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.

Tuesday is coming and then the adventure really begins. . .

On Tuesday, I pick-up T from camp. I'm so excited to see him. We haven't talked in three weeks. I sure hope he had fun. I do know his little brother really enjoyed having alone time with us.

The time apart has made me realize just how much of my time and energy goes to T and how little goes to K. With the older one's homework demands it had become such a focus at the expense of the little guy. Now, with my husband back from Iraq, I so hope that having two parents will make it easier to devote more equal time to both. We definitely need to give more alone time to our little guy.

T did get into a STEMM school, which will be demanding. Helping T with homework quickly devolves into struggles and frustrations between us. Clearly, my children will NEVER be home schooled! And, it really isn't fair to K to have so much of my attention focused on T at the expense of having any time for anything or anyone else.

We are learning along the way, always. . .

So, Tuesday will be the start of our next adventure with these lessons learned ready to be applied. Looking forward to (and dreading at the same time) our nine night drive across country in one car with two boys, a dog, my husband and myself. Hopefully, it will be about some quality family time together and seeing some new things from our own country along the way.

Now That's Funny

Warning, this post might be considered more PG-13 as opposed to my normally G and PG rated postings. . .

I just watched the clip of Anderson Cooper laughing at the sophomoric puns he was making in regards to the recent "peeing on the plane" incident perpetrated by Gerard Depardieu. Yes, even at 41, I find this kind of thing funny. I don't know why, but I do. And, so, it got me thinking about funny things we've encountered overseas that I thought I would share with you today.

In Pakistan, the surname of "Butt" is quite common. Yes, we've known many fine, nice, upstanding "Butts;" they are good people. But, from an American reference point how can you not sometimes laugh when coming upon the name in certain contexts. . .There was the bakery called, "Butt Brothers' Bakery" and the clothing store called, "Butt's Honey House." And, of course, lest we not forget the time S had a meeting with an Army Major and had to use every ounce of composure he could muster to announce he was there to see, you guessed it, Major Butt.

When learning Portuguese at FSI, S and I shared a class with two other people. Our poor teachers, I don't know how many times three of the four of us just burst out laughing. The one that sticks-out in my mind the most, however, is when our Portuguese teacher was attempting to explain about these big ceramic white and blue Roosters that are apparently quite the item to buy in Portugal. And, she just kept talking about "the big blue cock" that you just must buy. OMG, heaven help us, to not break out in laughter over that one.

In East Timor, you often came across attempts at English that just didn't translate such as the  restaurant called, "Cock and Bull." I think they were trying to say their restaurant specializes in chicken and beef, but it just didn't come out that way.

Ok, so we still find this stuff funny. I'm not sure what that says about us, but hey that's just how we roll. Got any funny stories to share, leave a comment with your story, we'd love to read it!

The Key to A Great Posting

We've been posted to many countries over the last 13 years. There are a lot of factors that go into whether or not we like where we are living. And while a great school for the kids is top consideration, what makes a post wonderful are the friends we make. A few postings have stood out in this regard. And, I am so glad to say that our current posting is one of them. Having friends that make me laugh, and appreciate my quirky sense of humor so that I too can make them laugh, is priceless, truly priceless!!!!

An American Thing - I Guess!

Ok, ever since we joined the Foreign Service, I've noticed something in every country we've been stationed. . .the locals look at me like I am downing a bottle of poison should I ever put ice in my drink. Apparently, much of the world believes that drinks are not meant to be cold and certainly never ever should include ice. Well, I'm not changing my ways on this. Nothing beats a frosty mug, filled with ice and my favorite soda and the ONLY way I enjoy a glass of water is if it is ICE COLD. I guess it is just an American thing, or maybe it's just me?

On Our Way to School

So every time I drive K to his new school, we pass a couple things that I keep thinking I just have to share with everyone on our blog.

1. On our compound, they are building another building that will house four very small apartments. We've been watching the construction from day one. Here's the first thing we noticed, they use cinder blocks in the building of the walls of the house. Not so shocking. But then, get this; they line the outside of the blocks with Styrofoam. Yes, you read that correctly, the houses are insulated (and only on outside walls) with Styrofoam. Now, I don't know, maybe this is SOP in the building industry, but I've never seen it before. Back home, houses were always insulated with that pink panther furry insulation stuff (yeah, I don't know its real name, but you know what I'm talking about). So, now after the Styrofoam sheets have been glued on to the cinder blocks, they are spackling on a thin layer of cement. We will see what happens next. . .

2. Every day on the road, we go around this very sharp curve and see a bunch of tires scattered on the side of the road. There was a big puddle on the road next to these tires. It didn’t even occur to me why that might be the case. Well, there is a HUGE hole in the road. And, yes, I found out the hard way. Luckily my tire was not destroyed. But, apparently others weren’t so fortunate. I guess when it’s dry; I just instinctively go around it without paying much notice. Believe me, I will take more notice of such things in the future.

And that's our daily journey to school.

Oh Richard, I Forgive you.

