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Spring Forward

We have been given an extra hour of light with the already growing day. Most people feel that they have lost an hour when the clock changes for Spring– on the contrary people, we have gained another hour of day! I know that because dusk prayer is now at 7 pm instead of 6 pm, and Dawn prayer has been pushed down to 5:30 am instead of 4:30 am. An extra hour of sleep! By mid summer the day will stretch to have us wake up by 3 am for Dawn prayer and the night prayer we’ll be around 11 pm. If there’s anyone reminded by the seasons it’s people who pray five times a day in accordance to the progression of the sun. So yeah for now I’m enjoying the extra hour of daytime and the extra hour of sleep as opposed to the complaints of many. (I do go back to sleep right after dawn prayer, nothing can interrupt my precious sleep!)

With the extra hour of sun, we have also been blessed with complimentary weather this week. Seventy degrees today and tomorrow it should go up to the late seventies. Also I know I talk about weather a lot on this space, but seriously, this is very strange weather for March in Wisconsin. We usually continue to get snow by now, sometimes we see snow as late as April.So please forgive my excitement.

I can’t seem to bring myself to stay indoors much these days. Although I did stay long enough to bake breakfast scones. So I guess something still got done in this kitchen of ours. I was also supposed to try a second batch of Kombucha tea, after the failure of my first batch– I blame our house– you see, we are currently renting the second house built in our neighborhood, it’s one hundred and thirty years old. So naturally our floors are uneven. There is not one single item in our furniture that doesn’t slightly shake. It doesn’t bother me at all, in fact, I never even noticed it until I set up to make my own brew of Kombucha tea. In the instructions of making a successful mushroom, one needs to find a warm, still surface and place the kombucha tea there undisturbed until the mushroom forms. Trust me when I tell you I have searched our place high and low for a stable surface. This has proven to be more than challenging. After two months of failed trials. I have finally given up on anything ever growing in this house of ours. So I will wait until we acquire our Spring chickens to have another living thing growing within the premises of our home (along with my lone house plant). The store bought stuff should do for now.


I started watching a documentary about Charles and Ray Eames last night (It’s currently streaming on Netflix). I did not know anything about Eames furniture until I came to the U.S. In Egypt most of the furniture I grew up around was french inspired. When I was old enough to think about my own style I leaned towards the simple Arabian style furniture– floor seating, geometric designed rugs, Islamic stained glass lanterns– and warm colored Indian style fabrics. The first time I saw an Eames chair was at my father-in-law’s. Most of his furniture was inspired by modern, simple styles. I am not going to even mention his raw looking loft– I was fascinated.

I did not fall in love with mid-century style furniture immediately, it somehow gradually grew on me until It eventually found a cozy spot into my heart and settled nicely. If you visit a room in my brain, you would be welcomed on one of those icon Eames upholstered reclining chairs, and as you stretch your arms behind your neck and tilt your head upward your eyes will squint at a french-copper-chandelier that used to hang on the ceiling of my family’s summer home in Alexandria. The red mirrored Indian style tapestry would cover the back wall behind your head.

The history of a chair or a piece of furniture tells a lot about the people from that time. The choice we make about what we put into our homes is a window into who we are or who we would like to present ourselves to be, just likes clothes. My mother’s french chandelier, my husband’s American style smart design furniture, along with my warm pieces of fabric are all stories of where I’ve come from to whom I’ve come to be. A mishmash…

Yet, aren’t we all?



About Muslim Hippie

Hello and welcome, you have landed yourself on this virtual space designed by your humble servant to try and escape life's unpleasantness through: selective memory musings, snippets of the world that surrounds me, and occasional insights when the light blub in this strange brain of mine flickers. No real names are displayed I'm afraid, why bother?

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