Over Active Imagination

Raj reminded me of something that happened the other night at 4:30 am and now I can’t stop giggling about it. I woke up from having a nightmare that involved someone forcing me to be stripper, and a bridge in the middle of the jungle with lots of children on it scattering and running for their lives to jump into too few vans that were supposed to take them back to safety to Grand Central. I woke with the sense that I was in danger lingering in my mind. Raj woke up when I did, and then closed his eyes again.

I had to pee, as I usually do when I wake up in the middle of the night, so I made my way down the hall to the bathroom. When I left the bathroom, I was still spooked and I was looking around the room carefully just to make sure there was no one in the apartment other than Raj and I. On edge, I walked back through the darkness, looking at the room that was lit up only by the bits of moonlight seeping through the pale curtains.

When I got to our bedroom door – a door that has a large hanging mirror on it – I quickly pushed the door open with my left hand while still looking over my right shoulder at the room to make sure everything was still. Can you imagine the terror I felt when a pale shape the size of a crouched adult shot out from behind the sofa and dove behind the chair?

My heart in my throat, I darted into the bedroom and shut the door behind me, only to see the shape race out from behind the chair back behind the sofa. I leapt onto the bed and screamed bloody murder.

This is the best part, the part that keeps making me laugh. As I was mid-leap and mid-scream, it occurred to me that the pale shape whizzing across the room was connected to me opening and shutting the door with the mirror on it, and that what I had seen was not the crouched shape of an intruder, but the reflection of moonlight that I had made dance across the room. Of course, by the time I had that realization, I had already landed on the bed and let out a piercing scream. Raj, who had expected me to go to the bathroom and quietly get into bed, jumped up in bed reaching for me, yelling “SWEETIE!!!!” in this raw voice.

Instantly, I was telling him it was ok and trying to explain my foolishness. I peeked my head out and checked my theory and sure enough, I confirmed that the shape was nothing but shifting moonlight. That did not take away the shock I had given him.

I know I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s a natural reaction to laugh when you’ve been terrified and realized there was nothing to be alarmed about. It was also endearing how Raj leapt up in bed and how afraid he seemed on my behalf. Of particular significance is the fact that he yelled, “sweetie” and jumped towards me instead of just screaming for himself. This really shouldn’t be making me laugh like this.

After it was all explained, and he we were breathing easier, I lay on his chest and tried to go back to sleep. Each time I thought about my terror and him sitting up in bed screaming “sweetie,” I started to giggle. He let it go a few times, then said, “stop it” rather sternly, but not in a mean way.

He asked me to do my best to keep the night terrors to a minimum last night. As it was our anniversary, I did my best to oblige.

Iris Anniversary

Six months ago, on November 30, 2005, after a difficult year apart but not apart, Raj and I got back together again. He met me at my apartment and brought me irises, then we walked to a small Thai restaurant near my old apartment, Lemongrass Grill, and had dinner. I didn’t know that night that we would get back together. I didn’t know what was going to happen. I just knew that I was looking forward to seeing him again.

Looking across the table at each other, we spoke like we were just meeting for the first time. Pretending and serious at the same time, we asked each other questions that we knew the answers to, and danced around the issue of our relationship and how the first time around it had not worked out. He looked handsome and his smile was the same. I was nervous and on my guard, afraid that I might be hurt, but knowing that things between us were not resolved. At dinner, I felt the same sparks that I have always felt with him. I wanted to be close to him. He said that he had been in a relationship where he took his girlfriend for granted. I said that I had sometimes overreacted in my last relationship. It seemed to me that we had both been doing some serious thinking, and I remember thinking that maybe there was a chance this time that things would work. I was hopeful and vulnerable, but excited.

After dinner, we walked to the movies. I forget what we saw, but I remember walking with him down the street, my arm in his, looking up at him and the two of us smiling, feeling like I was in love with him. Still.

