Do you see what I see?

For the past few weeks I have been taking pictures of things around here I thought you might find interesting. Some funny, some just out right wierd. Here goes:

First; while my spelling stinks. Seriously, I know people speak and read English around here. I swear, it cracks me up. In an effort to encourage my friend, I joined "the weight loss group" with her. The women that run "the fat club" - as I call it - are all thin. But I go to be supportive. (I'm not 'there' yet. Ready to get serious, soon though) At any rate, here are the books they gave us. It's the weight watchers program, pirated though. They had the books printed up in town. Nice, huh? Like how it says, "Dairy. My daily trak?" Supposed to be DIARY. And track. See the problem? (haha)


Next. This is the fruit that grows on my tree in my back yard. The small lemon is actually a regular sized lemon. The green is what most of the fruit on the tree looks like, and the yellow is what they look like when they're 'ripe'. Although, I have no idea what that means. Even huge, they are 100 times more sour than a lemon. Pretty huge, huh?

And here is the inside of the giant lime/lemon. Look at the size of the rind. Crazy, huh? They smell good though. Even our gardener isn't really sure what it is. But it's fun to have something grow.

As you know, alcohol is illegal in the country. But the people here LOVE to look and pretend, like the rest of the world. This is the NA (non alocohilic) section of our little store on camp. Pretty big for the size of the store. Funny, huh?

I didn't know Bud even made pretend beer. Well, not to this extent anyway.

Next; I got a cell phone recently. Remember? It was super cheap and works great. Again, though, they need to hire a better translator. "Long press the * key" is too funny. Whenever I see it, I have to say it in my Arabic accent.

Check out the Arabic on the number keys. My laptop has it as well, BTW.

Please take note of the "prayer times" option under settings.

Here's my favorite part. This is in the instruction booklet, for real. How to make fake calls. And do you like the uses for this? "When you want to get out of meetings or unwanted conversations." What kind of message are they sending here? I've never seen such a thing in the U.S., but maybe they have it there as well. I laughed pretty hard though.

And last, but not least. I was at a large grocery store in the city last week, and I honestly let out a little squeal and clapped my hands when I saw this. It's the little things you think you'll never miss.

Nothing makes me happier to see a product of the U.S.A. sticker on anything. Let alone from the greatest state. Washington. Washington apples. Could it get any better?

Prayer Time

I recently met a really nice Muslim woman and we have become friends, sort of. The language barrier is difficult, but her English isn't too bad. I'll tell you more about her later. But the best thing for me, getting to know her, is that I have been able to ask her questions about her religion. As you may know, we are not allowed to speak of our religion to a Muslim AT ALL. But they can talk to us, and I am a believer in the idea that if you want to know something about someone, ask them. If you want to know about a Mormon, ask a Mormon - not a your Catholic priest.

So I've been asking.

I ask around. The man that cleans my house, our taxi drivers, this gal, Nedya, and I have Peter on the hunt to get people to talk too. So what I am about to tell you is information from a few different sources. But most importantly I will tell you this; Islam is full of variation. From one mosque to the next, region, family, country, even hemisphere. It's almost like when we use the term "Christian," we are encompassing many many religions. Lutheran, Baptist, Episcopalian, etc. There is no international regulation. They all read the Koran and follow the basic teachings of Mohammad, but there is room for much interpretation for even this. This is why their dress is SO different everywhere; amongst many other things. Here, they were the abaya and even the birka. (totally covered) Yet Nedya, who is from Algeria, just covers her head and wears loose fitting, modest clothing. (modest being down to her wrists and ankles) And, BTW, she always looks adorable.

So Susan asked me about prayer times. And this is the bit of information I know.

First off, did you know that Islam is the largest religion in the world, AND the fastest growing? And if you're like me, I know nothing about it. I feel so silly for being so naive. Shouldn't I know something about the world I live in? Perhaps I have been a little scared and stand offish due to recent events in history. I don't know. But in any case, The Call to Prayer happens five times a day ALL over the world.

Prayer times follow the sun. The times of sunrise and sunset effect each day. So every few days, the times vary just a bit. ( This is why I keep getting stuck out during prayer.) The first one is sunrise, and here that can be near 3 am. Next is around 11:30 or so. Then early afternoon, like 3:30 I think, then an early evening, like 5:30 or six, I think that's the sundown one. The sun sets really early here. Then, an evening one, like 7 or so. Here, they publish the times and we have a card telling you what time they will be, on what days. If only I carried that with me! Duh.

Each prayer lasts a different amount of time. From 30 to 45 minutes. And I think I shouldn't say the prayer lasts that long, prayer TIME lasts that long. Each call to prayer the "caller", which has a certain title, says something different. And, as you may know, it is "sung". That's kind of a loose term, as sometimes it is beautiful, and sometimes sounds like an animal in pain. Just depends on the guy. I'll find out more what they say, but I know the morning prayer says something like," God is great, come to prayer, prayer is better than sleep..."

Just before it's time, you can see people running everywhere trying to get where they're getting. Lights in stores turn out, doors closed and covered, gates come down, closing the shops, people are hurrying to wash, skittering here and there to get to prayer. In so many ways, it's beautiful. But in many others, very strange.

So in this country, it is totally illegal to stay open during prayer. (except on our camp, we're VERY spoiled here) A few really big stores will let you stay in and shop. Although, they wouldn't say "shop". You can just be in there. So basically, you can shop, but no purchasing. And this is only at places like Ikea or Tamimi's. (Tamimi's is Safeway/Kroger) These places are an hour from here, so it doesn't apply to me that often. If you get into these big stores before prayer starts, you can stay. Some will let you in during prayer, but like I said - no buying. 99% of stores close totally. You have to leave. If you aren't done, too bad, you'll have to come back later. As far as I understand, these big stores have a small mosque in the back, or somewhere, where employees can pray. But in most stores, the staff all leave and go the the local mosques. They are everywhere, really. We have several on camp, and off - they are on every block. Some just tiny, some big and beautiful. I don't think most countries are like this. Maybe to some extent. Again, I need to ask more.

Keep in mind that just because it's prayer time, doesn't mean everyone does. The stores close, but you still see people all over the place. Like with any religion, some people are very faithful, and some are not. But here, whether you go or not, everywhere closes down five times a day. On top of the prayer closures, all stores close from 11:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. This covers two prayer times, and gives them a sort of siesta. But a 4.5 hour siesta? Really? Again, Ikea isn't closed this long. The long closure isn't manditory, just the prayer ones. But I only know one store that reopens after the second prayer of the day. People tell me the long daily closure stems from earlier days, when they didn't have AC and the heat of the day was unbearable. (like it still is, but we have AC)

Men are the only one's that are expected to go to prayer. Apparently women can, but I've never seen them. You don't have to go to mosques to pray either. While I was at Nedya's, she started speaking abruptly in Arabic to her 11 year old daughter, her daughter hopped up, ran to the closet, grabbed a small carpet and ran it to her grandpa's room. "Excuse her," Nedya said, "My father needs to pray." Her parents are visiting for three months here, so her father was at home, but in another part of the house. Her husband works on a rig, two weeks gone and one week home. I asked someone if a husband and wife can pray together at home, which was yes. There is a small section, walled off from the rest, at some mosques, for women. But for the most part, it seems like prayer is for men.

