Festive for Sale

Ho ho ho-ly sh**, it's hot out here!

It is December is Doha, and as we gear up for the holidays here, I have to say that this is the most un-Christmas-y I have ever felt. Not in a bah-humbug way, but in a more general, not feeling like 'tis the season kind of way.
First, there was the issue of a Christmas tree. I don't know what we were thinking when we packed our boxes to come here, as we did not bring ONE  decoration with us. Not one. No dingle balls for the tree, no decorative manger with a wee little Jesus, no lights, no beads or pine bows, no wreath, and most notably... NO TREE. I must have been in some kind of post pregnancy fog or something.

As per usual, I start to fret about the availability of trees (real or artificial) here in Doha, where Christmas is not a big event in the stores. So about two weeks ago, I get wind that a few stores are indeed selling artificial Christmas trees, but it's slim pickin's, and the prices were on the high side. Off we go one Thursday evening (our 'Friday') in search of a new tree.
We find two possibilities. The first, is in a home store rightly named 'The One' (http://www.theoneplanet.com/), and they actually have a decent variety of artificial trees, but one look at the price tag and my night is ruined. The tree we liked... a mere 3700 Qatari Riyals! That is about $1000 USD (give or take). WHAT? Here's the crazy part - we both stood there and considered spending that much on a just okay looking tree. It wasn't dipped in gold, or so real looking you might mistakenly water it. It didn't walk or talk or do tricks.  No, it definitely looked fake, and was a bit bare, if you want to know the truth. I told Colin we needed to walk away and discuss this. Obviously, we had lost our minds.
Clearly, the sand was once again clouding our better judgement. I could fly to Canada one way for that price. An expression I heard my husband use last week sums this up perfectly: paying that much for a Christmas tree is just a little bit "Qatarded". (I know, funny right?) So, we walk around the mall a bit to talk about our options.

And there it is looming in the distance. Carrefour (http://www.carrefouruae.com/). Carrefour is like a European version of Walmart, but in Doha, this store really isn't European-like at all. It is often over crowded and poorly staffed, and since it is a combination of home goods and groceries, you always seem to get a faint 'raw meat' smell in the air when you are shopping. I secretly think it is the store where all other stores send their products that no one else will buy. I try and avoid our Carrefour whenever I can.
I know they probably have trees in there, so we agree to check. Yep, five different styles of artificial trees - including one white and one black one. Who would want a black tree? But there is one the same size and fullness as our tree in The One, and guess what? It is 497QAR (about $140USD).
Funny thing is, I would scoff at paying 140 bucks for a tree like this one back home, but now, it appears a steal of a deal. Did we load it in the cart and wheel it home immediately? No, no we did not.
We actually debated. Yes, we went back and forth between the two stores, trying to decide if the uglier tree was worth the big price break. Or, if the nicer tree was really THAT much nicer. Foolishness.

After too much time had passed, Ella had had enough of our inabilitiy to decide and started to complain, so we finally settled on the cheaper tree. (If we hadn't, I don't think I would have been able to write about it, for fear you all would think I'd lost my mind!).

It is now up, decorated, and looking pretty nice, I think. All the decorations are new, so no old favorites or family keepsakes this year. Trying to find a tree topper proved to be an extraordinary challenge, as well.
We have since put some lights up outside, decorated inside, and even gotten some good Christmas music all ready to go. I have dragged out my Christmas cookbooks, looked into where we can get a good turkey (don't get me started on the price of the turkey), sent all our cards in the mail, and found out what time the English Christmas Eve service is at our church.

We have been to a few Christmas parties already, and we did get quite the kick out of Santa arriving on a camel. That was a sight we had never seen before!



A final thought on the tree thing... after we made our purchase, I stumbled upon this website: http://dohadailydeal.com/. God Bless the Dutch - fresh Christmas trees shipped to my door in Doha, from Holland, for a mere 1000QAR (about $275USD). Haha! I guess you can get anything here if you are willing to pay the price.

OUR BIG NEWS: We are having company for Christmas this year! Who would want to come to the sandy desert for the holidays, you ask? The Janz`s from Calgary, that`s who! We are really looking forward to their arrival -  nothing like great friends to make us feel a little more festive. Can't wait till they get here next week!

Here's hoping that Santa finds us all here in our new home. No chimney this year, but we'll leave the patio door open just a crack. Ho ho ho!

