Real life overtakes Flubberwinkle's cyber life

It's vacation time! Our regular programming here at flubberwinkle.blogspot.com will resume in two weeks.

Blog fridge memos:

Dear Blogger.com,
Please don't shut my account down if it's inactive for 15 days.

Dear blogosphere friends,
I will be taking photos so please come back. I'll even put some cookies out for you (I can do brownies too).

Dear Misters Bush and Olmert,
Please don't wage any new wars while I'm gone.

Dear lurking co-workers,
Don't you hate it that I'm leaving now, when tourist prices and services are at their best? Please don't be too jealous. Nah, go ahead... wallow in your post-vacation jealousy blues. (niah-niah-niah-niah-niah).

Dear Santa,
Will you bring me a laptop this Christmas so I will never have to be separated from my blog ever again? [in whispered voice] A thin one, so Husband doesn't know I have one with me on the beach...[/end whisper]

Be well, do good!
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One down, one to go.

Remember I went "woohoo" (and you, wonderful Internet, woohooed back) a couple of months ago when Daughter#1's university exam scores came out? Our family kept our excitement contained however, because university canidates had to sweat out the summer until the Ministry of Education came back with the formal, conclusive results on August 24. The wait's over and it's official. Kid's in; she managed to get in her school of choice at the University of Athens.

One down, one to go.

Daughter#2 will be starting 7th grade in two weeks and off on her six year journey of high school until she reaches the what-to-do-with-my-life crossroads. She's told us repeatedly over the past couple of years that she wants to become a chef when she grows up. Methinks she's watched one too many "Friends" episodes and idolizes Courteney Cox's role, Monica (a professional chef). Personally, I like Phoebe's character best. Ultra groovy attitude and great outfits. But I digress. Daughter#2 will undoubtedly change her mind many times until university exams. This custom is known as a teenager's prerogative in the "How to deal with teenagers" parenting guidebook handed out at family control centers.

Wishing you all a creative and productive school year, even if you don't have any kids or go to school any more.

I've always considered the start of a new school year much more promising and hopeful than New Year's Day.

Learning, discovering, opening our minds, becoming better people. What better resolution?

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Lebanon: A month of war, a lifetime of aftermath.

Friends from a solidarity delegation visited Lebanon in early August (before the "ceasefire"). They brought back photos and videos. Proof of IDF's unfathomable civilian-targeted crimes in Lebanon. Rotting limbs of corpses protruding from the bombed remains of houses, burnt bodies waiting to be identified, the injured and amputated. Amnnesty International says more than a thousand civilians were killed in Lebanon, ONE THIRD of those were children.

Those who survived the bombings have to deal with rebuilding their country, homes, as well as their trust in humanity. They are seeking answers to their "whys", trying to keep their sanity.

From Zena's blog "Beirut Update"
The post is titled i'm alive, Aug.23, 2006.

"[...]
the aftermath.
there were mass burials held this past week. so many bodies had been left to rot because no one could access them before. now they are being buried.

families are wondering why...? why....?

many people are getting sick. there is a new virus going around. i heard it has something to do with the toxins coming out of the damaged buildings plus the dead bodies... it could be from the oil spill.. from the tanks that burned for three weeks covering Beirut in a black smog... the virus lasts for a few days... its effects are vomiting, diarrhea and very high temperature.

on the day of the ceasefire, many people began the return to their homes. they crossed the rivers by foot when needed....they were so determined to get home.. to see if they still had a home. Nasrallah announced that he was going to fix all the houses for free... and that he would provide money to pay for accommodations for people who had lost their homes, while he fixed their old homes.

there are cluster bombs everywhere. they dropped cluster bombs on us... there are so many that didn't explode... they are so so dangerous.
[...]"

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Taking the "eye for an eye" too far

Reading:

New blue water chemicals used by Israeli Army at the Bil’in demonstration against the Wall

Wondering:

After the US bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Japan became a staunch opponent of nuclear arms. By making the world aware of the cataclysmic results of nuclear weapons is their way of honouring their dead and the radioactive afflicted generations that followed.

