Growing Up

*Author's note: I edited the 3rd from the bottom paragraph to reflect, that I actually do like living on foreign soils.

One of the best parts of being home was being taken care of by my parents. Even though I am thirty-three years old, and quite independent, it was nice to be under the watchful eye of loving caregivers. As it turns out, however, this thirty-three year old independent girl is still quite dependent.

While I was home I went to the dentist (no cavities!!), bought a new computer, and updated my wardrobe a bit--all thanks to mom and dad. I couldn't have done any of that without the financial backing of my more solvent parental unit. Their wonderful generosity, for which I am incredibly grateful, provided a mean sort of revelation that at my age, and especially after all the career choices I have made, I am not self-reliant.

Due to the economic crisis, and the recent Sunday School lesson on self-reliance, this fact weighed down on my mind. My career choice isn't turning into what I want. (Again.) And worse, it isn't even helping me survive as an adult. Part of the problem is that I live in Dubai, and my boss pays me less here than what I could bring home in the States. The payment of a "great experience" has far from panned out as well. And now I hate my once-hobby. Once again I feel like I am back at square one, and still trying to figure out this whole "being a grown-up" business.

It is an interesting sort of challenge to choose one's life-work or career. We have so many choices, and thanks to Barbie, girls like me feel they can do anything (like Barbie!--please note that she is now a Fairy Princess, and that isn't a very lucrative career choice). Perhaps if I lived in the 1950's my career choice would be easier as they would pretty much be limited to: teacher, secretary, nurse, and mother. Maybe growing up would be easier with less choices.

Part of the trouble of trying to figure out "what we want to be when we grow up" is because we tend pigeon-hole "be" as the type of occupation, and we forget there is a bit more to being a grown-up. Maybe at age five we should have asked ourselves, "what kind of life do I want to have when I grow up," and then we could find the career that fits in with that lifestyle.

And that is the scale I am going to use from here on out in deciding my adult behavior. Here's what I've figured out so far:

I'm not very good with desk jobs; I get easily distracted and end up writing more personal emails than business ones. I like having real weekends, and holidays off. I like to spend time with my family, and yet I like to travel away from them. I need a place that fosters creativity and problem solving. I prefer to have interaction--I'm pretty sure I have cubicle-induced ADHD. I want time for projects, hobbies, and things I want to learn like upholstering or other languages. I want to have friends close by--new and old. I want to use those foreign language skills that I acquired. I want to dress up for work; my spirit needs to dress up, and I fear I've forgotten how to do it. And if I bake for money, it will be small projects on my time off or a summer farmer's market. And when I bake for fun, it will not be cupcakes. And finally, when I live in a different country I want to be able to actually live in that country--not just work the whole time.

I think I have figured out a path, but would like your input as well (yes, a request for comments). In the meantime, I will plan on returning to school. And in April I will be back under my parent's roof, letting them take care of me, hanging out in their bedroom watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn while I get all of this figured/planned out.

Now, however, I have to go finish my laundry because, unfortunately, my mom isn't here to do it for me. And it is one of the few grown-up things I can do successfully, after all.

Yes, Please!

I interrupt my travelogue to post a video of a song from a band that I love. Apparently this song has been on the airwaves for about a month, so I am probably a little love in showing my affection. But in case the rest of you have either been on vacation or suffering through someone else's iPod, like me, here is something a little joyful and hopeful.



I would say that is a bit more "pop" than their music is normally, but I like it. I like the hopeful vibe. I haven't been feeling that adjective very often since my move to the Middle East, and it's nice to have music influence a good mood.

P.S. and by the way, the band is releasing their "greatest hits" collection soon/now. Sure, I have a lot of their songs anyway, but I think it could be a worthy purchase. So, if you were wondering what to get me for Christmas...