Paris in November

This is long overdue but...

I think it is safe to say that all three of us fell in love with Paris on day one. What a fabulous city. I think we would have found it fabulous any time we visited, but, visiting now, after living in Qatar for a while, made it especially nice.

First thing we noticed was the weather. We arrived on a rainy, cloudy day, which couldn't have been better for us. Strange right? But after being rain & cloud-deprived for so long, that cranky looking sky with its random sprinkling of mist was a down right treat. Ella kept looking around, like 'what is this wet stuff that is falling on us?'... hard to believe she hasn't really experienced rain yet!

One of the most attractive things about the city (like many old cities) was its buildings. The history is amazing and looking at the details in each one we passed was just awesome. No two the same.

My quick 'favorite things about Paris list' to sum it all up (in no particular order, as they were all great):



Ella and one of many baguettes...



1. The bread - the bread deserves to be in a seperate category and not just lumped in with 'food'. It also deserves to be mentioned first, as many of you know, I am a bread fan (understatement, really). Parisians love their bread, and it is everywhere. We had bread with every meal (Ella included) and felt compelled to buy fresh baguette from street bakeries as we walked around, just to fit in, as everyone else was walking and munching on their fresh baguettes.

2. The food & wine - both more than great, and we slowly ate and drank our way across the city at every meal. Good thing we were walking everywhere to offset the calories a bit! (If you read this May, I apologize... it couldn't be helped!)

3. The dogs - Being an animal lover in Qatar has been difficult at times, as no longer can we bring our dogs with us when we go many places. When you do see dogs in the city, they are often stray and looking very hungry (tug at heart strings here). So, seeing big Retrievers tucked in under their owners chairs at cafes and little pomeranians obediently walking through stores next to their families was a welcome sight. Bonus: Ella has learned to say "woof" when she sees a puppy, so there were lots of excited woofs as we explored.

4. The chocolate - Stores and stores devoted solely to chocolate and delicious things covered in chocolate. And I thought the Qatari's had a sweet tooth!

5. The history - Everywhere we went there were magnificent old buildings, statues and monuments. So much to take in, so little time.

7. The small cars - Five years in Texas got me somewhat accustomed to seeing 'big rigs' everywhere. Then, our ten months here, where almost every vehicle is a large desert-ready SUV, I had begun to forget about the smaller vehicles. Paris was crammed with Smart cars, hatch-backs, and scooters. Loved, loved, loved this.

6. The Frenchness - The fashionable slightly-disheveled-but-oh-so-put-together appearance of the  people carrying their baguettes, morning papers, and puffing away on a cigarette was very cool. We both agreed that the smoking just didn't seems as offensive here, oddly enough. I mean, we were aware of it, and tried to steer Ella away from all smokers at all times, but so many people doing it made it seem much more acceptable and commonplace. Weird, I know, coming from a smoke-hater.

8. The markets/shopping - This was the kind of shopping I have missed. Little shops all lined together, each selling a curious assortment of things that bring a warmth to my heart. Colin indulged me repreatedly while I wandered through as many boutiques as I could, trying my rusty french out on shop keepers, and buying the odd knick knack here and there.

 

9. The ART - Paris certainly got my creative juices flowing. Studios and galleries everywhere, it seemed. Our day in Montemarte was amazingly inspirational. Artists at every turn, painting their hearts out! Never mind the museums filled with Monet, Manet, Renoir, van Gogh and countless other historical artists. You could wander through the museums for days on end and still not see everything.

10. The winding streets - Old cobblestone streets snaking around the city in every direction... filled with businesses, churches, people bundled up for winter weather, scents of baking bread.... ahhh.

 

So there you have it, our Paris adventure in a nut shell.  It was a glorious eight days and we do plan on returning again some day, fingers crossed.

Vive la France!

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

It's been a few weeks since I have had time to write, so first let me roll the clock back a bit and update you on the week before we left for our Eid holiday to Paris.

For the entire week just before we left on vacation, I had registered for a photography class at Virginia Commonwealth University here in Qatar. I wasn't really thinking about how hectic my week would be, but, I made it to every class and thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the ins and outs of my new Canon (I will discuss this later).

