Not a Review Because I Can't Handle Those: Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue

See now, this is why I can't be a critic or a reviewer or anything. I go see a show, take two or three pictures and then have to put my camera back in my bag so that my hands are free to wave around in the air. Looking classy, obviously. And I think of a couple sentences that I try and jot down on my hand or on the back of a receipt I find crumpled at the bottom of my purse, but then I realize the band is covering James Brown and I need to focus. On the fact that they're playing James Brown, not on sentences describing them playing James Brown. I end up with a tiny handful of blurry pictures and three nonsensical phrases in a text message I sent to myself that I later try unsuccessfully to decipher. It doesn't work. And it's just not for me, man.

So instead, I watch. And dance and smile and laugh and all that. And that's why I don't have much in terms of a review of Trombone Shorty and Orleans Avenue, who performed here in Madison last night at La Fete de Marquette.

I mean, they were brilliant. I'll say that. From the horn section to the rhythm section to the unbelievable guitarist to Troy Andrews (Trombone Shorty) himself, the band blew my mind. Troy played trombone and trumpet, conducted the band, sang, and danced. Nobody told me he could sing! And for real, he could sing. His voice has the depth and passion of a man three times his age, but he brought out a sexiness that just works so perfectly from a 23 year old up on a stage in front of you. You know? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about.
Watch him make the music move:

Do you see? That was all I could get, because sometimes you have to know when to put down the camera and just watch. Or just dance. Or just smile so much that your face hurts and forget the details of the show. Let somebody else do it, and you go experience that show.

And of course, there's my unending love for and fascination with the musicians. Oh, these musicians! My mother may have told me, and my friends may have warned me, but I know and they know that nothing gets me quite like a beautiful boy playing guitar. I mean, please.

You know?

Total Maroon

After cooking my dinner tonight, I sat down to eat. It took about 15 minutes. I also sat around for about 10 more minutes before going back to the stove to clean up a bit. I'd left a pan on the stove, and looking inside, I saw this:
What is it? A glob of cheese? A well-seasoned egg white? A dab of butter, perhaps? No, my friends, for I'm way stupider than that tonight. It's part of my white plastic spoon that melted when I left it in the pan on accident. Oh, and I also left the stove on.
Although I was somewhat distraught at the tragedy of losing my spoon (I only have two other identical spoons, you see!), I did see an opportunity for...

PROP COMEDY!!! Wooo, I'm takin' a bite! Yeah!
What a maroon. Theme of the day, babies. Total maroon.

Summer Eatin'

Last night, I was explaining to a couple of friends that I seem to eat better and healthier when I take pictures of the food I'm about to eat. No, wait. That might be a total lie. Example A - The Mastodon (10 oz burger with BBQ Sauce, Cheddar, Bacon, Frizzled Onions) at Kuma's Corner:
Example B - the Mac & Cheese at Kuma's Corner (this was ordered "for the table" and had mushrooms and bacon in it): You get the idea. Okay, let's say that this week, I've been taking pictures of food and realizing that it makes me want to eat healthier. Seriously, you put all your food on a plate and take a picture of it, and you realize that you don't have any protein! So you go get you some protein, and everything is balanced and healthy, and things are great. See how it works?

It has been really easy to eat well and healthy this summer, mostly due to the weekly farmer's market that takes place right outside my house on Tuesday afternoons. The Eastside Farmer's Market used to be a few blocks over, but now it is literally in the parking lot across the street from where I live. I could run there and do an entire lap around the whole thing, holding my breath. Fantastic! It's been diverse so far this summer, and I've almost always come away with fantastic items. Like these, all for a very affordable price:
And some lovely lilies! I haven't been too excited about lilies in the past, but these were so lovely. The leaves are really cool looking too.
The food from the market is extremely fresh, locally grown and made, and absolutely delicious. I've had a ton of fun making meals this week. There's something about the weather that makes me want to eat differently than I do during the rest of the year. Part of me wants a lot of cold things, and no meat, and several little items, all on one plate (but not touching each other. Don't worry, Layla, I'm still true to my roots). Check out some of me fantastic meals from this week!

