Cinnamon or Cinema?

The language barrier has been cause for many situations, some uncomfortable and some just plain funny.  I am going to start a small series here within my blog to archive them for entertainment. 

First, let  me start by saying how absolutely incredible I find it that people all over the World learn several languages and I only have a grasp on one.  Sad really.  I appreciate and admire their knowledge.  "Their" meaning anyone who knows more than my Mono-lingual self.

Yesterday in one of the local coffee shops, not Starbucks.  (Starbucks, is no longer a coffee place I visit.  They fall short on every level here by taste comparison)  I ordered my usual Latte and Dave ordered a Cappuccino.  I was having cinnamon envy and asked the nice lady for cinnamon.  Politely, she begins giving me directions is the best English she could manage.  I realize she is giving me directions but, I wasn't clear why.  So, I repeat myself about the Cinnamon.  She repeats herself with the directions... to the CINAMA. 

Ohhhhh, I get it. This time I say Cinnamon and use the Universal fingers sprinkling over my coffee and point to Dave's coffee, repeating the Word Cinnamon.

There is a Universal language I am realizing and sometimes it resorts back to using hand signs.  

Using the restroom in the UAE

I have been giving this a lot of thought.  Each and every restroom, including all those in our home come equip with the squirt hose beside the toilet bowl.  Dave has given me the whole rundown on eating and addressing others with right hand exclusively.  Here's why, the left hand is used for wiping the "areas" after using the water-tool (not sure of the true name of the squirter).  Okay, so at first thought I was pretty much grossed out.  Then, I have more carefully analyzed my thought process.  Here it is...

In the USA, we do our business and wipe with dry, cotton paper (using our hands) until we see or "not see the presence" to decide we have wiped the area enough to assume it clean. 

In the UAE, toilets come equip with a small, very personal shower to use after each "soiling".  Logically, it seems to reason that the butt is getting a much more thorough cleaning when showered after each, "use".  Right?  
On a side note, I do wonder how the said area is dried after each mini-shower.  There are no towels, paper towels or any other drying type paper except the same dry, cotton toilet paper.  And we all know what happens when that paper gets too wet ;)

I am curious if there has ever been some bacterial research done to compare the two methods for true sanitary awards.  Sounds like a cool Science Project for a teen (Not my kids, someone elses for sure ;)

Anyhow, everyone is anticipated to wash hands thoroughly after the restroom business.   

Hammour fish

We have been experimenting all the many local restaurants here as I have no way of cooking anything yet.  Great food and every delight you can imagine.  Last night we head over to this really nice Lebanese place.  We walked past their selection of fresh fish (some still moving) and I decide I am having fish...Mmmmmmm.   The server comes out and I tell him I would like the fresh fish of the day and he states I must chose my delight.  I walk with him over to the "set-up" and choose the big fat one.  Sure, why not right?  Big and round fish are easier to flank and eat the meat.  He then points to a much smaller one and moves his eyebrows in an encouraging way.  Nope, I want the big one... the big one right there.

Dining is such an experience here.  The appetizers are endless, veggies, olives, round bread, flat bread and then the ones you order come out.  Then, the entree.  In my case the big fat fish comes out on a plate.  Cut right down the fat belly and served belly up, head and all.  oh.  Wow, that really is a big, fat fish and he is staring right at me.  Dave says, "Use your hand... but, only your right hand."  (this is a whole seperate blog post that will follow... but the left hand is used primarily to wipe somewhere and is NOT used to eat or shake hands ;)

Anyhow, back to the most delicious fish I have ever ordered.  Yum.  Big, meaty, white and fresh "Hamour Fish", oh how I love thee all 1/8th that I could finish.

The end of the meal arrives and the first bill arrives, it is not ours.  The second bill arrives and it is not ours.  The third and last bill arrives and it IS ours but, it is not "Just right".  Wow!  Apparently, that Hamour fish is quite expensive.  No wonder that guy pointed to a much smaller fish.  It all becomes clear once we head home and I decide to internet investigate that damn fish.  Wow... endangered, whouda thought?  Not me... not even a little, tiny thought.  Next time, I will ask.  Teehee (sheepishly)

The forever Flight

This flight was dreaded from the minute the Dubai idea was conceived.  I knew it was going to be hardest endeavor to which I have ever committed.  And it was every bit of the torture I accounted and lots that I couldn't have even imagined up.