Since that night, we have been together. Both of us have been working hard on our issues. Our personal ones that affect the relationship, and our relationship ones that crop up because of the combination of our two personalities. After three months, we decided to move in together. At the time, the decision seemed a practical one, and I downplayed to myself the significance of the two of us actually moving in together. Immediately after we moved in together, however, I knew that things had changed between us. The ante had been upped a notch, and it was a little scary. The first month was challenging, the second month was wonderful.

Now, on our six-month anniversary, I find that I’m happy. I’m happy about where we are in our relationship, and I’m happy about where I’m at as well. These six months feel so different than the first six months that we were together back in 2003. The first time around, six months marked the mid-point of what would be our 1 year period together. By six months the first time, we had started to see problematic patterns arising between us. We couldn’t resolve them, and so after a year, when I moved to New York, and Raj stayed in Detroit, we decided to break up. I was sad that our relationship had not become what I had hoped it would be. I was sad that I did not feel cared for the way I cared about him.

For the next year – our year apart – we spoke almost every other week. Raj was never far from my thoughts, and he was often at the forefront, particularly during the fall of 2005, when I spent months analyzing our relationship and realizing that my feelings for him had not changed. I still thought about him all the time. I missed him.

This time the six-month point, instead of marking a pinnacle, feels like it marks the very beginning of something much larger that the two of us are creating together. Whereas six months the first time seemed significant because it marked what seemed a significant length of time together, this time, six months seems like hardly any time at all, and there is no pinnacle with a downward slope on the other side in sight.

I love him, and despite, or because of, the challenges we have faced this time around, these last six months have been wonderful.

Happy Anniversary Raj.

Super Baby Born

I hope everyone had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend. Mine was very nice. Nothing extravagant, just a good mixture of friends, relaxation, productivity, and being outside in the sunshine. On Saturday, my friend Artemis from D.C. was in town and the two of us caught up over glasses of wine and a cheese plate in the West Village. It was wonderful to see her and spend a whole evening girl-talking.

On Sunday, I made Raj breakfast – scrambled eggs with spinach, mushrooms and goat cheese, coffee, and chicken sausage (the last, only for him) – and then the two of us eased into the day by watching some episodes of Entourage Season II. We started two weeks ago, and I’m now completely hooked. After Entourage, we headed for the Park. It was gorgeous! We strolled around throughout he paths, hung out in Sheep’s Meadow, and then strolled some more. Next week, I want to take the subway all the way up to the 100s and explore the top half of the Park, since I’ve really only made it to the areas between 59th and 80th.

During the rest of the weekend, I saw X-Men (and Women) III, did pilates, hung out on Raj’s brother’s roof deck in the Meat Packing district, got some work done on my Middle Eastern asylum case, and finished Season II of Entourage. It was leisurely and relaxing. You gotta love three-day weekends. Raj aptly described Entourage as a guy’s “Sex in the City.” For many of the same reasons, it’s pretty addictive. My favorite character is Ari. He’s insane, openly manipulative, offensive and abrasive, and a complete spaz. But somehow, he’s also endearing and compelling. I also enjoy watching Vince and the rest of the boys. Entourage Season III starts in two weeks!! HBO ROCKS!

I was off the computer for most of the weekend so I missed that Angelina gave birth to Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt. Watch out world, the super-baby has been born. I kind of like the name “Shiloh,” and I love that their baby was a girl. I also really like Brad and Angelina. How could you not? I would work for her in a heartbeat, how cool would that be? I’m thinking more along the lines of her U.N. activities rather than her movie star life.

Now, I’m off to begin the week. Hallelujah, it’s a Four Day Week! Yippee!!

Friday Morning Goddess: Gayatri

THE GODDESS GAYATRI

According to this test, I am the hindu goddess, Gayatri, “the many-headed symbol of Devi, or the divine feminine…She is closely associated with the lotus and with feminine beauty. She is a wise and good goddess and carries the weapons and items carried by other gods in her many arms. She is a reasonably good goddess and intellectually inclined, as she can see in all directions from the eyes on her heads.”