In a world where so many people believe in nothing, no God at all. I see the beauty in being faithful to anything. Even if it's not what I believe. Recently, on a windy afternoon, we were leaving the beach. It was late in the afternoon, heading to dusk. Sitting under a tree was a local family, mostly women. The father of the group stood up, reached for his prayer rug, laid it in the grass, and began to pray. His robes and head dress where flowing in the breeze as he rose and fell in prayer. Up and down. It really is beautiful. So many of the worlds religions stem from ancient times, traditions and temples. Again, while I don't believe what they do. I sure admire the faithful. Not very many people in the world today have a conviction in anything. Let alone, God.

Camel Fun

I rode a camel this weekend. None of this "zoo" camel, business. These were nice and dirty Middle Eastern Camels. I haven't yet seen heards of camels around here. But many people, including Peter, have. He has pictures of tons of camels just walking down the highway. This is something I can't wait for. I'll be sure to tell you all about it when and if it even happens.

Please note the "camel driver" is on his cell phone. It kills me to see so many things here. Look how this guy is dressed. This is no act, this is his every day wear. I'm quite sure he hasn't seen a bath for a while. I can only imagine where he lives; not pretty. But he's got his cell phone. Who do you think he's talking to? His bookie? Just kidding.

Here are Sam and I. You can harldy see Sam, as I am taking up most of the camel seat area. Nice. There are no animal rights around here. Look at the rope muzle (0nce again, no idea how to spell that). They bonk them on the head to get them to behave, yank them around, and are generally bossy to the camels. Yet, I also noticed the camel drivers really seemed to love, maybe to strong of a word, but at least like their camels. There was certainly some kind of relationship between camel and driver.

Most importantly, I hope I never have to ride on a running camel. If you've never been on one, it's a bumpy ride even while they are strolling. I can only imagine a full on run. The first time I rode one was 11 years ago, in the U.S. and it was nice, trained, and groomed. Let's just say these guys weren't. We had fun though. Best of all? Stuff like this, around here, is free.

Gooey Goodness

It was recently Roo's birthday. And that means she get's a pinata. But that would also mean, her mother should start working on it WELL before her birthday. But if her mother doesn't, then her mother will improvise.

Yes. This worked fine, but it was made of paper, tape, cake foil, glue stick, ribbon, and held by yarn to hit it. It held up pretty well, but it was no paper mache beauty of my past. I only aced Spanish class because of my awesome pinata skills. Mr. Potato Head and Carmen Miranda never looked so good, as they did as my three feet tall high school pinatas! Hence, on everyone's fifth birthday, they get a pinata. Roo's wasn't one of my finest, but she loved it. And she and her friends had a great time whacking the heck out of it.





Party cupcakes. Each girl had their own initial on it. I borrowed candles from a friend; I haven't seen them here. But of course, I had no matches or anything to light it with. Roo was a great sport a pretending to blow them out. I think she enjoyed "acting."



I made sugar cookie dough and icing for Roo to take into class. Yet realized the note said "nothing with nuts" after I had everything mixed up. My recipe called for Almond extract. And I only had a bottle of almond flavoring with Arabic on it, so I wasn't totally sure if it was just extract, or had anything I should be worried about inside, in regards to nuts. So being the mother of a nut allergy, a child that is, I bagged it at 9 the night before, and came up with these little suckers.




I thought they were pretty cute, considering the lack of prep I had. AND see? Anyone who scoffed at me bringing my cricut, 8 thousand pounds of paper, and 150 rolls of ribbon was wrong! I just might use it all. Okay. Not really. But it was fun to use! And how 'bout the holder? Even I was impressed with myself. (empty box, wrapped, little holes poked in it and the flowers stuck in)




Bought this dress for her birthday at the Macy's sell before we lift. (again, all of my days and days of shopping pulling through for me!) After the annual birthday breakfast in bed, I said, "Would you like to wear a new dress to school today?" She squealed with delight. Really, her reactions for just about everything in life, make up for all of the shoulder shrugs my boys give me. She's just a delight. Usually... (when I showed her the pinata she hugged and hugged it saying "thank you mommy" over and over.)



Roo couldn't have her party on her actual birthday, we had to go to the main camp for Sam's game. Here he is in his uniform, posing in front of our bus. These are what the our buses look like that we ride all over. They're owned by the company, free, and take us just about everywhere. While they are really very nice. They're still a bus. Pretty dirty, stinky, and the kids still have to climb ALL over the place. Roo licked the window on this one. Seriously. Ew.



LATE night family present opening. She squealed with delight time after time. Again, all of my shopping and shipping paid off. She had a wonderful birthday. It was almost like being at home. Almost.
Happy Birthday Roo.

Is this Fall?

First. Thank you so very much for ALL of your kind words. So many dear friends responded to my Therapy post. You certainly didn't need to, but it was wonderful. It felt like I was actually getting hugged. Like I was Wilbur: "Chin up!" And you all are Charolette. (pretty sure that's spelled wrong, oh well) And thank you for the perspective many of you shared with me. I needed that.

Today, I woke up at 6:15 to Simon's cute little face in mine. "Mom. It looks like a rain forest outside. It's foggy, and awesome. And creepy." My first thought was, what kind of poisonous gas looks like fog and could kill us?" Then I rolled over and asked Peter, "Does it get foggy here?" And he assured me that is did. Which makes sense, since we do live so very close to the beach. Anyway, the kids were thrilled with this. They hurried outside to stand in this heavy, warm, misty fog. The tropical birds where at their best, early in the morning. When I took Roo to school at 8, I still couldn't see two houses down the street. And I heard water dripping from the trees. My clothes were stuck to me, and hanging with loads of water. It was strange, to say the least. And then - it was gone. Lifted.

I've heard it's so humid here due to the weather in India. We don't get ANY rain. I think I told you it's rained three times this year. In spring, they get sand storms. Is that weather? I don't think so. In Houston it made sense to be so humid, as it rained all the time, then cleared up. But here, I guess we just get India's after effects.

I know you'll think I'm making this up. But I truly am not. Last week I was sitting with my four youngest, reading books, on a lazy Thursday afternoon. (pretend Saturday, to you) Peter and Sam had gone to the city for the day to buy cleats. (you see what I'm saying?? A full day, just to buy a pair of shoes! Everything here takes SO much work!) While we're all looking through books, the room dimmed. Like a light had gone out. And I'm not joking when Roo, Si and I all looked at each other and, together, yelled, "CLOUD!!" We all jumped up out of our comfy seats, ran outside, and searched the sky for that one puffy cloud that had covered the sun for just a brief moment. "There it is!" We all yelled and pointed, while covering our eyes from being laser- beamed, melted out of our heads by the very hot and close to the earth, sun. (close to the equator, you know)

I swear to you that we have not seen ONE cloud since we've been here. Not one. And we were thrilled to see just one, small puffy cloud. We actually saw a couple that afternoon, but they were gone as quickly as they came. So you can see why the kids were so excited about the mist and fog settling in for the morning. It was a nice break, for a bit. Never fear, though. By noon, we were in the frying pan again. We do have days that there is very little visiblitly. Being right next door to the worlds largest oil refinery will do that. But for the most part, it's usually just fine.