From one Desert to Another

You may be getting pretty tired of these picture-less vacation posts, but you will have to deal with it because: 1) I didn't use my camera for 2/3 of my vacation; 2) I haven't figured out how to post a picture I saved in iPhoto (on my new Mac. Help someone!); and 3) you already know what you look like anyway.

Since my sister's teeth surgery was more important than flying the whole family to Seattle (indeed it was, I'm not being sarcastic) my sister flew me down to see my niece and nephew, both of whom have grown quite a bit since I saw them a whopping two years ago. Sam is nearly my height, and even though his voice is much lower, it sounded just like him. The best word to describe Liz is: pixie. With her heart-shaped face, lithe frame, small mouth, and hair that flips in places she is very much like a pixie. What good-looking kids. What good kids, too. I couldn't help but feel that they were good and tried to do good as well.

In the interest of keeping this interesting, I'll cover the main points of my visit to Arizona:

• the first order of business on my trip to Arizona was my nephew's football game. This is his first year playing football, and he is a fullback on the 9th grade team. I was warned that the team wasn't very successful, and the rumor proved true during the first few seconds when the opposing team scored a touchdown and a two-point conversion. I was very glad that Sam got to play a lot during the 4th quarter (and carry the ball too!) otherwise I wouldn't have been able to say "I am so glad that I got to see you play!" after his team got sorely beaten. Sam loves playing football, and he has not yet been discouraged by the lack of wins; hard practices, and the jerky starting players. I love that he enjoys it.

• The next day Amy introduced me to what I see as the one benefit of living in Arizona: RetroTV. We should probably be embarrassed to admit to watching countless hours of T.V. instead of touring Phoenix, but it was loads of fun reminiscing over our favorite childhood shows, like Emergency! and A-Team. The latter remains a T.V. icon (and an upcoming feature-length film), but does anyone else remember Emergency!--the late 70's medical drama(?) about a couple of EMT, doctors, and taciturn nurse? It was fabulous--it's even better to watch it now, and compare it with similar shows in our day that probably hire doctors to help write the medical stuff. The stark differences between medical dramas today and that show turned the once-dramatic stuff into sheer comedy: "We don't know why your toddler stopped breathing, but we do know that it happens sometimes." Or "How do we get this (80-year-old) woman off the hill during the wildfire?" "We can strap the stretcher to the top of our truck." Something very similar to that, at least.
  

• Friday, we made a quick mile or so hike on this little hill somewhere in Phoenix. Sam, in full football-training mode decided to run. Show-off. I was glad that it was not humid and that we didn't see any rattlesnakes or scorpions. Liz saw a roadrunner. My sister and I discussed my future.

• It's always fun to see Uncle Jerry, although the visit was pretty quick. He mostly just asked about Dubai, and I was glad to recount as much as I could. Sometimes I get a little boring when people find out that I actually haven't seen anything too exciting. I haven't even seen a camel.
  

• While in town, I got a much needed haircut. I've had my haircut twice in the Middle East, and both times were disappointing. While in the chair it was discovered that my hair is wavier than I thought. It's amazing what one can discover with good hair products and a diffuser. And to think that I've been hiding all of this in a ponytail and under a bandanna. I've been trying to let it go wavy in public now, but I am not sure what to do with the bangs, and I need bangs.

• I ate my first Sprinkles cupcakes. They were fine. I liked the idea of the cinnamon sugar cupcake, though. It's nice to have a non-frosting option.

• IloveyouAnthropologieforeverandeverandeverandoneofthesedaysIwillgetabetterjobsoIcanafford you.