My point in telling you this is to give you an idea that I spent the days running around with Ella getting us ready for our trip, and the evenings in my class... throw in a birthday celebration for Colin and a few other volunteer activities, and I was solidly busy... so, I was thoroughly looking forward to a trip to my hair salon on Tuesday afternoon.

Ella had had her vaccinations that morning and I was a bit hesitant to leave her, but I really needed some hair attention (I had let it go too long and I was looking a bit shaggy) and it was only going to be an hour or so. So, Ella happily had her afternoon nap (with Mercy keeping a close eye on her), and I snuck away to have some much needed salon time.

Doha doesn't have the selection or quality of salons that I am accustomed to. Sure, there are some swanky places, but they often come with huge price tags and not always the greatest service. Plus, finding a person who is skilled at cutting curly & thick hair like mine is always a pain in the butt.
After a few different trips to various places around Doha to "sample" the stylists that were recommended to me by friends, I ended up with one spot that I was pretty happy with. All English speakers, funky atmosphere, and a stylist whose hair was as curly as mine, and had "Master Stylist" next to her name on her card. We hit it off and I have been going there since May.
It should be mentioned here, that last time I went to this person (I have grey hairs now people... I need to maintain my 'color' every six weeks...), she mistakenly used a lighter shade than I normally use on my hair, which she had to try and correct before I left. The salon was busy that day and my appointment ended up taking forever. My hair took a bit of a beating that time - too many chemicals, I think - but I was understanding. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes... and she had confided in me that she was having man-troubles at the time. Enough said - I forgave her for the slip up.

So, I had waited extra long for this new appointment, wanting to give my hair a chance to bounce back from the double chemical dose I inflicted on it a few months earlier.

I get there on time, happy to have an hour to relax, and to get a chance to treat myself before our vacation.
Long story a bit shorter... she is "touching up" my roots with a gooey mixture that looks PRETTY damn orange. I immediately comment:

Me: "Gee, this looks pretty orange. Are you sure?"

My girl (not mentioning her name on the off chance she may ever stumble upon this): "Tash, trust me. I know what I am doing"

Me: "Okay. But it kinda looks pumpkin-y orange"

My girl: "Read your magazine. Stop worrying. I promise it will look great"

So, I get a nice warm hot chocolate and dive into the new People magazine while my poor hair is 'processing'. I started to grow uneasy every time I look in the mirror. The goop on my head seemed to be glowing brighter and brighter. Anyone that knows anything about dyeing hair knows that the stuff generally darkens as it processes, right? So, I call to my girl once again, and she once again reassures me that I am worrying over nothing. Okay - I need to put a sock in it as I am being obsessive (odd for me, right?).
I sit there for what seems like an eternity, and finally its time to wash it off. OMG. I can tell when she is washing that something isn't right, just by the way she pauses repeatedly to examine the top of my head. What has happened?

I ask to see a mirror. She hesitates. We lock eyes and I know she has done it again. I look in the mirror she reluctantly passes me (while telling me it will take 'no time at all to fix'), and I see what I feared most... about 1/2 an inch from my scalp up is a very odd shade of reddish orange. Are you freaking kidding me? BRIGHT reddish-orange.

I have a newly-vaccinated baby to get back to, and I hear it is raining outside - I HAVEN'T SEEN RAIN IN NINE MONTHS. I want to go home, not go through this again. I sit there silently fuming as she slops on another batch of BROWN goop. Ahh, so she remembered the secret potion she used before? A little late. How hard is BROWN to mix up? Just basic run-of-the-mill BROWN.

But this time, things are not feeling right. Burn. Yes, my head is burning. Slight at first. Not so much to warrant a complaint. Besides, she has left me to sit here alone while she takes in her next person, as she is now running late, so I have no one to complain to. Five minutes pass. Ten. I can't stand it anymore. I catch her eye and tell her I need this stuff off my head now. She says "I think its ready anyhow". So we wash. The water does nothing to ease the now pain I am starting to feel. I can feel panic bubbling up inside me as I start to think that maybe my hair is falling out. What have I done? Eek!

So, I look in her mirror again. Okay, it is back to normal now, but my scalp is completely on fire and it looks like she has left streaks of brown dye on my forehead and across one my my cheeks. It turns out that crap doesn't come off too easily once you get it on your face.

I am wild on the inside now. Trying to keep my cool, I tell 'my girl' not to bother blow dry it, as I am worried about Ella, and Colin is already on his way home from work. My photography class is in one hour. I have to go.