Here we have hummus I'd made a couple of days before with toasted pita bread, and green beans, raspberries, and cheese curds from the farmer's market! The cheese curds are from Farmer John, who regularly has a booth at several farmer's markets in town. Naysayers, please stop nay-ing; I'm pretty sure you're just nervous because of the word "curd." Here, have a read, and come back when you're more open-minded. These cheese curds are so fresh, probably just a couple of hours old, and they honestly do squeak when you eat them!
This is more of the same hummus and pita bread with a bit of paprika to make it more presentable. It's like dressing up for church, you know? Cut up tomatoes and cucumbers are one of my favorite dipping items for hummus, but the cucumbers must be sliced longways like this. Those pretzel-looking things are raspberry yogurt covered pretzels. So delicious...
I mixed some black beans with tomatoes and cooked them for a while, adding some cumin and other stuff. Hey, cooking! Those are white corn tortillas, avocado, and broccoli from the market.
I bought some new potatoes somewhere else this week - I can't remember where - and decided to cook them with an item I'd bought at the farmer's market last week: Summer Butter. What's summer butter, you ask? Um...actually, it's just butter that is made in the summer. That's all. But apparently, this summer butter has a more yellow color because the cows are eating healthier than they do in the winter. Hey, me too, cows. Me too.
I honestly haven't ever tasted butter like this before. It's incredible; just salty enough, creamy, um...buttery...ridiculous.
I also decided to make egg salad and add in some favorites: tomato, red onion, and dill pickle. These items give it so much flavor; in fact, I don't usually need to add any spices when I put in these three things. My favorites for egg salad, however, are dill and paprika. And it makes it real pretty looking.
Here's dinner! The potatoes have scallions on top (also from the farmer's market, duh), more green beans, and the delicious egg salad. There's also some greek yogurt on the side, just because. You know, one time I made egg salad with Laughing Cow cheese and a teensy bit of greek yogurt for creaminess, and I swear, it was really good. Sometimes mayonnaise is disgusting and you have to find another item. Waa waa!

So, just a note about pictures and colors...I have to say, this last dinner wasn't as satisfying in looks to me due to the sameness in the color of the egg salad and potatoes. There needs to be more of a sense of balance or evenness for me to be totally happy, like more so in the other pictures. For example, have you heard the "top news story" about Subway? They are changing the regulations on placement of cheese in sandwiches. Oh, for real. Check it. See, they're making things more even and giving the sandwiches more cheese coverage over all. Everybody wins! And for me, this is perfect because everything is even and balanced, and frankly, I just feel better and sort of relieved when thing are even and balanced. I have a...what's a nicer word for "compulsion?" Whatever that is, I have it.

The summer dinners have been lovely, and what's also been great is filling in the rest of my meals with leftovers here and there. For example: Bruffix. I love breakfast so much. It's definitely my current favorite meal. Here we have some more tortillas, leftover beans and tomatoes, scallions, scrambled eggs (those are totally egg beaters because I used all of the eggs for the egg salad. I think next time, a poached egg would be perfect here.), and the same potatoes I cooked before. I added some seasoning and browned them a bit, and they were lovely. That fancy stuff in the blue container is a delicacy known as "ketchup."


It's been a good summer for eating! Unfortunately, this trend is about to end as I head to Chicago for the weekend and go to a meat, cheese, and beer tasting with my brother and cousins. Yikes...I foresee the "tasting" portions not being big enough for some family members, and those family members going out for burritos later in the night. I'll let you know how it all turns out.

Max Weinberg Comes to Town!

I used to write love letters to Conan O'Brien. Okay, to be honest, most of them were in my head. But I do remember actually writing down at least one. It was written in a hotel somewhere, on hotel stationary, and it was never sent. But still, I wrote it. I suggested he have me as a guest on his show. My talent, or contribution to the show, would be me reciting a scene from West Side Story in which I'd play four characters. It's the scene where Maria wants Anita to make the neckline of her dress lower. I had it memorized and had different voice for all the characters and everything. I wrote Conan a letter encouraging him to invite me on, as well as professing my love for him in that letter. I'm a teensy bit glad I never sent it.