In other weather news, I heard TWO air conditioners click off the other day. (AC' s NEVER turn off here. We don't have to pay the bills, so they run all the time) There I am, just walking along, and I hear TWO turn off within a block. I mean really. It was 94 degrees last night at 7 p.m. We're coolin off and the AC's are proof! (If you feel you must tell me all about the great fall weather - forget it. I don't want to hear it! Just kidding. You can tell me, but I won't like it!) Susan asked a great question about prayer time, which I will answer soon, like when it's not 11:30 at night and I can actually see my laptop screen. If you have questions, ask away!

Therapy

WARNING - mother topics of raising children and being robbed of freedoms. Read at your own risk.

Today I had a girls day out. Which you would think would make me feel rejuvenated and ready to face the world.

But it didn't.

On the bus my friend and I talked of days when we actually wore lipstick. Not just beige lip gloss on the occasional Sunday. (or Friday, as it is) We laughed about when Amy and Maile came to see me this last year, and we acted like college kids again. Something that has vanished from my personality. And when my dear friends told my children stories of my past, I shushed these girls and said, "Don't tell them that. They don't know the real me yet."

Kinda made me sad.

But that is actually a whole other post. This is about how I even get ripped off from a girls day out. And really, it's due to my location and the number of chidlren I have. When Peter wants to do something for a few hours, or the day. He just walks out the door. I have to meekly call anyone I know, and tiptoe around the subject that I need some help babysitting for a few hours. And that just takes two kids out of the equation. Then I have to find someone else to pick up Roo, take her to school, take her home and feed her lunch. Again, "Hi. Hey I was wondering, if you're up to it, if you wouldn't mind..."

Ever notice if you want to 'go on a date' - you have to call and get the sitter, make dinner before you go, pick up the house, etc. If you want to go? Like in high school when you'd ask to go to the Stake dance: "Well. If you can find a ride, you can go.' Say your parents. It's like that when I want to go 'out.' And let's be honest. Out? "Out" really isn't that exciting, but it's better than nothing, I guess.

Anyway, now it get's even more complicated for me. "We're taking the 8 am bus, if it's on time. And we're trying to catch the 12:30 home, if it's running when it's supposed to." 'Smile...please say that's okay, please say that's okay...' So while I farm out my kids, it's an hour on the bus there, 20 minutes in a cab to the souks, time for three stops before prayer. Into a real grocery store during prayer, BUT no purchasing during prayer, just walking and shopping. Then it's a race back to the big camp for the bus. And an hour home. I was only 15 minutes late.

Hurry home, apologize to everyone I went with for making them have to hurry to get home. Thank, thank, thank the baby sitter. Nurse Gid, throw the babies in the bike stroller to get Roo. Thank, thank, thank again. Then homework, kids painting,(GIANT mess) lots of arguing of children, spoon feed baby, science project,kids in the mud - yell at them, read books, make dinner, feed dinner, (whine, complain, "sit down and eat your food"), CHACH! - repeated 2,459 times throughout the evening, more homework, sweep, sweep again, dishes, marker on the carpet, (more yelling here) pick up rooms, try not to yell at the kids for the millionth time today, jammies, print off science project report, Polly's, Barbies, LEGOS!!! off the floor, prayers, kisses...AND, in walks Peter, who says,

"I'll take over..." See? He get's the easy stuff again. Who wouldn't love to have kids just to tuck in, read a story and kiss goodnight? That's the good stuff. It's the last paragraph, which plays out in one way or another EVERY SINGLE DAY, that makes me crazy. No. Really. Crazy.

I used to be really fun. I laughed a lot. People thought I was fun. I was remotely cute. Alas. No more.

To make matters worse? I was called fat THREE times today. I can usually take it. But I almost cried. You see? I feel like I give my entire life to this family. And much of the way I look right now is due to having these five wonderful blessings. But to only be acknowledged for my size and compared to all other people, is discouraging. The word 'fat' wasn't used, but "you're too big for this" or "don't try that bracelet on (you might hurt it), you need a BIG one, or "for you, you big, you need special order." Yeah. Needless to say, it's one of those days, where the tears are being held in your eyeballs by something in your throat when you swallow. You know that thing? (not literally, but you know how it feels like that?) Apparently no one told these people about political correctness. Which I usually don't like, unless they're talking about me! (LOL)

So there is my therapy session. Feel free to discuss amongst yourselves. Hey, go ahead and forward it to your husbands. I think they need to know that you're not crazy. All women feel this way. If I'm not mistaken, most of you have been here, or somewhere near here. If not, why are we friends again? (haha) Oh well. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day with less fat comments, begging and grovelling for help with children, more husband around, more smiles and less heat. We'll see...

*This isn't a pity party, BTW. You don't even need to feel bad for me. I know I will get at least some of my weight off again after I wean the baby. And everyone has days like this. I guess I hate the fact that I think I need to hate myself for the way I look while I nurse my babies. Why can't I just enjoy that I am life to them? Why can't I just be their mama? And not be counting down the day's until I wean so I can starve myself again. Sorry. I'm ranting... Again, a whole other post. I'll tell you about the souks soon. You'll like it. It was fun. Especially when my friend had to use a 'squater' and said, "I'm gettin' my quad work out today!" Then I opened the stall next to her and said, "Uh. There's an actual toilet on this side, silly." That was a good laugh.

What really happened on our date

See story below, for more on the yummy goodness above...

Remember the other day, when Peter and I got to go on a date? And before hand he ran me off the road and tried to kill me? Okay, maybe the last part isn't true. But we crashed, remember? Well, I didn't tell you the rest of the story.

We has some wonderful friends come and watch the kids for us. They arrived at 5:15. The taxi came at 5:20. Pick up Roo and two friends from ballet at 5:30. (we are now 7 in a 5 passenger car - more on the lack of safety around here later) *Remember, we haven't been on a date in 10 weeks.* Sam to baseball at 5:35. Pick up food from a mini dining hall for the kids at 5:45. (no cash on hand, so they let us pay next time we see them - life in a small town has it's advantages) Drop off one friend, then the next, then Roo and the food. It's 6:00. Stop by the bank, use ATM, through the compound gates by 6:10.

Arrive at the restraunt about 6:15. Here's where the story get's good. It took us 45 minutes to go 5 minutes! I had put on my abaya, because I was wearing a t-shirt and capri's. We get out of the car, careful not to show my ankles, and head for the door. Almost all restruants here have a men only section, and a family section. This means men with their wives or families can be together, but men alone have to sit in a different section. And I don't mean area. I mean a walled off section of the building. And the windows to the family section are usually fogged glass.
Anyway, we walk up to the family door and the owner runs out to stop us. "No, no, no!" he says. And proceeds to tell us that there is a party in there, so they are closed. (meaning that a family, probably big, is in there and want to have their heads uncovered) So, Peter can go in and eat while I wait in the car, or we can get take out. But they will not serve me.

Nice.

Ever heard of discrimination? It stinks.