I pay my bill in a rush to get out of there, and head home. So, to review: 3 hours and 45 minutes in salon, 2 batches of burning hair dye left sitting on scalp, NO haircut to speak of (the thing I wanted most of all), and a huge bill at the end.

By the time I get home, I am in quite the state. I fly around the house crazily changing my clothes for class, while hysterically telling Colin what has just happened. I didn't even get to snuggle with my poor Ella! He is trying desperately to reassure me that it looks great, but when I stop moving around and stand before him... guess what he says? He says: "You've got something on your face".

WHAT? I had forgotten. Rush to bathroom. Mother of God, my face has brown hair dye stains smudged all over it. As does the side of my neck and the tip of one ear. I am about to go into a mad ranting rage just as the doorbell rings, and my friend is here to pick me up for class.

I scrub my face like a maniac, grab my camera, and head out the door.

Mindy (the friend who I am taking class with) was very sympathetic as I ranted on about my afternoon. She lends me a scarf she had in the car to hide the neck stains. She even tried to tell me that no one would notice my brown smudge face from across the classroom. Whatever. I knew how I must have looked with wet frizzy hair, a brown and pink face (pink from rubbing my flesh raw trying to wash the brown off before leaving the house), a scarf on my neck when its 30 degrees outside,and no make up on. You can just picture it, can't you?

Wouldn't you know it that we were taking portraits that night! PORTRAITS. I am not even joking.

My hair is pretty much back to normal now, and the colour is the same as it always is. On a very bright note, I went to a great little salon in Paris on day two of our trip and had a fantastic haircut and a gentle-so-worth-every-euro scalp massage & conditioning treatment. It made up for everything... well, almost everything... head isn't tender anymore but I now have a slight mental scar from the whole experience.

My girl, by the way, has emailed and texted me a few times, apologizing and wanting me to come in for a proper cut. She was very apologetic about what happened. I wrote her back an email and told her (very nicely) that my head would be taking a break from the salon for a while.

So, my question to you is this - do I break up with her? I really like 'my girl' as a person, but can't really trust her potion-mixing skills anymore. I would miss the funky little salon, but perhaps its time to start 'seeing' a new stylist? Do I just never go back, or, do I akwardly explain why I can't? I figure I won't need a cut till around Christmas... breaking up is so complicated!

Your comments are oh so welcome!

Goodbye To Some GREAT Neighbours!

I watched the moving truck pack up our neighbour's house this morning. Sigh.
Our favourite neighbours (the 'Canadians' I wrote about many months ago), are leaving Doha and moving to Houston.
So sad to see them go, as they've become wonderful friends. We are going to miss you both very much!

Wishing them a safe journey and all the best as they start another new chapter together.

May you have warm words on a cool evening,

A full moon on a dark night,

And a smooth road all the way to your door.

Lone Star Lovin' Fix

I will start off by saying that I am almost four pounds heavier than I was when I wrote my last post.
3.52lbs to be exact. Yes, it seems that I ate - and drank - with reckless abandon while on our visit to Texas. What a trip!

Without making Doha sound terrible (because it really isn't), I sort of felt like someone who has been in the dark for a long while, and suddenly steps out into direct sunlight, squinting & blinking and trying to take all the brightness in at once. Back to North American life!

We get off the plane, and yet again, I am struck by the vast amounts of GREEN everywhere. Trees, bushes... grass, glorious grass! We both commented as we drove down the I45 at how polite and calm the drivers all were (Imagine! Those words would have never left my mouth a year ago!).

While Colin buttered our bread at the office (thanks for that, darling... although he did get some time off to relax too - yay!), Ella and I motored around The Woodlands and Houston, visiting with friends, enjoying every moment together, and soaking up the sun.

The weather was PERFECT, as October in Texas often is.

It amazed me how thrilled I got when shopping - so many things to choose from... aisles and aisles... at my very finger tips. Stores and stores full of well stocked shelves. Deals everywhere! I had forgotten how affordable things in Texas were. I remember now why our Canadian friends and families came to visit us and "Christmas" shop at the same time, no matter the time of year.

I admit that I went a little crazy 'stocking up' (see my earlier post on hoarding), and when we checked in to Qatar Air on our return flight, our suitcases were all at their maximum weights (70 lbs each) - chock full of pure random goodness. Lost and lots of random goodness. I even (very) briefly considered throwing out old things to make more space for wonderful new things. I didn't, but boy did I pack with precision.

