousse cake, booze, friends, more family, Christmas gifts, birthday gifts, booze, congratulatory phone calls , booze. Around 2:30 am with Nora’s encouragement I decided to serenade the crowd at the top of my lungs with Nancy Ajram’s E7sas Gedeed. I had no idea I even knew the song. I guess I memorized it after hearing it played so much while shopping with Nora a few days before. Oh yeah after that there was more booze, more of me singing lord knows what, and booze…did I mention there was booze?


The day started out sunny and unseasonably warm (61 degrees). As usual there were so many gifts under the tree it spilled several feet away from the tree on each side. It never ceases to amaze me how my parents manage to keep all those gifts a secret from us. As the morning slipped into afternoon the house started jumping. Dinner was being served at 6 pm but people had started arriving at noon, every now and then my mom would mutter, “I said Christmas dinner not Christmas Lunch!” only to have my dad dissolve into a fit of giggles. Why he found that so funny remained a mystery to the rest of us.

Dinner was fantastic! My parents out did themselves. The guests went back for seconds a few even had thirds. Shortly after the birthday cake was served Cousin Mahmoud winked at me gave a toast in my honor and gave the signal for us to get our drink on. It’s become something of a tradition for him and I to get a lil’ tipsy on my birthday. He sat on one side of the table with a bottle of Hennessey close enough to the stereo to control the music. The music was a mixture of Arabic and salsa. His choice of drink was Hennessey straight up. Mine was Smirnoff Sour Apple Vodka with sprite. The bottle had been a gift from my uncle Chino. The sour apple sprite thingy tasted like apple cider. Beware of drinks like that they have a habit of sneaking up on you! Aunt Nora’s mom Lila preferred my dad’s coquito (Boriqua egg nog). Life at that moment was beyond good it was nirvana. Surrounded by the most important people in my life I could sense the love in the room.

The conversations in the room flowed easily we talked of politics, education, friendship, love and in between there was a lot of laughter. We also discovered something new that when I am outrageously drunk I become trilingual. My conversations started out in English at some point switched over to Spanish and then into Arabic. Usually I am kind of self-conscious about my pitiful Arabic but rumor has it that lubricated by the sour apple vodka I became quite proficient. Mahmoud and Nora were quite proud.

This is the song I was singing….


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Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Ice cream sundaes


I was on baby sitting duty Sunday night and took my four year old charges Dareem and Tesneem to Mickey D’s for dinner. Time flew as we dined on Chicken Mc Nuggets and fries. The girls had a lot to tell me it had been several weeks since they had last seen me. I love four year olds they’re at that magical age when they’re still young enough to believe in dragons and fairies but old enough to articulate what they’re thinking. The topic of conversation included my new hair color (had just dyed it jet black the night before),dinosaurs,dragons and car troubles Tesneem's mom my Aunt Nora's cousin had been having lately. They were split about the hair. Dareem liked it while Tesneem seemed to prefer my natural color. However they both were in agreement that dinosaurs and dragons were related, except dragons were older they were from the times when it was safe for fairies to fly in plain sight. I agreed whole heartedly with their theory.

Being the “auntie” I get to spoil the girls in little ways their moms often don’t think of doing which along with my tattoos and piercings makes me way cool in their world. In this case “spoiling” involved ordering up a couple of ice cream sundaes to go. At that moment I was more popular than Dora The Explorer. During our walk home the girls insisted on checking out a shoe store display. Instead of oohing and ahhing over the festive decorations the girls lost their minds over a very expensive pair of red stiletto high heels. When I was that age the only shoes I can ever recalling thrilling me like that were sneakers that lit up when you walked or the ones with Velcro and sesame street characters. Times have sure changed. They both agreed they were going to buy those shoes when they grew up.

