Putin Panties

Thank you, everybody, for being so helpful. Here, for instance, is a photo Jennifer Armstrong linked in order to make me smile. And it worked!

putin panties

The World Is Weird

It seems I have misplaced my parents. This is such a small town but I have no clue where I can find them. So while I’m sitting here waiting for them to resurface I decided to check out what has been happening in the world these days that I have been mostly out of it. What I discovered made me wonder if my mental faculties have been impaired:

1. Putin has become a correspondent for the NYTimes. Is that true or is my iPod making fun of me?

2. Fox News is nominating Putin for the Nobel Peace Prize. Well, it’s Fox News, so nothing can be too surprising.

3. Our university’s post office is closing because it has become financially unsustainable. Are we entering another recession or something?

There is weirdness everywhere.


We had the nicest, kindest people take care of us at the hospital. No one could have done more for a dearly beloved relative than they did to help us feel as little discomfort as possible under the circumstances. So I don’t want anybody to think that the story I’m about to share is a criticism of them. That would be the nastiest kind of ingratitude. This was simply one of those moments that give momentary relief from pain because of their sheer weirdness.

Before the C-section, we were placed in a waiting room where I was gradually attached to all kinds of devices and monitors. An endless stream of people was coming in to ask questions, get our signatures, offer hugs and kisses, etc. This was helpful because this is not the time when you want to sit alone in silence.

“Are you allergic to any medications?”

“Have you had any major surgeries before?”

“Do you suffer from heart disease?”

“Are you on anti-depressants? Have you ever been?”

“Are you Muslim?”

The last question put us all into a stupor.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Well, we don’t want to pry, but if you are Muslim, you can just tell us,” the nurse whispered.

“No, we are not Muslim,” I said.

“Oh, OK. It’s just that when you asked the Chaplain to come by later we wondered if you are Muslim.”

So now we have a new definition of Muslims: they are people who are not eager to see a Chaplain immediately and prefer for him to come back later.


I keep hearing warnings that people will say insensitive, hurtful things to me. I know this will not happen, though. There are only very kind, good people around me, and they will never want to wound. And if somebody says something that I might not want to hear, I will know that this is only because they are confused by suffering and will not judge them.

It is very good to be able to feel complete confidence in one’s circle of acquaintance.