Anyway, we were okay with it. We laughed. Why is EVERYTHING so hard here? Nothing is easy. There is no hopping in your car, running to store. Everything is a major event. And most the time it is a 'bust' at that! So we decide to stop and get bread. It's this fantastic rustic bread, run by a bunch of Afghan men. The bread is the size of a pizza. It's flat, and round, and really chewy. It's SOOoooo good. They serve it with a side of warm, soupy, han? maybe. I don't remember what it's called. I'll ask. But you get either a garbanzo bean one (like a warm hummus), or my favorite, the lentil option. Mmmm. A little olive oil...heaven. (six 'loaves', four large sides - 5.75, best part of the night)

So, at least I got my bread. (They are open in the morning until 11:30, then close all day, like the rest of the country. But when everyone else opens at 4 p.m., they don't open until 6. And then you have two more prayer times work around, at that. So catching them was lucky!) Now, it's 6:30. We make one more quick stop and buy me a cell phone. Just a little junky 25 dollar phone. (They don't have cell phone plans here, you just recharge your sim card at little stands around town, and your phone tells you how much money you have left to use, after each call. It's awesome. Way better than a plan!) Just as Peter is trying to haggel the man down on price, "Allllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkkbbbbbbbaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr" That's my call to prayer for you. We were right across the street from a mosque, so it was really loud. I knew it was coming while we were in the shop becuase I saw men running, a sure sign of not wanting to be late to prayer. Then the guys in the back of the shop turned the lights down to close and I knew it was time to just pay the man what he wanted and for us to get out of there. It was that phone, that price, or nothing.

So, I now have a tiny little phone. Hooray. At least I can call Peter when I'm out. Wait. I never go out. And I don't think I should use it while driving (my bike). I'm a bad enough bike rider as it is. You should have seen me hop right up off the pavement at jump on my bike, after the crash. You would have been proud. Needless to say. Home from our date by 7 p.m. We laughed, had some fun, and as usual - an adventure.

Many thanks!

Today I wanted to say THANK YOU! I have recieved so many compliments and comments on my blog. It means so much to me, and helps me keep it going. Knowing that people read along, for some reason, makes it easier to keep up. And getting comments, well, it's the best.

Tiffany, thank you for commenting on every single post. Seeing at least one comment is always enjoyable, especially knowing it's from you. And yes, George the lizard is disgusting looking. We have very cute ones as well. But on the night I went hunting to capture one for you, George was the only one out. Sorry. And why they don't sell string cheese in this country is a mystery to me as well.

Stacey, for sure henna next summer. I'm so excited to learn. I love and miss you terribly, too.

Tiffani, I love that you can hear me reading my blog to you. I worry if people who don't know me read it. As you know, I'm full of sarcasm and smart remarks. Luckily, you know the truth, and much of what I say is in fun. And thanks for the suggestion to be Nie's next 'Nie and You.' That would be fun! Someone told me that her family lived here for three years. It might be fun to be her long distance partner.

I love and miss all of you at home so much! And many thanks to all of you, as well. Some have even just sent me emails. It's so nice of you. If you have any specific questions about life here, or whatever, email me. I've had some questions I've answered here, but I have more to do. I talked to Amy on the phone last week and she asked my favorite part of being here. Least favorite. What I miss most. And a few others that really got me thinking, I think I'll answer those, at some point, on here.

You may have seen on FB that pumpkins here were 54 dollars. And, as you can guess, someone here will pay that. It's fall, but doesn't feel like it. SO, this week I have been trying to bring a little fall here. I made pumpkin rolls. (not as good as Great Harvest, but pretty good) The most delicious caramel corn, pumpkin cake, home made bread, pumpkin ice cream, and a hearty chicken stew. So what if it's still 95? Turn the AC to freezing, and we're good to go! (I brought 4 cans of pumpkin with me from home. One down,three to go. They have to last through the holidays) And last night, I had a dream about snow. It was wonderful.

A buyin' my abaya

Check out my 8 dollar blingy sunglasses to go with my hijab. Dubai - look out!

A few weeks ago, the time had come that I needed to buy myself an abaya. When I say I ‘needed to’, this actually means that I wanted to get one. You don’t HAVE to wear an abaya off camp. BUT, you do have to wear clothes with no shape. Long sleeves, baggy tops that cover your elbows and go past your waist. A skirt with no shape, covering your ankles, is best on the bottom. Although, pants that are baggy and shapeless are acceptable as well. Only Muslim women HAVE to cover their heads. Western women are not required to do this. And in fact, in general, no one will say anything about it. There are religious police who wander about looking for people breaking the “law.” These people are not hired by the government, apparently. They are just fundamentalists who feel it is their job. And if you are just ducking into a store real quick, you’re usually fine. I hear they hang out at the malls.

These people can try to take you to jail, if they feel you are breaking the law. You don’t have to go with them, as I understand it. Quite honestly, I don’t want to find out. We’ve also been told, that if someone confronts me, that it’s better for Peter to just walk away. To pretend he doesn’t know me. You see, I’m a woman, and they shouldn’t be talking to me anyway. So the recommendation I’ve received is to tell them just that. “You have NO right to be speaking to me!” It is technically a sin/illegal(?) to speak to a woman unless she speaks to you first.

So the whole time my family and I are out shopping, I am the ONLY woman wearing no abaya. And let me tell you, some of the people here could be professional stare-ers. Really. The men especially. They could stare down a volcano. (NO idea what that meant, just sayin..) Anyway, I got a lot of looks, most just stares, but some of disgust. There were other western women out and about, but they were all wearing their abayas. I didn’t like not wearing one. Peter much prefers me to not wear one. I think it makes him feel like, ‘hey, I love my wife. I let her wear what she wants.’ Because, again, you don’t have to wear a big black abaya, you just have to be modest to their specifications.

Quick! No one's looking. Try it on.

I went shopping another time with a woman, and she too, didn’t wear the abaya. She’s lived here more than 20 years and says she refuses to wear one. No one bothered us, but I still feel scared without one. I am more of the ‘when in Rome’ kind of person. I’d prefer, in this situation, to just blend in. Don’t rock the boat. Know what I mean? And Peter prefers more the thinking of, ‘if we don’t do something about it, who will? Let’s show them it’s okay.’ Which I admire, I just don’t want to be taken to jail for it. Call me crazy.

This store had a lot of "fancy" dresses. I laughed so hard when I saw them. Roo, of course, adored them. This was her favorite. Hmmm? Fuschia and teal. Nice. (these are seriously the kind of dresses they love here)


Anywho, back to shopping.

Not surprisingly , I had a hard time fitting into one. For one, people here are really short. Like, reaaaallllly short. Second, it’s not America. For the most part, most women here are quite thin. Needless to say, I stick out like a sore thumb. I especially couldn’t fit in the chest area. Something kind of funny you should know here, you cannot try on clothes. You just have to buy them and try them on at home. (This, I think, has something to do with their crazy sanitary issues. The same kind you and I don’t think are very sanitary) And guess what? No returns here either. Not even western stores, like Ikea, would allow you to take something back. Weird, huh? So for everyone that made fun of my crazed shopping in the states before we left, it was for good reason.

Well, my first abaya attempt was a failure. I did help myself to trying on clothes on top of my clothes. I mean, if I can do it at wal-mart, why not the pretend wal-mart here? No one was around, so I helped myself. And Peter felt free to do a photo shoot. Nice, huh?

The next week I went shopping with my friend, and I found the one I bought. Our driver said he knew a place with a good price. It ended up costing 30.00, which was fine with me. After driving through the very typical crazy traffic here, we jumped out of the car and walked into this tiny shop on a crummy street, with cars everywhere, a very dirty sidewalk, and row after row of similar shops. They put similar shops together all over the city. I have no idea why. But you can find 6 paint stores all in a row, and half will have the same name: “paint store.” Anyway, this was on ‘women’s street.’ This means that things women are interested in, are located in this area. ‘Men’s street ‘ has things like electronics and what not.