At home I set them up with their sundaes in the living room and we settled in to watch
Polar Express
. This got them started on a conversation about holidays. The girls are both Muslims except that my cousin Dareem is being raised more like a relaxed Americanized Muslim, all American holidays are celebrated in Uncle Hassan and Nora’s crib. Tesneem’s family is more traditional. Her grandfather is a mullah and she attends Muslim school so her upbringing is a little bit more rigid. I was on the phone when Tesneem approached me, she was very upset and needed me to verify something, “right Tant (auntie) Mia right Halloween is haram?” Tesneem then went on in great detail in Arabic thank you very much as to why it was haram. Her explanation involving devil worship had been obviously taught to her in school. Dareem was not having any of it after all we both live for Halloween it is our thing, “Right Mia it’s not haram? Halloween is not haram.” I looked at my cousin Mahmoud who had just arrived home from work for help and the bastard offered none. Instead he looked at me and laughed as to say, “You are so screwed now!” I explained to Tesneem that now a days Halloween is just about scaring the crap out of each other, trick or treating for candy and wearing costumes, “Halloween is cool.” Dareem smiled satisfied with my proclamation and turned to Tesneem, “ See I told you! Halloween is cool Mia said so!” Tesneem didn't seem fully convinced but she nodded her head anyway.

Then the girls started talking about Christmas. Again Tesneem yelled, “Haram!” “Christmas is haram!” she added. Oh man it was going to get ugly, Dareem took that as a personal insult. I stood poised to step in before any blood was shed but it was over as quickly as it began. “Christmas is not haram! Christmas is my Mia’s birthday!” bellowed Dareem. “Tant Mia’s birthday is Christmas?!” asked Tesneem stealing a glance at me and looking kind of confused. She then looked over at Mahmoud and he nodded his head in confirmation… “decorations, tree, Santa Claus it’s all for our habibi Mia.” Tesneem looked at him tentatively. I could tell she was doing some major thinking. She looked at me again and this time Dareem stood in front of her poking her in the chest with her finger, “Stupid head my Mia is not haram!” "Dareem be nice to your cousin don't call her names." I said to my cousin in my best "I mean business" voice. I looked at Tesneem and smiled. She smiled back at me and added “ Tant Mia is not haram.” and this time she seemed totally convinced. Yup those ice cream sundaes sure did the trick.

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Posted by @ 5:15 PM
7 comment from: Blogger Nooni, Blogger Mia, Blogger Louise, Blogger Mia, Blogger christina/ohio, Blogger DannieS72, Blogger DannieS72,


Saturday, December 16, 2006

Bittersweet


As a kid I’d always get excited watching the city decorate for the holidays. Last night as I walked around the city camera in hand checking out the bright lights the experience was bitter sweet. I found myself thinking of our soldiers, family and friends so far from home fighting in a war fueled by egos and it sucked out the joyful aspect of the decorations.

The Iraq Study Group Report has confirmed what Americans have known all along, we’re in deep shit and the court jester leading this country refuses to accept it. The situation in Iraq has no quick fix. The civil war that has broken out will be an endless one. It’s not like the Shiites and the Sunnis are going to put their 1300 year old differences aside because democracy drove into town on the back of a hummer and Bush wills it. Bush needs to accept the fact that we are not wanted there. The time has come to bring our people home. Our resources are thin and there's been talk about re-instating the draft because of this. More lives to be sacrificed over a senseless war. Before anyone starts to accuse me of being unpatriotic let’s not get this twisted. I support our soldiers and the work they do all over the world not just Iraq. What I do not support is our presence in Iraq. Let’s not get the two things confused with each other.

Our beloved leader has thrown money at this war like a drunk at a strip club. Meanwhile on the home front money for education, social services; health care programs are cut. Mira Bushy you want to liberate some people? Liberate us, liberate “we the people” the ones talked about in the constitution the one you swore to uphold. You want to make the world a better place, make democracy the battle cry of the world? Then take care of crap here at home. Give the citizens, give us the students of this country the tools we need to be the best we can be to take our place as leaders in this world and then you and your old school cronies need to get the heck out of the way and let us do our thing. I'd like to be able to enjoy the decorations once again without the bitter sweet ache in my heart.

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Posted by @ 10:31 AM
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Monday, December 04, 2006

Santa Claus


My nine year old cousin Pico came home Friday heart broken, he’d been told by a friend that Santa Claus did not exist in disbelief he ran to his dad and asked him if this was true. My uncle decided it was time to tell his son the truth. The problem was that judging from Pico’s reaction he wasn’t ready to stop believing in Santa. As a former child I can tell you kids are not always ready to stop believing in the magical powers of Santa and the tooth fairy as quickly as adults think they are. Sometimes it’s not really the adult version of the truth kids are after, sometimes it’s the truth of childhood they want to be reassured about. The one in which magic beans, unicorns, and if you’re Latino el cuco and el chupa cabra really do exist.