Anyhow, I really did think I was in love with Conan. His wit, cleverness, and intelligence balanced so well with his painfully awkward and nerdy personality. Weird hair, skinny wiener legs, and god, oh so white...? For some reason, I thought he was my perfect man. You'll probably be happy to know that my taste in men has changed a lot since then. Not to hate on Conan or anything...but I digress. Back to Conan.Yes, this guy.

I'd watch his show religiously, regardless of homework or my job or my social life. I was enthralled by Conan and Andy and their hilarious skits and nerdlinger conversations. I loved that there were often times when nobody would laugh but the two of them. I didn't really care who the guests were; I mostly watched the show for Conan and Andy. And honestly, for years and years, I never appreciated the man who really made the show come alive. The quiet, sort of creepy guy sitting behind the drums that Conan and Andy made fun of and made out to be a total perv. That's right, I'm talking about Max Weinberg. Max Weinberg is one of the most amazing drummers ever. Duh. Not only does he lead an incredibly tight band on Conan's show, he rocks so hard with Bruce Springsteen! I saw Bruce in March of 2008 and was amazed and humbled by Max's playing. How does he make so much sound and so much rock come out of those drums when he barely moves his torso? For real, I don't understand. He sits so upright, almost rigid, and barely changes his facial expression. But the sound that comes out of his drums is insane.

Thanks to the lovely local website dane101, I won free tickets to see Max Weinberg on his latest musical endeavor: Max Weinberg's Big Band. Creative! God, who even cares what they're called?! They could be called "Piece of Poo" and I'd still go see them and love every minute. Anyhow, dane101 often posts opportunities to win free tickets to fantastic shows, and I just happened to win these tickets about 8 hours before the show last night. Fantastic!

The show was at The Majestic, which is the same venue in which I've danced and sweated to DJ Rekha, Dan Deacon, Peaches, and, ahem, a Guns n Roses cover band. And damn, they really classed the place up for this event. It's a good thing, too, since it seemed like about 90% of the audience was above 50, and would prefer a classier (read: cleaner, nicer, less beer spilled on the floor) venue. Nice work, the Majestic. We also had a great view from the balcony, right above the band.

Max's band is made up of 15 musicians including himself; four trumpet players, five saxophone players, three tromboners (ya heard me), a pianist, a bass player, and a drummer. Named Max Weinberg. They sat in a typical big band style, all behind podium music stands, and whenever somebody would solo, they'd stand up to do so. At the end of the solo, everybody claps. Now you know and won't be embarrassed when you see your next big band. Yeah, you're welcome. The band was amazing; so tight and so in tune with each other, but without being uptight. I really feel like Max actually let loose a bit more than he has when I've seen him on television or at the Bruce concert. It was definitely unexpected, and definitely exciting to watch. Look at those sticks!
Max was way more personable and comfortable than I thought he would be, and than I'd seen him on the show. I mean, don't get me wrong, he was still a straight up nerd, but he didn't seem quite as uptight and weird. He was friendly, joking with the crowd and professing his passion for Frank Lloyd Wright and Madison in general. At one point, while he was speaking into the microphone, his voice cracked a bit and he made a joke about how he was becoming a man and going to get Bar Mitzvah'ed next week. Oh Max! You slay me!
He kept the talking to a minimum, though, and played for a solid hour and a half with a pretty diverse repertoire of songs like you would have heard Count Basie play. He also did quite a few cop show theme songs, for some reason...One of my favorite songs that he did was the beautifully lazy and luxurious sounding "Only the Lonely," made famous by Frank Sinatra:

It was so cool to watch the band watch each other. I've thought about this before, specifically in watching Emanuel Ax play with an orchestra and seemingly getting lost in them during his own performance. The members of Max's band watched each other solo and clapped for each other when they could. There were a lot of smiles and laughing between the impeccable playing, which made me smile and laugh as well. It was a really great way to see this band, and I really appreciated the intimacy of the venue. I feel really lucky to have seen him and his band in this capacity.

