Tonight I was very pleased to be able to attend a performance of Handel's Messiah, sponsored by a local university. Relaxing into the familiarity of the music and the power of the words, I was able to let all the tensions and frustrations of the past few weeks slip away unnoticed. After the applause had finally tapered off, I frantically pushed my way up to the front and accosted one of the cellists. Even if he couldn't completely understand my fumbling plea, eeked out in a mixture of bad English and even worse Arabic, he could at least see the desperation in my eyes, and willingly he surrendered his cello to me for a few minutes. Three months is a long time, the longest I've ever been without playing. Like an ex-smoker who's coping reasonably well until a chance whiff from another's cigarette sends him scrounging for one of his own, tomorrow when the reality of the many months still to come sets back in I'll regret tonight's impulsiveness. But for now I ride the high and defy the consequences.

Redesigning my blog... a blissful temporary escape from the stresses of life here. Anna Karenina was getting a trifle heavy. I needed a break from my break.

I've been attempting to get out some sort of newsletter... as in an actual email, sent to actual people... for almost two weeks now. I've even partially written one-- unfortunately it's sitting in my "Drafts" folder, unfinished and nearly forgotten. Exciting things have been happening here lately... a blow-up within the group precipitated a major restructuring of our jobs and lives. I'll be moving to another city sometime in the next couple months-- maybe sooner, maybe later, no one really knows at the moment. I'm hoping for sooner.

I'm very tired today and have been forced to spend far too much time around people (almost entirely Americans) lately. My reserve of words (and patience) is sorely depleted. So that's all the news for now.

A recent email from my friend Shouna mentioned the advent of Thanksgiving decorations and Christmas shopping now that Hallowe'en is past. I was at least partially aware of that holiday-- we had a sleepover, during which we stuffed ourselves on pizza and candy and watched horror movies-- but somehow it didn't really sink in as Hallowe'en. And we certainly don't have turkeys or pilgrims or fir trees or red-suited fat men crowding the stores around here. Nor is the weather cool enough (and definitely not rainy enough) to be classified as "fall". I'm in utter calendar shock and denial right now. Near as I can ascertain, I'm perpetually stuck somewhere around August... though that's not right either, because it's not that hot. But I don't feel as though the summer really existed for me, and fall has yet to arrive. I don't know when I am.

But it is holiday season here. Ramadan began this past Wednesday (my two-month mark), and here that changes the entire life of the city. Shops and homes and streets are bright with colorful and sometimes gaudy lanterns, strings of carnival lights, and glittering streamers. Work and school schedules shorten and shift to accomodate the all-night meals. Well-wishes and blessings abound, and on the Metro on Thursday I heard a woman deliver a 5-minute lecture/sermon on appropriately respectful behavior to a group of giggling and chattering school girls-- who immediately stood up and conducted themselves with the utmost solemnity for the rest of the ride... except that sometimes I could see their eyes still laughing in irrepressible exuberance as they glanced sidelong at each other.

Yesterday evening I broke the fast with some friends. We set out the dishes on a sheet on the floor and sat around it, tearing off pieces of flatbread (right hand only!) and using those to scoop up the various foods. The men of the family ate in a separate room. Though the meal itself was not very long-- probably only about half an hour or so-- we stayed for hours afterwards, talking and drinking tea and then coffee. This coffee, incidentally, is wonderful-- very strong and sweet, brewed with a generous helping of ginger, and served in tiny handle-less cups. It's a specialty of their people, brought with them from their native country, and has to be one of my favorite discoveries here.

Right now I'm listening to the OU-Texas A&M game. A&M just tied the game (no fear, it's only the end of the first half). Hard to believe that I'm sitting here so far away... listening to the roar of the crowd and the familiar voices of Bob Barry et al. and the banality of Braum's commercials I can almost forget that I'm not in Oklahoma. It's easy enough to find ways to remind myself, though.

I haven't posted in quite a while, and probably I would continue procrastinating for a bit longer except that today marked two months that I've been here. And that seemed to be of enough import to spur me into writing. Two months is a funny milestone. I'm not quite sure whether that's still only little time... or actually a long time... or something in between. Most likely something in between. (Aren't most things?) So it's a strange point of evaluation because I'm not entirely sure what I should have accomplished by this point. I have a tendency to think that surely I should be doing more than I am. Surely I should know more than I do. But two months is only two months... 9 or so weeks... 61 days... not so long after all, perhaps.

I've come to the conclusion that the most culturally inappropriate thing I do here has nothing to do with my hair or the length of my sleeves or how late I'm out at night. It's very simple and much more difficult to control. I laugh and smile. In public. Out on the street. When men are around. I can't help it. Things strike me as funny. The simplest task can become so ridiculously difficult here. Taking a 15-minute taxi ride can quickly turn into a riotously funny adventure. Not to everyone, maybe, but I find that my first reaction is usually amusement rather than anger or frustration. Praise Him for that. I pray every day that I don't lose my sense of humour here. Even if it does mean inadvertently smiling at inappropriate moments.