Tag: sand

I Can’t Believe it’s Winter Time

So here we are, in the first Advent week, outside are mere 15 degrees, still sunny and the occasional rain was probably just the last week’s news. As for now, it actually can still get pretty hot over the day.
I’ve finally (!) managed to fix my SD card reader, who would think that after a year of not working I would have this brilliant idea (which, as I found out later on on Google, is pretty non-brilliant and kind of *duuuh*), and I uninstalled all generic USB drivers on my PC and let it re-install with a restart. Bam, I’ve got myself a working SD card reader. I just wish I would figure that out a year ago, so I wouldn’t be doing this clunky card-to-notebook-to-hardrive-to-PC thing… Oh well, at least I know it now, let’s stay positive! And some pictures to prove it.



I’m getting pretty fat by now which I’d say should be positive, as far as it’s not only the fluff supplies growing but also everything under them, in the order as it should and it is required. My next doc appt. is in two weeks and I am already getting paranoid if everything’s ok.
But, inshallah, it is.



I am soo hormonal nowadays. Hubby recently bought a roll from Cinnabon as a good-husband-gesture and I almost cried. Not over the gesture, but because cinnamon rolls make my stomach go awry already for few weeks, so I was torn apart between eating it and running to the bathroom and not eating it and making my husband disappointed and sad – which is what brought me to tears. The imagination of a sad husband and his good will gesture going to waste. So I pinched a little on it and than stopped with an excuse on a really full stomach. It was true after all and no lie, as the sweets arrived right after a pretty big lunch. *Phew*. Actually, writing about it makes me wanna cry too.
I’m also all tears over being far from snow, winter, miserable weather, and all these Christmas lights and awful design ideas of trees and decorations, and the smell of gingerbread and long nights and the smell of Christmas days I remember from home – a pine, an orange, some gingerbread and lots of colourful lights instead of a night lamp. Good for eyes while reading!
I was thinking about making some carton decoration for our desert home here, so my kid has fun when doing it and it’s better than TV, and our housekeeper is a Christian – so to make her a little happy and feel more friendly in this land of sand a mosques.
Will see, it’s still a lot of time after all. I am, however, definitely going to try to bake some of the traditional Czech stuff.
Oh oh and not to forget with my baby brain – my dear husband gave me a birthday present in advance again and paid for my site hosting as well as Flickr Pro account, so I can continue writing about nonsense and upload pictures nobody wants to see. Yay me! Thank you, Abu.

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Raport

Days have been passing by one by one, no winter still, not even autumn eventually here in Kuwait. A little drop in outside temperature, all right, but what is 5 or so degrees, when it’s still over 30 most of the time.
It also starts to get sandy a bit, since the weather’s slowly changing and pressures come and go, so wind picks up all this dry dust and spreads it around.
Funnily enough, same as in Europe, ’tis seems to be the season for influenza’s and colds and running noses, although the outside still screams “Boiling hot, hot, hot!”. After my husband and daughter falling for one of these pesky viruses, I’ve tried to keep myself vitaminized and living on vegetables and fruits and proteins and not breathing the same air as they do, but in the end I’ve got infected as well. Three times boooo for the virus.
Unlike them, however, I am not allowed to take any remedies besides the typical honeylemontea, citruses and rest, so I am cranky and crabby and miserable these days, which everybody can feel and tries to steer clear of me. Good, more rest for me.
I’ve passed some doc’s tests which were important for me and hubby, but waiting for results of some even more important ones, while injecting myself (ok, to be precisely honest, the imagination of me jabbing myself in the thigh makes me wanna feign, so my hubby is injecting me, I can only guess he’s taking it as some kind of revenge for me nagging) on a daily basis with low molecular weight heparin. Yay me. What you wouldn’t do for your future, right?
Except the past weeks being quite typical for a person in the same state of mind and body as I am, we’re fine. (And cranky, remember.) Dori enjoys her school and cries every weekend why are we punishing her by not letting her to go to class (it’s weekend, hun) and Abubu having to take on a side job because of unexpected circumstances sucking us financially dry, we’re just all right, I’d say. I cook a little bit more (which makes me think I have directly taken part in ruining the family budget by forcing my husband to buy these fancy things such as dill, spinach, broccoli, tilapia fish and whatnot, who eats that, right?!), I hate the weather outside to the bits of my mind and wish a snow storm would come and change this flat yellow surface in something more fun, I get motion sick from anything, starting with being driven in a car and ending with playing any 3D games, we get worried about the state of teeth of our kitty, we shop, we visit my husband’s family, generally spoken, we live as any other family, worry as any other family, joy as any other family.
Mundane, boring perhaps, but ours.
Now, let’s get to cook that weird tilapia fish I fished in Rumaithiya market freezer.

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(Not so) White Christmas

As the traditional Czech celebration time is rather near (or better yet already here, as the Advent – 4 Sundays before the Christmas Eve – already started), I’ve begun to remember the atmosphere I liked; the baking during evenings when outside is blanketed by heavy layer of snow, the walks during the freezing days tugged in warm clothes, the hot chocolate milk after we arrived with our noses red and about to fall off (or melt), the traditional denying of my family that there’s something like a fish or carp and stubbornly having a chicken feast; and so on.
The smells of the tree at home mixed with the peeled off clementine or orange and a gingerbread. The going crazy after a cat breaks that extremely fragile glass decoration hanging deliciously swinging from the fir branches.
While being in Briatin wasn’t quite the real thing for me, it still had some hints of our Highlands winter, cold air and decorations and the spirit; being in Kuwait is something diametrically different. No snow, no winter, unless I count the recent drop by 30 degrees down compared to summer, but still clear sky, salty sea breeze and around 20 degrees of Celsia in the shadow. The real picnic time of Kuwait, we might say, same thing which was happening in Newcastle during the very rare sunny summer days.
So I’m safe to say this year won’t be white for Christmas. Actually, the last two days it’s mostly yellow; a sandstorm came and for my luck this time our neighbourhood got hit straight and we were not really burried in velvety veil of white-yellow-brown dust for several days, with today fading but still ubiquitous crunchy taste of tiny rocks in your mouth, but very close to that.
Two of our bathrooms have broken fan lids so the fans keep on going day and night, which is fine during the normal days (understand, with bearable amount of sand dust in the air), but a misfortune for me as a housekeeper during such a sand disaster outside.
It really took only few hours of the night to bury the whole flat in a silky layer of golden sand. It was and still is everywhere you can imagine; on the sofas, carpets, floors, shelves, cats, freshly washed clothes, newly washed dishes, washing mashine, stove, your coffee and even your underwear. Hard to get rid of and leaving me with a lot of work in the following days trying to smudge it away with a mop and dust it away with a vacuum cleaner. Swipe, clean, desinfect. And hope it won’t come back for some time.


One lovely morning.

One of many sinks… I clean everyday, this came overnight.

Food? Oh no, just more sand.

Note to self: Do not leave dishes from the night till the morning. They’ll need a wash again.

Mirror, mirror, who brought all the sand? Mother-in-law says Lebanon.

Bored, all the windows are closed and all the birds are hidden.

Because yes, white Christmas are romantic, although limb-breaking; but you can stay at home with your warm mug of cocoa and laugh. Yellow Christmas suck, because they reside in your home and transform you fir tree and presents in a bunch of dunes.
PS.: The exquisite white signs of our cat Daniel changed to match the rest of his orange coat. He looks, however, very displeased.

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