Thoughts

The Case of Potatoes

For the past several weeks of my 2in1 period of life with nr.2 addition to the family I seem to be rather craving one basic (Czech) nutritive – potatoes. Usually boiled, but in any case, I need them. I like rice, don’t get me wrong, but seriously, the amount of rice consumed in Kuwait is just way too much! I was born and raised in a potato country and as such I believe irreversibly in the power of a raw potato (good for your bones, my grandma used to say. True, she used to say fresh yeast is good for skin too – which probably is considering the heaps of vit. B contained in it – but my joy of eating that was much, much less visible.), and I believe that potatoes contain a lot of vitamins and minerals and generally stuff your average mid-European body needs for it’s survival and hence my insane craving for them in the third trimester is actually easily explainable – back to the roots, back to the healthy body with true balanced diet!
Well, whatever it is forcing me to eat ‘tatoes; Abbas maybe, considering how skillfully he made me eat a bunch of steaks – and still want them – although I am normally red-meat non-eater; today’s lunch for me is decided.
Škubánky!
[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][pr.:shkoobahnkee] (Or you prefer to call it kucmouch? [pr.:cootsmokh])


It’s a sort of potato boiled balls with flour mashed together and that ripped apart with a spoon dipped in butter (or lard), served with whatever you prefer – sweet with powder sugar and ground poppy seeds and a spoon of butter over it, or a certain kind of hard quark (curd) which I reckon I can’t really describe unless you are raised in Czech, or salty variant with salt and pickles, or bacon – in which case you can also dry/lard fry the potato mash.
It’s rather versatile and very cheap when it comes to materials needed for cooking – just butter, potatoes, flour, water and something to add as finishing as mentioned above, and it’s a traditional Czech meal, which I believe was also widely sported during both WWs in my country – or so said both of my grandmothers.
I believe my Kuwaiti (read: harees, yareesh, maraaq and machboos raised husband) will once again wonder what’s so wrong with his wife, that she cooks something which looks so stomach unfriendly and weird – but hey, not as if harees looks delicious on the first glance!

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39

…days to go – supposedly, at least that’s what my Lilypie sticker says that it’s left to the 40 week mark. I’ve been dipping into nesting reflex recently which resulted in me sending my husband out on an errand to hunt some crochet hook and yarn, so I can practice a bit before my real crocheting order comes around – which, so far, doesn’t seem to. I blame Easter, busy postal services and so on. The taste to crochet is blamed on nesting reflex.
I’ve managed to hook up my first creation which, amusingly, turned out in a shape of a newborn hat. Wonder why, don’t you?

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Počítání (na žebra)

Já vím, já vím. Počítat týdny do porodu je to samé jako sedět na nudné přednášce někde v aule gymnázia a pohledem sledovat tikání nástěnných hodin; možná i ve snaze vteřinovku trošku, malilinko posunout a uspíšit, než člověk nudou lekne nebo začne velmi neelegantně a nahlas pochrupovat.
Nic nenadělám, počítám, hlavně když se malý všelijak točí, kroutí a na břiše mi dělá mimozemsky vypadající vybouleniny. Vybouleniny bolí, neb je dělá ostrými údy. A já jsem, koneckonců, ve stavu konstantní paranoie, že se něco stane, že se něco podělá, stejně jako v předchozích pokusech, a vůbec, už by mohl být květen, stihomam by mohl poodejít a posečkat na dalšího člověka jako já. A manžel by si oddychl, že skutečně neobsahuji ani predátora, ani aliena, a možná se mému pupku projednou zas přestal obloukem vyhýbat (s velmi vyšinutým výrazem v tváři, přinejmenším.)
Na druhou stranu, není nad to si užít těch pár posledních týdnů jakéhos takéhos spánku a klidu, než mi hlava pukne z breku a špinavých plín – v případě, že se sem dostanou, pokud celníci přestanou konečně stávkovat. Kdo vlastně stávkuje v Kuvajtu, heh? Stát má jako jediný, co znám, státní neschodek, alébrž výdělek či jak se tomu říká, když se peníze v zemi vydělávají; nejsou tu daně, a platy jsou, inu, dá se říct i slušné. Pro rodilé Kuvajťany samosebou, pro expatrioty pravděpodobně dost na to, aby sem za prací jezdili v prvé řadě. Čímž samosebou netvrdím, že je to tu samé sedmikrásky.

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The Hell of a Choice

Yes!
I got major baby brains. Be it due to the due date approaching, very slowly, but surely; be to due to the fact I chose to go the alternative way once again and than found out it is far more complicated than just slapping a Pampers on the bum, I don’t know; or maybe just to keep myself somehow busy, I dug into the deep waters of cloth diapering, feeling a little odd watching a whole channel dedicated to that on Youtube, and feeling a little bit odder browsing all these forums and articles recommending here and there, this and that.
Needless to say, I’m still aimlessly swimming, though with a little bit better idea as of which way should I direct my tries.
Nevertheless, and no matter on which crazy diaper island I will end up, it will be a damn pocket slap.
Buying a whole new cloth kit to start with – especially if you don’t really know what is the best for you, can be pretty expensive and freaky. I’m counting with a great hole in my pocket money as well as my husbands money, but what wouldn’t we do for the little ones, right..?
I’ve been on three months long blogging break, for some reasons, mainly the fact there’s really nothing much to blog about. Weather is still the same (nearly cold for Kuwait standards), however we’re already third day switching on the AC, which is a big bummer, for me at least; life is still flowing slowly, and nothing much changes around, really. Boring, but settled. Now with AC.