The date for the flight was set for March 23 and I began training for the event right away.  I took all three kids to the mall many days during the week to fight the crowds and "ride" the escalator (yes, one escalator... recall we were in Tulare/Visalia staying at my Moms).  I thought we had this component figured out.
I worked on the details diligently.  They were as follows;  Drive to LAX area the day before in my mini Van, have the van picked up at the Embassy Suites, my Mom would be meeting us at the hotel later in the day to assist in the evening and with the airport drop-off, then head to the airport in the morning after a good nights sleep.  Well, the day before the LA trip my Mom comes down with a horrible case of Strep throat and can not go.  Lovely.  I wake up Tuesday morning with my very own sore throat,  packed up and left as planned. The show must go on.  My Aunt Sue met me in LA at Embassy Suites.  FYI:  there are two Embassy Suites in the LAX area within a mile.  They will not inform you of this when you checkin.  It can be a royal pain in the ass in the event you have someone meeting up ;)   Thank goodness she came out to help me with the kids.  I sure needed it when that tow truck flat bed showed up in the street out front the Hotel at 5pm to pick up my vehicle for Shipment.  Geez.  Can you just imagine me with my three kidlets running around the street at LA rush hour, yikes.
Me and the kids wake up, hit the breakfast bar, load up onto the Shuttle for Airport and are on our way by 8am.  I love curbside check.  Now, onto the beginning of things not going smooth.  We have four carry-ons.  Two normal size with wheels and two smaller ones bungied atop the wheelies.  Sienna is in charge of one (we had practiced this).  As we head to the first Escalator, I have one carry-on and Liam's hand, Sienna refuses to pull the carry-on (it is too heavy all of a sudden)  and Myles refuses to get on the Escalator, terrified.   Now we have a major traffic jam at the base of the LAX airport BEFORE security.   All this causes Liam to throw himself to the floor in a full tantrum meltdown.  I can feel myself sweating, the fever was not helpful either.  Did I mention we are in the First-class priority line?  Oh yeah, there was that too.   Thank God for the very helpful couple who volunteered by force to help me all the way through Security for the simple price of the, "20 question Game".  Starting with the obvious question, "Is there a Husband and why isn't he here to help?"  To which I answered, "I am sure he is out to dinner with friends right about now... VERY concerned ;)"  This flight actually went very smooth after the unexpected 3 hour delay.  What was supposed to be a relaxing dinner and playtime in Chicago O'Hare airport turned into a rushed frenzy to make it to our connecting flight with no dinner.  I fed them M-n-M's out of sheer desperation. 
Security was again in our details.  Ugh.  The Airline Etihad had sent me my own personal helper to get me through, thank goodness.   Of course, I get pulled aside for a detailed search.  Visualize me putting Liam on and off and in and out of my Ergo baby backpack three times (that was a God send by the way, I recommend everyone invest in that device).   We board right on schedule and dinner was served right after take-off.  I issue the kids the their soft blankets which were packed in one of the four pieces of luggage and I had wishfully hoped that they would peacefully go to sleep in their seats that fully reclined.  Not a chance. To abbreviate a VERY looooong 14 hours, the couple sitting behind me said it best, "Lacey, you could  have expended much less energy had you just stood beside the kids' seats for the entire 14 hours to cater to their needs."  Versus the 3 million up and downs from my own seat.  But, they were not crying, they were not screaming.  Thank God for small miracles, right?  

We are alive and we are home...

Just some thoughts written mid-flight

I mindfully set out to write diligently with a weekly update. Ambitious is an understatement. Sometimes my desire and the reality just does not meet up. It has been weeks and there is just no way I can afterthought “the Between” entirely. Here we are on the first leg of our first of two flights. I am desperately trying to think of how to summarize the hysteria of the last four weeks. Here is my best shot and a reason why I even bother. I heartfully care about everyone I keep in contact with and even many whom I can not. However, having three children is consumptive and sometimes at the end of the day, I just have no more of myself to give. I am saddened by this fact sometimes in the wee hours of the morning when I awake and remember that I missed a call to someone dear. At first thought, I worry that they may feel forgotten or unimportant. You are not and it‘s my hope that everyone knows my heart is full of love for each and every one of my dear friends and *family. My days and nights are also full. I do my best but, sometimes at the end of the day… there are just not enough hours or seconds. I hate the term “Busy”, it has become this simple and easy term most use nowadays to mean… big fat BLOW-OFF in a cowardly kind-of way. I try not to be that person. In our culture everyone makes time for what is most important to them. We can admit that, right?  We are only as busy as what is truly important to us. Facebook has become an amazing tool, email, text messaging and all those devices. There is no excuse and I try hard not to make them. It means a lot to me to keep in close (as close as I can manage) contact with those I cherish. Thank you to soooo many for your patience and tenacity.