Anyway, the guy running the store was a young, hip, middle easterner. Shnazzy jeans, cell phone in hand, cool. I told him I needed an abaya – the ONLY thing this store sells, BTW. He looks me up and down, and, making his arms arch into a big round circle, says, “You need BIG, yes?” in broken English. HUUUURUUUMPH!

I will not get offended at that remark, I say to myself. I need one of these, and I need it now. He pulls one off the rack. I put it on and it fit; one hundred percent – perfect! How could I get mad at a guy who knows his trade. (as weird as his trade may be)So I got the matching hijab, paid the man my money, and am now a proud owner of a big, black tent. (and as you can tell by the photo; yes, I need BIG. I’m nursing, alright? And I really like chocolate. And candy. And homemade bread with butter and jam…

Roo took the photo. Alright? Although, really? Is there anything flattering about this outfit?

Blogger

Remember how I was telling you about the blogger sign in page? Among other sign in pages here. Well, just for fun, I thought I'd show it to you. See you sign in, opposite than English page. And see how the whole page hugs the left, because they read and write, right to left. Again, an area where my world has been broadened. I didn't even think that people ALL over the world were signing into blogger and google. Seems like a U.S. thing to me. Also, weird how the computer knows what language to pick, just because of where I am. I have never even touched the settings, it just changes on it's own.

I picked up Cat in the Hat at the library the other day, to read to Chach. And I had to open it backwards and of course, it was in Arabic. So weird. Luckily I know the story well enough to improvise. Those darn Thing One and Thing Two!

Brave Roo

Roo had water day at school the other day. It was actually called Rainbow Day, but when I say that people think it sounds like more a human rights day. It was a party of colors. Anyway, it was a get all wet and play in the sand kind of day. So here she is: Tada!


Roo came down stairs the other day, hands on hips, serious as can be, and says: "There is a gecko in my bed!" Now, I don't mind the lizards here, but I prefer them outside. And especially not in my bed. Is that too much to ask? And I only prefer them out because they startle me. And I don't like to be startled. I'm pretty sure if I had found one in my bed, I would have been much crazier than Roo, though. And I sure as heck wouldn't have wanted to get IN my bed. EeeeK!

At any rate, I sent the big boys up to get it. And about a minute later they had it in their 'hunting net' and took it outside for me. How do they catcht them? I swear. Below is a picture of "George." Or so my kids have named him. He's easy to spot because his tail has been cut off so many times, it has rings where it's grown back. They always sit around the lights in the evenings because it's warm there. (I think they didn't get the memo: It's warm everywhere here!)

FYI, I saw one in the house earlier tonight, and now I don't know where it is. See? That's what I don't like. I'll find it by it skittering across the floor at 1 a.m. I don't like that.

Around the Town

I thought you'd like to see a little of what it looks like around here. Well not here, things here are MUCH more beat up and cruddy looking. Now, don't laugh, but here are some shots of the nice areas. These were taken in the largest city in the Eastern province, an hour from here. This is really how it looks. Big buildings, then dumpy lots. Everywhere. (notice I didn't say nice buildings, just fairly large) We enjoyed laughing at the workers hard hats just thrown to the ground in the lot. No one was there, so they weren't coming back any time soon. And check out the giant hole in the sidewalk. Sweet, huh? This isn't like a "construction zone." It just IS. And it seems like this place is always under construction, but it's as modern as the 1950's in the U.S. (Maybe you could borrow a hard hat to walk on the sidewalk, with that giant hole, you're gonna need it)




Here we are inside Chile's. Looks the same, kind of. There was a TV on in the corner. I laughed that it didn't have sports on, it had cartoons. They LOVE Tom and Jerry. Really. And that was on. Even at the toy store you see a difference, here are the toys I saw: Stuffed animals of Tom and Jerry, the Road Runner and Whiley Coyote, Popeye, and Madagascar . Funny, huh?

When we hire a car, we have to get the Suburban, which actually is nice. They are big and safe, and usually quite nice and new. Car seat comes with it. Our driver napped at every stop. I felt safe...not really. Gid hasn't ridden in a car seat for more than a couple of minutes, in more than two months. So he HATES being in it now. Screams! I think I better start practicing car behavior for Europe.

Just for your viewing pleasure. That's KFC, Krispy Kreme, and Carl's Junior. (although, I think they go under the Hardee's name here)

And I couldn't forget McDonalds. How 'bout the Firestone sign. See what I mean? It seems strange that for the most part, these countries REALLY don't like us. But they sure like our things.

*Side note of life around here: If you look beyond our table in the Chilie's photo, you may be able to make out a privacy screen. It's hard to see, but they have these available at some places. While we were there a local man came in with about six women. I think they were wives and daughters. The women were totally veiled. Well, eyes showing, but thats all. After they were seated, the waiter, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, put up privacy screens all the way around the table. These women have to eat somehow, so to do so, they make a private room so they can lift their veils to eat. Veiled women usually drink with straws, as it is easier for them to lift the veil to drink. And they seem to eat everything with a knife and fork, so they don't get food on any fabric. I don't think these particular women took their veils off to eat, but I guess they could have. I think it just made it so they didn't have to be so careful. There were other guests in hijabs and veils, as well. I saw a group of about ten ladies, out to lunch together. Just like in America, a lunch date. All with really nice hand bags and fancy shoes, all dressed in black abayas. I mentioned the waiter in jeans and a t-shirt because I have such a hard time comprehending two worlds, in one place. It's so strange that men can wear whatever they want, and very modern styles at that, yet these women are wearing what has been worn for hundreds of years. I feel like saying, "Didn't you hear? The wall came down. The war's over. Women can vote. And drive. And wear what they want. Even outside if their house!" Maybe in time...

Bike Crashes and Henna, they don't mix

This is one side of my leg. Recognize it?

Yep. You got it. Bicycle chain tatoo.

Bike crash.

I had my first bike crash today. It was sad. Wanna hear what happened? First let me tell you that I hopped right up and got on. After Peter straightened my handle bars for me, that is.

Peter and I were planning a date for tonight. First time without any kids in over two months. Woohoo! So I decided to do my hair. I mean, I even used hair spray. I know, I'm cuuuh-raaaazy! I straightened my hair, put on real make up and even wore earrings. (I saw two friends while 'done up' and both didn't recognize me. That'll tell you...) Anyway, Peter and I had Parent Teacher Conferences first, then a few hours later, out on a date.

So we hop on our bikes, side by side, and giggle. Off the the school, it is. A date; almost! Fun. About three houses down the street Peter see's our gardener and looks left to talk to him while riding, which means he looks left and turns right. RIGHT into me!

Off I flew! I landed hands first and just got my legs caught a little. I've got some sweet bruises on my thigh and knee, and my palms hurt. It was awesome. I promptly interpreted what of Bangladeshi gardener was saying on his cell phone: "I just saw a fat American, in full make up and staright hair, totally bite it. It was hilarious!"



So that is the inside of my ankle, and here is the outside:

I went to a really fun bazaar this past weekend. And henna for $2.50, who can pass that up? Isn't it lovely? I've been wanting it on my feet, but I was wearing my keen sandals, and it wouldn't work. So my leg, it was. Don't worry, I begged the woman to teach me. I got her number and she said she'd be happy to. So next summer; look out. I will be henna-ing you all!

