End-of-the-season flashback

Tonight at the dinner table, we were discussing the word "bitch," enlightening the boys to the fact that not only is it a bad word that somehow they already know, but it does have a much more straightforward and appropriate meaning, female dog. This came up, of course, after my husband spelled out b-i-t-c-h when our dog, Sophie, tried stealing food off of the counter. "Yes, dear husband, so very funny, ha, ha, ha. I am going to give you some leeway, being drugged-up on painkillers after minor surgery." And, yes, S is doing well, just a wee bit loopy, tired, and apparently missing the kid filter.

After this conversation, we shared an example of how this word has been so misused over the years that even when used correctly, it can be easily misunderstood. And this brings us to tonight's end-of-the-season flashback. 

When we lived in Pakistan, I worked part-time in the Consular Section. We had an American car in Pakistan (a country where right-hand drive cars were the appropriate style). S and I would drive in to work together, then I would go home and come back for him in the evening. 

While driving to pick up my husband, my car would be surrounded by a crowd at certain stoplights. I had learned the hard way to never give money to a person on the street, at least in Pakistan. Once I gave money to a tragic, sweet-looking little boy from the car window. A few seconds later, a bigger, older boy came and punched him and took the money I had just given. Organized gangs were all too commonplace. It was unnerving, sad, and overwhelming. 

Emma Lou was our beautiful, protective Belgian Malinois (or maybe Pakistani Shepherd or maybe wolf-dog, who knows) that we had adopted while living in Pakistan. And, by chance, one day, I took her with me to pick up my husband from work because she loved car rides, and we thought it funny that it looked like our dog was driving the car. Lo and behold, nobody approached the car, even with a woman driving around alone. From this point forward, I learned two things, 1) give the money to reputable organizations that can truly help the kids, and 2) take our dog with me in the car when driving alone to the Embassy. 

Our guards at the Embassy were a local guard force with limited English skills. Each time we would enter the Embassy, we would have to go through a car check at the security gate. The guards were friendly professional and tried their best with English as I tried my best with Urdu. One day, Emma Lou and I pulled up to the security gate. The guard inspected my badge and then said, "bitch." Cue a stunned look on my face. Again, he said, "bitch." He then pointed to Emma Lou with me totally confused and again said, "bitch?" "Oh yes, yes, she is."

And, so, in this flashback is our tribute to our beautiful Emma Lou. We still think about you and miss you, girl. And, no kids, unlike your father who has the excuse of being in a medically induced stupor, you cannot go around calling our dog "bitch," just because she actually is one.

Emma Lou, when we first adopted her

Emma Lou making her impression of an Arctic Wolf in Bulgaria

Emma Lou, in her later years, her black muzzle had turned gray.

Easy BBQ Chicken Quarters

Love this:

I just set the oven to 200 F. Put a dry rub on frozen chicken quarters and let them cook for 4 hours. About 15 minutes before they are done, heat up the grill on medium. Then turn it to low, slather BBQ sauce on the chicken quarters put them on the grill for 3 minutes per side and voila, fall of the bone BBQ chicken. If not frozen, same thing, less time (2.5 hours does the job). Frankly, at such a low temp, I tend to put them in and forget about them, taking them out whenever I'm ready to throw them on the grill.

Baked beans and a salad for the sides and we are good-to-go. Just wish my oldest ate meat, oh well, he will have salad and beans for dinner. :)