I still hadn’t recovered from Pico’s sad little face when I sat down to breakfast on Saturday morning and six year old Abigail informed me that her mom my other uncle's ex Liz had told her that Santa Claus had died of old age. I was crushed. My mom glared at Abby’s mom, “why would you tell her something like that?” “Have you seen her list?! I can’t afford all that stuff!” Liz shot back at my mom. Just then Pico came over and told Abby,” you know what this means? The tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny are not real either.” He looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders Abby didn’t look so happy either. She wasn’t ready yet either. That’s when I told them about the Santa photos, picture proof of a visit Santa made to my house when I was a kid.

Pico obviously had forgotten about them. It was time to refresh his memory. The look of awe and amazement that spread over their faces as I slapped the photos on the table was priceless. Pico smiled at my mom and it was obvious to us that he knew . He would never believe again and I could tell he seemed saddened by it, I know I was. Then something happened. My mom winked signaling the start of a conspiracy between them. Just because he didn’t believe in Santa didn’t mean Abby had to stop. It is a right of passage in my family as we grow older and discover the truth we join ranks with our parents to keep the myth alive for the younger kids in the family. Pico was now an official Santa’s helper. Abigail jumped up and down in her seat and despite trying to play it cool Pico was obviously excited...

Abby: Wow! I knew he was real I just knew it! Santa is real! Look mommy he is real!

Her mother walked over inspected the photos and said, “Abby that’s Willie in a Santa costume !” Abby leaned in closer to inspect the photo of my then 20 something year old father.

Abby:Uh uh that’s not Willie mommy!

Pico walked over in a nonchalant way his eyes betraying his excitement began inspecting the pictures. “ Liz that’s not nino. My nino is not that fat!

He’s called my dad nino ever since he could talk. Nino is short for padrino which means godfather in Spanish.

Abby: You see mommy Santa is really real. He’s not dead mommy you lied to me!

Liz: No Abby I didn’t lie to you I would never lie to you Santa is dead. I’m the one that buys your presents.

My mom noticed the look of distress on Abby’s face she looked as if she were going to cry.

Mom: Abby honey mommy didn’t lie to you, she would never do that. She just didn’t have all of the right information. Look Santa is not dead. He is real. He is just retired.

Abby: I knew it! I knew it! Maggie what does that mean retired?

Mom: That’s when a person stops working because he is old and tired.

Abby: Santa was tired of kids?

Mom: No baby but he was old and after years and years of climbing in through chimneys and fire escapes his knees and back were shot! His body was worn out!

Abby: Did his wife make him stay home?

Mom: Well she didn’t make him stay home but his doctor felt it was best if he did. He still supervises the toy making and goes over the naughty and nice list but he doesn’t deliver the presents anymore instead he has the elves take turns doing that.

Abby: So mommy really buys all my presents?

we all leaned in waiting to hear my mom’s explanation of this one…it was obvious everything was riding on the response to this question… Abby’s need to believe and her mom’s credibility as a parent…

Mom: Yes Abby your mom buys all of your gifts…

Liz let out a sigh of relief and Abby frowned…but my mom wasn’t done yet she wasn’t about to let Abby down…

Mom: she buys all of them except for one special gift…

Abby perked up when she heard this and began jumping up and down again.

Mom: That one special gift Abby he leaves at someone’s house just for you…it could be at your grandma’s house…

mom looked at Liz and Liz nodded no…we’d later find out that her mom is a Jehovah’s witness and doesn’t celebrate holidays.

Mom: or.. or... or...

(mom was trying to think of something, her brain was working fast and furious...)

Mom: Sometimes Abby he leaves that one gift at an aunts or an uncles house like my house!

(nice recovery mom! I thought to myself )

Mom: As a matter of fact remember last year he left you a gift next to Nadine's?

Abby:Yeah the baby Bratz dolls! Why didn’t he send it to my house?

Mom: Because he knew you and Nadine were going to be coming to my house and he decided to save the elves a trip because my house is way closer to the route to the north pole than yours is.

