Farewell 2009

I can't believe another year is almost coming to an end. I can't believe I say this every year and each year this sentiment could not be truer. Most amazing is to realize we are approaching a new decade. People sometimes scoff at year end reflections, but I think its beautiful to stop and reflect on the changing of the seasons and the passage of time. If we don't have natural markers such as birthdays, new years, we may never pause and reflect what we have done with our time, and what we can do going forward. This decade has been an amazing one. I got edumacated a lot, got hitched, changed careers three times, lived in three different states, and went through some of the most difficult moments of my life and some of the richest experiences as well.

When the decade began I kept wondering where I'm going and felt anxiety as the horizon looked ambiguous. Now, I realize the future is always ambiguous but that's not the point, the point is not where you are going but the sheer fact that you're blessed enough to go.

Growth and pain are often companions. In this decade and this past year I've had to confront parts of myself I never fully considered, and was forced to reflect on things I never would had life not tested me as it did. Still, as I stand on the precipice of a new year and a new decade, I am finally at peace with the pain because from it I have undeniably grown. You never want to have to sprint uphill to the top of Mount Kenya, but once you've done it there is a profound sense of satisfaction that you were capable of doing so.

Here's to 2010. I pray I will implement the lessons I learned in this decade and particularly this year. I pray to remember the scarcity of time, the importance of holding those we love close to our hearts, and to appreciate the good in our lives and do what we can to learn and gain strength from the challenges placed in our way. And I pray the same for you.

Cleaning Pots and God

Several weeks ago I made a chickpea dish in a small metal pot on the stove and burnt the bottom of the pot into a dark grimy gritty black coating every square inch. I tried all sorts of cleaning products. I scrubbed until beads of sweat appeared on my forehead but the thick coat would not budge. I soaked it for three days in soapy water to try again, but nothing. Should I throw it away? I thought. It served me well for seven years, maybe today it just could do no more. I poured in some water and left it there. Each day as I cleaned dishes or scrubbed a pot I saw it sitting there. I changed the water but refused to touch it, each time tempted to chuck it in the trash. Then today, two weeks later, as I cleaned the pressure cooker from last night's dinner I emptied the water from the small pot and decided to try to clean it once more, one last time. This time this hard gritty exterior yielded like flour in my hands. Within minutes I stared at my shiny metal pot. And to think I almost gave up.

When I stood on the Lanai overlook in Hawaii and saw the waves crashing against the spires of ancient volcanic ashes I felt God's presence so close to me I felt enveloped in His embrace. Today as I consider this metal pot, how gritty it looked, how impossible it seemed to salvage, now shiny and new in my hands, I felt that same powerful presence because even in this tiny little pot, in this nondescript house amongst thousands of others, His signs abound.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. -Albert Einstein

Thoughts on rewriting

I don't know if I've ever seen a more beautiful e-mail subject line as "Offer of Representation" An agent, a bonafide agent at a bonafide agency read what I wrote and loved it. Though my friends and family smiled and encouraged me, I also knew they loved me so they couldn't exactly fling the document in my face and scream the horror! the horror! But an agent could, and so many did, albeit not in so many words, they were more polite like, Thank you for your interest. We are not interested. So naturally when the offer came, and the contract arrived in the mail and I signed with my favorite black pen, I felt relieved and wanted to take a nice long nap. I was done. Except a few hours later my agent e-mailed me with an attachment of my manuscript with so many suggestions I felt bewildered, you did like this didn't you?

I felt my heart get sucker punched as I saw cherished sentences I spent hours revising slashed, charachters whose perspectives I spent days imagining, red inked as unnecessary. I read somewhere that when you get agent/editor feedback you must read it like you would swallow a bitter pill, quickly with scrunched shoulders. Then, put it away for a while and go back to it.

So I did. And the next day I grudgingly realized that yes, that sentence could be done away with, we don't need to know what this character is thinking as it doesn't move the story forward. In this way I slowly began rewriting, and now that I've finished, I look at the finished product and I am amazed at how much better this manuscript is.

I remember asking Ms. Bruno in 10th grade English after reading a beautiful haunting poem by Edgar Allen Poe, do you think he had to rewrite this at all? She looked at me like I asked her if babies grow on trees. Everyone, even the greats, perhaps especially the greats, rewrite. Any book you will ever read on writing will tell you to brace yourself for the first draft because it will stink and you will want to fling it into the first available source of burning lumber you can find. It is in the rewrites that a book gets beautiful and worthy of anyone's else's eyes but yours.

In some ways life is like that. When we first began communicating we babbled. When we first walked we staggered. Most of us study for the grades we get, practice the cuisines we have now perfected. Life is rife with first drafts, opportunities we refine and from which we grow.

