Listening

Why is listening to what you are saying such a rare skill?

It seems to me that there is an inordinate number of quite intelligent people out there who simply don't take the time to listen to what is coming out of their mouths. I'm not going to claim perfection, or God forbid that I have never said something stupid. But I believe that I make a conscious effort to evaluate what I say and an attempt to screen it for blatantly offensive or idiotic comments. I simply don't see the point in offending someone and not even taking the time to notice when you do it.

Now some may stop me there and say, 'what is you truly don't know when you're offending someone?' Well, that's a different matter entirely. To simply lack the understanding is not the problem, it is the lack of an attempt to evaluate and find out.

But there is another level that I am talking about here. That is the person who speaks so blatantly offensively that all listeners are stunned by said person's inability to hear their own idiocy. This is not cultural misunderstanding or language deficits. It is kindly calling someone stupid for picking a different major in school or mentioning to an Italian friend that you are pretty sure that Italians are they laziest people. It is the act of insulting someone or something and not caring to notice. Is is wrong. And so easy to fix.

Please, just listen to what you are saying.

Speaking of which...

If I could do anything right now, I would take a trip to the Busy Bee. Delicious.

Dreamin'

Making chili in Qatar, with its long periods of inactivity unaided by the football game that isn't on TV, turns out to be a great time to sit and daydream. Its interesting where your mind wanders when you're reasonably happy but lonely and bored.

In this case, I found myself thinking about what I would have if I ever made a good deal of money. Of course, my first priorities would be to provide a beautiful life for my wife and children, but that's not usually the kind of thing that one daydreams about. No, I was a bit more selfish today. Rather, I imagined what I would really want for myself.

A library. No, not a public library with little kids reading stories with a lion, although I do hope to wed the librarian. What I dream of having is a personal library. With dark wood bookcases along each wall, full of all sorts of fascinating books. They would be specifically designed to wrap around the window that's heavy velvet shade rarely closes. Most of the cases would be teeming with books I intend to read, but some would also contain relics of my travels and one very special shelf would contain first editions.

Centered on the gorgeous persian rug covering the entire hardwood floor would be a large rectangular table, scattered with books and writings. A green-shaded lamp would brighten the crisp pages after the sun sets and throw shadows across the desk built into the far wall.

The library would be a place of peace, reflection, knowledge, and softly playing classical music. A warm pair of slippers would wait by the side of the door and accompany me to the high-backed armchair angling beside the window.

This is my favorite selfish daydream, what's yours?

Sigh

What will come next?

Homesick aka When Will the Leaves Change?

Well, every year around this time I start to get tired of the heat and the summer. I begin to long for the autumn. This is usually accompanied by a rash of buying apple cider, cooking with pumpkin, and frantically searching the supermarket for the perfect apple. Meanwhile I suffer through the disappointment of each footstep outside not providing that delicious crackle of dead leaves. But what I long for most is the crispness of a cool day, the wisps of breath condensing in air, and the smell of wood fires curling away from chimneys.



Normally, these longings would be ameliorated by a combination of convincing myself to enjoy the remaining warm weather while it lasts and the impending autumn itself. This year, I have neither of those comforts. Instead, I have continued heat, humidity, and hideous produce at the supermarket. (Yeah, hideous produce, went to the store today and the quality of the lettuce and broccoli available was nauseating.) This year will likely be almost completely lacking in apple cider, pumpkin, wood fires, colorful leaves, caramel apples, and most importantly, cold weather.

I am sure that that will get to me soon enough, but for now the lack of hope is leading to an even more dreary situation, homesickness. Yeah, its true, for as much as I'm enjoying Qatar, its just too damn hot for my constitution. And turning the air conditioner way down is NOT the same.



I like snow, cold weather, curling up in front of a fire, scarves, boots, layers of clothing, shoveling the driveway, snow angels, rosy cheeks, icicles, orange, red, and yellow leaves, the works. I love my job here, don't get me wrong, and I love the people. But I'm beginning to feel that this just isn't going to be home for me.

There is more to this story though. Home has always been mutable for me, with my family moving as much as they did, it kinda had to be. I've found a way to make anywhere I am, home at that point. But this time, I have somewhere I'd really prefer to be. And that is near Sophie. They say that home is where the heart is. In this case, my heart is in Maine, with Sophie and my family.



The two are tied though. One of the first presents that Sophie ever gave me was a beautiful warm scarf. Some of my favorite memories from childhood are playing in the leaves and snow with my family. The most delicious fall foods are found in abundance in Maine and cooked to perfection by my family and my Sophie.

I am here now, and I do not regret that. I am making the most of it, and will continue to do so. But it is becoming increasingly clear to me as time progresses where I would like to be next. Until then, I guess I will have to find ways to make my favorite dishes with substitute ingredients. I also plan on enjoying every minute that I have in this adventure and spending plenty of times with the incredible friends that I am making.

In the end, I will find my home.

Bunny Bread!

Is this not the coolest loaf of bread ever?!

Trip to Jordan

First of all, thanks to the couple of you who encouraged me to keep blogging. You're right, it is a decent way to keep thinking and communicating.

I just got back from an incredible weekend in Jordan. On Friday, I was able to cross off one of the top places on my list of where I'd like to go in my life, Petra. Petra is absolutely incredible, and certainly deserves its place as one of the new 7 wonders of the world. The city is gorgeous, the architecture unbelievable, and the lack of a written history of its construction, life, and demise give it that air of wonder and mystery that makes any place appealing. We (the two other chaperones and nine students) walked through most of the ancient city before riding insane donkeys back out. Yes, the donkeys were insane, and galloping on a donkey along the edge of a chasm is not exactly fun. But, then again, how many people can claim to have had that experience? Overall, Petra was postively incredible, and I look forward to returning someday to see the sites that the group wasn't up for hiking to.

The main reason for the trip, however, was to help Habitat for Humanity build a house for a local family. As it turned out, we were actually building an addition onto an existing house so that the family's son would have enough room for himself and his bride-to-be (she was going to marry him as soon as he had room for her). The work itself was exhausting, but certainly gratifying. Our project was to build the roof for the addition. Normally, in the states, this would mean a wooden frame, crossbeams, shingles, and insulation. Not here, that would be too easy. Arabs like having cement roofs, so we had to first build a wooden frame, set up metal supports every few feet to bear the weight of construction, then build a ramp up to the roof to help with carrying hundreds of cement blocks, then we had to build steel girders to reinforce the poured concrete and carry those to the roof...in other words, we worked our asses off and I am very sore (though to be fair, my ass is still fully here, a testament to how much I need to continue exercising). We didn't get to actually pour the concrete, but everything else was done, and it was nice to have made visible progress.

One great part of the construction process was working alongside the students and some Jordanian contruction workers. Working with the students gave me the opportunity to learn more about them, their motivations, their lives, etc. And getting to work with the Jordanians was a window into a less affluent Arab world. They were all good people and hard workers, and I was able to establish friendships through my own hard work. We also received lunch every day from the family, which was always delicious and eagerly anticipated.

Finally, we had the evenings free to explore Amman, and load up on souvenirs. I had a great time visiting the ancient Roman amphitheater and haggling with merchants. It truly was a memorable weekend, and not just because my entire body aches.

If you would like to see some photos of the trip (mostly Petra) check out this link: http://picasaweb.google.com/gregory.smith44/JordanTrip

Others there took many more pictures of the construction and the group, so as soon as I get those, I will add a link to them.