Fifteen minutes at Carrefour

I went speed shopping at Carrefour recently. Carrefour is the Jordanian version of Target (say Tar-zhay) but they really are French. I despise shopping so I set sight on my target and head towards the checkout. I don’t think anyone can get in and out of City Mall faster than I can, even with kids in tow. The day’s trip was for a Lego lookalike that was actually affordable and every bit as well made as the original. On our way to the checkout my eye was drawn towards the Barbie lookalikes, and on closer inspection another lookalike.

Found in the aisles of Carrefour

And he wore a wholly striking resemblance of . . .

Andy Warhol!

Am I right?


Ode to Atayef

Pillowy pancakes stuffed with cheese or nuts
Gotta have some. No ifs, ands, or buts.
With your syrup so sweet
You make our Ramadan complete
How we love you to fill our guts.
Steaming fresh rounds made before us
Store bought to avoid all the fuss.
Taken home to stuff,
I get more than enough.
You freeze well, a definite plus.
Folded in half you resemble the moon.
Just the sight of you makes us swoon.
Bring it on, bring it on!
How we love Ramadan!
Feasting nights follow fasting afternoons.
Cinnamon, sugar, and cheese
Or chopped walnuts are sure to please.
With syrup scented with rose
All lined up in rows
Two choices so no one disagrees.

Still of your resplendence I long to speak.
I must pace myself, it’s still the first week.
Fried or baked after basted,
No morsel shall be wasted.
I’ve got the rest of the month to critique.


Oh the joy after taking the first bite!
I could go on til the morning light!
Your taste I adore.
Oh, okay, just one more.
I’m not just saying that to be polite.


A Ramadan Limerick for My Fasting Friends

I wish you all the very best

As you put your willpower to the test.

Let your prayers be heard

And rewards be assured

On this holy month so blessed.




Ramadan Kareem to all!


A Limerick for Kinzi

You’ve been gone for awhile and the city is ever changin’.

New malls are in Swefieh, their displays they are arrangin’.

We’ve got stores in your name

But it’s still not the same

Come back soon, now, don’t be estrangin’!



Jordan beckons, Kinzi!


Ode to a Sweet Summer Morn

Sittin’ in the sunshine before the start of heat
It’s hittin’ my bare toes. I’ve got flipflops on my feet.
Thankin’ God for breezes, ah the mornings are so sweet.
There’s nothing like a breeze accompanied by shade
My second cup of coffee, in a mug, freshly made
Better drink it fast before this moment will fade
The sun is creeping to my knees. I’m beginning to get warm
The calm of the morning is slowly starting to transform
You could liken this moment to the calm before the storm.
Enjoyin’ the silence a little too much I confess
Before the kids file out with the start of their requests
I get up but find my way back, nevertheless.
Mr. Sun, excuse me, but you’re getting in my eyes
I’ll sit further in the corner as a way to improvise
Mornings with you show me just how time flies.
There’s no more shade to speak of, not even to borrow
I won’t fret although you may think it’s the cause of some sorrow
Time to sieze the day, I’ll meet you back here tomorrow!



This was first posted on March 3, 2010 and I am now reposting it in honor of Ugly Duckling’s post, Characteristics of a Jordanian Cab Driver. She is so dead on with her observations, yet again.

What am  doing here in front of my computer before even drinking my first cup of coffee when I could be watching that half hour of gossip TV, Entertainment Tonight just after I send the kids off to school? Blame it on Kinzi, for coming up with an entertaining topic this morning. Or shall we blame it on Shady for starting this whole thing? (Get me a link, Shady, so we can keep this all together)
My taxi story goes like this: Back in the day when all taxis in Jordan were Mercedes, I took the taxi to work every morning. I knew how much it should cost and always expected to pay the same amount. Some wise guy taxi driver thought he would take me for a ride so to speak. He wanted to charge me over a dinar, way too much especially back then.
Me: Laish? (Why?)
Him: Ashan jaish. (Because of the army.)
Me: Sho? Ashan jaish. Laish jaish? (What do you mean “because of the army”? What does the army have to do with this?)
Him: (Smiling, yet not budging) Ashan jaish.
By now I have become angry, impatient, and about to be late for work.
(And by now, all my Arab readers are having a good chuckle.)
So I throw change on the seat in the amount it should be and storm off not even looking back . . . I am somewhat fearful that if I do I will see him out of the car after me and the dinar he is tying to swindle from me.
I go upstairs still in my rage. By the way I was also hormonal as I was pregnant at the time. I relate my story to whoever happens to be in the office and by the time I am done they are laughing and smiling at me.
Me: What?
Coworker: Don’t you get it? Laish. Ashan Jaish. It rhymes. He was just trying to fool you and having fun with it.
So from that day on I was prepared. If EVER a taxi driver did that to me again I would hand him what he should get and if he asked why I would say:
Becoze. Mlabas loz. (Because. Jordan almonds.)
while walking away laughing!