*Side note of life here: A mother and daughter were doing the henna. They were both Indian, the daughter couldn't have been more than 19 or 20. The mother was wearing basic traditional Indian clothes, obviously not Muslim. The daughter spoke American English, perfectly. I was amazed. I asked why her English was so fantastic, she told me she grew up here on camp, where the kids have to speak English at school. Why do I tell you this story? Because this young girl was totally dressed in an Abaya and Hijab. (head covering) Which tells me her husband is Muslim, she must have converted, and her husband insists she wears this; even on camp. Just food for thought. Be thankful you are who you are, and live where you live.

I'm back

Sheesh! It's been quite a few days without a post. Somehow I've been very busy, but not doing much. Strange how that happens, huh? I'll address some topics of late, and move on to more posts, ASAP.

First, where have I been? No where much, but busy on the computer planning out next big adventure. We're taking our family to Europe next month and that takes A LOT of planning. We're very excited! As a delightful surprise for the kids, my parents are going to meet and stay with us! It makes me cry just thinking about it. We're not telling the kids about that arrangement. So far plans are to just relax in the countryside of Belgium, and make day trips into Paris, London, Brussels and around the surrounding towns. We just want to be together in a place where we can experience a little bit of fall. (perhaps even closer to winter) In any case, we feel very fortunate to be able to do this and are really looking forward to it.

Second. A ward building in our old Stake in the Seattle area was burned to the ground this weekend, and I can't help feeling so sad. I've been in the several times, and know many people from those wards. They've determined it was arson, but nothing beyond that. In any case, it's heartbreaking to hear this, especially when it's so close to home.

Next, great news! Seriously! On the way to church Friday, the car we borrowed had a temp. display, and guess what!? 96! Whoo Hoo! I was SO happy to see below the hundreds. On my bike the other day the air ALMOST felt coolish. I was thrilled! Can't wait for more it.

Gideon got TWO teeth yesterday! He'll be six months on Monday. I know, time goes SO fast. He's also up on his hands and knees rocking, trying to crawl and is sitting on his own. Sad. Babies are the greatest, aren't they? Too bad they have to get big. Kind of like puppies.

Picture from answersingenesis.org

On a walk the other day, Chach and I came across a Sea Turtle. When the weather changes, (like from scorcher to really hot) the waters get rough and the animals get pulled into currents they normally don't. (so say the life guards) Something about a change of water temps. Anyway, this poor guy was just lying on the beach. He was already dead by the time we saw him. What beautiful creatures. They are amazing! I didn't have my camera, but you all know what they look like anyway. What a treat to get upclose and really examine it. And while my sister Krista likes to disect things, I do not. So when blood started dripping out of his eyeball, I was done. "Alright Chach. Time to go." Now Chach keeps asking where the turtle is. Uh? Heaven? The truth is that the lifeguards bury dead animals that wash up, but I didn't want to tell him that for fear of him continually trying to dig it up. Instead, I told him a garbage truck took it away, as it was dead. Now, whenever we see the garbage truck it's, "Turtle is the garbage truck?" Yep, he sure is. With his stink and bloody eyeball to boot.

I've had lot's of small adeventures since I last posted. So for now, adios! I'm off to begin telling more stories for you to read. Have a wonderful weekend.

Giddy for Gid

Sometimes I just have to mommy blog, okay? And today is one of those days. Just a little. Just about my baby Gid. Gid the Great. Isn't he cute? He's growing up so much. And yes, I know he looks just like his dad. And yes, it's gone WAY too fast. He's even started on rice cereal this week. Mmmm. He's so kissable!

Gideon,

I love you the most. I tell you everyday that you are my favorite. (but, shhh, don't tell) You know why? Because you still love me the most. I am life to you. I am everything to you, and in return - you are everything to me. You still LOVE to see me. You squeal when I pick you up. You smile when I smile at you. You don't tell me 'no.' You don't talk back. You laugh at my jokes, you sleep when you're asked and you get up when I say. See? You are the perfect child. And I love you SO much. Please don't ever change. Okay? I won't mind. I swear. You can lay on me and put your hands in my mouth every day of your life, if you like. I'll love it. You can nestle your sweet warm face into my neck forever. I swear. That spot is yours, always. And you can never get teeth. I adore your toothless, gummy smile. You don't need teeth anyway. They're over rated, and just going to fall out anyway. Trust me. Stay the way you are. Perfect. But if you must, MUST grow up....I'll love you anyway. Like all the rest of my perfect babies.

Love,

Mommy

Close. But no cigar.

Things here are not as they sometimes seem. Remember the logic free zone? Yeah. Well, I have no answer for you. It's just how things go here. Like food.

The package says, OREO. It should be and Oreo, right? Wrong. It's not. It's LIKE an Oreo. Looks pretty close to the same. Not as dark of a cookie, though. And the inside is white, but about half as think. Certainly a bummer right there, I know. My friend says, "Why would I waste my calories on a FAKE Oreo?!" I don't know, I'm a food tramp, I guess. I'll take what I can get. I'm what you call easy when it comes to food.

And the candy bars aren't the same either. There's something about the Milky Way, it's like a Three Musketeers. Something about the caramel. And TWIX, my sweet beloved candy bar, is just not quite the same as well. I'm not real sure what it is, I think it's the cookie. Anymore, though. I can hardly tell. Like I said, I'm easy. On the up side we have tons of international candies and cookies. Chocolate covered HobNobs. Oh mama! And Aero Bars, LOVE em! My kids love these crackers from the Philippines called SkyFlakes. Kinda reminds me of dandruff, (you know, flakes, on your head, sky...get it?) but they like em. (the box is white and blue with red and white stripes - funny how American they make things look)

We got Pizza Hut the other night. I can't remember if I wrote about it. If so. Tough. Read something else if you already heard it. (Haha, just kidding. It's been a LONG day!) Anyway, they obviously don't have real pepperoni here. It's beef. But I have to tell you, it was really good. WAY better than I thought it would be. And Peter also ordered a Hawaiian. I was like, "Yum!" Then I said. "Wait. How are they going to fake Canadian Bacon?" They didn't. They just put crumbled beef sausage on it. Not so good. But, it wasn't terrible. Wanna hear the price? WAY too much. We got four total, because if we're going to get it, why not GET it? Right? Plus, we had it delivered. But they can only deliver to the gate, so Peter had to ride my bike (the SUV bike) to get it. The pizzas are 15 dollars each. No matter what goes on them. Delivery? 52 cents. Funny, huh? So we spent 60.52 on four pizzas. I guess it would have been 40 at home, but still. It seems like a lot.

We also got Krispy Kreme recently. Which was delish! But again, not quite the same. It was a really small store, and like a little cafe. I'm not going to complain though. They were yummy. And they had several kinds I'd never had before, but I'll admit I haven't had any in the U.S. for a long time anyway. So maybe it's the same here as there.