Check out Max's drum solos at the end of the show. My battery was dying, so each video only lasts about 30 seconds, but you'll get the idea:


Max Weinberg! See him if you can. It's totally worth it.

Dates. No, I Mean the Food Kind.

As a kid, I was a very picky eater. My mother would cook amazing Iraqi food, delicious salmon dishes, and flavorful, creative recipes of all kinds, and I'd eat fishsticks. On my birthdays when I got to choose where we went out to dinner, I'd choose Chili's or Applebees. For real, I would. Gross, eh? I think my father is still regretful about those meals, even 15 - 20 years later. Whoops a daisy!

I was always extremely resistant to Arabic food, or what I perceived to be Arabic food. My mother would make kibbeh, or "rice and gravy," which was basically white rice and red tomato gravy with meat and/or vegetables, and I'd pout and whine about it like a little baby. I was not a bratty kid, but this was one place where I really did it up. In addition to the beautiful cooking on which I missed out, there were lovely individual items that I hated on as well. My father always had a love for figs and dates, and believe it or not, I wouldn't even try either until well into my teenage years. What a fool I was...I cannot believe I missed out for all those years.

Now when I see dates, I feel like I'm home. My father speaks about the date palms in Baghdad and how they grew everywhere, and the fruit trees in the backyard of his parents' house, and my heart swells with love and pride and sadness, all at once. To be able to reach up and pick a fig out of a tree as you sit in your backyard reading...can you even imagine? It makes me want to cry a little bit. And so, I am incredibly thankful for my father's persistence (as well as my mother's patience) with my eating habits over the years, and happy that I now, finally, have so much love for dates and figs. See here for further evidence.

I was going to go grocery shopping tonight, but then it started raining really hard and the tornado sirens went off, so I stayed home. Somewhat short on food, I searched my fridge to find some satisfying Dinner Two ingredients (Dinner One was Special K Red Berries and almond milk when I got home from work at 5:15. Classy). I spotted the giant plastic container of dates my father had given me the last time I was at home, the bag of walnuts I bought at the Co-op the other day, and a container of Greek yogurt. It was totally a "HEY GIRL" moment. Meaning, I got real excited.

When Christopher visited me last fall, he seemed to make masterpieces out of practically nothing, at least in terms of food. I remember this dessert he made, poached pears with dates, honey, and cream.

I mean for real, it came out of nowhere. And it was amazing. So, I decided that Dinner Two would be date-based tonight. Please note, I used FANCY dates. That's right, I only eat fancy things.
Dates look like small, fat turds. Or giant raisins. Or both. Whatever gets you excited.
Now, for the extremely technical description of how to remove the pits and put in the walnuts:

1. Wash your hands real good.
2. Dig your fingers into the dates, making a lengthwise opening.
3. Pull out that damn pit.
4. Stuff a walnut back in there.
5. Wash your hands real good again. Probably clean underneath your fingernails for date guts.

Beautiful! Now, here's where my parents would usually leave it and put the dates on a nice plate to serve to guests. But I was in the mood for more ingredients, so I got out the Greek yogurt. Greek yogurt is really good; it's creamy and thick and not sweet. Plus it's full of protein, but I'm more concerned with the deliciousness. Although my father would probably criticize this part, I went ahead with it anyhow. He's a purist, you see, and he has extremely strong opinions on the treatment of fruits. A direct quote from him: When you want to mock lovely fruits, you put chocolate on dates or cheese on figs. This is an insult. Yeah. He is adamant about this. Sorry, Dad.
I drizzled a bit of honey on top of the dates, although it was totally unnecessary because they are incredibly sweet already. But it was a nice touch. It was like there were two different sweetnesses, but they blended together really gently and smoothly.
Dip the honey-covered dates and walnuts into the Greek yogurt, and you got yourself a snack! Yow! Thanks, rain and parents and food that was in the fridge! You made it a good night!