Seven Things About Me and the Pink Award

Things about me in the number of seven
First I live my life like I’m goin’ to heaven
Hopin all my wrongs will some day be forgiven
That’s one.
Second thing about me that you should know
I look nothing like Adrienne Barbeau
I never sang on Broadway or that Love Boat Show
My eyes are blue, hair is blonde and my dad’s name is Joe.
That’s two.
Third thing about me you may find unique
Arabic is the second language that I speak
In the English language I say crik not creek
That’s three.
Fourth thing about me is I’m married with offspring
In my house I am the queen and my husband is the king
Although neither of us wear a wedding ring
That’s four.
Fifth thing about me is I hate house work
Whoever invented it is some kind of jerk
Sometimes when I’m doing it I just go berserk.
That’s five.
Sixth thing about me is my name is Joyce
I really love to sing but I’ve got a lousy voice
I do it in my car because I have no other choice.
That’s six.
Seventh thing about me is I got an award
If it were in sports you could say that I scored
But really it’s because the pen is mightier than the sword
That’s seven.



Rules to Accept the Award

Thank the person giving you this award.

Copy the award to your blog.

Place a link to their blog.

Name 7 things about you.

Nominate 10 Bloggers.

Place a link to those Blogs.

Leave a comment letting those Bloggers know about the award.


Thank you, fiveloaf!

Your comments always propel me forward.


The ten bloggers I nominate are


Cinnamon Zone

The Blog of the Ugly Duckling

When Thoughts Graduate to Words

Celebrating A Year

A Poem A Day


The Only Cin

The Arts Web Show

A Beachcomber’s Reflections


A Birthday Limerick for Sereen

My friend, Sereen, is opening up a new bakery, Z Cake Shop, and her cakes are beautiful! Today happens to be her birthday so she gets a limerick from me. I am hoping that on my birthday I will be getting a cake from her!

“Please won’t you try me?” your beautiful cakes sing.
I could eat them til my stomach is  aching
I shall make a suggestion
In the form of a question.
When it’s YOUR birthday, who does the baking?

Limerick of Lament and Rap of Rage: Profilin’

Yesterday, someone disabled my facebook account, for reasons unknown to me.  It’s hard not to take something like this personally, so I decided to get it out of my system by writing an angry rap. Picturing me, your average mom, rapping in this style is enough to bring humor to any situation. I feel so spiritually cleansed! Time to start over. Here it is:
Apparently I have myself an enemy
Just when I thought everyone was a friend to me
Someone knew I loved facebook
So that’s what they took
I’ll start up again, wait and see.
So many words in just my first draft
This could be good for my craft
Just like Eminem
I will have to show them
You THINK you will have the last laugh.
Scratch this limerick style
Let me rap for awhile
i have friends, you could CALL them my fans
hold me up when i’m TAKIN’ a stand.
i’m not TAKIN this ban
you think i can’t, but i KNOW that I can
did it once, I can DO it again
now I’m BETTER than

the pen . . .

WHEN I began

so GIVE me a hand
don’t MISunderstand
it’s ALL in the plan
now HERE i am
like johnny TO ed mcmahon.
I’ll have a NATION
In a standing ovAtion
in an aBOMination
won’t make no acCOMmodation

. . . is mightier than the rolling pin!

to your affiliAtion

so take a vaCAtion
to my creAtion
in your dediCAtion
don’t change the STAtion
rappin’ rhymes in acCELeration
don’t like your Accusation
the aggraVAtion
is WAStin my time
usin’ words to the best of my aBILity
with aGILity
tryin to keep my ciVILity
to our incompatiBILity
so get your FILL of me
and my crediBILity
are you STILL with me
Larry, you’re KILLin’ me
your act is FILLin’ me
with rage
and WILLin’ me
to FILL this page
so GET off the stage
with your MINimum wage
start ACTin your age
not your SHOE size
I will NOT compromise
anyTHING may arise
let me deCRIMinalize
what they may SEE in their eyes
this world is FULL of goodbyes
but i ain’t goin’ NOwhere

Here i am till the end

You can STILL be my friend

and if it HAPpens again
can’t say when
i will PICK up my pen
Whew! How cathartic. After all that was said, and all that was done I want all to know that I never intended to bully, intimidate, or harass, or to post content that: is hateful, threatening, or pornographic; incites violence; or contains nudity or graphic or gratuitous violence or to do anything unlawful, misleading, malicious, or discriminatory. If I did so,  please forgive me. If I ever do so again, please bring it to my attention rather than have me wondering what I did wrong and to whom. Although I have contacted facebook, I may never see my account again.


The Bad Poet’s Society

You may think that I write these poems to amuse you lovely readers, but the fact is I do it to amuse myself like a kid who has memorized a recitation and stands in front of whatever audience she can muster up with her hands clasped in front of her rocking ever so gently to the sound of her own voice. She loves the occasional run-on sentence and any chance to rhyme. That’s me.

But I am not alone.

I just became part of a society of such harmless souls. The fearless leader of The Bad Poet’s Society writes poems about dots and lives by the motto “Give pink a chance.” Like I said, harmless.

Ode to Dots

When I stop thinking

I am nothing

Just a dot

That loves pink

Occasionally pulses

And in the morning

Needs coffee.



Snaps, momma. And don’t we all need coffee. Here is my entry:

The Bad Poetry Jam
I think…
I’m one bad mamajama
I’d love to be a poetry slamma
I’d love to be coola
So cool I could school ya.
I’ll keep rockin’ these rhymes like a gramma.
And if that’s not bad enough, how about this one?
Ode to My Lack of Exercise
I’d much rather walk like an Egyptical
But it’s time to get on the elliptical
To get out of this rut
I must get off my butt
Saying tongue twisters that make my lips tickle.
Rubber baby buggy bumpers.
Rubber baby buggy bumpers.