As I write it is extremely early: 4:44 am. Awoke early but as I had slept my necessary eight hours (at least) decided to just stay awake and begin the day. Coffee has been made, two suitcases packed, It is time to write.
It is indeed a momentous day. Momentous a perfect word, it meaning: of a decision, event, or change) of great importance or significance, especially in its bearing on the future. That is it! Today I move into my apartment, furniture shall arrive between 9 and 12 – power is on, wi-fi shall be installed tomorrow. I did it! I did it! This, of course, has bearing on the future. I am home, my roaming days temporarily over. I am free after living under horrible restraints and curtailment of freedoms in the UAE. As one charming Nepalese woman, working in Costa Coffee at the Premier Inn said:
She: It is for you a new beginning!
Her statement brought great joy at the time – it is rather coincidental that another individual from Nepal will greet me, the property manager whose nickname shall be M.A.N. Manager Awesome Nepalese, I eagerly anticipate informing him of his nickname.
He: You are going to live here for at least ten years Alexis.
Me: My goodness! A clairvoyant property manager. Do they pay you extra for that?
A most off the wall event occurred. MAN and I were walking from one entrance to another and an older gentleman appeared. Of course, I absolutely HAD to tell him my story.
Me: I left Edmonton fifty-five years ago and now I am coming back to live here. I am so happy and feel blessed.
He: Well, welcome back!
Me: Thank you! I am collecting Welcome Backs, must have about a hundred by now. I am going to live here, do you live in this building.
MAN: He is the owner.
Me: Sheeet! Really? I am sorry for my language. I was just startled.
He: No, that is fine.
Me: What is your name.
Me: Sheet again! That is my name the diminutive my parents would call me when I was little.
I did casually mention a previous multibillionaire owner of my acquaintance.
He: I am not a multibillionaire.
Me: That is ok with me. They are a bit rarified and it is a terrible life. It means you are probably not greedy and that is not a good trait to have in the owner of one’s building.
I realize that all of that is most improbable, far-fetched and fanciful but it is true, all of that happened. Do admit that I embellished some of my language, but not much (and I did leave out some of the detail discussed.)
The iPhone alarm chimes signaled prayer time, I prayed, thanking Allah for His mercies, his graciousness, his gifts and generosity toward me. The new apartment as a sort of sun room off the living room. I intend to turn it into a prayer room. MAN showed me which way was East, I am ready for this!
But back to the world of trouble and woe. Daily news from the Economist announced : “President Joe Biden issued a plaintive demand for stricter gun laws in America with a prime-time speech on Thursday evening. He pleaded mainly on behalf of incremental legislation that is already pending. If lawmakers cannot ban assault rifles, he argues, they out to require that buyers be 21 years old. Altogether three mass shootings in 18 days – Buffalo, New York, in Uvalde, Texas; and in Tulsa, Oklahoma – have left 35 people dead. (On Thursday itself there were at least two further mass shootings, in Iowa and in Wisconsin.) A bipartisan group of
senators is trying to strike a deal, though opposition from Republicans seems certain to semi substantial reform.”
Let me say this about that. First of all, what in the world is a plaintive demand. A demand cannot be plaintive as plaintive is sad, wistful, doleful, pathetic, pitiful, piteous, melancholy, melancholic, sorrowful, unhappy, wretched, woeful, grief-stricken, broken-hearted, heartbroken, desolate, heart-rending, forlorn, woebegone. Has anyone ever heard of a pathetic, broken-hearted, woebegone demand? The answer to that question is: Of course not!
This is what I would have done if I were President of the United States. Woudl have made a prime time speech that would have gone something like this:
President Alexis: Listen you imbeciles, you idiots. You are killing each other off, Pretty soon there is going to be nobody left in this land. If you gotta shoot somebody go shoot Republicans so that we can get something done in this country! Either get with it or I will turn the reins of government back to Trump. That will serve you right! So you got two weeks to do this. Get with it! You do not have the brains that you were born with and your mother is not at all happy with you. Enough said. Turn off your television, get off your rear end and get to work.
As you can see I was made for the job but as not born in the USA I am fortunately ineligible. And, may I point out to you, I am a resident of Canada. I got out of that place in the nick of time. That place being the USA. The USA is meeting their contractual obligation by paying me a monthly retirement benefit – but that is contract law, which is common law which was originally British. So there! So there! So there!
Now if the USA were Muslim majority things would be a lot easier. All of the victims would be going to Jannah, so the mourning of the families would be lessened. The mass murderers would go to Hell and be incinerated time and time again. They might be thinking twice about that. No peaceful death being shot by the police and just going to oblivion. But the USA is not a Muslim majority country and probably will not be as the stupid mass murderers are picking on them, on children and helpless individuals who were just at the wrong place and the wrong time.
How was that for a rant? Not bad!!! A rant is a speech a shout made at length in a wild, impassioned way. It is a tirade, harangue, diatribe, broadside, verbal onslaught. Readers were just hit with a broadside, a verbal onslaught and a harangue.
The photograph is somewhat lowly. It is yesterday’s breakfast – a chèvre grilled sandwich from Rosewood Foods. It was accompanied by this caption. “What is this? The absolutely delicious chèvre cheese sandwich from Rosewood Foods. The Fake Sultan was telling me to eat eggs and vegetables for breakfast. I do not think so, my dear.”
The Fake Sultan was a man I met in Abu Dhabi. His name was, he said, Saeed Al Mansoori. He gave me a prayer rug. Later I googled him and found that there was a Sultan bin Saeed Al Mansoori – a rather amazing man on the UAE cabinet, responsible for the diversification of the economy from oil and gas to technology. I thought they were the same guy but were not. I told the Fake to go away and that he was not going to Jannah.
He: Why am I not going to Jannah?
Me: You need to ask Allah.
He no longer likes any Instagram posts. Then just a few minutes ago received a notification that PrinceFazza was following me. Trust me I am not following back the person who says he is the Crown Prince of Dubai. He says he is following me but did not Like my chèvre sandwich post. I do not think so. I have been fooled before, not going to be fooled again by a guy that says he is Fazza. It has been going on for years. This time it is Fazza27256. Looking back at my blogs it first began in Vancouver in 2017. I actually think that sometimes it is him – poor lonely rather crazy man. So glad to be away from the Middle East.
The other photo is a fish taco from Craft, a restaruant just down the street. It was yummy!!! Tomorrow if you are lucky you might get a photo of my new view. I have a great view.