The Current Theme Is Hilarious Animals

It's no secret that I love animals. In every journal I had as a child, I wrote that I wanted to grow up to be a veterinarian. But then one year I found out I'd have to give animals shots, and that dream went out the window. But I kept the love for animals going throughout the years, mostly with my appreciation of dogs with their heads hanging out car windows. It's a pretty common phenomenon, actually; in fact, there's a whole facebook group dedicated to just that! Although pictures do not even do these dogs justice, here's what I'm talking about (picture from here):

Look how great that dog looks! So free and wind-blown, without a care in the world!

Where was I? Hmm. Animals are great. Especially when they're being funny. Lately, I've been really excited about this website called This Is Photobomb. Although most of the pictures they post on there are hilarious, the funniest to me are the ones where animals photobomb. I mean, it's not like animals are doing this on purpose....or are they?! Observe (all pictures from This Is Photobomb):



A seal! Photobombing a group of penguins! It's just too funny for me sometimes. So I have to resort to watching videos. Of hilarious animals, duh. Look:



And this. This, my friends, is my new favorite thing. I have watched it at least eight times today, and will most likely continue that trend in the days to come. This goat is the greatest goat ever to live!


And that is what I have to say tonight.

From the Vault: A Sincere Apology to a City

Oh lord, it's been awhile. And don't get excited or anything, dudes, because this is not a new blog entry. It's actually an old blog entry. In my somewhat paranoid internet searchings tonight (which were based on my thoughts of privacy and finding/deleting everything about me on the internet - I go through these thoughts every so often), I came across/remembered my MySpace blog! It's funny, because although this (this is how I will get famous) blog has only been around since December of 2007, I had a MySpace blog before that (December of 2005 sporadically through January 2008), and before that, a LiveJournal (January 2005 - December 2005). So I guess I've been around for awhile, eh?

In reading many of my old MySpace entries this evening, I made a few observations:

• I used to write without any capital letters. I added the capital letters into my writing when I started having more self-respect. It was in 2008. I am totally serious.
• I used to swear a lot. And I used to drink a lot. And talk about drinking a lot.
• I used to be way more cavalier with posting my feelings and business all over the internet.
• I was still really hilarious. Super sarcastic and a little mean, but often hilarious.
• I'm glad I still have all this writing. It's a really accurate and pretty telling description of where I was at (mentally, emotionally, physically) during those years. Some of it was surprising, some of it was sad, and I feel grateful for the ability to to go back and read all of it. So, um...thanks, internet.

There were many years when I lived here that I sort of resented Madison. It's funny to remember that currently, since I'm in love with it now, but I really struggled with living here. I resisted the city and what it is about. I compared left and right. And so it was nice to read this entry from August 2007 and feel not only happy about this feeling I had at the time, but about the fact that I really do love it here now. Anyhow, here it is, in lieu of a new blog post, which may be the case for some time as my writing is all the non-publishy type at the moment. I hope you enjoy this oldie. And check the non-capitol letters!

Thursday, August 7, 2007

i rarely ever choose to walk, and today i actually did a few times, but the most important time was walking home about a mile at dusk, if dusk is around 8:45 pm in the summer, right when it starts to get dark. i think i'm right about that. i got about two blocks from my house right at dusk then.

something hit me so hard. i walked past the windows of st. vinny's, and looking at all that crap in there, the garbage nobody needs but will still buy, and more garbage lining the gutters of willy street, and it felt like being on devon after dinner, and there was traffic, actual traffic, traffic i've always kind of scoffed at (excuse that term...i hate that term), but all of a sudden i loved that there was traffic. and throngs of people stood outside the crystal corner bar with the neon lights and the tacky marquee, smoking and yelling at cars passing by and at each other, and a city bus sped up and ran a red light and a car honked, and despite the stagnant-ass 90 degree heat in the air, everything was moving for once, and there was fucking life here. the city was finally alive to me. this slight elevation in energy and activity and it all happening at night. suddenly, i live in an actual city.