I’m obviously eating healthy. Bananas are healthy, right?


Roger grew up a bit…


While the tomcats didn’t as much…

Being pregnant during summer in Czech sucks; and I can’t really imagine how it will feel in 40+ degrees in shade over here. I’ll probably hang myself very close to the AC outlet. In bikinis. Some really spore ones.
I’m 30 weeks as for today and slowly starting to have nesting reflex. Which is a bit awkward with a housekeeper in. So I at least take care of the growing (and increasingly rude) rabbit, and dig through internet for info I don’t really need and most likely won’t ever use. But it doesn’t matter, because I need to keep myself somehow busy.
My weight gain is scary and even the doc said I should take the doughnuts easy, which I forcefully and under the eagle eye supervision of my husband did (while I started to actually bake cakes, so perfectly negating any no-doughnuts-at-home policies with even sweeter sugar bombs). Recently, I was forced to give up on Coke as well, and most fizzies. Shame. I am however still a major red-eat-consumer, as opposed to the time in before pregnancy when I rarely actually even came across meat, or even thought about it. The baby makes me. How else. (Same applies for doughnuts!)
We’ve visited Dar Al-Shifa hopital, where I am supposed to give birth, and caused a bit (a lot) of hassle about my weird and underground techniques and wishes, such as daringly having the baby with me on room 24/7 except doc check ups, vaccination and circumcision; or even weirder “I want to breastfeed fully,” and the fact I really don’t like the idea of testing the proper latching and sucking reflex on a bottle ( O_o ). Good they’ve got no idea about my cloth affinity, than. Or that I intend to carry my child in a baby scarf. Phew!
Sometimes I assume the atmosphere will be better here (compared to over-medicalized and over-technicized West) due to the society and emphasizing the family and life within, and get rather surprised how far I’ve overshot with such a thought.

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Christmas ’11 in Kuwait

Nothing special, weather’s acting weird and is actually forcing upon us warmer air than few weeks ago. Not nice, if you ask me, as I really miss any kind of real winter.
But, oh well.


We went to amusement park(s) and Dori had great time riding many attractions, with Merry-Go-Rounds among the favourites and evergreens. We’ve also passed by three pet shops with animals in more than a sorry state, which is real torture for the hormones of pregnant woman and almost made me buy them all out; unfortunately this is not possible so we’ve ended up with a fish looking like a Kuwaiti woman prepared for wedding party (read: lots of make up) and a baby rabbit of uncertain breed which was stuffed in a dress for dolls – which I ripped off the moment we arrived home and the rabbit settled down a little. It was closed in a body size cage in the shop, without water or food, put at the window to be admired (and to suffer).


He’s fine now, I’m just dreading the possible size he can grow up to; and the fact everywhere’s written they should be neutered for their and owner’s well being.
Soon, soon… when I figure out how damn old he or she is.

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Bulgarian Heaters

Indeed, and they seem to be favoured over the Chinese ones here. No blame, I have goose bombs whenever I read or hear Made in China unless it counts for more than few thousand years old; but Kuwaiti people seem to have this other obsession and that is “What is from Europe, is always best / most chic / most in / reliably working!”. Now, I can’t say it’s not, and in many cases it will still probably be better option over anything made in China in the recent years.
But when we were roaming the souks for an oil heater I was surprised by the “Bulgarian, Bulgarian, buy, buy!” attitude of some shop assistants, to be honest. When I was faced with the choice of Chinese heater vs. Bulgarian one, I was really surprised as both options seemed rather crazy to me – not to the others, though!
Well, we’ve got ourselves a small, portable (Bulgarian) heater now, which is used most of the day but mainly in our bedroom. So spoiled, we are now. The room temperature hits 20 degrees and we go all bonkers with pullovers, fluffy socks, hot teas and a heater turned on the higher level.



Over the day when hubby’s at work and kiddo at school I steal the small warmth provider for my room and tug in a blanket with green tea (or milk with coffee, formerly known as coffee with milk, but due to the small inhabitant prohibited as alcohol in Kuwait now, by my husband mainly) and a book. I’m getting much better with my speed of reading in English though, sadly.
Meaning I can read one book in a day – meaning I need a lot of books to keep myself busy and that’s a lot of trips to Virgin store and a lot of KDs spent on printed paper and all that hassle my beloved half hates so much. On the other hand I’m glad my English isn’t so rusty just yet, under the influence of arabized English of Kuwait and me being all but a good student.

Random evenings are now filled with either the classical heater-book-iPod-PC-TV laziness, or hussainiyah visits for religious lessons on the event of Ashura and eventually the whole month of Muharram. Dori loves it, not for the mourning, but for the fact that to keep her silent and busy she can borrow my old – and long time broken – Tamagotchi. Soon to be hers, as soon as my new toy comes!
Yes, I’m quite playful, sometimes. But the EMS from Japan is not cooperating with me, and with the sorry state of Kuwait postal service I’ll be glad to get it this year and uncut, ungutted and working, even. Hope never dies! Oh wait, was that love?
Nevermind, let’s hope my present to myself will arrive in tact and soon! Off to hussainiyah now.

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