And tonight I got a call from an angel. Like I said, LONG day. Crazy kids. I yelled WAY too much today and feel a little bad. Just a little, though. Most was deserved. (haha) Anywho...a friend in the Branch called and asked how my day went. She raised her kids here, and they are grown and gone. She asked if she could bring the kids and I McDonald's. Now. Before you start thinking, "McDonald's? Are you kidding. That's practically rude!" I was THRILLED! We haven't had McDonald's in over two months. Which for my family, is a LONG time. Well, not just McDonald's, but a fast food restaurant. You know those evenings where one kid has baseball, another ballet, you have a meeting and your husband is late from work? So you just grab something for dinner? Yeah. Well, that's not really an option here. I guess if we had a car, it would be more of one. But nothing is easy here. Like tonight, they called and said they were leaving right then. It's not too far from here. More than 45 minutes passed before they arrived. Why? Prayer. They got in line, just before prayer time, and had to wait. Nice of them though, wasn't it?

My kids were SOOO excited. They got Happy Meals! (which I NEVER get in the states, I'm mean, I know) They said thank you to me after dinner, which was nice. But I told them that Brother and Sister Larson had gotten it for them. And Sam said, "They did? That was nice. It's just like what Grandma and Grandpa do for us, huh?" That was a favorite treat for them with their grandparents before we moved. (Grandma and Grandpa, don't worry, we're already planning a date to McDonald's when you come!)



Sometimes things are better away from home. (NOT usually though) But remember when McDonald's used to DEEP FRY their apple pies? Mmmm. And they were all hot and crispy? And you just about burned the heck out of your mouth when you bit into it? Guess who still fry's their apple pies???? Hooray for us!! Sorry, about the half eaten picture. But see the super crunchy bubbles on the crust. Jealous? Don't be. Nothing is worth 120 degrees and giant desert.

Happy Meal box. They got a clock that's a robot. This seems to be some kind of toy line you can collect. A clock that is a "robot". Or toaster, or rice cooker, or air popcorn popper. You have to pump air into them with a little nob, then as they decompress they more. I said to the kids, "Funny. In the U.S. we have this little thing called A BATTERY!" Honestly, I was happier to see this than all the movie garbage we're always seeing at home. At any rate, the kids liked them.

For a country that doesn't seem to really like Americans. They sure like American stuff.

I ain't missing you at all, since you've been gone, away...

Do you know what I really miss? You don't? Good. I'll tell you.

This could be long, so I'll try to refrain. First, I hate to admit this. Because I made fun of it for so long. And then I got hooked, kind of, not like a teenager, but just the convienence....*whine.*
Texting...

Red vines. Mmmm. I love when they are soft and kind of warm, fresh out of the bag. Mmmm.

Real church. I never knew how much walking into a big sacrament meeting, filled with friends and ward members, with the organ playing, and settling into a nice padded bench, would be missed so much. And even, GULP, Sunday School. At least you get to discuss things. And last, a full Relief Society. Where the abundance of ladies have years of experience to share and help you grow. (note: I am enjoying our very tiny branch, I just miss a regular ward today)

Carpet. We have carpet upstairs, but the entire main floor is tile. It hurts my back, is really loud, and VERY tough on kids. I like that it is cool, easy to clean and looks nice. I need to get some nice area rugs - then I'll be happy.

My car. I know. I've already complained. I'm just sayin'

My family. Again, I'm just sayin'

Okay. I'll fess up...TV. And I don't even watch that much! But Mythbusters? Oh! How I miss you! Any good myths busted lately? And Pawn Stars? Anything interesting? Gosh, I even miss Dinosaur Train, and I never thought I'd miss that. (Sometimes, I take my little laptop to bed and watch Antiques Roadshow. Ooooh, I love it! This is the only show I can get here. Other shows that say you can watch episodes online aren't liscenced for viewing outside the U.S., so we are very limited. We could get satellite, but really? Are you kidding? Do you KNOW what's on satellite? Right.)

Milk that comes in gallons. They only come in liters here. (I bought three liters of goat yogurt milk, called labna, on accident not long ago. It takes like buttermilk. Ew. Yep, again, read the other side before buying. Oops.)

My house. Again, I know. Wah for me. But I do love it. Big Blue is OUR HOUSE. We love it. Right now my apples are coming on in full bushels, and I'm not there to can them! And the view out my bedroom window is a mountain full of the most delicious fall colors. Speaking of...

Fall. I am missing fall. I may have to skip over this one, I might cry. I love fall. The most. Next time you wake up to get the kids off and it's cold and crisp, you can see your breath, and you have to put on socks and a sweat shirt. Think of me. Please.

Jeans. I LOVE jeans. It's just too hot here right now. And honestly, I'm a little afraid to try them on. I think I've gained a lot since I've been here - and - NEWSFLASH!!!, I'm maxed out folks. I mean really. M-A-X-E-D! We have no room for gaining. It's bad. So, I need to starve for a few weeks, then give them a try. And, eeeeek, they are my FAT JEANS! AHHHHH.

Costco. Need I say more? I can see myself skipping and dancing through the aisles next summer, hugging giant sized boxes of any-thing-I-want. Toilet paper, I love you! Two whole gallons of milk, at once! Fruit by the foot, giant bags of peanut M and M's, RED VINES, rice cripsy treats, and miles and miles of diapers! Nice ones at that. (I could write a whole post just on how much I love and miss Costco. Maybe I will...) Imagine me pulling items off the shelves and happily placing them into my huge Costco sized cart. Don't you love America? Everything is huge. (The guy that I have clean for me has seen, like, my Costco tin foil, and my Costco garbage bags. He is amazed at the enormous quantity. I tried to explain, it went like this, "Everything is HUGE at a very HUGE store!" Arms big and wide here.) Although I do spend WAY less money, with nowhere good to shop.

Well, on that note. I'll be off. I'm sure my list will grow. But before my next list of things I miss, I think I'll have to write one about things I like here. Until then, adios.

You say tomato, I say paste. Tomato! Paste!

Some of you may have already heard this story, but I couldn't not blog about it.

Remember when I tell you this, that things are weird here. They have food called "breakfast beef." This is like sausage, but not pork. And chicken sausage. Or a bacon cheeseburger, with "beef bacon." Yep. Woof. Also, I have yet to read any publication, in English, published here, without some major type-o's. (Yes, I have tons as well, but this is for fun. Not for publication.) I have yet to be in a car, any car, that doesn't have their "check engine" light on. It's just the way things are. Who'd fix their cars? They don't have auto garages to do so. ( I think some dealers do, must mostly - no.) And I've been in probably 15 different cars since I've been here.

Anyway, things are out of whack. And lots of times you just say...o-kaaaay. So when I sent the kids juice boxes to school the first week, I just wasn't that surprised that their apple juice box looked like a tomato. Nothing seems to make sense here. People say this is a 'logic free zone.' Example; let's say you're riding your bike around camp. Doo, doo, doo. On the side walk, ramp down to off the side walk, across the street, up the ramp back onto the side walk. Doo, doo, doo. Right? You with me? We have ramps on our curbs, so people can ride bikes, or wheeled transport of any kind can move freely, right? Well here, you're just riding along, just like normal. And...CLUNK! Guess what? No ramp. Just curb. And across that intersection you're crossing, no ramp. Then another block, ramp. Then ramp. Then no ramp. Then ramp. And so on. Here's the million dollar question!!!???? Why? Why not put a ramp on every corner where the sidewalk meets an intersection???!!! Sounds simple, huh?

