My sister has always been more of a daughter to me. 

Why?

Because while my dad was enjoying bachelorhood, I took care of her.

Washed her clothes, bathed her, fed her dinner, made sure she was in bed by 9, LOVED her, and protected her from stinky boys.

Until now.

Now, she's 20 and expecting a baby boy on May 30th.  As much as I would enjoy nailing the guy for this, it is just as much her fault as it is his.  Except, he's a total ass.

TOTAL ASS!

She has called me 4 days in a row crying over this jerk face because he 1.) Hides his cell phone from her when he gets a call or text message 2.) Tells her she was prettier before she got fat (from carrying HIS CHILD) and 3.) Is just plain mean to her.  Let's side aside the fact that she is a hormonal disaster because she was before she was pregnant (now multiplied by a million!) and focus on the fact that she will be connected to this guy for the rest of her life.

I want to drive home and smash his face in...but, I'm a lady so, I'll just blog about smashing his face in instead.

but anger aside, what do I do? I have prayed for her, encouraged her, told her she doesn't have to stay and that there are always options...but is that it?  Do I seriously have to sit back and just let her cry?

I have started volunteering at a Palestinian Refugee Camp in the heart of Beirut. I say the “heart,” but its really more like the tonsil. Cause its right up there in the center of everything, but nobody notices it until there is a problem. And almost everyone assumes that one day they will remove theirs.

I've always been the type of person who always hated her own skin. I would look at people and say Why can't I be like her. I would go to the clothing sections and I would see the really cute jeans in a size 0 (by the way I still do) but not a size 14. I felt uncomfortable going to the dressing rooms because I thought what if I try to fit into those jeans and rip them with my extra weight gain?

All of that changed when I discovered Skirt! I'm not kidding. Reading some of  you gals blogs, stories and personal accounts made me realize that I should feel comfortable being who I am. I now know that to be healthy doesn't mean I have to weigh a certain size jeans.I might have a little more pinchable spots than others, or a little more love handles than some I'm more comfortable with it.  So in a way Skirt! has changed my life! I can now happily eat my fifty cent pizza hut wings without worrying about which jeans I will be able to fit in.   

Thanks my skirtsetters!     

Ladies, please forigve me but I must vent.  I am not one to vent often but this subject has pushed me to my limit and I have to get it out before I explode.

I am a huge fan of honesty/constructive criticism.  I like to be told when I am being called on my bluff.  I like to improve my relationships with coworkers, friends, and family.  Personally, I feel it's apart of growing up and becoming a better person.  I also know when to draw the line and realize when the boundary has been crossed.

Recently, I decided to chop off a decent chunk of my locks.  No big deal, really.  Hair grows back and I wanted a change.

One day, I was having a perfectly lovely conversation with a coworker when....

BAM

here comes Mrs. Nasty. 

"Ashley, I thought you were going to cut some more off your hair?" said Mrs. Nasty

"I decided to leave it the way it is.  It was a nice change for now but, I think I'll let it grow back." I say

"Good. I don't like it now.  It looked much better before.  You can't pull that off." said, well, you know.

My coworker/friend looked at me in disbelief.  As if to say, "Who does she think she is?" I looked at her in agreement.

I started writing this blog on the way home from the US over 4 months ago. The second half is current musings, the first was from back then. Not that I think you can tell the difference. They general theme is my passion for Airports.

I'm sitting in the airport on my way home from being home. I went to the US this week for my best friend's wedding, and I'm heading back to Beirut-- to my "normal" life.

What is it about Airports that I love so much? It'd be impossible to put my finger on: I love the coffee, but it’s never that good and it’s always expensive. I love the people watching, but it’s a toss up whether it will result in a short-term airport crush (some REALLY handsome Italian men, I must say) or disgust with the Ugly Americans (why are we all so freaking loud?)

"That sure is a BIG OL' BAG!"  I turned around to find my boss standing behind me while removing some mints from my purse.

I turned to him and said, "I'm a big fan of Mary Poppins.  I can almost fit my entire umbrella in this thing!  and my lunch box too!"

He's not a fan of sarcasm.

He walked away and I found myself daydreaming. I laughed to myself thinking "What's wrong with wanting to be like Mary Poppins? She was pretty rockin'. She could fit her entire life into her bag.  She ran around all day long, playing with children, making friends, and singing songs.  Sarcasm aside, I wouldn't mind being Mary for a day..."

That's the life.

I like big bags, daydreaming, and sarcasm. My boss just needs a sense of humor.

Having recently been denied entry into Israel myself, this article is particularly close to my heart. Now it seems that Israel is not only refusing entry to internationals—including Americans like myself—but they are also refusing to let aid and development workers function as they have been doing for the past 70 years. One has to wonder: what would the world say, what would America say, if this was any country other than our dear ally Israel?

[this is an article from Haaretz.com, the daily English language Israeli Newspaper]

Israel withholding NGO employees' work permits

Yesterday I took nude photographs of myself. I wasn't planning a formal photo shoot or anything. It's just that G and I had been viewing some porn over the weekend and in the middle of a Monday I thought, "hmmmm....I'm going to take some nude shots and see how I can edit them." (I know..I know...I attribute it to my Canadian heritage...just one of the many benefits of socialist liberal ideals)

Okay...also it's because I've been thinking about my body lately as  I have been doing the 21 Day Consciousness Cleanse with Debbie Ford .  Day 5 is about The Gift of Reverence towards your body; "When you know in your bones that your body is a sacred gift, you move in the world with an effortless grace." I had to look up the word to wrap my brain around it comfortably. 