Which hindu goddess are you?

Sprinting To Acupuncture

…should not happen. You are not supposed to turn into a massive stressball trying to make it to acupuncture, yet that is exactly what happened on Tuesday when I found myself rushing across the city in high heels trying to make it to my appointment on time.

Why, you ask? Because I had been in a meeting with Dragon Lady that went an half hour late while I tensely watched the minutes tick by. We are in the middle of expert discovery, and to put it simply, it sucks ass. Big time. I’m one of the few members of my team left who worked on certain transactions, so I have become the de facto team member to assist with the accounting expert depositions – the de facto team member to work with Dragon Lady. Worse than the subject matter, it turns out that the paralegals f-ed up years ago and never wrote down what they sent my expert. Dragon Lady recently discovered this and has been on a bloodthirsty rampage.

She told me to fix the problem, I did it, but then it turned out that she wanted it done a different way and she bitched me out as if I was the stupidest creature on the planet.

But guess what? It’s her fault that it wasn’t done the way she wanted it to be done because she is a Great Big Bi-atch. If she could have a conversation like a normal human being without spitting out her words like nails, then perhaps she could have made her directions more clear, and perhaps I would have been inspired to discuss the project in greater depth with her. As it happened though, Dragon Lady raged and muttered about that fact that we did not know what documents my expert had and that we had to identify every single piece of paper. Thus, it seemed logical to bates stamp all of the expert’s materials after collecting them. Alas, I was wrong.

In the midst of this mess I had to go to her office for the meeting, which was actually a conference call with our expert. I arrived at her office and she started sputtering and raging at me, at the case, and at everything else in the world. She is a very unhappy human being.

Do you know what I did? I sat there and took it. I didn’t get angry. I didn’t get defensive or upset. I said, “Dragon Lady, if there was a miscommunication, I apologize. I was just trying to do what I thought you wanted me to do.” Period. The end.

What I wanted to say was: You are the biggest fucking bitch that I have ever met in my whole entire life. You are a nasty human being and maybe if you weren’t such a fucking bitch I would have tried to talk to you about this more. But you are a fucking bitch and I hate you, so FUCK YOU. Here’s my two weeks notice you nasty, toxic bitch.

I gritted my teeth and I held all of that in. God, do I hate taking bullshit. I know that it was the right, mature, and professional thing to do, but I was seething inside. I was also so pissed that instead of being on my way to acupuncture, I was sitting in her office listening to her and the expert rattle off about all of this shit that I DON’T CARE ABOUT.

When I finally reached acupuncture and they treated me even though I was 15 minutes late, it made all of my sprinting worth it. At least I didn’t let Dragon Lady destroy my entire evening, and I did something good for me. I took care of myself.

I have adopted a new deadpan face with her. I show no emotion, and though I rant about her being a f-ing bi-atch, I don’t let her negativity touch my core. Like right now, I’m actively thinking about what a nasty bi-atch she is, but I’m staying calm and balanced inside. I think this is because yesterday I realized that my job can not get worse. More importantly, I realized that I can take it at its worst. I can stick this out for however long I decide to. There’s something freeing about that.

I do detest Dragon Lady though. I detest her with the white-hot intensity of 1,000 burning suns.

Wildlife: Beauty, Strength, and Danger

Living up in the mountains, I tend to see alot of wildlife. For the most part I keep my distance but it is nice to see animals close up. Last June, Tex and I moved into our first house. We absolutely love it and are more than spoiled with it. The house came on a good-sized piece of land that we have for the most part left untouched and wild like the surrounding mountainside. We have seen alot of deer, potguts, mice, and even a few badgers. Sometimes deer will come right to the dining room window but usually they stay on the “tree-line,” keeping at least a 10 foot distance from the house.

