Author: Um Abbas

One Forgotten Bunch of Pics from (the start of) November

Just to keep with the blog topic of stuffing photos everywhere, I’ve forgotten to mention a pleasant trip to Kuwait Aquarium on one of these “not-summer-anymore-not-winter-yet” days.
For finally Abbas is big enough to actually comprehend all these fish and small animals they’ve got there and enjoy looking at them, and small enough to be sitting in carriage when tired, unlike my bigger lady. She on the other hand grew up enough to understand some of the narration about Kuwait’s old customs from a mini-exposition they had at the entrance to the fishy part.
I still (fondly, what a parent I am) remember the time in Newcastle upon Tyne when we visited an aquarium complex for a very first time with her; and she did burst in tears, afraid all those fish would die – by drowning.
Anyways, here we go – a test ride of my 77mm prime lens as well as some memories to keep. I guess I am a memories hoarder.
And one exercise panorama. (Expandable upon click!)







I’ve got a number of other yet unpublished photographs, but for now, this is more than enough. I reckon.

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Cleaning… My Sentiments

Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.
—Phyllis Diller

My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.
—Erma Bombeck

There was no need to do any housework at all. After the first four years the dirt doesn’t get any worse.
—Quentin Crisp

Dust is a protective coating for fine furniture.
—Mario Buatta

Housework is what a woman does that nobody notices unless she hasn’t done it.
—Evan Esar

I’m eighteen years behind in my ironing. There’s no use doing it now, it doesn’t fit anybody I know.
—Phyllis Diller

I hate housework. You make the beds, you wash the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again.
—Joan Rivers

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When Did We Get Such a Big Flat?

At least, it became much bigger after our housekeeper’s contract ended and I did not wish for a new one. Meaning, to my husband’s standards, I have to clean every day, with an exception of Friday which I attempt to claim as my free day. (Like, it’s so possible with kids.)


By cleaning, I mean the whole nine yards. Vacuum, mop, dust, dishes, ironing, washing, polishing, desinfecting, littering, cooking, putting kids to sleep, shouting at kids not to play with this and that and being ignored right away, and so on.
It can become exhausting if Mr. Pickles doesn’t grant me a good night sleep – luckily, alhamdulilah, this is more rare of occurrence nowadays than it used to be. So yes, on occasion I’ll crawl out of the bed feeling like a roadkill, not really so joyous over the ordeal upon me; mostly though I am fine and re-adapted quickly.
It’s just Mr. Pickles, who does the whole thing complicated, really. Either he screams his lungs out being restricted to my room only, making my sisters in law message my husband at work why the hell is that toddler crying so much and whether is he being eaten alive by our three cats, or he wrecks havoc all over the house. In the latter case he’s happy, that is true; me less however. It’s like cleaning with a tornado behind my back; I turn and see whatever has been done, has been undone. And worse, rather often. He also took a great liking in plugs, trash cans, cat litter boxes, Dettol bottles, vacuum cleaner wrong ends and other child unfriendly but awfully fun things. What’s child friendly is gruesomely boring, he says.


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Tolerance II.

Without tolerance, our world turns into hell. (Friedrich Durrenmatt)


Ever since the Crusades, when Christians from western Europe were fighting holy wars against Muslims in the near east, western people have often perceived Islam as a violent and intolerant faith – even though when this prejudice took root Islam had a better record of tolerance than Christianity. (Karen Armstrong)

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