On to a new subject… texting and cell phones with our teens. Geez, can they hold a real conversation? Nope, seems not. I can’t believe my eyes. Each ad every young person buried in their cell phones. Walking, texting, talking on the phone in the middle of a hugely crowded room, wow. It scares me to think that in twenty years these may be our leaders. Yikes. The video that went viral of that lady in the Mall texting herself right over the edge into the fountain. Ya, that makes total sense now that I have been surrounded by a bunch of teens. Seems to reason, that is the new norm. No true reality. Heads just buried in a little typing device completely oblivious that real life is going on all around them in flesh. Type, stare, send, completely detached from what is going on in their immediate surroundings. And to see their written text. Oh geez, it is like trying to read ancient Hyrogliphics. What a shame. The English language is being slaughtered in what appears to be cartoon chicken scratch. Ugh. Frustrating.

Maybe I am just over social. But, I simply think that the world around has every bit of education we all need to learn. We just need to connect, listen and be kind to one another.

I am sooooo behind here...gimme a bit I have material

So, here I am sitting in my empty home in Dubai, UAE.  I say home because it is.  I have all that truly matters, my kids and my Husband... together at last.  It isn't easy no doubt.  But, the time will come I think.   Who knows really.  I'm learning that everywhere in the World the big game is the same, "Hurry up and wait for bigger and better things."  It really is the journey that makes for tales.  And boy do I have a million.  I can't even fathom how I will catch myself up with my thoughts.
 We arrived safely, soundly andi nfectious as all great Families should.  Strep.  That is right, everyone and now Dave too shares in the misery.  Teehee.  He has really been missing out some things and we have issued a crash course in Family sharing ;)  We are currently sharing Antibiotic dosages.

Our furniture is "Scheduled" to arrive within the week.  I will not hold my breath as I could sufficate in the attempt.  I will however, cross my fingers that there is no hold up in Customs and we will have dishes, tables, couches and the rest of things I can't wait to be cleaning and vacuuming real soon.

You know you are in small town....

Sometimes the best indicator of a small town is how big the big fish think they are in what can best be described as a pond.  I have met some very interesting people in this small pond.  Try as I may to stay out of the small town antics, I am social and found myself being social in many circles.  It is funny though, not being from any of the original circles, I was always an outsider.  I never truly could keep up with the “information” passed.  Half because I never really knew who was being talked about and half because I didn’t really care.  As the outsider, there were lots of perks.  It is difficult to see the true picture while one is standing inside the frame. But, as an outsider I could stand back and stare.  I did.  And boy are there some funny things to laugh about.

First, there is this stigma in Fallon relevant to our initial status as Active Duty Military. “Ohhhhh, you are Military?”  I always wanted to answer, “Of course… why else would we be in this shithole?”  I never understood that really.  A community that thrives by way of Military Families and transition yet, most of its locals want to be nasty and unwelcoming.  The next round of questioning is the dance relative to what Rank and status you have in the Military, easily recognized as, “How much money do you make?”  The simple facts are these; no one is in the Military making millions.  We are all there serving the USA on some level.  Yes we are compensated but, not by any means worth negotiating a Class status differentiation. 

Next, the inquisitions are in who you know and what you know about them.  It is a funny thought to have but, I guess if we are not talking about ourselves or other people , what in the world would be talking about?  I have to admit, it is very easy to be dragged into.  I mean, somethings are just funny and try as I may, I am very nosey.  So, I am a guilty participant. And besides, there isn't much else to do in Fallon.

Everyone is a Sales person for some home-based Company.  You know the kind; Tupperware, Jewelry, Foods, Scrapbooking, Purses, Make-up, Childrens Books, Card making, Home Décor, wall décor, Candles, Kitchen products, and I am certain I have left some out.  And all these, I am referencing one Fallon lady hostess who sent me an invitation (handmade of course) to each.  Some party’s even had individual stations set up with multiple showcases.  Here is my take on this…  we were a single income, Active-duty Military family.  The last place I wanted to spend upwards of 50% inflation on products I didn’t even want or need was in someone’s living room.   Talk about uncomfortable.  This relationship eventually fizzled out and I stopped being invited.  Thank goodness.  However, it came at another price… small town you know.   Which nicely brigs me to  the Negative Nellies, who hold onto everything hateful from High School.   Facebook is full of them and has become a personal forum for revenge via Status updates.   Usually, I don’t know who the darts are being tossed at but, it is entertaining nonetheless.  There are lots of perks to being an outsider.  This is one.