Monday May 22, 2006 6:30pm: Tex and I went for our soon-to-be “daily routine,”we went running/jogging/walking at the park down the road with Hazard. As we began our first lap we noticed something rummaging in the brush so we went a bit closer to get a good look. It was a Skunk! A fat one at that and it starting waddling around. We quickly stepped back and watched where our “Pepe Le pu” was heading. Pepe decided to head in a different direction down a hill so we quickly ran past with Hazard. We ended up doing 4 laps and saw Pepe only one more time from afar. Thank goodness because I didn’t want to get skunked and definitely didn’t want a skunked husband or dog on my hands for the next few days.

Tuesday May 23, 2006 10:00pm: I decided early in the day that I was going to Target to buy a cheap pair of shoes. So I did my research online, I picked out 8 possible pairs, and looked up directions on mapquest. Tex wanted to come (only to get food) and since he had a meeting, I agreed to wait for him. I successfully went through the store and only bought 3 pairs of shoes. I love them except for one pair that I am “iffy” on but hell yeah!! 3 new pairs of shoes! So far the night was good.

We grabbed food and headed up the canyon. We exited the highway and got on a 2 lane main road, speed limit 65 mph. There was a car in front of me a good distance so I got into the slow lane and being as curteous as usual I turned my brights off. It is harder to see with my brights off in the pitch black of the night, but do-able. No more than 2 minutes passed when I see this enormous sillouhette 4 feet from my vehichle (approaching rapidly) and within 3 seconds, my lights finally reflect this beastly creature 1 foot away from my driver’s side door and windshield…a huge moose! Right in that second, I see the moose step back away from my car, if hit the bottom of its belly would just brush the top of my hood had we collided…meaning the belly would have come straight through my window/windshield if he moved and its head would be on top on my car.

I was motionless, I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t even hit my breaks, all I could do was look at this animal outside my window inches away. I screamed and I think my scream said it all to Tex. Perhaps the moose heard the fear and helplessness in my voice, because the moose had stepped back in that split second and distanced his head a few more inches from the vehicle. I think the first thing that came out of my mouth after the scream was “Holy shit Tex! We could have died, I am not driving anymore, I’m shaking, look at me!” His response was similar, “Wheeeeeww…That scared me to death! Glad I am not driving.” Yes…he is always supportive . Fortunately we must have an angel looking out for us because I don’t know any other reason we were spared by this huge animal that could have killed us. So that was my night with wildlife, A LOT OF LUCK (definitely no skill at driving exhibited in this near death experience) and a bit more dangerous, being a near death experience for me, than the usual deer in the yard or skunk in the park. It freaked me out and I was shaking the whole way home. It was a perfect moment for a cigarette but unfortunately we both quit, so we had a piece of nicorette gum. It’s not the best but it’ll do.

Astrosmash For The Masses

Every morning I have to walk a long way through Penn Station’s labyrinthine corridors to get to the 1-2-3 subway which takes me up to Times Square. I walk down the stairs into a large underground hall, pass the soldiers standing guard on my right and the cinnabuns shop on my left, then turn down another long passageway that takes me to another set of stairs that takes me farther down into the bowels of the station. I walk down those stairs, moving briskly, pass the starbucks that is always far too crowded with tense commuters to think about stopping there to get a coffee and the bookshops and snack places, all the while deftly avoiding bumping into any of the hundreds of people zipping around in all directions.

I approach the entrance to the subway, a series of turnstiles situated in a line next to the machines where you can by subway tickets and the information booth at which you can ask for directions. This month is the first month that I have purchased an unlimited metro pass that allows me to use the subway as often as I want for 30 days. Because I have this pass all I need to do to get on the subway is to swipe my card through the slot next to a turnstile, wait for the computer screen to flash “go,” and then walk through the turnstile, and up some more stairs until I reach the platform where I can catch the train to Times Square.

At Times Square I get off the subway car and rush up the stairs that spit me out into the crowded chaos of the people rushing about to and from the shuttle that travels between Times Square and Grand Central. In the space where people wait for the shuttle, in addition to the crowds of passengers, there are bands of people playing instruments and singing with tip jars in front of them, people selling black market DVDs arranged on hastily spread blankets, and homeless people begging for change. Everyone is walking at the same time in a thousand directions, and it takes skill to avoid head on collisions. It’s like a virtual game of astrosmash where the people are the meteors and your objective is avoidance instead of destruction.

