Passover and the Slippery Slope

When Henry sipped the grape juice at his pre-school Passover meal, he made a sour face. Katie was surprised since grape juice is one of the few non-McDonalds items Henry will voluntarily consume.

So Katie took a sip.

Wine.

Around that time, everyone else was catching on to the error and there was some scurrying about. I didn't see it and Katie didn't give a lot of detail, but my imagination of the moment makes me smile.

Bronte to Collins

Time is crawling.

3.7 million seconds. 63,000 minutes.

Just finished reading Jane Eyre for the first time (astonishingly good book). Now on to The Hunger Games. I must say it's a let down after Bronte, but it moves fast and I look forward to seeing the movie. I am hopeful it will still be in theaters in 44 days so I can see it with Katie.

Disney World plans are finalized. We have appointments for the kids to get gussied up as pirates (a pirate empress in Maddie's case--I'm glad they chose empress over wench). We have a dinner date with Cinderella et al.

The issue of the magic wand resurfaced. Maddie and Caleb were reportedly frustrated by the need to do chores when Maddie cheered the mood by reminding that they would obtain a magic wand while at Disney World and could thus ease the burden of housework (little do they know we already have such a magic wand in the form of an Egyptian housekeeper). But Caleb brought reality crashing down upon them when he lamented, "But we don't know the words for any spells."

Pining For Lawn Care Equipment

The weather in Islamabad in March is fantastic. Sunny. Mid-seventies. Gentle breeze.

They broke out the weed whackers at the embassy today. And I felt nostalgic...about weed whackers...really.

I remembered happy springs and summers in Idaho Falls where I worked mowing lawns and whacking weeds for my dad's property management business. Then it occurred to me that my kids, who will grow up in Egypt, will have no such recollections of weed whackers.

It occurred to me that my culture will be foreign to my children. My reaction to this is emotional confusion. I don't know how to feel about it but it certainly does not feel normal.

Nothing Ever Happens in Blaine

Give the source of my post title a look. Very funny.

Having achieved the doctor's acquiescence, I will begin running, slowly, tomorrow. So that's good, I think.

Meanwhile, I just broke the 5 million seconds barrier, which we all know is an important psychological milestone...or is it a millstone?

While not auditing, most free time is now absorbed getting all the paperwork, of which there is an astonishing lot, in place for transfer to Cairo.

New Hobby

I can't run anymore. I can barely walk fast. I tried just shooting hoops the other day. Not playing basketball. Not running to grab my missed shots, of which there were many. Just shooting, and then walking to the ball, which had usually stopped bouncing by the time I got there, and then shooting again. No good.

So my new hobby is interior design pursuant to the decoration of recently blogged Cairo apartment. Turns out, it's awesome.

I like thinking about what "spaces" we will need instead of how to decorate a particular room. What will that type of space need to be like? Which spaces can co-exist in the same room?

I'm working on creative space, spiritual space, family space, private space, play space, among others. I'm evaluating all of the mundane daily activities, where they will take place, how they can become artistic, and what should surround them. It is utterly fascinating and consuming.

As a huge fan of marketing and brands, I am having a great time imaging what brands can help enhance the desired effect of each space and each room. Creative: Apple and Lego. I am contemplating a kitchen inspired my M&Ms and Coca-Cola. Not overtly, of course, but I can't think of anything happier than M&Ms and Coca-Cola.

The art in the entry way will be an introduction to our family. The art in the dining room will evoke community. For the family space, I will find symbols of our traditions, heritage, and genealogy. And I want a lot of visual reminders that we are Americans.

This is super fun. And I have no doubt Katie will automatically agree to everything without question or debate.

Photos of Cairo House

The embassy sent us these photos of our home to be.

Some Photos of Islamabad

Abdomen Test

I was late for the shuttle to return home (home here is shorthand for "it's nothing like a home but it's where I live when I'm away from home") from the embassy today. So I was walking quickly, and feeling no pain. I was thus encouraged and gathered speed. Mistake. Pain. Slow walking. Stopping. Bending over.

The good news is the shuttle waited. The bad news is that I failed the abdomen test. I cannot even walk briskly. I am lame. I mean that in the literal sense, OK.

In other news, colleague gave me an outstanding spreadsheet that tells me how long I have left in Pakistan down to the second. I have something like 5.9 million seconds to go. It also shows a pie chart of time completed versus time remaining. I am 82% done. I feel 99% done, but don't tell my boss.

I can't seem to look away from my 5.9 million seconds in their methodical descent.