Huggies failed me and Carters saved the day... and the carpet

Motherhood, it is a funny thing.  No one really tells you exactly how much time you will spend covered in bodily fluids and sometimes even solids.  Today was one of those days.  The kind only another Mother knows or a witness.  Myles (my middle son, who’s 3) drags in the littlest, Liam.  “He’s stinky. Liam is stinky, REALLY stinky.  You need to fix this Mom.”  Myles states.  Liam holds himself stiff and will not walk, so I pick him up.  Perfect, he is wet and yes, REALLY stinky.  Weird that he is wet.  Uh oh, I notice before the laying him down that his bottom is diaper-less.  He is wearing my favorite children’s jammies, Carters Footie “Blanket Sleeper”.  I recall pre-Motherhood, saying how ugly I thought these were and that I would NEVER make MY child wear those.  This of course was in my, “I am never having children phase.”  Giggle.

They are my favorite for a hundred reasons and today’s event makes 101 reasons.

As I start to unzip, I can see that this is getting ugly…  shitty actually, literally.  I move this situation to my Moms shower (remember, we are still homeless and staying at my Moms).  Thankfully these unzip and come off from the feet.  It would have been a horrific scene to pull overhead.  Ugh.  Saucy chunks.  All contained within the legs and the footies.  Thank you dear Carters for the rescue.  I am sad to say, these jammies have become a casualty to this Huggies failure.   Lucky for me they are $7 and after a fast cost analysis (where we are going these warm fuzzies are unnecessary) they and all their contents from last nights dinner, went into a trash bag. Damn Velcro on the diaper waist.  It happens.  And sometimes, it happens like this.

Just a fun Mommy moment I thought I would share ;)

Leaving Fallon

Making it all happen was exactly the horrific nightmare I thought it would be.  From the packing, to the selling of so many things, the movers and the last day when we watched our things get shifted around and shoved into the back of a very large shipping container.  Surreal. 

Most people will never know that feeling.  I grew up in a town full of them.  I just spent the last 5.5 years in another town very similar.  Small are towns are so wonderful for so many reasons.  But, the not-so-wonderful side is dark and yucky for the same many reasons. I will revisit this next…

 I am currently back in the same town I called home for 19 years, staying in the same home my Mom still lives. Only, this time it is our kidlets and I.  I have good days and sad.  The feelings are always that my Family is separated.  Sometimes my heart aches knowing there is such great distance and other times, I am excited to know that this is just temporary and big things await.

That last night in Fallon, I tearfully walked into the empty house that was just the shell remains of what has been our home, to say goodbye to the place where we made memories for the first five years of Dave and I being a Family.  It was much harder than I thought it would be.  In fact, it was breathtaking and devastating.  The hardest part was the attempt to hold it all in.  I just couldn’t crack or our kids would be afraid of this huge change that we have sold to them is an adventure.  It is that, a big adventure, an exciting adventure full of things to learn about the world outside our America.

I walked back outside the house and into the garage to find none other than Leslie there, prepared to pick up my big, sappy and sobbing buns off of the floor.  But, I was holding it in, barely.  The kids were loaded in the van with our suitcases.  It was official.  We were homeless and I was going to make an attempt to drive through the night to my Moms, starting our journey at 8pm after 3 days of packing and moving.  Ambitious, I know.  I didn’t make it.  I could barely keep my eyes open by midnight.  So, we pulled into the circle entry of the Turlock Holiday Inn and I pulled out my handy-dandy Mac, highjacked the Wi-Fi from Starbucks across the street, looked up the front desk number and enlisted the help of the Hotel clerk.  She went above and beyond to make this easy for me.  All three kids were asleep making for ideal driving but, I just could not stay awake another hour let alone the 2.5 we had left to drive.  So, we checked in and I signed from the car.  Then managed to wake each child and move us from the car to bed in the next 15 minutes.  I swear, I couldn’t even believe I pulled that off.   

Well, we made it.  We are in Tulare for our stint until we fly home to Dave.  I have found respite in the local gym.  There I have 2.5 hours a day of childcare to use while I regain some of my sanity.  I have tried this exercise class called, Zumba.  It is fun and Hysterical. I love it.  I love to laugh at myself. 

Dearest Leslie

You have been like finding a gem in the desert.  You are my friend, confidant and many times over, a savior of my sanity.   I admire so many things about you.  You are courageous and independent, strong and willful.   Most importantly to me, you are genuine, inside and out.  Genuinely kind, thoughtful and honest.  There are not many people who can be all these things and you are, gracefully and effortlessly. 

You have not only learned to tolerate my neurosis and me but, you have learned to ground me when I stick my head in the clouds (or a hole).  Your candid quips and witty comebacks have kept me laughing every time we are together.  In good times and bad, you are a true friend.

I can only hope you know how important your friendship has been to me and to the “us” That are my children and family, who have become what makes me.

 I look forward to many, many years of the long distance relationship it appears we are setting up.  You know the kind… gone a year, together a few days and the time seems to have never past.