Why then does Israel -amongst other blatant crimes- use chemical weapons? Was Hitler's horrifying and sickening aspiration to rid the world of Jews in gas chambers, the Holocaust, not a calamitous lesson to be taught for all peoples, especially the Israelis?

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A day at the beach

Summer's almost over and I'd be remiss if I didn't post a photo from our wonderful Greek beaches.

p.s. That's my husband under the moon and the stars.
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Faces will also be searched in US airports

According to this article "behavior detection officers" will be on the lookout for the following:

How does one keep a straight face through all this?

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Ageless mother-daughter cycle

Daughter#2 is staying with my mother for a fortnight. Grandmother feels it's her duty to give me (the mom of aforesaid guest) a detailed account of their day when I call to ask how they're faring. An excruciatingly detailed account. So detailed, in fact, that a handkerchief and duct tape come to mind. I shake my head to return to reality...

- Mom, when I ask "how are you" I don't mean every nitty-gritty detail.

- I'm not giving you e-v-e-r-y detail. Now what was I saying? Oh, yes, well then she took a nap, I think about 40 minutes and then she woke up. I asked her if she wanted some fruit for a snack. I had some melon but she asked for a peach. Well, I prepared both on a plate. The peach was a bit too ripe and the melon wasn't. We sat out on the veranda. You should see my plants. My green peppers are really beautiful and tasty. The tomatoes didn't do well this year. Then she wanted to watch television. She asked me if she could watch Xena or if I wanted to watch something else instead. I told her she could watch anything she wanted. She's such a polite girl. What is this Xena, by the way? She likes to watch television a lot, doesn't she? You really should try talking to her about it. Do you remember your cousin who watched a lot of TV? Why does she keep scratching those mosquito bites? The poor dear has terrible scars on her knees. You should tell her to be more careful and not scratch...[her voice fades in the background as I break bottle and prepare to slit my wrists from sheer boredom].

When we finally finish our "conversation", I'm massaging the blood back into my right earlobe and cerebral hemisphere and mumble, "Please shoot me if I do this at her age".

Daughter#1 is within earshot and responds, "Can we have that in writing?"

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?

If oil had NEVER been discovered, would the Middle East have EVER become an issue?

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Super balls are therapeutic and... bouncy

My post was inspired by Dr. Max's post regarding the Sony Bravia TV commercial with the bazillions of super balls colouring the city...

I'm not much of a collector, but I am the proud owner of a large jar of super balls. Occasionally, I'll take one out, releasing the cooped-up concentrated essence of synthetic rubber polymer polybutadiene and start bouncing it. I'm sure a lot of people have childhood memories of losing countless such super balls while trying to see how high they could reeeeeeeally bounce and several fist shakings from passing drivers. I used to feel the world was mine if my parents gave me a coin to get a new super ball from the vending machine. I was hooked on these crazy, colourful, uniquely different toys.

People were growing suspicious of my "addiction" when puberty kicked in so I had to lay low for a while. I needed a kid as an alibi and that's why I had my first at 22. I couldn't wait for Daughter#1 to grow tall enough to reach the super ball machine, place a coin and turn the knob... Had to fight for it, however, by unwrapping each chubby finger curled around the super ball. "Now, now, didn't Mommy say that these balls are too dangerous for you? Mommy will keep them safe for you for when you grow up..."

Those darn kids would get their revenge back once they could form sentences.
They'd give me away as soon as the ball came rolling down the vending machine's shoot, "Hey Ma! I got you a yellow one with purple polka dots. The pretty pink one you want is too way up for it to come down". I'd smile at the other supermarketeers who'd whip their heads around searching for the adult who uses her kids as a cover. I'd shrug my shoulders and make a "I-have-no-idea-what-those-kids-are-talking-about" look. And later, in the car, on the way home, I'd have to bribe them to release those super balls in my custody.

Kids are ruthless once they find a parent's weak spot.

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From the mouth of a babe for the lost souls of babes

Daughter#2, aged 12, came home from summer camp and is trying to catch up on what's been happening to the "outside world".

Her voice trembles as she responds to the pictures of bombs and dead Lebanese children... "Don't they KNOW it's wrong?"

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