Reverence:
1. a feeling or attitude of deep respect tinged with awe; veneration.
2. the outward manifestation of this feeling: to pay reverence.
3. a gesture indicative of deep respect; an obeisance, bow, or curtsy.

I came across this brilliant Op-Ed piece, a response to a Bono editorial in the New York Times a few days ago. I hope you can take a few minutes to read it. The ironies-- not subtle; just pure fact-- are stark and shocking even to someone who knows the realities on the ground in these places.

I've highlighted the most important parts, for those of you who only have 15 seconds to glance it over. Here is the link, for those of you who wish to see the sources and list of Palestinian Ghandis that the author, Alison Weir (whom I have met-- she is a tall unassuming WASP-y lady) lists for you. She is head of an NGO called If Americans Knew. I can give you more information about it if you care at all. I suspect many of you don't, and thats fair enough: we all have our passions and concerns and busy lives.

Also, just a warning to all of you who are concerned about my safety. Keep your eyes on the Lebanese skies and the dang violations of airpspace by the Israelis. I know what an F-16 sounds like, and I have definitely been hearing them a lot more lately:

I’m thrilled to inform you that I’ve just discovered that I am in fact NOT crazy.  I’ve filled you in via facebook in the past that I do indeed possess a dichotomous personality.  No. I’m not bipolar.  It’s just that my personality has always clashed with itself.  Well, I’ve just found a name for it.

This is thanks to my everlasting appetite for information, and my desire to read about how demented we all are.  I read Psychology Today from time to time.  Yes that’s the kind of girl I am.  Inquisitive.  A curious seeker looking to delve into the human condition and the commonality of our weirdness.  I consider it a beautiful thing……our shared fuckedupedness.

I stay at home now with my kids, retired from my chosen profession at 26, and I write while my husband goes out and earns the bucks for us. It's like a 50's throwback here, without the pearl necklaces (something I'm ITCHING to bring back) and candied hams. The Daver works in finance, which is a somewhat nebulous term that people typically respond to with a harsh intake of air and a drawn out, "Oooooh." Since the Crash of 'Aught Eight, people tend to have a different perception of "working in finance."

I don't understand a single thing that The Daver does, and when he tries to explain, my eyes glaze over the same way that his do when I talk about my latest email from my agents. But, for all intents and purposes, what "working in finance" means to me is that he's almost never home. A 70 hour work week is a relatively easy week for him.

Add to that an hour plus commute each way and you can easily call me a single mother during the week. Oh, don't worry, I'm not up on the cross about it or anything; I'm sure some new mother needs the wood. To me, it's just the way it is.

As I’ve mentioned, I suffer from PMS very badly. I would like to also note that I never had PMS before I got married. hmmmmmmm…. interesting….

In college, I didn’t even really believe in PMS. I couldn’t relate at all. So many things were different in college… no responsibilities……I never worried about anything… I was so laid back…… Maybe it was so easy because I only had to ever think about myself… and I totally controlled my own life……… I had my own space. I’m thinking that even today….. if I could just live by myself, my PMS might magically go away….

Can you even imagine living alone????ahhhhhhhhh. I do love my husband and kids, very much in fact, BUT I think it would be the best of both worlds if I could be next-door neighbors with them. Two houses side by side.  How fun would it be to get a booty call from your spouse???? You could do the walk of shame afterwards…… except you wouldn’t be that ashamed. Whining kids…… “sorry I have to go now…bye!” Anyways, that just might be the relief that my family needs even more than I do FROM ME and the wrath of my PMS.

I like to look back at the year as it's coming to a close and pick out the highlights. When it comes to skirt!, we've had a year of fantastic issues (of course, I'm biased...), but there are a few profiles that stand out in my mind--and I think they're worth a second look. (These are in no particular order, however!)

He's So Original. I love that our 12 guys of 2009 are doing so many great things for our community. There's Darren Vincent (better known as Jaz), who works so hard to make books accessible to everyone; Rob Cann, who helps give our homeless community a way to be part of a team; Chris Ebel, who has turned tragedy into triumph; Thom Duncan, who encourages us to support local farmers; and Kevin Collins, who pushes his body to its limits in the hopes of raising money for a cause he believes in.

We've profiled too many incredible women in 2009 to list them all here, but a few favorites of mine were:

I sat at the Starbucks in Sassine Square. The fanciest mall in the city was right around the corner and the hoards of families—children in Santa hats, women in fur boots, men in royal purple scarves—pouring out testified to the pomp and consumerism of the evening.

Sassine is the heart of Christian Acrafieh, the most famous eastern neighbourhood of Beirut. Whether out of love of season or determination to define themselves via this most Christian of holidays, the residents decked the roads with frivolity. Blue icicle lights hung like a giant net across the entire circle; sparkling Christmas trees and stars lined the boulevards; cars were capped with red fur and crucifixes; wreaths littered the streets and carols blared from newspaper stands and passing radios to create a cacophony of triumphant heralds.

Starbucks was in full holiday mode, of course: toffee nut lattes accompanied booties of chocolate covered coffee beans out the door. Everyone bundled up in snow white capes and knee high boots, even though it was all of 55 degrees outside.