Great post, and what an excellent point. Every mother of daughters should read this.

Views from the Couch

On a somewhat serious note today because of a conversation the other day:

I am sure every girl can recall, at least once as a child,  coming home and telling their parents, uncle, aunt or grandparent about a boy who had pulled her hair, hit her, teased her, pushed her or committed some other playground crime.  I will bet money that most of those, if not all, will tell you that they were told “Oh, that just means he likes you”.  I never really thought much about it before having a daughter of my own.  I find it appalling that this line of bullshit is still being fed to young children.  Look, if you want to tell your child that being verbally and/or physically abused is an acceptable sign of affection, i urge you to rethink your parenting strategy.  If you try and feed MY daughter that crap, you better…

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Meet the team

I thought I’d include a photo or two of the publishing team here at MsOpinionated. Here’s Ozkar, the proof-reader and general content approver closely monitoring my activity on Pinterest.

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And here he is again, relaxed this time as he believes that “content of ones self is automatically approved – one couldn’t deprive ones fans of pictures now, could one?”

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I love these pictures – what a great eye.

17 and Baking

Souk archway

First, I noticed the doors.

I took a bus from Menara airport to Djemaa El-Fna, a large square in the heart of Marrakech’s old city. The bus swerved through a sea of motorized bikes, past flat stretches of fanned palms and arches marking unlit alleys. On the sidewalk I counted more feral cats than I’ve ever seen, and on the rooftops I caught glimpses of oversized nests and tall, toothpick-legged cranes.

We zigzagged between buildings the colors of rust, orange-pink and off white, with unpainted brick exposed on the sides. Elaborate grates decorated the arched windows. The Arabic tile was all geometric shapes and primary colors: chaos and balance. But the doors.

The doors were painted turquoise, seafoam green, red. Some were patterned with raised studs, others with thin scrolls or contrasting diamonds. As the bus sped towards the center square, the doors become vivid blurs against the burnt orange…

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Getting started

I (like so many others) am highly opinionated so I have started this blog as a place to dump my theories on life, the universe and everything (yes, blatantly stolen from The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy)

I won’t necessarily post often or regularly – I’m more of the sporadic communicator (just ask my very frustrated family) But when I feel strongly about something, I’ll put it here.