So again, here we are with the juice box. Hmmm. No straws? Hmmm. Maybe they open like the boxed soup in the U.S., I'm thinking, you know? Where you lift up the end, and they have a perferated corner? Okay. Why not. Things are strange here. And it does look like a tomato, but it's red and shiney, and that can be confusing. Right? Oh well. Juice it is for a snack today. (Peter had purchased these packages and were in the fridge when we got here, BTW)

So when Simon came home for lunch he says, "Why did you send us tomato paste for a snack, mom?" "I didn't" "Yes you did." "No I didn't." ..... Uh. Actually. I did.

Note to self: Next time, if you can't read the language, TURN THE BOX OVER.

Dear Sam and Si,

Sorry for traumatizing you, your first week of school in a foreign country. Nothing like being the weirdo-s with tomato paste for a snack.

Love,

Mom

*Because Tiff just can't believe I am such a moron, I have to explain a little more. (you'd think she knows me better than that - haha) So here goes:

Before Peter left to come home and move us, I asked him to stock the house. I went through our entire pantry in the U.S. and made him go and buy some kind of equivilant over here. On the list was Tomato Paste. We buy it in cans where I live. Not being too important of an item, when we got here I didn't even look for it. But in glancing through the house, I did notice that in an empty veggie tray in the fridge, wrapped in a six pack of plastic wrap, were some kind of juice boxes. Just like when you buy them at home. All of the milk and juices around here are made by this particular company, and I recognized the logo from the milk, to be the same on the boxes of "juice." And that's as far as it went. When I went to the store, the week school started, I thought to myself, "we already have juice boxes." And I actually thought it was really great of Peter to think of the kids. These are a treat for us at home.

And that's how it happened. I saw them, got it in my mind they were juice, and didn't even take a second look. Again, I am a dork. And when I looked at them when they came home from school unopened, I couldn't believe I even sent them. But a big red circle on a small rectangle box, stored in the fridge, equals juice box to me.

Friday ends my Weekend

Today has been one of those days. Some things I hope I won't forget, others I hope my (and the childrens) memory will be washed clean away, soon. (Like telling Si while making him eat squash, as he's making gaging noises and crying, "You puke it up, you eat it up." Not my best moment)



Peter is out of town.



Need I say more? I've done a million hours of mothering alone, but not here. Not when I can't hop in the car for a little drive, some music, and an afternoon with loved ones.



It was also our Sabbath today. We meet at 9:30, usually for an hour and a half. This is in the works of changing soon, but for now, we have only two meetings, and they are short. And today, they were REALLY short. Most of the Branch was gone. My family, and five other adults.



A few weeks ago, while our regular pianist was on vacation, I offered to "hop in" so we would have some piano. Now, I'm a really lousy pianist. Oh yeah, I took several years of lessons, but a few things: First, I never practiced. Ever. Second, I played once for my seminary class, and I have NEVER played for a singing audience again. It was terrible. And third, imagine a bad pianist, that is really rusty. I know. What was I thinking, saying I could try to help out? Well, I did. More on the idea of, 'now or never.' I've decided it's the only way I will ever learn. We have a piano here at home, and I am practicing more. But I need hymn numbers in advance, people. Seriously. So the first sacrament meeting I winged it, and it was bad. But I did it. Three songs. There were a lot klunkers, and blank notes, but I did it.



Well, today, again, we were without music. I said, "I can at least play the right hand." So again, it went the same. (really, I think I could do a decent job if they gave me some notice) So I did the opening song, at the end of the third verse, there are four, the music leader turned to me and said, "We need to be done, now." Okay. Sol was crying and the baby was starting in for a scream. I hurry back to my bright red, 1970's, plastic chair, only to find that what the director was trying to tell me is that she had just seen Chach eat a tylenol. And an advil. And perhaps two of each. No one was sure. Nice.



My big boys didn't even know I had left the row and was up playing the piano. (please note, the room is the eating area of a kitchen, in an old house here on camp, we're not talking a big room or anything) Apparently they're really used to super bad piano playing. "Ah, home sweet home." Anyway, once Ruby allerted them, Sam wiped Sol's mouth out with tissue and I was on my way back to my seat. (I had a couple of pills in a baggy left from a trip to town a few weeks ago. I NEVER use my purse, or I would have taken them out, but someone loaned us a car for church today, so I brought it just in case. Side story coming up...) Anyway, I knew there were only a few pills in the bag, so I just kept an eye on him. No worries. He was his regular crazy self all day. Whew. Tonight as I snuggled on his bed with him, he had a lot to say to me, in jubberish. Having a passy at almost three makes you talk like that. A lot. But the words I understood perfectly clear were these, said inbetween a lot of jibber. "blah blah blah, football - hike!, blah blah blah, soccer...basketball - hoop! (hand tossing the ball action here)...bowling...air hockey." Yep. He's feelin fine, folks!



Since church only lasted a whopping 30 minutes, we headed home at ten. And I promptly said, "Don't change out of your clothes. We're having primary at home today." And we did. They each did a job; prayer, leading, prelude music (Sam), scripture, and talk. I then gave the lesson for this week from the Sharing Time handbook, we had a great discussion on missionary work, did some role playing, and closed with a song and a prayer. It was actually lovely. I'm always amazed at how much children know, what they have retained from previous lessons. And Roo made it even more perfect, just like a real primary, by raising her hand: "Yes, Ruby?" She says, "We're American and we ROCK!" "Yes, thank you Ruby. That's true, but that doesn't have anything to do with the lesson." Ah. Just like primary in the states.



We had Sacrament meeting in our home a few weeks ago. I'll post more on that later. I have some pics, but they are on the camera. Which happens to be on a "desert safari" right now. (please read in a very snotty, ticked off voice) "Friday night join us for our desert safari! We'll ride ATV's out to bedouin (sp?) tents, have Arabian tea, dine with locals, there will be dancing, camel rides, henna painting, and much more!", says Peter's itinerary. Hu-rumph! Yes, Peter got to go to Dubai for work. And I got to stay home for four days, with five kids, in a very scary country, no car, housebound due to heat, and church got out early! Just kidding. I am jealous, but it's actually been really nice. We've played a lot of UNO, Si has drawn the art work of the inside of every Egyptian pyramid, (pics to come on that too), watched Joseph 85 times (hence the Egypt theme), went to the beach, rode bikes, and just hung out together. It's been fun.



Here's my car, 'side story'. I know a Pakistani woman who drives on camp. Someone ran into her car the other day, his fault. Security is called, while they wait, the offending driver claims all responsibility. Security gets there, they will not speak to her. (She's a woman, and middle eastern at that.) The offender now says, it wasn't his fault at all. Pu-lese you should see the damage, it's so his fault. They finally ask her, "Do you have a lisence?" (remember, women aren't allowed to drive here, but on camp they can) She says, "Do you give liscences to women?" They say, "Uh. No." "Then what do you think?!" I was proud of her for getting in their faces. Then they say, all mad, "Where is your husband?!" "At work!" This goes on for a while. Where?! At work!... They make her wait outside, in the over 100 degree weather, two little kids, until her husband gets home. Phew! Now they can deal with him. Because gosh, heaven forbid they deal with a woman. I have a lot more sarcastic remarks that I'll keep to myself. I'm just sayin'. In case you have forgotten about our Sister Sufferegette's, start thanking them. You can't imagine the opression of women here. It makes me so sad. Maybe part of it also, is that they would NEVER talk to a Westerner like that either. It's strange. And sad. So, on this Sabbath, I remind you - Count your many blessings!