You may have noticed the disappearance of the previous post– I took it down along with the other post that brought the unwanted guest. I figured avoid negative search words and stay safe, this is supposed to be my happy place after all.
The sun always shines on a Friday, I used to tell my brother growing up. I was convinced that you can not have bad weather on a Friday until I arrived to America’s Midwest. Suddenly my theory flew away with the gusty northern winds. It rained on a Friday. Winds blew and leaves rustled on an overcast Friday morning. Snow, hail and even tornado sirens wailed on a Friday. The sun shone this morning– a Friday– and I was thirteen again in our Masr El Gedida’s sixth floor apartment. On the balcony listening to Quran recitations blasted through our neighborhood mosque in preparation of the Friday sermon, my brother was next to me and he thought about my comment and agreed. “You are right. As far as I remember the sun always shone on a Friday”.
He was eleven.
In other news, my youngest got a hair cut. She loves it. Apparently her baby sister whose sometimes six, sometimes seven and sometimes nine years old got one too. Then how old are you Grabby if your baby sister is nine? “Fwee” (three). Does your baby sister like her new hair cut? “YES!” (Yes, Grabby has an imaginary baby sister that she speaks of from time to time. Mei had an imaginary fox friend around that same age too. Imaginary friends and sisters are all welcome at our neck of the woods *smile*)
It took me a good twenty minutes if not more to complete the purchase of this piece of cloth. I found it at an international festival’s bazaar and the seller was slightly confused about finishing off the transaction. I waited gladly. No regrets from this buyer.
These two made it to my little wall nook between the windows in front of my desk. The house is drawn colored and cut by Mei and the post card was from a Picasso exhibit at the U.A.E
Happy Friday (we still have an hour left).