Who's Who at Anouchka Talks

Because I don't refer to anyone (well, most anyone) by their real names on this site, here is a list of who's who at Anouchka Talks:

Anouchka - Yours truly, the author of this blog (me, you idiot)
**I reference myself as Ummi to my kids. (Ummi = Mommy in Arabic.)

Habibi - My husband, the single most hunky beefcake on the planet
(Habibi = my honey/sweetie/darling in Arabic.)

Hulk/Chicky/Jammy - Our daughter
(Hulk was what we called her during pregnancy; Chicky is her post-delivery nickname; Jammy is what she called herself as a toddler.)

Bathrobe/Ribbers - Our son
(Bathrobe was the name Jammy gave him when he was still hypothetical; Ribbers is what she called him months later.)

B - My sister

Betty - Our first (albeit younger) kitty; often referred to as "Boxy/Boxhead" because of her affinity for (you guessed it) boxes

Alice - Our second (albeit older) kitty; often referred to as "Nana" because of her tendency to remain close to the kids as a sort of deranged guardian

Mama T-Bone, MoMo - Two people I'm paying to pose as my friends

I think those are most of the repeat characters. If I come up with others, I'll add them to the list.

Comments

Let's be frank...

Habibi and I are not at all fanciful. In fact, every time I try to do something cute (and/or Pinterest-y), I end up frustrated and with egg on my face. So, we've just decided to embrace our straightforward, blunt way of doing things. To give you an idea of how we roll, let me tell you a little bit about our life journey together... On our second date, I told Habibi that I really wasn't interested in ever getting married. Sure I like liked him ("like liking" would soon change to love), but it just wasn't something I planned for my future. Seven months later when he proposed (see how that went for me?), I simply said yes. There was no video, no fireworks, no wild story, no pictures. He told me to close my eyes (I insisted on sitting on the floor if I had to close my eyes because I was afraid he'd push me on the ground) and when I opened them, there he was, on one knee, holding a ring. Afterwards, we kissed and he told me I had co...

I Am So A Hipster: The Hipster's Way of Letting You Know That He/She Is Not, In Fact, A Hipster

I just got home from having a great coffee date with a great friend. For those of you who know me personally, you will recall that I am somewhat awkward socially. A few weeks back, my friend and I decided we wanted to meet for coffee at a local chocolaterie . (We both lived/studied in France and anything with a European flair makes us nostalgic.) Now, this may be news to her if she is reading this post, but my first awkward moment was when she walked in the door. Do I get up and give her a hug since I haven't seen her in nearly two years? (A normally functioning person would have done so.) Do I give her a high five? ( Not what higher thinkers typically do.) What???? (Yes, these are the things that plague my brilliant mind.) Fortunately, she was graceful enough to have seemingly overlooked my stiff greeting and we were able to begin reminiscing. After a wonderful and uplifting chat about France, running, gossipin...

The Joys of Fall and Eating Dinner

When I was just a little tike, I learned a song about Halloween. The lyrics went something like this: Jack-O-Lantern, Jack-O-Lantern, You are such a pretty sight, As you sit there in the window, Looking out on the night! You were once a yellow pumpkin, Growing on a sturdy vine. Now you are a Jack-O-Lantern, See the candlelight shine! I know it isn't exactly Hemingway (thank goodness), but poor Habibi found me singing it to myself in the bathroom this morning as I was getting ready for the day. (Oh, shut up.) For your enjoyment (obviously) I've included the inspiration for my morning concert below: WE GOT TO CARVE OUR PUMPKIN LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! I love Halloween. Every year around this time I start to get the jitters as though something terribly exciting and adventurous is about to happen. I love the crunch of fall leaves, crispy mornings, eerie evenings and smoky nights. Spooky stories, haunted houses, the s...

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