it was no familiar skyline. it was no driving the I-94 into the city at 11:00 pm on a friday, and it was no butterflies in my stomach as the night began. but it was so fucking alive for once.

and all the while, i smelled campfires. and recycling bins dutifully lined the streets. and it was still madison to me, and it was still what madison has always been to me, but it was also all of a sudden so much more.

five years of living here, and all the while i've been refusing to accept this city as its own place. it's not-chicago and not-atlanta and not-london and not even fucking glenview, illinois.

i feel like i owe madison an apology.

i'm sorry i didn't give you a fair chance. i'm sorry i never took you seriously. i'll keep my eyes open from now on.

Help Ardita Bilalli!

It isn't often that one has the opportunity to write or say something that will be heard or read by large groups of people, so I feel lucky that my blog has attracted so many readers over the last two years and thank you all for that opportunity. Thanks to all of you who have subscribed and read in the past - your readership means the world to me, and I hope that although I haven't written a lot lately, that you will be patient with me as I break through yet another period of writer's block and start posting pictures of my face, or maybe even some delicious food again someday.

In the meantime, please take a few minutes to read this piece by my friend Jess Haven. Ardita Bilalli, born with spinabifida and now ten years old, is very close to being sent from Madison back to Kosovo to a tiny town with limited electricity and medical care. Please read this story to see what you can do, or maybe even do a little brainstorming in case there's something ELSE you think can do to help. Seriously, everybody can do something. Thank you - even reposting helps so much. Getting people informed is an important and integral step to any kind of activism!

This is a local Madison story, but should be read by people everywhere and anywhere (hey, that's you!). No matter where you are or who you are, you can do something to help. Please read below and get involved in whatever way you can! And thank you for being such wonderful and loyal readers!

xoxo, Reem

My name is Jessica Haven, I'm a social worker and I live in Madison, Wisconsin with my husband and pets. We are aspiring filmmakers with a strong interest in sharing human rights stories with the world. I am not reaching out to you today on my own behalf, but on behalf of a vibrant and kind ten-year-old girl whom I met only a few days ago. Her name is Ardita Bilalli and I read an article about her in a newspaper recently. Ardita has won many life-saving battles after she was born in a war-torn country with a slew of medical problems and now faces one of the biggest and most frightening prospects to date. She and her mother must return to Kosovo where her life and health will be compromised if they cannot get an exception to stay in the US. After reading about her, I made contact through her website to find out how I could help and before I knew it, I was in her living room with the camera rolling as she, her mother and her uncle shared her moving and urgent story.

Ardita was born prematurely in Kosovo during the war in which 16 of her relatives were killed. About one million people from Kosovo were displaced and her mother, Shemsije, was hiding from the paramilitary. Shemsije gave birth to Ardita in a bombed-out school beneath the glow of a light powered by a tractor battery. There was no roof and Shemsije was terrified. Ardita's uncle Gani had moved to the US a few years earlier but could not get any word on his family's well-being back in Kosovo. When he finally did make contact, he learned of his niece who had many medical problems. When Shemsije was able to get medical attention for Ardita, it was discovered that she had myelomeningocele spina bifida. She received daily injections to control infection but doctors could do nothing more as hospitals during the war were gutted and had no equipment.

Gani, Ardita's uncle, applied for help from the Shriners Hospital in Chicago and Ardita and her mother moved to Madison when Ardita was 2 1/2 years old. Upon receiving medical attention at Shriners Hospital, it was learned that Ardita had bladder and kidney problems. She has had nine surgeries in her ten years of life. She also has seizures and wears back, hip and leg braces so she can walk at times. The braces need to be adjusted and repaired as she grows. Ardita also has a shunt that drains excess cerebrospinal fluid from her brain. Her health is currently stable but she needs a daily regimen of medications and catheterizations and frequent medical appointments to keep it that way. She may grow out of her shunt at any time and could require an ambulance trip to the ER if it becomes dislodged.

