I took a blogging vacation. We have had a busy two weeks!
So to pick up where we left off, I present to you the ten activities that prevented me from blogging these last days.
10. It rained. With an average rainfall of about 1 inch, we had to celebrate. I made a big pot of soup.
9. Diving and snorkeling. It is Novemeber after all, we had to!
8. Graduation! My Level 1 English students graduated to Level 2. We had a fun night celebrating.
7. We hosted students from a sister school in New Zealand. Two gals lived with us for a few days on their whirlwind trip through the Middle East. They did a performance at the school...
6. International Day at the kids school. Each class was assigned a country, got to dress up, make food, make a display and have an all day party to celebrate!
5. Swim competition. As part of the international day excitement, the school hosted a swim competition with teams from various parts of the country.
4. Thanksgiving. We ate turkey!
3. Eid al Adha. Our neighbors invited us over for the morning to watch them slaughter sheep as they celebrated their Eid.
2. Wadi Rum. The center that I teach ESL at hosted all the teachers and their families for a camp out in the desert as a thank you for our work. It was our cars first trip off road in the desert...she did good.
1. Life. Work. Housework. Homework. Boring. Bad excuses.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Searching for...
We spent an enjoyable day last weekend at the beach with some friends.
There was:
yummy food
games
cute kids
sea creatures
and nicely pedicured feet
On the way to the beach, the kid-os were really excited. My little gal was talking about all the things she was looking forward to doing at the beach. The item at the top of her list?
Searching for chicken bones.
Not sea shells.
Not pretty rocks.
Not sea creatures.
Chicken bones.
This tells me two things:
1. My little gal has not been to a clean beach in a long time.
2. My little gal knows how to find the positive side of an icky situation.
There was:
yummy food
games
cute kids
sea creatures
and nicely pedicured feet
On the way to the beach, the kid-os were really excited. My little gal was talking about all the things she was looking forward to doing at the beach. The item at the top of her list?
Searching for chicken bones.
Not sea shells.
Not pretty rocks.
Not sea creatures.
Chicken bones.
This tells me two things:
1. My little gal has not been to a clean beach in a long time.
2. My little gal knows how to find the positive side of an icky situation.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I Married a What?
Some people get married only to discover their spouse...
snores.
eats weird food.
smells funny.
doesn't put their dirty cloths in the basket.
That didn't happen to me. I didn't have any real big surprises after I got married. I guess I married a really nice, normal guy.
Then, one day that all changed.
It is tragic really.
I had just loaded my sweet baby girl up in my new (brought from America) four wheel drive (make that three), all terrain stroller. I was so excited to go for a walk with her and our new stroller. The sidewalks in this country are not for sissy strollers.
We had made it quite a few blocks away when I received a phone call from my nice, normal husband.
"Honey, I just got pulled over. The officer took my license and is taking me to the police station."
Oh, and he had our son with him.
It was a long walk home as thoughts rushed through my head about this new twist to our day. Of course, the first thing I thought of was what I would pack in our eight allowed suitcases for our deportation. How much hummus and filafel could I actually fit in a suitcase?
I arrived home and waited and waited.
Finally, I hear from my hubby. This is how the story goes:
He was going down a one-way street backwards in our neighborhood. The same one we go backwards down (along with everyone else in the neighborhood) every day to get to the local filafel stand. A policeman sees him and waves. Hubby waves back and smiles. Nice guy. The policeman does a quick turn around and turns his lights on and follows behind hubby (also backwards down the one-way street). Hubby pulls over.
Now we never really know what to do when we get pulled over (which is a pretty normal occurrence). Do we speak in Arabic and fear saying the entirely wrong thing that incriminates us? OR Do we speak English and get totally misunderstood and therefore 'say' something that incriminates us?
Hubby chose the later that day. Typical questions were asked.
Who are you?
Where are you from?
Why are you here?
Where is your paperwork?
No mention of going the wrong way down a street.
The officer takes hubby's license and drives away. Hubby assumes he must follow. So he does. Remember, little son is still sitting in the car. His eyes as big as half dinars by now.
Hubby has enough wits about him to call the lawyer we work with. Hubby assumes the officer is headed to the police station across town, and thankfully the lawyer is close by and plans to meet them there.
Hubby arrives at the police station and is 'brought' in (along with wide-eyed son) to the station. Still no mention of what violation has occurred. They are seated next to the jail cell. Wide-eyed son says really loud.
"Dad, are we going to have to go IN there? You REALLY should not have driven the wrong way down that street!"
Hubby is thankful not many people understand little boy English.
Police officer starts to write a very large report. Lawyer arrives and reads report. Lawyer argues and explains and laughs and smooths things over. Lawyer escorts hubby and son out of police station and says:
"He was going to deport you for defaming the King."
Hubby stands amazed and wonders what in the world he said that communicated that.
Hubby drives home with wide-eyed son and a grand story.
It is true: I married a criminal.
snores.
eats weird food.
smells funny.
doesn't put their dirty cloths in the basket.
That didn't happen to me. I didn't have any real big surprises after I got married. I guess I married a really nice, normal guy.
Then, one day that all changed.
It is tragic really.
I had just loaded my sweet baby girl up in my new (brought from America) four wheel drive (make that three), all terrain stroller. I was so excited to go for a walk with her and our new stroller. The sidewalks in this country are not for sissy strollers.
We had made it quite a few blocks away when I received a phone call from my nice, normal husband.
"Honey, I just got pulled over. The officer took my license and is taking me to the police station."
Oh, and he had our son with him.
It was a long walk home as thoughts rushed through my head about this new twist to our day. Of course, the first thing I thought of was what I would pack in our eight allowed suitcases for our deportation. How much hummus and filafel could I actually fit in a suitcase?
I arrived home and waited and waited.
Finally, I hear from my hubby. This is how the story goes:
He was going down a one-way street backwards in our neighborhood. The same one we go backwards down (along with everyone else in the neighborhood) every day to get to the local filafel stand. A policeman sees him and waves. Hubby waves back and smiles. Nice guy. The policeman does a quick turn around and turns his lights on and follows behind hubby (also backwards down the one-way street). Hubby pulls over.
Now we never really know what to do when we get pulled over (which is a pretty normal occurrence). Do we speak in Arabic and fear saying the entirely wrong thing that incriminates us? OR Do we speak English and get totally misunderstood and therefore 'say' something that incriminates us?
Hubby chose the later that day. Typical questions were asked.
Who are you?
Where are you from?
Why are you here?
Where is your paperwork?
No mention of going the wrong way down a street.
The officer takes hubby's license and drives away. Hubby assumes he must follow. So he does. Remember, little son is still sitting in the car. His eyes as big as half dinars by now.
Hubby has enough wits about him to call the lawyer we work with. Hubby assumes the officer is headed to the police station across town, and thankfully the lawyer is close by and plans to meet them there.
Hubby arrives at the police station and is 'brought' in (along with wide-eyed son) to the station. Still no mention of what violation has occurred. They are seated next to the jail cell. Wide-eyed son says really loud.
"Dad, are we going to have to go IN there? You REALLY should not have driven the wrong way down that street!"
Hubby is thankful not many people understand little boy English.
Police officer starts to write a very large report. Lawyer arrives and reads report. Lawyer argues and explains and laughs and smooths things over. Lawyer escorts hubby and son out of police station and says:
"He was going to deport you for defaming the King."
Hubby stands amazed and wonders what in the world he said that communicated that.
Hubby drives home with wide-eyed son and a grand story.
It is true: I married a criminal.
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