Anouchka Talks

Sometimes I like to watch the news.  In a realm of toddler things and kindergarten life, it somehow has provided me with a connection to the world outside.  Despite the tragedies that occur on a daily basis in our country and around the world, there is something about the news that pulls me in.  Most of the stories are either mind-numbingly boring or positively frightful, but at least they are someone else's, and there is intrigue in that. On the other hand, as I mentioned, many of the stories reported on the news are downright tragic:  shootings here, destruction there, devastation in that hemisphere, loss in this one...  I have -at times- had to turn the news off because either the story is not appropriate for the ears of my young coloring partners or because the story is just too damn sad for me to cope with at that given moment.  It is times like these when I fear for the future, when I wonder why, among all of His beautiful creation, did God choos...

Recently, someone very dear to me made some racist remarks. Because of my affection for this person and the value that I place in our relationship, these comments were particularly stinging. This is certainly not the first time this person has said such things, knowing full well that I am of mixed heritage, but most of the time, I choose to ignore these words in an effort to maintain the peace. Some arguments don’t deserve my attention. I know that this is not the first time I have written about my frustrations with race and ethnicity here, but there are a few things that have continued to resurface in recent weeks that have got me feeling all the feelings again. I wish I could clearly articulate these feelings to you, but unless you have experienced bigotry or under-representation yourself, it’s hard to describe. When I was in my mid-twenties, the US Census came around and was getting some mild coverage in the news. On a particular NPR show that I was listening to at the tim...

Happy fall, y'all!  It is my absolute favorite season and I'm so pumped about my favorite month and sweaters and decreased humidity (where I live) and crock pots and candy corn and colorful leaves and hot beverages and crisp mornings and all the things commonly associated with this beautiful time of year.  I friggin' love it.  Before I was pregnant, and especially when I was in my peak training condition (read: back when I weighed a whopping 99 pounds), I was cold all. the. time.  Once I got knocked up and packed on some extra weight (that apparently has no intention of leaving me any time soon), my thermostat changed.  Now, I can't handle the heat.  I schvitz above 65 degrees and drag my feet to go anywhere that requires pants.  I rarely wear a winter coat in weather that normally dictates one and I dread the advent of summer.  I dream of a white Christmas. And Mardi Gras.  And Fourth of July.  I not only prefer fall weather these days...

Well, we are approaching the end of yet another year, and here I am, writing only my second post of 2016.  I'd like to tell you that I will do better in 2017 (hell, I'd like to believe that myself !) but I probably won't.  Why, you ask?  (OK, just pretend that you asked.)  Because I became a mama... again!!! YES!   On October 16, 2016, we welcomed our son Bathrobe into the family!  While Bathrobe isn't his Christian name, that is the name that his big sister chose for him, long before he joined the peanut factory.  So, like the rest of us (Anouchka, Habibi, Chicky), he will have a "stage name".  Bathrobe it is! But how about a little Bathrobe backstory... As both of you know, Habibi and I have been planning to adopt for some time.  After about five months of "official" waiting (read: all paperwork/home studies completed), we received correspondence from our adoption agency that a young college couple in the neighboring state was ...

I am not tall.  I am not blonde.  I am not skinny.  Triple threat, or three strikes I'm out? Neither a Marilyn nor an Audrey, I -like most women- fall somewhere in the middle.  Despite the junk in my trunk, I do not have the balanced curves to turn Happy Birthday  into a seductive display.  One of my thighs is as big around as Ms. Hepburn's 19 inch waist.  I may be Middle Eastern, but far from exotic...petite, but nowhere near delicate... Lately, I have been working with one of my tutoring clients on improving her reading skills in French.  One excellent way to practice this is to read popular magazines; the articles are simple and short, there are relevant ads that help with language development, and, if you're lucky, there might be a fun quiz to take!  It's no surprise to any of us that the covers of such publications as Glamour, Marie Claire, or Cosmopolitan  (or their French editions) are plastered with images of women with perk...

Part 1 I eat a lot of plant-based foods:  fruits, veggies, almond milk, BREAD, etc.  Because I tend to lean more towards these things than the typical American might, people often ask me if I am a vegetarian.  To that, I have but one response:  Yes.  But I'm not very good at it. About four or five years ago, I read an excellent (but gruesome) publication about the mistreatment of animals in the meat-packing industry.  In a valiant attempt to engage in more responsible consumer practices, I threw out everything containing meat in my apartment:  all meat, chicken broth, tuna, hot dogs, you name it.  Even though the flyer I had just read warned against trying to go cold turkey (no pun intended) on eliminating meat from your diet, I was determined that I could never put something's dead corpse into my mouth again.  It was cute how hard I tried. Although my attempt at becoming an instant vegetarian lasted longer than I may have thought (prim...