• I had a fun night out with my friend LeeAnn, who left Seattle for Phoenix about the time I left for NYC. It's always good to hang out with her. I love that she loves her job; it inspires me. Plus she's active and social, and that inspires me as well. We went to a lyrical opera entitled "The Turn of a Screw" or something like that. Here's my thoughts: Don't go. Unless you absolutely love everything that is in the form of an opera or love everything that Henry James wrote. I didn't love the music or the idea of ghosts fondling children. LeeAnn felt the same way, so we ditched the opera for Greek food, frozen yogurt, and good conversation. So much better than the opera.
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• Saturday morning Liz and I helped my sister with a photo shoot/promotion for a dog kennel/place to do dog stuff. Liz was very confident about setting up our information booth; I guess she helps out pretty often. Then I got to sit with her and chat about school, fashion, and all the dogs we saw. She was such a fun baby, toddler, little girl, and now that she is 12 years old she is growing into a fabulous person.
  
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• I don't remember which days these things happened, but they made me happy. One night for dinner my brother-in-law Jake made burritos, and we s'mores for dessert. Another time we ate waffles. I've missed those food items. But I think you already know that.
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• So apparently Blogger wants to do funny stuff with my bullet points. Oh well.
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• Sunday morning my sister and I participated in the Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure, although I would like to submit that the event should be called the Susan G. Komen Shuffle for the Cure because there were so many people that we didn't really take any normal walking strides. I was glad to do the walk for such a good cause, and I wore a friend's name on my back to show support for her. However, I just have to say these two things: 1)I don't particularly like cheerleaders shouting out cheers like, "Go Boobies!" It sounds like something one would hear at Hooters or Las Vegas. 2) It was a 5k walk/shuffle--not a race--and it was so not hard, so the typical "you're almost done" "good work" "you can do it" shouts were a little misplaced. It's not a marathon, for crying out loud. The only place where those cheers may be necessary would be while standing in a long line in front of an outhouse at such events. Those are my opinions, treat them as such.

Thanks Amy, Jake, Sam, Liz, and Shadow the dog that became my shadow. I had a wonderful time.

From the Laboratory vs. From the Garden

The funny thing about my trip to the states was that, as far as food is concerned, all I wanted to eat was good ol' American junk food. Even before my trip, I anticipated treats like Diet Dr. Pepper, Top Pot donuts, Sonic tater tots, and processed lunch meat. Oh yes, my first sandwich upon arrival at the folk's house was a bologna sandwich, with cheese, mustard, and potato chips (inside the sandwich, naturally.) I snacked on the candy in Grandma's room; had a can of various brands of diet cola each day; ate copious amounts of microwaved popcorn (oh wait, I do that in Dubai too); enjoyed different types of fried potatoes, luxuriously devoured a pumpkin pie shake from Jack in the Box, and shared a cream puff with my Grandma (although that was entirely her idea. Well, she was craving one, I encouraged her to buy it with the offer to share). It would appear from that menu that my one goal for that trip was to shorten my life with clogged arteries, or depending on your opinion, lengthen it with a plethora of preservatives.

Who can say? But when conversing with my American friend who lives in London, she had a similar desire to eat processed food as well. I specifically recall that she hunted down some Cheez-Its during her recent U.S. vacation. In Bill Bryson's book I'm a Stranger Here Myself, a collection of articles he wrote for London's Daily Mail about returning to the States after 20 years in the UK, he writes one article about his trip to the grocery store to giddily buy as much American processed junk as his wife would let him. She begrudgingly agreed, but with the understanding that he would have to eat all the of the frozen waffles, chips, snack cakes, candy, etc. by himself. He was happy to do so, but quickly grew sick of all the junk, and even hid some in the back of his refrigerator. (P.S.: read the book; it is laugh-out-loud hilarious.)

In my short time in the States, I never quite reached the "sick of the junk food" phase--even when my waistline was exhibiting signs of expansion. I was determined to get it all in--like that huge bowl of caramel popcorn...yum.

I think I can credit the lack of junk-food sickness because my diet was also filled with delicious home cooked meals with produce from the garden, homemade bread (although that did contribute to midsection growth, as bread likes to do), oatmeal cooked all night in a crockpot, and did I mention vegetables from the garden. Nothing says "invest in a farm co-op" like the taste of a home-grown tomato.