Dear Abby

What is the proper etiquette for rejecting a prostitute's proposition? It was my first time being approached thus and I kept making the apparent mistake of eye contact and a friendly hello. Silly Idaho boy that I am. Then they would follow me for some time and make me feel like I was in an Oliver Stone movie.

Recovering

It was my first surgery. I had a minor "operation" once on my hand, but I don't count that. Even this was pretty minor. But I did have to stay at the hospital over night.

I found out that I would stay at the hospital at about 10:30 am Wednesday. I had to check in to the hospital at 11 am Wednesday. Foreign service per diem rules for medical evacuations being what they are, I had to get to the hotel, pack up all my stuff, call the embassy to fax a letter of credit to the hospital, check out of the hotel, make new flight and hotel reservations for after the surgery, and get back to the hospital in 30 minutes. Amid all this I forgot to tell Katie the name of the hospital and subsequently, in post-surgery fog, did not contact her for some time thus causing unnecessary worry. Sorry.

The hospital staff was unbelievably friendly. I felt more like I was in a spa than a hospital. Every comfort was tended to, but hospital food, even in Singapore, still sucks.

The general anesthetic was administered. The doctor challenged me to count to ten before falling asleep. I thought that would be easy. I didn't even make it to four. I had no idea that stuff worked so fast. I woke up in some pain and everything was very cloudy for the next several hours.

My MBA classmate, Mathew Harrison, lives in Singapore now and came to visit me in the morning and helped check out of the hospital and back into my hotel, which was very helpful given the considerable pain I felt upon hoisting my back pack.

Now I am hanging out at a very nice hotel catching up on seasons 1 and 2 of Downton Abbey. I have wandered Singapore a bit. My impression is that Singapore is what happens when you turn the Duty Free area of an airport into a nation state.

Chicken Sissy

I am a chicken sissy. I can't eat it the way they eat it in South Asia, with all the chicken parts. I just spent ten hours on Thai Airways, during which time they fed me chicken, basically the whole thing, twice. So now I am very hungry because I didn't eat anything. I just stared at my mass of fleshy, fatty, sinewy, multi-colored chicken meat. And that sandy black stuff. What is that? Freaks me out. Nope, not going any where near my mouth. Do you have anything processed? This science experiment gone bad is making me uneasy. Anyone seen Saw IV? It's on my plate.

And when I recline at a comfortable three degrees, it's pavlovian, I MUST have movies right in front of my eyeballs. But I couldn't find the movie screen. Only a foldable tray was in front of me. I let the tray down and looked behind. No movies. I raised the tray up and let it down again. Maybe I missed something. I'm reclined at three degrees, where's the movie? This doesn't make any sense. So I asked my non-English-speaking neighbor if he had a movie screen. He stared at me blankly for a moment and then slowly looked away and moved his elbow from the armrest. "Um stewardess. Yes, you see, I've moved my seat back to the 'reclined' position, and yet there is no movie in front of my eyeballs. I don't understand." She didn't either.

Then I had this brilliant idea to leave my iPhone behind and really go for an iPad baptism by fire. You know, see if it can be done without an iPhone. It can't. The iPad is great for reading/watching on movie-less airplanes (I'm still really confused about that) but for listening to tunes while standing in a customs line, it's a little ridiculous. I just kept imagining that old iPod add with the white ear buds bouncing around in the ears of a super good dancing brightly monochromatic young person...and then suddenly busting out some air guitar on the enormous iPad. See that? Weird right?

The other thing is that my iPhone has all the things I don't want to forget and that now I can't remember, such as the time and location of my surgery. So the iPhone decision was a little hasty. Ill-advised.

Then I finally got to the front of the customs line only to discover that I was the only one of hundreds--probably because while their earbuds were tucked neatly into small pockets, I was trying to figure out which pocket could hold my iPad--who didn't fill out a disembarkation card. So I had to go get said card and return to the end of said line where I had to fumble with said iPad pocket issue for 30 more minutes before becoming literally the last person to clear customs.

Nine months ago, the day before I came to Pakistan, Henry stepped on my glasses. I bent them back into shape and they have remained precariously on my face since. Just before departure for this trip, they gave way, falling to pieces. I have no glasses. So here I am in Singapore with an oversized music-listening device and unable to read any signs until I'm within 15 feet and trying to find a taxi. I didn't immediately see any "taxi" signs but I did see "coach" signs near "transportation" signs. What is this "coach" they speak of? Maybe it's a taxi. A few minutes later I was browsing hand bags, a little confused at why there were no taxis nearby.