Ardita's father, Sami, lives in Kosovo and has been denied visas in the US three times. Ardita and her mother have only seen him via the Internet since she was two years old. As Ardita grows, her mother struggles to care for her and lift her and wishes her father could be here to help. Ardita misses him terribly.

Ardita and Shemsije's visas have expired and in order to renew them, they must renew their passports, which have also expired. In order to renew their passports, they must return to Kosovo because there is no embassy in the US for them to do this here. If they return to Kosovo, they are at great risk of never being granted US visas. And in Kosovo, Ardita will not have the necessary resources for her survival. Her mother fears that Ardita may even die on the long plane ride there.

Ardita's father lives two hours from the capitol city of Pristina, where any medical treatment is located. He has no car, electricity is intermittent in his village, and he is unemployed. The family would not be able to afford rent to live in Pristina. And even in Pristina, the medical care and technology cannot rival what Ardita needs and has received here in the US.

Despite everything she has endured and the frightening prospect ahead, Ardita continues to smile, play and see the good in everything and everyone. Within five minutes of meeting me, she gave me a beaded headband she had made and later, upon our departure, she handed me a fresh-picked dandelion. She joked and laughed with her cousins and when I asked if she wanted to give her mom a hug when she was crying, she said, "Naw, she's alright." Ardita is well-liked at school and her classmates even threw a fundraiser for her. A group of parents operate her website (www.helpardita.com) where people can donate or contact them with ideas and connections. Gani says that Shriners Hospital gave Ardita life while Elvehjem Elementary School gave Ardita a life. He explains that even at a young age, the war took its toll on Ardita. She would not leave her mother's side, even in the bathroom, without screaming and crying and was intensely frightened and uncooperative during medical appointments. Her teachers, peers and medical staff have provided much-needed socialization and now she is a bright, beautiful, well-liked child who says she even enjoys going in for surgeries. She aspires to someday be a nurse AND a doctor!

Filming this family was like no other experience for us. One does not walk away from a desperate mother begging for her daughter's life without being deeply impacted within. This is on our watch, too, now and we will not stop searching for a solution until its fruition. Ardita and Shemsije have purchased plane tickets for June 21, 2010 and say that every day and every hour speeds by. Gani says that his family has devoted the last eight years of their lives to Ardita's survival and if she goes to Kosovo, it's like giving up - shutting down her life, he says. Ideally, Shemsije says, she would like for her and Ardita to continue living here and have her father Sami join them so he can work, provide for them and help with Ardita's care. Gani says that Sami would work twenty hours a day, seven days a week if he were here. Shemsije adds that they are not here for fun - only to save her daughter's life. Ardita says she loves and misses her father and wants to see him. Shemsije told us she once heard Ardita tell someone that she is going back to Kosovo to die but it is okay because she will get to be with her father.

Shemsije said that if Sami cannot be here, she would still like for her and Ardita to stay, in Ardita's best interest. And finally, if they cannot stay, they need money and connections anyone may have to the resources they need in Kosovo: water filtration, a reliable generator and fuel, transportation, an English-speaking school, and referrals to non-governmental organizations that can help them there.

Ardita has experienced many miracles and beat great odds throughout her short lifetime and she and her family hope and pray for another one. Will you be part of her next miracle?


Jessica Haven
608-335-9112
jesshaven@gmail.com

Ardita, being supported by her mother, playing basketball with her cousin Mergime
Jess films Ardita and her family (video to come soon!)

Ardita with her mother, cousins, aunt and uncle
Ardita with her mother and father in Kosovo
Ardita and her mother tired, ill and hungry in Kosovo

Ardita at Shriners Hospital

Therapy

Please watch:


www.helpardita.com

March 28th Weather

Saturday Mar 27 Partly Cloudy High 58°F Low 37°F Precip 10 %		Sunday Mar 28 Showers High 48°F Low 32°F Precip 40 %		Monday Mar 29 Sunny High 50°F Low 32°F Precip 0 %		Tuesday Mar 30 Partly Cloudy High 55°F Low 36°F Precip 20 %

Now that's funny. I'll write more later.