In fact, one of my favorite meals was one that yours truly whipped up. On our beautiful drive from Seattle to Spokane, my family stopped in Ellensburg to visit our friends Bob and Sandy. They have been family friends since before my parents got married. Without them I would have been stuck at the train station in Montauban eight years ago instead of being taken care of by a nice family that they knew who just so happened to live in that town. Also, without them, we wouldn't have had fresh fennel from their garden, and a recipe with which to use said fennel for that meal. I made a braised fennel dish to accompany some leftover pork roast from the big family dinner. Every vegetable in that dish came from a backyard garden: fennel, tomatoes, peas, and I can't remember the rest. It was divine.

So now I am back in Dubai, and I think my junk food cravings have subsided. I don't even salivate over cupcakes right now, and I look forward to making a nice pot of minestrone soup tonight. Even my waist is starting to look normal again. However, I do regret not taking that bag of peanut butter flavored Chex Mix with me...

A Warm Place

Isn't "the bosom of my family" an odd sort of phrase? I am not certain where I heard this phrase, but I kind of think it's scriptural or something. As odd as it is, "bosom" is supposed to be a place of warmth and comfort, figuratively and literally speaking. I had a friend at BYU (you know who you are) that would jokingly bring our heads to his chest while inviting us to "come to his bosom" if we had some sort of grievance. We would push him away in mock horror, but it was kind of nice. Long story short, I spent my vacation in the bosom of my family, but the first Saturday of my month of heaven was spent in the bosom of a huge portion of all my family, figuratively speaking of course.

My older sister had this idea to turn my trip home into a sort of family reunion. She always wants to plan those sorts of functions. If there is anything that belongs on my sister's headstone when she dies it should read "Here lies Amy Briscoe. All she ever wanted was a real Family Reunion." Or something to that effect. So she emailed everyone via Facebook and rallied the troops to get together in Seattle for something big and fun. Then she and her family decided that they couldn't make the trip. Then my brother dropped out. And a few others couldn't visit as well. So instead of a huge reunion-type thing with tugs-of-war and arts&crafts, we had a delicious meal and good company consisting of 1 grandma, 1 uncle, two aunts, 5 cousins, three cousin's spouses, 4 next-generation cousins, 1 dad, 1 mom, 1 sister and me.

It was an entirely lovely day.

My mom, the woman who gave me my skills in the kitchen, as well as a knack for worrying about what to make for dinner, went all out for the meal. She made the following: pork roast (which is naturally the first thing you eat when exiting an Arab country), mashed potatoes, rolls (bread is her specialty), pumpkin pie, and an cast-iron-skillet apple cake. My Uncle Bruce cooked green beans (from the garden) with bacon, and my Aunt Debi brought a salad with tasty citrus dressing (recipe please!). We like to eat in this family, and I must say that this hobby has been enhanced by some talented cooks and creative palates. Everything was so good as it always is.

Growing up, we had a lot of fabulous family meals around the holidays and such. When my immediate family moved away, one of the things I missed the most was being with all the aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. I truly looked forward to Saturday's dinner, and being able to catch up with everyone.

I had the most fun catching up with my cousin's 3-year-old daughter, Leah, who was born shortly after I left for New York. That girl has a lot of energy. Early in the afternoon, she entertained us by singing "If by chance you meet a frown" while marching in a circle. Soon the song got a little bit louder, and we noticed that she was actually singing:
If by chance you meet a smile
do not let it stay
quickly turn it upside-down
and frown that smile away.

All while marching in a circle.

Later, we played an "over and under" game. While sitting with my feet propped up on a chair, I encouraged Leah to crawl under my legs. Then she decided it would be fun to climb over my legs. She's three, but she's not little, and it really hurt when she dug her elbow into my thighs. At some point we were playing a fun game where she would pop up through my legs and hang for a bit. I would also swing her in that position. We totally bonded. Later, when I was having a bit of a nap on the floor, she told her step-cousins not to step on me because I was her cousin. I felt that I had succeeded in becoming a true part of her family, and not just that distant, wandering person whom she may know from pictures or stories.