Today, after my language lesson, we headed home. However, the only route I know how to use was blocked by construction. Dare, I trust Richard (our GPS)? Hmmm???? Well, what choice do I have? Wouldn't you know it, today he worked. No weird small rocky roads, yeah! Richard led me to another main road a few miles away and then I was home. Richard, you are redeemed in my eyes (for now, so don't push your luck).

Richard, You Let Me Down! :(

Today, I took the boys for a visit to the school. It is beautiful, albeit warm (they don't have A/C). I guess in Bulgaria, you really don't need A/C all that much, so. . .

Anyway, on the way home, I went the route I know well. However, I let Richard (that's the name of our GPS voice, hence the name of our GPS) chime in with his suggestions as well. I knew there was a short-cut coming up that is well paved and thought perhaps Richard might point it out. So, when he told me to turn left very near to the spot I thought would be correct, I followed his instructions.

Oh my goodness, what a HUGE mistake. At first, all seemed well. But, then the roads became narrower and narrower, less and less paved and finally just rocky, etc. . .At this point, I decided it was time to turn around, which I did.

On my way back, a car decided to stop in the middle of the "road" and park. I was stuck and had no idea when the person would be returning. Adding to my frustration, there was a truck on the other side of the parked car wanting to get through in the opposite direction. I tried backing out of the road to see if I could find another way. It was either that or wait to see if the driver of the parked car returned. I knew the road too rough and narrow to turn around. I understood that I really did not share Richard's idea of a suitable route. I was quite aware that I did not speak a lick of Bulgarian to ask "how the hell do I get out of here." I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. But, I told myself to "suck it up" and try to get me and the boys home. While I was backing out, I backed into some kind of pole and smashed the rear driver side tail light of the car we just purchased. I was so upset at this point. Damn Richard!!!! You know, it's all his fault, right?! I got out and picked up what pieces I could of the broken plastic tail light and of my bruised and battered ego. And, just as I got back in my car, the woman who parked in the middle of the narrow road returned and moved her car. Perhaps she heard my big BANG and decided she should move??? Then the truck backed-up and let me through.

I decided to not drive anymore today. And, I will only follow Richard if he takes me on fully paved, real roads. Otherwise, I will trust him far less than I can throw him. And, believe me, I was tempted to throw him out the window today. But, I didn't do that and he still lives for another day, another adventure.

Oh No He Didn't!

We had the most beautiful, freakin awesome day today (mostly). We had heard there was a gondola that goes up to the ski resort, not too far from our house. So, today, we set out to find it. It is not only close to our house, it is just two miles away. We have NEVER lived two miles away from a ski lift. We take the gondola up. It is a LONG way up, but so beautiful. We see some very twisty, narrow roads pass underneath us and are pretty dang happy right now that we can get to the ski lodge without having to drive those roads. It was about a 30 minute ride from the entrance of the Gondola up to the top. I imagine by road it would be hours. Once there, we got out and explored the beautiful scenery. On our way back, the boys were tired and so we agreed for a rest/snack stop.

As we are finishing up our snack, a restaurant worker (hoping he was NOT the cook) comes out and starts going through the GARBAGE. He pulls out two pieces of not fully eaten bread and takes them back inside. Hubby and I look at each other in astonishment, did he really just do that. OMG!!! Ok, we are not eating here ever again. Luckily we only ordered bottled water and some prewrapped ice cream treats this time. And, no, I don't think there will be a next time eating at this place. Just hoping the other eating options up there are a little more appealing come ski season. Even with Garbage Collector Cook, it was still a beautiful day and we are excited to ski, ski, ski. . . .

Adventures at a Bulgarian Supermarket

Seiji speaks Bulgarian very well. I, on the other hand, not a lick. Though I hope to change this through language classes at the Embassy, those lessons have not yet begun and reading in Cyrillic is totally lost on me.

Our previous, and first, trip to the grocery store, Seiji was with us. But, today, I took the boys alone. We did pretty well until we got to the pastry counter (a promise to the boys for behaving - mostly - during the shopping trip). There were these Bulgarian treats that they wanted to try, so why not. The lady behind the counter is looking at us. I look at her and ask "English?" Nodding her head "yes," she says "no." Oh G-d, I'm never going to get this opposite head nod thing down. I try to communicate in the best way I know how. I point to the pastry the boys want and hold up two fingers. She gets a box and starts for the correct pastries - yeah success!!!! There's our two, but she is still going. Uh oh! I say "that's good, no more," shaking my head "no." But, of course, a head nod "no" actually means "yes" here. What am I going to do? I make the "stop" gesture and, thank goodness, she understands. She gives us our box of 5 pastries and I just take it and am happy she stopped at 5. Then the boys ask if we can get pastrami. First of all, I don't even know how to say "pastrami" in Bulgarian and even if I find it and point to it, how can I possibly communicate I only want 500 grams. After seeing the pastry debacle, my oldest actually understands why we need to wait for Dad on this one. We made it out of there with everything we actually came for and five pastries. All in all, it was a successful trip.