I rush through the crowds and the randomly places columns that hold up the ceiling and jump onto the shuttle, always feeling as if I’ve caught it just in time. The shuttle is a quick ride to Grand Central with no stops, and once I reach Grand Central I’m almost at work and at the end of my journey. At Grand Central I leave the subway car and head for the direction of the 4-5-6 trains, following the green circles that will lead me to the 42nd Street and Lexington Avenue exits. I reach another line of turnstiles, go through them, and walk up the escalators which dump me out on the street level of Grand Central. From there it’s a quick left hand turn for the doors, I pass through them and am suddenly out on the street, still in the midst of a boiling crowd of people, but feeling like I can breathe easier because I’m outside in the open and have emerged from the caverns below the streets.

I turn left and head for my office, already picturing the ride in the elevator, the stop to grab my cup of coffee, walking up the stairs to my floor, dropping my bags and coffee on my desk, wincing at the mess, and making my way down the hall to fill up the 1 liter bottle of water that I try to empty each day. Almost to my office I start hoping that the red light on my phone is not lit up this morning, and that when I turn on my outlook I will find a blessed lack of messages.

* * *
This journey from home to work is the same each day. Though I’ve only been doing it now for about a month and a half, I’ve realized recently that I’ve started doing it almost on autopilot. My feet carry me largely of their own volition up the stairs, down the corridors, onto the trains, and through the throngs of people. My body hustles and weaves on its own while my mind goes off thinking of things unrelated to my morning commute.

This morning, as I raced down the first set of stairs in Penn Station I was thinking that Raj looked handsome this morning and that his body felt warm and solid when he hugged me goodbye before we parted, me to head towards the 1-2-3 and him for the A-C-E. He smells amazing all the time, like no other person I have ever met. I was also thinking about my asylum clients and about all of the work that I have to do over the course of the next two weeks. This made me think of my other asylum client and the meeting we had last night with a Tibetan expert that told us that my client was unable to demonstrate convincingly that she was in Tibet as recently as she says she was. I’m concerned, but I still believe her. She has never wavered in her story and I have never doubted her credibility, but it raises a host of questions to have an expert decide that he can not say with certainty that she is from Tibet, as opposed to a Tibetan community in Nepal or India.

All these thoughts were rushing through my head as I approached the entrance to the 1-2-3 and the line of turnstiles. Like usual I headed for the nearest turnstile and made as if to walk through it.

THWACK!!

I slammed into the metal bar and was brought up short. I let out a little cry, and then looked around quickly, feeling embarrassed, to see how many people had witnessed me smash into the turnstile. So engrossed had I been with my thoughts, that I had neglected to swipe my card, or even to pause to take my card out of my wallet, before attempting to walk through the turnstile. It didn’t hurt, but it was a bit of a shock. Still feeling embarrassed, I backed out of the turnstile and away from the offending metal bar and dug around in my purse for my wallet and metro card. Then summing my dignity, and reminding myself that New Yorkers are far too busy with their own problems to bother about my little embarrassments, I swiped my card, waited for the glowing green “go,” and walked through as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The turnstile let me through without any problem and I continued on my way just as before, though at a slightly slower pace, and with more attention to where my feet were taking me.

Towards A Clone Revolution

I had a wonderful weekend, and because work is nutzo at the moment, I’m going to write about that.

The weekend started Friday night at 6 pm – the latest any weekend should start – when I left my office and went to a firm happy hour in the building. My attendance at such events is a rare occasion, because as a rule I like to spend no more time than I absolutely have to at my firm. My time is valuable (despite what the firm thinks) and I like to spend it on things that I care about, and meaningless social interactions and small talk about billable hours is not one of those things.