While everyone shared their time and concern for me, I shared some fun Arabic stuff I brought for the family to try. I bought a whole bunch of roasted nuts, dates, cardamom gum and camel-milk chocolate. The chocolate had a slightly sour aftertaste, but it was actually pretty good. I also brought little bags of zaatar, a traditional herb mix, for everyone to try at home. Zaatar is a combo of thyme, marjoram, sumac, and sesame seeds. I've eaten it mostly on breads in Lebanon. My favorite is a manakish: flat bread sprinkled with halloumi cheese, cooked in a brick oven, and then a thin layer of zaatar mixed with a bit of olive oil. So good. Everyone needs to let me know the results of their zaatar-experiments. (P.S. dear readers, you can buy this stuff at specialty spice stores and at middle-eastern grocery stores.)

It was hard to say good-bye to everyone again at the end of the evening. But it is nice to make plans to come back.

It's Good to Set Goals

The couch at my cousin Alicia's house wrapped me up in comfy warm goodness and (along with the help of two Tylenol PM) I slept through that first night on the opposite side of the world with zero problems. I wasn't even too groggy when I awoke. My one goal for that day was to stay awake as much as possible in order to get over the jet lag fast. I had read that exercise helps so I enlisted Alicia to take a walk with me in the morning. Alicia just so happens to live two blocks from one of my childhood homes, so it was a trip around the neighborhood filled with nostalgia. (She just so happens to live in the cul-de-sac that always gave out full-sized candy bars on Halloween.) I really appreciated the one-on-one time with her (especially since I missed her wedding).

The next trick up my jet-lag-reducing sleeve was a sufficient amount of caffeine. On the way to my uncle and aunt's house in Lynnwood, we stopped at an AM/PM gas station for some Diet Dr. Pepper. I grabbed the largest cup I could find, and began to fill up all 64 ounces, with just a few cubes of ice. At the cash register, the newbie cashier fumbled through some barcodes on a ring and asked if I was getting the gallon size. My eyes lit up "I didn't know that was an option!" I replied, but decided that 64 ounces was probably more than enough. At this point in the blog I would post the totally awesome picture of me enjoying my beverage, but I lost it. Maybe it is in my other computer...

At my uncle and aunt's house my mom got to work on a big family meal for the following day, but took a break when my uncle offered to take us to lunch at a Mexican restaurant. ("Us" included my mom, grandma, sister, and of course myself.) Dubai doesn't have too many Mexican restaurants, so getting food wrapped up in a tortilla was high on my vacation to-do list. I had a basic huge bean burrito, and although I am not certain I finished it all, it was certainly tasty. Thanks, Uncle Bruce!

My mum, ever the caretaker, decided to extend her cooking break by taking me clothes shopping. She had obviously read a previous post about my shabby attire and didn't want her daughter being looked down upon by foreigners, so off we went to Alderwood Mall. It wasn't too successful. While I am sure the mall's patrons have no problems with the stores (thus the reason they are still there), I didn't find anything that fit my style. I am neither a teen or a middle-aged woman, so I was kind of at a loss. Plus the mall has no Anthropologie or J.Crew. (Neither store is exactly bakery-friendly, but the clothes are pretty!) My mom found a nice top at Macy's for herself, though.

The afternoon progressed, and even though I started to feel fatigued I didn't take a nap. The Dr. Pepper was doing it's job. I think Grandma napped, however.

