A Note About Blogging from Palestine
I have resisted blogging for, well, since the invention of the blog, because while those who have been in my company know I have no problem giving my opinions about anything and everything in person, it always seemed a bit presumptuous that people would ever take the time to read what I had to say. But a few days ago I looked around and thought to myself, damn, I have one hell of a weird life, and figured people might be interested (or horrified, or amused) to hear about it. So, I started this blog, and shamelessly used my daughter's name, which is a) cool, and b) somehow less self-aggrandizing (at least in my mind). And so here I sit, in my well-appointed bedroom full of matching furniture (stylish, not garish like some of the stuff you see around here) listening to the far-off rat-a-tat-tat shooting of the Israeli military at their firing range over in the Etzion settlement, just a couple of miles from here. Mousa (my husband) is watching some dramatic Arab soap-opera (very common during Ramadan) and Rafeef is sleeping comfortably. Tonight, just like every other night before I go to sleep, I will check that the doors are locked and barred, and note where my shoes are, and check that the camera is easy to grab, and leave the bathroom light on, and make sure my phone is in reach, all just in case this is the night that the Israeli military breaks down my door, invades my home, and takes Mousa away from me, again. Life in Palestine