Back to the 3.52 lbs for a second. Despite the fact that my thoughtful personal trainer in Doha warned me about my vacation with words like "over indulging", "restraint", and "dedication", I went for it. Had to, really. Lupe's, Panera Bread, Tommy Bahama's, Rico's, Black Walnut, several MARGARITAS - I had to jam in all of our old favorites in just 14 days, plus a healthy dose of fine hotel livin'... A tall order! Thanks to all our sweet friends who met us for lovely breakfasts, lunches, dinners, coffees & ice creams... yummo!

This trip was a real treat for us - gave us time to reconnect with some special people that we plan to keep in our lives for a very long time. Lots of laughs every single day.

It confirmed for me that our little family needs to get ourselves back to Texas some day (with some prayers and a little luck perhaps) and, that even though it was hard to leave and return to Doha, it was good to be home again when we got here.

The weather has really cooled off, and we are settling back in to a nice routine once more. Ella slept through the night last night at last - first time in seven days (Au revoir, jet lag!!). And, getting licked from head to toe by two adoring little dogs when you get home from a long day of travelling is a wonderful end to an awesome two weeks.

In the mean time, it is back to the gym for me.

Paris in three weeks, mes amies!

Il n'y a qu' un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé.

If In Doubt, Buy Two

It started off innocently enough. I was warned by a few of my neighbours here that certain household items can be hard to find when shopping in Doha. It was recommended to me that if I find a brand that I once used back home, buy it in bulk as it may not be there next time I went to look for it.

I took their advice with a grain of salt. I didn't feel I was attached to any brand or product in particular. Big deal if I had to use a new brand with a nice little arabic label scrolled across it, right? Wrong. Oh so wrong.

My first solo outings here in Doha were for essentials only - groceries, baby items, and household things we didn't think to pack in our shipments. Needing those things forced a jet lagged version of myself out in those first few days when I was very wary of going anywhere without Colin. I would load Ella up in the truck and spend our mornings scowering the shelves of new stores, lists in hand, trying to get us comfy in our new digs. These stores had lots of 'stuff' - just not the stuff I was used to!

I began noticing some rather 'odd' things when I shopped.

For starters, where were these stores hiding all the good toilet paper? I consider myself a bit of a toilet paper snob, and, as my father says... "you have to be good to your bum, dear" (he is also a tp snob and has actually spent time calculating what the going rate of good roll of toilet paper is worth, so one you do some quick math to determine if you are getting a deal when deciding what to buy).

While purusing the toiletries aisle, my heart starts to beat a little faster. All of this toilet paper is 1.) heavily scented, and 2.) coloured.

What? No. Wait now. I want my double roll of cottony soft Cottonelle with the white puppy on the package. Not this peach coloured, sand paper-y, tangerine smelling nonsense. It turns out that the decent quality white stuff was the toilet paper minority on the shelves.

My list goes on and on. I found out that I do in fact have very strong preferences to the things I want used in my home. It also turns out that over the years, I have become quite environmentally aware of the products we use every day... laundry detergent, household cleaners, all of Ella's baby products. Good luck finding any 'green' anything. (Don't even get me started on the absence of any type of recycling). The most popular items here seem to smell the strongest.

Getting back to my point, I began to realize that the neighbour ladies were right. They have been there, done that and I had to start stocking up on some good stuff'.

So, it became a sort of a personal challenge I would take on for the comfort my family. When I scored a bottle of Skippy Creamy Peanut Butter in the condiment aisle, it was a small victory for Clan Chisholm. But hang on now. A dark shadow of doubt inevitably started creeping in on my victory celebration. One, two, three, four. There are only four jars of Skippy Creamy on the entire shelf. Oh no. What if I can't find it again? I don't think I have ever seen it here before. Panic. Better buy two just to be safe.

Hypoallergenic Baby Safe Bounce Sheets... a thrill of excitement runs through me when I find them in a random store one day. I never really used Bounce sheets before, but never mind. I need five boxes. Lord only knows when these puppies will be back on the shelf again.

Organic baby food with no additives or preservatives? I practically clear the shelf with one swoop of my arm.

