ihath

O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight

For Christ is born of Mary
And gathered all above
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love
O morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth
And praises sing to God the King
And Peace to men on earth

How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may his His coming,
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him still,
The dear Christ enters in.

O holy Child of Bethlehem
Descend to us, we pray
Cast out our sin and enter in
Be born to us today
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell
O come to us, abide with us
Our Lord Emmanuel

Rector Phillips Brooks (1835-1903) of Philadelphia, wrote the words to O Little Town of Bethlehem in 1868, following a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He was inspired by the view of Bethlehem from the hills of Palestine especially at night.

ihath will spend yet another Christmas with prayers towards the people of Bethlehem who live with daily fear and intimidation brought upon them by the Israeli occupation. May this be the last year of this humiliation.

Merry Christmas to all.

Boob job ---- 5,000 dollars
Nose job ---- 7,000 dollars
Face lift ---- 10,000 dollars


Don't worry. ihath hasn't gone crazy and started contemplating cosmetic surgery. I know the price list from day to day conversations with various acquaintances.

I miss the good old days. Sigh! .... back when we would look at celebrity magazines and laugh at Dolly Parton and Pamela Anderson. But these days, Ya Allah! you need to watch your mouth. The puffed lips, stretched faces and silicon breasts are walking down the streets. What used to be the province of movie actresses is now popping up among the common public. And don't get me started about the botox craze.

Few weeks ago, I bumped into Barbara an aquintance of mine who is in her mid fifties and already "had some work done" ehm! ehm!. She started telling me about her latest visit to the cosmetic surgeon, "I was looking through the nose job catalogue...". "They have a nose catalogue? he he he that sounds so funny, do they have boob catalogue? or an ass catalogue?" I thought to myself. The thought of body parts catalogue where you choose your preferred body part the way you would choose a sweater struck me as hilarious. I had to repress my desire to laugh as I was listening to Barbara, who continued " I couldn't find a nose that I liked. I want you to come with me to the cosmetic surgeon because I want to show him your nose. You have the perfect nose, I want to ask him to give me a nose identical to yours". My desire to laugh was trasformed into panic. I suddenly felt the urge to cover my nose with my hand. "But this is my nose, you can't have it".

I imagined Barbara sneaking into my house in the middle of the night to steal my nose while I slept. I would wake up the next morning to discover that my nose is gone. "My nose! I want my nose!" I would scream in horror. I could imagine the lost nose poster I would have to design posters to stick on electrical posts the same way people stick posters looking for lost pets.






I would sit around the house for days hoping and praying that I would hear news of my beloved nose.

When I woke up from my nightmare, I apologized to Barbara telling her that I don't feel comfortable visiting a cosmetic surgeon. I tried to convince her that her nose looks beautiful as is and that she doesn't need any cosmetic surgery, but she didn't look convinced.

When I went home that day, I spent lots of time looking at my nose in the mirror. When my husband came home, I asked him of those questions that absolutely drives him bonkers

"Do you think I have a beautiful nose?"

"Yes you have a beautiful nose" he replied in an irritated voice that made it sound as if he was saying "What now? You are not going to get started with this nose thing, are you? Leave me alone, I have enough headaches already"

I pray that in my fifties I will have the wisdom to let nature take its course and not end up browsing mutilated body part catalogue at a cosmetic surgeon office.

Sunday, Dec 4th 9:30 am
“Make us some coffee, we are going downstairs to fix the plugged toilet. It will take us 20 minutes and when we are finished you can have the coffee ready for us”. Said my husband.

I made a pot of coffee and laid out some shortbread cookies for when my husband and his friend would finished fixing the plugged toilet in our basement.

10 am
The kids come downstairs and eat the cookies.
I pour myself a cup of coffee.

11:30 am
The coffee is already cold.
There are no more cookies left.
I hear pounding and water spraying sounds coming from the basement.
I quietly tiptoe downstairs to take a peak at what is going downstairs. I find the whole toilet seat has been unscrewed and is in the bathtub. My husband is standing in the bathtub holding the toilet and shaking it. His friend is fiddling with something on the ground.

12:00 pm
Both men emerge from the basement wet and declare that they need to go get something from outside. I give both of them dry socks to change into.
The kids go out to play in the snow. After about half an hour they come inside and I serve them lunch.

12:30 pm
Both men come back home with a long black stick that has a funny curly thing hanging of one end of it. They tell me that this thing is called “Snake”.
“Make us some coffee. It will take us 20 minutes now that we have this. When we are finished it would be nice if the coffee was ready for us”, tells me my husband.
I make a second pot of coffee that turns cold on the kitchen counter.

2:00 pm
Both men emerge wetter than before from downstairs.
“No use, we need to buy another toilet, we can’t unplug the old one, it will only cost 200 dollars”, declares my husband.
I insist that they sit down to eat lunch before visiting the HomeDepot the second time, ignoring their assertion that it will only take 20 minutes. They sit down and eat lunch. Then rush out to buy a new toilet.

3:00 pm
They come back with two heavy duty cardboard boxes.
“Make us some coffee. It will take us 20 minutes to install this thing, it would be nice if coffee was waiting for us then”. Tells me my husband. I nod with agreement but ignore his request this time. “I am not making any more coffee until both of you are sitting on the kitchen table”, I murmur to myself.
The kids have a great time playing with the two cardboard boxes. They hide in them, pretend that they are a house, then pretend they are a cho-cho train, they use them to make magic tricks …. etc. The two grown up men seem to be having even more fun downstairs as I hear more pounding, water spry sounds. I hear them talking about tools and stuff.

7:30 pm
Both men emerge from downstairs completely wet. “It is done” they declare proudly. Big smile of achievement on my husbands face. “Make us some coffee please sweetheart” he asks in an affectionate way. “How about some dinner first” I reply. I serve them dinner, then coffee and cake. Finally! they actually drink the coffee I made for them.

I tip toe downstairs and admire my husbands handy work. “The toilet seat is tilted to the right” I think to myself, but I don’t have the heart to say out loud. We could have just called a plumber, but then the kids young and old wouldn’t have had so much fun on a snowy Sunday.

All in all I had a pleasant Sunday.