Abigail was satisfied with the answers my mom had given her and went off to play with the biggest smile ever, content that there really was a Santa Claus. My parents went through great lengths to keep Santa alive for us when we were growing up. Heck my dad even tripped on the window sill once while climbing into our apartment and crash landed on his face in the living room chipping a bottom tooth. Cries of “shit, shit, double flubbing shit, and some more colorful ones in Spanish punctuated the pre-dawn hours of one Christmas morning. I mean sure it made us think that Santa Claus had the filthy mouth of a bilingual sailor that needed to be washed out with soap but none the less it kept us believing.


Hello my name is Mia and I believe in Santa Claus. True story.

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Posted by @ 2:00 PM
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Monday, January 02, 2006

I have basically cemented my “crazy girl” rep


I love giving people gifts it’s my favorite part of Christmas actually. I will take weeks picking out what I feel is the perfect gift for that person. I also tend to let my sense of humor take over when gift giving especially when the recipient has a sense of humor just as twisted as mine. This year it was my friend Said’s turn to be on the receiving end of one of my gag gifts. This was his first Christmas here and I wanted to make it as memorable for him as possible. Said has been kind of lonely since he got here. Keep that in mind as you continue to read and my aunt Nora had bet him when he arrived here that I would be able to find him a girl friend. Thus far I have failed miserably. ‘cest la vie people what can I say ?

So for Christmas along with his regular gifts I got him a gag gift. What was it you ask? Oh ho hoooo dear reader it was a gift I dubbed “Palmela”, the best way to describe is it’s a masturbation toy, a rubber vagina and it only cost me $10.00 people, well worth the price for the reaction it got. At first he didn’t know what to make of it. Then as he gradually realized what it was he let out a big “OH FUCK!” and promptly began hitting me with “Palmela” all the while laughing hysterically. Then he did a little dance while twirling it in the air. Yeah it was a priceless moment, definitely one of the best reactions to one of my gag gifts. Ever since we met last year in Egypt and he spotted my tattoos and piercings he’s been thinking I’m kind of crazy, I think I have basically cemented my “crazy girl” rep with him for life now.

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Posted by @ 12:27 AM
2 comment from: Blogger Just Jane, Blogger Goggles Piasano Ritardo,


Saturday, December 10, 2005

Christmas carol parody...


Friends don’t let friends sing drunk…unless it’s to make a Christmas carol parody. This is one of my favorites it never fails to make me laugh.


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Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Early Christmas cheer via subliminal messages....


My dad starts getting into the Christmas spirit in August. The man has been known to play Christmas carols during the balmy month making the kids laugh and my mom cringe. Mom is different she starts getting into it once December arrives. Around the 1st week of December she sets up our tree and during the 2nd week we decorate the tree and the house. This year things are different something is afoot and I think my dad is to blame.

Ever since mid-November my mom has been singing Christmas tunes all over the house.This past Sunday she put away all the Thanksgiving decorations and set up the tree, when I got home that night the tree was decorated! I looked at the calendar on the wall thinking I might’ve pulled a Rip Van Winkle and taken a really long nap. Nope it was Nov 27th. I looked around the house and saw it had been transformed into Christmasville;decorations, wreaths, garlands, knick knacks all over the house. I stepped back wondering if I had stepped into the wrong apartment. This is not the norm. My mom hates to rush Christmas,so to see her doing this all so early is really unusual.

However I think I know the reason behind her early Christmas cheer. Last night I heard something coming out of my parent’s bedroom. It was the sound of music…it was Christmas carols! This morning as she launched into her 7:30 am version of "Feliz Navidad" I asked her about the music last night… it seems that right after Halloween my dad found a radio station that plays nothing but Christmas carols. Every night since then my mom has been falling asleep to Christmas carols! Aha! I thought to myself early Christmas cheer via subliminal messages!

If I were the devious sort I think I could use this to our advantage. The kids and I could make a recording of our Christmas lists and then make our parents a CD with their favorite carols on them with our lists playing in between the tracks. I could then go into their room as they sleep and put it on their stereo letting it play all night over and over and over again. Mua ha ha!! I wonder if this could work on Bush…maybe we could get someone on the inside to slip a CD on as he sleeps making all sorts of suggestions… hmm.. I wonder…think of the possibilities !

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Tuesday, December 14, 2004




Stevie meets Santa for the 1st time Posted by Hello

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Dancing santa Posted by Hello

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Santa checks on Mia Posted by Hello

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Yes, Maria There is a Santa Claus!! Posted by Hello

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