An Unlikely Humanitarian, an Homage

I don’t typically get too saddened by the death of a celebrity, after all, they are only human, and death is the ultimate end to all of our stories. I don’t know them personally, but I empathize with any tragedy or struggle; I’m not a celebrity nut, I hate the tabloids and in general make…

Holding hands in Lyon

Lyon, our first touchpoint with France after 14 hours of travel: two toddler meltdowns while trying to escape the airport, one teen meltdown as she came to grips with the difference between an American minivan and the European definition of the same, three lost pieces of luggage, and a once hot, intimate couple wondering what…

DeNada Granada

3:30 am, Granada, Spain. The twins are awake and running around eating digestives and begging to play outside. I’m totally depressed by the fact they are showing no signs of fatigue and the certainty they will be getting sleepy when it’s time time to get up to see this amazing town we rolled into after…

Wadi Rum, A Night in a Bedouin Camp

I’m intrigued by the native people of these lands, the Bedouins. I’m not sure why, maybe just some deep limbic nostalgia for a simple and true way of life. The Bedouin are the semi-nomadic tribal p… Source: Wadi Rum, A Night in a Bedouin Camp

Wine for Whine

It’s 9am, I am on a flight to Anchorage. The house was dark and quiet when I snuck out this morning, I couldn’t see the piles of laundry on the couch or the mess in the kitchen or the toys li… Source: Wine for Whine

Wine for Whine

It’s 9am, I am on a flight to Anchorage. The house was dark and quiet when I snuck out this morning, I couldn’t see the piles of laundry on the couch or the mess in the kitchen or the toys littering the floor.  I pretended they weren’t there.  I print off a few documents from…

Life Goes On

I took a one-year maternity leave when the twins were born.  My sabbatical just came to a chaotic and painful end, even with a whole year, being entrenched in mothering four kids and running the household it somehow snuck up on me. Time is the sniper behind the grassy knoll and we are the shocked…

Privacy is Overrated, sort of…

My husband was born in a refugee camp for Palestinians in Amman, Jordan.  One of his earliest childhood memories was his house getting blown up, as his family fled for shelter in a nearby school where he clung to his mother’s leg while she tried to shush and feed her second child, still a baby….

Jerash, A Stroll Through Time

When one thinks of antiquities, they usually refer to Athens or Rome and they are right to do so. But let your mind wander to the outer reaches of the Greek and Roman Empires and here, you will discover some of the most well-preserved towns of the ancients. About 48 Kilometers north of Amman, we…

Car seats, high chairs and other nefarious torture devices

In the states, we are obsessed with safety and protocol. One would never imagine letting a kid run wild in the backseat of a moving car, those days died with the Nixon era.  If I start backing down the driveway without my seatbelt my ten-year-old starts having spasms of shock and admonishment. But as we…

The Household, Amman

As the twins fall asleep at four AM to the lull of the Imam, the rest of the house awakens. My father in law is called to his duties and prayers at the Mosque. A recently retired economics professor, he now devotes his final chapter to God and the community. He his in his eighties,…

Amman, Jordan

It’s hot. It’s 3am, I am awake with the twins-jetlagged babies. It’s time to play.The prayer call will start in about 20 minutes, an eery and haunting lullaby that echoes through the city. Then the streets will start filling up with the vendors driving around and beckoning over their loud speakers much like the hot…