After my glass of chardonnay on the firm, I met Raj downstairs in the lobby where he was “picking me up” (i.e. walking with me to the subway) to take me out to dinner. We went to Lure in Soho and had a delicious seafood feast complete with oysters, chilled lobster, nori-encrusted tuna on a bed of mashed edamame (awesome!), and a delectable molten chocolate cake for dessert. Dinner was wonderful. Raj and I talked, flirted, ate good food, and gave each other our undivided attention, which is something I really needed and appreciated. He was very sweet to take me out.

After Lure we headed to Grotto to have drinks with his friend Ernest and Raj’s brother. My tummy was upset, but I learned a marvelous trick from the bartender at Grotto. I asked him for bitters to settle my stomach thinking that he would pour some into a glass of ginger ale. Instead, the bartender brought me four bottles of Italian liquors – all of which apparently moonlight as alcoholic digestive aids – and had me choose which one I liked. I chose the sweetest of the bitter concoctions and he served it to me on the rocks with a generous slice of lemon rind. Amazingly, it worked.

Saturday, Raj and I cleaned, shopped, and ran some errands. Late in the afternoon, we did my favorite activity of the weekend. We went to Central Park, something I think about every weekend but almost always fail to follow through on. It was a bit chilly on Saturday afternoon, but I convinced Raj to come with me despite the weather. When we arrived, we walked for a while on the paths and then found a large rock to lie down on under the trees. It was so relaxing lying with the solid weight of the cool rock underneath me, staring up into the leaf covered branches. I love how the air in the Park always feels fresher and cooler than in other parts of the City. One more reason to save the trees.

Saturday night was fun as well. Raj and I both had events to go to. First, we went to the departure party of one of the paralegals from my firm at Sweet & viscous. Despite my loathing of all things firm-related, I had a great time. The group of people I knew there were all paras and one attorney from my Case-From-Hell that I genuinely like, so it was nice to see them and trade war stories. The Dragon Lady came up a lot, as she always does whenever two or more attorneys from my firm get together and start talking shop. It was nice that Raj got to be a part of that. I liked having him there with me.

From Sweet & viscous, we went to Heathers for Ernest’s birthday celebration. Ernest was in rare form, meaning that there was a lot of navel, ab, and chest showings, interspersed with drink spilling and accidental glass smashing. It was all very entertaining, and everyone had fun. Everyone, except for yours truly, had their digital cameras out and were taking mad pictures of each other. I still use disposable cameras. (Don’t shun me!) I am starting to want a digital camera badly. I’m almost ready to drop some cash on one. I just need to do some research.

I taught the bartenders at Heathers my current favorite drink: a French Martini. Technically, I didn’t teach them the drink. I just asked very nicely and encouraged them to look up the recipe on google when they did not know how to make it. The drink was a smashing success. All of the bartenders made extra for themselves and seemed pleased that they had learned a new drink. Raj’s friends were intrigued and they soon started ordering French Martinis as well. The whole thing was such a hit that I decided to share the recipe with all of you, just in case you happen to find yourself in a bar with a bartender that doesn’t know the recipe.

French Martini:

1 1/2 oz vodka

1/4 oz Chambord raspberry liqueur

1/4 oz fresh pineapple juice

1 twist lemon peel

Pour each of the above into a tall bar glass. Shake with ice, pour into a cocktail or martini glass, and serve.

Sunday, we woke up at a decent hour, despite the French Martinis and beer that we had imbibed the night before. We went to brunch at a local creperie, and then Raj watched basketball with the boys while I went to Brooklyn for my book club meeting where we discussed Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. I was so proud of myself because I got to Brooklyn all by myself! Yeah me. That’s the second time in 19 months that I’ve gone to Brooklyn. As you can see, it is not an everyday event. The discussion was great, especially because I got to spend time with another paralegal from my firm who is also leaving this week for bigger and better things. She’s on her way to Italy, and then to graduate school at the University of Michigan.