I remind myself this as I sit down, ready to begin the first draft of another story. I see her in my head and I know what she is wearing. I see the lines of worry etched on her forehead. I will sit down tonight and write about her. I am prepared for a first draft that will smell like two day old tuna, but I know that as with all things in life, the beauty is in the refining, the polishing until it shines like gold.

The Bad Restaurant Dilemma

A few months ago while driving to the library I noticed an "Opening Soon" sign on a once empty restaurant space a few miles from our house. As the weeks went we perked up as we saw it was a Moroccan restaurant. We watched as curtains popped up, and outdoor seating spaces were carefully arranged and then finally, we saw the words we' been waiting for: Now Open.

Last night we met up with a small group of friends, eager to try it out. Walking in, we were pleased. The decorations were fantastic. Lovely maroon and gold rugs strewn throughout, tables with beaded sequins, and impressive paintings in lovely frames. Music played gently in the background and the lighting was exquisite. We ordered a variety of things, promising to share with another and eagerly awaited our food.

And waited.
And waited.
And waited.

We arrived at the restaurant around 7:30pm and ordered about fifteen minutes later. I turned to K and asked what time it was: 9:00pm. We waved over the waitress who informed us dinner would be at least another fifteen minutes.

One hour later, we got our food.

At this point I thought, whatever they gave me short of a live baby duck would be devoured with great satisfaction but I was wrong. The kebobs were cold undercooked, and bland. The moroccan style potatoes seemed mysteriously like McDonald's frenchfries (and there is a McDs right next door). No one liked their food. And the food, it wasn't cheap.

For the most part, I avoid bad restaurant experiences because I'm all about research. Chef Google leads to me to lovely review sites. I take reviews seriously, particularly when there are comments to explain the ratings, and usually lean towards higher rated establishments and avoid the ones that are consistently poorly rated. This has worked for me and in an effort to pay it forward, I also review on sites like yelp and tripadvisor. This restaurant had no reviews since its only a few weeks old.

Normally after such a bad foodie experience I'd immediately hit up my usual review sites and tell them what I've told you: The food, it did stink. However, I hesitate. Five years ago I went to a start-up restaurant that had high reviews on zabihah.com and the food was abysmal. I went home and reviewed it. As soon as I did so, a few others chimed in with similar reviews. The rating plummeted as the days passed. The restaurant owner chimed in, quite upset at the reviews and a month later, the restaurant shut down.

I'm not saying I caused the restaurant to shut down, but I'm saying I felt really guilty about it. They were a small start-up just trying to make a buck and perhaps my review dissuaded others from going. Though that's the whole point of reviews, to help each other out figuring out what to eat in a city of so much food, it still sucks they went out of business. After that, I stopped reviewing small start-ups unless I loved the food, and this has worked well until last night. You see, the food, it really did stink. And did I mention it wasn't cheap? I would have loved it if someone had given me a heads up about this and I could have spent my money on the Chick-fil-a across the street instead. But I feel bad. The owner had that desperate look in his eye, and you could tell he was wondering if he'd go under next month. I'd hate to write a bad review and then feel responsible for his dream tanking.

So the question is, if you ate at a bad restaurant, and you knew you would be one of the first people to review the restaurant online, likely dissuading others from eating there, would you go ahead and review it knowing there's a risk you might single-handedly be responsible for someone's lifetime dream of owning a restauring going down the toilet?

Three Beautiful Things Thursday

Pomegranates. It's pomegranate season and I've never taken advantage of it before. When Ramadan was in the winter season I loved sprinkling my fruit chaat with this fruit but I never considered just shelling out the dark red seeds and eating it by the bowlful. The thought intrigued me so I put in my list of 109 in 2009. I figure one must in their lifetime aspire to eat a bowl of pomegranate if one can. I can't believe I waited this long! I love the sweet crunchy flavor of eating the seeds by the spoonful and even shelling them out is a labor of love.

Salt Rock Lamp. Even before reading about the benefits of salt rock I knew this was no ordinary lamp. First the glow is soothing and surprisingly strong yet gentle, and just placing ones hands on its warmth and closing ones eyes. . . you feel like all your worries for the brief seconds your hands touch the warmth, have all evaporated. They are made in the Himalayas of Pakistan and if you check before you buy, most of the ones for sale are produced via Fair Trade.


My bloggy friends. Y'all. I feel overwhelmed by your kind comments and your genuine joy over my news about getting an agent. Reading your comments seriously put a smile on my face. It was so awesome to hear from some of you who have been reading from way back in the day. I didn't even know you guys stopped by. Thank you SO much for your warm comments, and for still coming by, it felt like a big bear hug from each and every one of you! Sometimes I've thought about stopping my blogging since I'm so infrequent these days but moments like that just make me want to keep going. Thank so much!