Scoring any type of dog treat is a major milestone. Our boys are a tad bit spoiled. They actually have learned to expect a treat when they see us carrying in grocery bags. If I find a rawhide bone or a squeaky toy, my heart sings with pure joy.

No one would believe what I went through to find and purchase a tube of Super Glue. Apparently it is a popluar thing as the shelf in each store I went to would have a label for super glue, but the box would be empty. Hmm.

It is a whole other story when we talk about alcohol. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not much of a drinker. I may have a drink or two a month, on average. But, put me in a place where there is only one liquor store in the entire country...well, who knows when I will visit it again! What if they suddenly closed it or it caught fire? We can't be caught without adult beverages in the house, now can we? Let's stock up! Our pantry is now ready for a major party for us and 100 of our best alcohol-drinking-friends at the drop of a hat. We laugh everytime we walk in and look at the stock pile. We have enough wine to float a boat. Guaranteed we will be giving away lots of it when we move.

I now routinely stock up on everything when I shop. Why take the risk? Trips to the grocery store (often 'stores') is no small task with a fiesty 11 month old. I buy extra so we have it "just in case".

I just looked up the definition of a hoarder to see if I qualified, and I don't think I do:

HOARDER -A person who acquires and fails to throw out a large number of items that would appear to have little or no value to others.

Well, that is not certainly not me. This stuff has big time value to others. Doesn't it? Me, a hoarder? Not a chance.
I am more of a "Collector of Household Necessities". I have enough canned goods to keep us going for months if need be.

A Huggin' and A Kissin'

It happened to me again this past weekend. In fact, it happens so often these days that I feel I have to discuss it here... SOCIAL KISSES.

Let me start off by saying that I come from a very long line of huggers. My whole family likes to embrace. Hugs all the time for everyone. And, I married a hugger. He comes from a proud line of huggers as well. It's what we do. Do we also kiss, you ask? Why, of course we do, but our social kisses are generally limited to a select few. It is quite common, for example, to plant a kiss on a grandmother, favorite aunt, or any sweet little child when meeting or saying goodbye.

Perhaps an Eastern Canadian thing? Not sure.
Enter our time in Texas. Now, here is where my social-kiss-dial was turned up a few notches. We made all kinds of new friends in the USA. All of our new Texan amigos seemed to enjoy a quick squeeze now and then as well.

Our European friends however... all die hard kissers. I have to admit, I was caught off guard a few times - me going in for a nice farewell hug and suddenly someones lips are upon me, approaching rapidly at an odd angle because I didn't suspect the sudden smooch headed my way. It only took a few awkward pecks for me to figure it out - I had to prepare myself.

It seemed that, generally speaking, most folks gave two quick 'air' type kisses (more like cheek touches), but our Dutch friends liked to go in for three light cheek grazes. Not so predictable.

So now, we're back to real time. Here I am in the land of the Ex-Pat, and it seems everywhere I turn, someone is trying to plant one (or two, or three) on me. I am in a constant state of social kiss paranoia.

Don't get me wrong, I like kissing. I just need to be prepared. We were at a work function of Colin's recently and as I was meeting and greeting, I was getting hugged and kissed from all directions.

The "incident" that spurred my writing about this: the husband of a friend was greeting me. They are Australian. I see him moving in for what looks to be a hug. I start to hug him, and, oh no, he has landed a lightning-bolt-speed kiss on my cheek! The weird part - he went in for a kiss (expecting me to know this), and as he approached, I saw 'hug' written all over him. So as a result, as he ejected himself from the kiss, I was just beginning my hug. Therefore, for a split second in time, he was pulling away and I was actually holding him in place. He was trying to free himself and I wasn't having it. He was stuck in a forced embrace for about one second (that seemed like an eternity!). I was getting my hug if he was getting his kiss. It was the weirdest moment I have had in a while. Definitely an 8 out of 10 on the awkward scale for sure.

Perhaps it will become second nature to me. All this social love is contagious. I instantly feel more connected with these kissers as they have entered my personal space zone more than once for some social greeting love. Not so bad really.

What would make my life a whole lot easier? A quick flip of the hand, holding up the number of kisses expected just before smooches are exchanged. Asking too much? Probably.

Lookout expats of Doha, if it is kisses you want, then it is kisses you'll get... maybe one too many or one too few from time to time, but go easy on me... I am a hugger, afterall.