That evening I was treated to a Mariner's baseball game with my dad, sister, uncle, Alicia, her two stepsons, and a family friend. It was chilly, but I had a blast. We snacked on peanuts and arabic sweets, you know, all the traditional baseball fare. I sat next to Aidan, the youngest stepson, and I must say he was pretty charming, except when he tried to get me to drink out of the bottle of water that he backwashed into. The Mariner's played the Texas Rangers, who took an early lead, but the Mariners were able to catch up...at least until they gave up a nice handful of runs in the last inning. I was certain that the M's were aware that I was in town, so they were supposed to win. I guess the Ranger's didn't get the memo. Here, I would post some of the pictures I took of the game. Yep, they're lost as well. Awesome.

My eyelids were especially heavy on the ride back to Alicia's after the game. And with the aid of my favorite jet-lag-bedtime snack (erm, Tylenol PM), I slept soundly once again.

Why Does It Always Happen to Me?

Let this be a warning to you: don't ever travel with me via aircraft.

If you have ever heard me talk about my airplane experiences, you would know that I seem to be cursed be severe travel bad luck: luggage that takes its own vacations, pilots who don't show up to work, missing ID, etc. Every once in a while I get pretty lucky where the only thing that goes wrong is that my computer falls to the ground at the security checkpoint.

The first leg of my journey went so flawlessly that I was optimistic that the whole trip would continue that way. I made it to the airport well in-time for my flight, and my luggage was even underweight. (I think that was a first!) I did have to go through a security check three times, for some reason. The seven-and-a-half hour flight to London didn't even feel that long, and I only snoozed for about a half hour. I did, however, learn that The Thomas Crown Affair was not an even remotely interesting movie, despite starring Steve McQueen.

After a three hour layover at Heathrow Airport a huge crowd gathered at gate B32 to board the 747 bound for Seattle. I took my seat next to a nice older couple that were very friendly and pleased that I was not traveling with a baby. The passengers sat and mingled, I took a brief nap and read a magazine, yet we were still on the ground. The pilot finally announced that there was a leak while trying to fuel the jumbo jet. For about two and a half hours they fixed the problem and then ran diagnostics in order to see if the leak had indeed been fixed.

When they were finally satisfied, we slowly rolled down the tarmac. While moving my fellow passengers and I heard a lot of commotion coming from the very back of the plane. We stalled at the runway until we were greeted with another announcement stating that the passengers in the back of the plane noticed that not only we were still leaking fuel, there also appeared to be some smoke spewing out of one of the engines. He continued to let us know that we would have to de-board and wait for a new plane to take us to Seattle. What he courteously did not tell us that it was either that or crash somewhere over Manchester.

The initial estimation for our delay was about six hours. We were handed food vouchers (that worked out quite nicely at Pret a Manger), and then we waited. I wandered around the large terminal 5, pondered buying a considerable amount of Cadbury, and wondered how my family would find out about the delay. I had zero access to phone numbers and email, so I hoped they wouldn't have to wait too long at SeaTac before figuring it out. Every once in a while I would meet up with my fellow passengers and we would chat. One nice lady assured me that if I fell asleep she would be sure to awake me once our gate was announced.

Around 9pm (6 hours after we were supposed to take off), were called to a brand new gate and we all hurriedly gathered to wait some more. While we did have a more spry 747 to take us over the pole, we didn't have a crew or (and now this is the kicker) a turnover agent. You know--the person who calls the rows to board the aircraft. Apparently not just anyone can do this job--even though I was more than willing to take a crack at it. It was rather frustrating waiting for that person while hearing flights around you get called into order, especially when they couldn't just hop over to our gate when they finished up. You know, six hours is plenty of time to find someone, one would think, but we still had to wait another 4 hours for ours.

So if you are doing any sort of tallying, that would be a whopping 10 hour delay. Pretty much we left Heathrow when we should have been arriving in Seattle. It was like taking two long flights...or rather three considering the first long flight from that morning.

I was tired when we finally touched down in Seattle--I had been awake for 31 hours with maybe a total of 4 hours of napping--but, oh, so happy to finally be in Seattle.

And, you know, not cindered somewhere over the English countryside.