One of the aspects of Never Let Me Go that we talked about was how disturbing it was that none of the clones, upon realizing the horror of their existence and the meaninglessness of their lives, took any action to rebel against their fates. None of the clones even thought about revolting. They didn’t even question their fates. We decided that the clones had been so thoroughly indoctrinated from their early childhood that they were incapable of questioning the social order. Instead the clones threw themselves into their work – taking care of the clones that were “donating” their organs, before becoming “donors” themselves – and ran themselves ragged worrying about the daily minutiae of their meaningless lives.

Does this sound familiar?

Never Let Me Go is actually about my firm, and the meaningless of my life as an associate there!! The parallels are unmistakable. Like the powers that be in NLMG, the partners at my firm want to keep associates alive only so long as they can suck out every ounce of productive energy. Our lives mean nothing to them. They see us as the “other,” a group inferior to them whose sole purpose is to do their bidding. They do not want our lives to be our own, and as long as we are at the firm, they aren’t. Like the clones in NLMG, the associates scramble around each day, stressing about insignificant details and making themselves sick with anxiety. The associates rarely slow down to ponder what all their running around is actually accomplishing (that would be nothing).

Like the clones, associates are willing slaves to the system. At least associates bitch and complain. The clones accepted it all without so muh as whimper of protest.

It’s so sad to see yourself as a clone, even a complaining clone. So sad.

Friday Morning Goddess: Al-Uzza

THE GODDESS AL-UZZA

Art found here

The Goddess Al-Uzza, whose name means “Powerful One,” and “The Most Mighty,” was a pre-Islamic Arabic Goddess. She was a virgin warrior, and Goddess of the Morning Star. Big cats were sacred to her, and the Acacia Tree is associated with her. Al-Uzza was worshipped by the Koreshites, The Prophet Mohammed’s tribe, and was believed to have been the founding mother of the tribe. There is shrine to Al-Uzza along the path to Mecca. There is also a temple dedicated to her in the ancient city of Petra (of modern day Jordan).

Al-Uzza is a member of the Arabic Goddess triad which also includes the Goddesses Menat and Al-Lat. Much controversy surrounds this Arabic Goddess triad because there is evidence in the Koran, the sacred text of Islam, that Al-Uzza, Menat, and Al-Lat were believed to be the three daughters of the God Allah.

Kiss My Citizens

I was a bad girl today and skipped out for a few hours to go jeans shopping with Raj’s little sister. Not terribly bad because she is leaving the city and this was her last chance to go jeans shopping for some time. In addition, she really needed them, she’s a sweetheart and I really like her, and she asked me to help her. Plus, I’m kind of an expert in this area. How could I refuse to share my expertise?

We went to Pookie & Sebastian in midtown, a place where I’ve often had good luck with jeans shopping. It’s so much better than the nightmarish, but enthralling, chaos of Bloomies. It turned out that the ones that she liked best were also a pair that I had had my eye on for some time, the Laetitia Wide Leg Flare – ass pictured above – from Citizens of Humanity (I love COH). The same pair, coincidentally, that my friend Wood also bought a few months ago. They’re super flattering, with just a hint of stretch to maximize your curves comfortably, they’re long, and they were on SALE! So, I got a pair too. Yeah! I love good shopping days.

After jeans shopping, I had to get back to work because I had an appointment with my asylum clients at 2:00 pm. Raj’s sister however, now that she has finished school, had the entire afternoon blissfully free. She headed off to Bloomies to go to Kiehl’s, another secret I’ve shared with her. I discovered Kiehl’s when I moved to New York, and I love them. (I’m seeing a theme here). When I first moved here, my skin started breaking out a bit, I think because of the change, and the grime, and the stress. But Kiehl’s put everything right with the world (at least with respect to my skin). Their “Foaming Non-Detergent Cleanser” for combination skin is awesome, as is their “Ultra-Moisturizer with SPF.”

Kiehl’s is a great company because they don’t test on animals, support the environment, and appear to have the genuine belief that a good business must be about more than making a profit; a good business must contribute to the community in some way. I like that.