Our bathtub faucet leaks. From the looks of the hard water stain on the tub it's been leaking for quite some time. That gives us very little hope that our landlord will fix it.
So Andrew decided to self-diagnose our problem. In doing so he discovered that he has no idea how to fix a faucet and that there's a neat little knob by our toilet that controls the water pressure of the bathroom.
He was playing with that this morning and after he'd finished I tried washing my hands, but there was hardly any water pressure, so I started playing with the knob, as well.
Andrew stood by the sink, turning the tap on so that we could tell how high the water pressure was. I turned the tap looser. Andrew told me that there was no change. I turned the tap tighter. No change again.
"I'll go into the kitchen to see if there's any water pressure in there," Andrew volunteered.
A few minutes later I heard him holler something from the kitchen. It's just down the hall from the bathroom but I still couldn't hear what he said. So I walked to the kitchen to ask him.
"What did you say?"
"I said that there's no water in here, either."
"Well, that stinks." I sighed.
And then we prepared to go about our day, without water yet again.
When we'd gotten back from Road 9, after visiting a carpenter's shop, a fruit stand, and finding the underground tunnel to the other side of the tracks, we were pretty grimy. It's easy to get grimy in Cairo.
"Man, I wish I could shower," Andrew whined, "I'm so dirty!"
Perhaps we both just felt more dirty than usual because we walked through some raw sewage. At least, that's what I think it was. There were some pipes just outside of the tunnel on the other side where people had, no kidding, set out their goods--like fruits and vegetables and things--and at the end of the pipes was this little cement thing that looked like it used to be a pump but was really just spewing nasty smelling, thick, dark-coloured water everywhere.
Needless to say, that's not where we bought our fruit.
But we had to walk through a puddle in order to go anywhere from the tunnel so we braved it. And it was gross. I wanted a shower, too.
"Let's see if we have water now," I suggested.
So we walked into the bathroom and looked at our tub. That's how we test to see if whether or not we have water. If the tub is leaking, we have water. If it isn't, we don't.
It wasn't leaking. We still didn't have water. So we continued to live our life waterless.
Finally, just before dinnertime, Andrew decided that he'd check the "water pressure" tap himself.
He turned it. And the tub started leaking.
I had turned off the water for the whole apartment. And we left it off all day. Oops.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Careful what you say
Rachel understands so much of what we say. It's beginning to scare me a little. We're going to have to start to be careful about what we talk about when she's around because she's picking up on concepts I didn't think a 1 year old could understand...
It doesn't help that Andrew, who is so erudite and deliberate in his academic papers, is a little less attentive of his dinner table conversations.
Last night we were talking about the Israel/Palestine issue. It's a common topic at our house. These things happen when your husband is majoring in Middle East studies and happens to be taking a Palestinian Refugee course.
Andrew's ancestors on his father's mother's side are Jewish. That is only slightly interesting until you consider his father's father's side. When you learn that his ancestors on his father's father's side were from Nazi Germany things get a little comical. No wonder Andrew's always confused.
Anyway, sometimes we joke about moving to Israel and living on a kibbutz if nothing else (like a job or future education) works out for us. It's kind of been our pseudo backup plan. Of course, it's all just a big joke. But we only joked about it because he is a Jew by heritage and Israel offers citizenship to Jews, so it was kind of a real possibility.
At least, we were under the impression that it was a real possibility. Andrew learned in his Palestinian Refugee course, though, that it's actually not a possibility. He's not religiously Jewish and so we're already out on that count, but even his "racial" Jewishness doesn't count because it's on his father's side.
According to the 1950 Law of Return, section 4B (of the second amendment), "'Jew' means a person who was born of a Jewish mother..."
I was naive enough to ask why.
My knowledge of Judaism is pretty rudimentary, but from reading the Old Testament I'm pretty sure that they recorded their genealogy father-to-son. Movies like Fiddler on the Roof seem to confirm such patriarchal notions.
Apparently, though, you can only become an Israeli citizen through your mother.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," Andrew said, "It's easy to verify who your mother is because you come out of her butt."
See what I mean about his lack of eloquence at the dinner table?
"It's not so easy to know who your father is," He continued.
I was a little annoyed, both at his use of the word "butt" and that Israel would question the fidelity of their women. Of course, Andrew and I both happen to descend from illegitimate children on our fathers' fathers' sides so maybe I can understand how and why they'd question the both the fidelity of their women and the Jewishness of their offspring. I mean, maybe the fathers of our illegitimate ancestors were Jewish. We have no way of knowing for sure.
Rachel looked a little confused about the whole conversation so Andrew decided he'd give her a lesson about babies, using the word "butt" several more times.
"Babies come out of their mommy's butts. You came out of Mommy's butt and I came out of Grandma's butt."
"Thanks, honey, for that wonderful explanation," I sneered sarcastically.
"No problem," he said.
And with that we continued our dinner.
Later that evening when I had already completely forgotten about our dinner conversation, Rachel ran up behind me and started pushing on my rear end. She does that a lot when she wants me to go somewhere or do something with her. I turned around to see what she wanted.
She had her baby doll.
"Oh, do you want me to hold the baby?" I asked her, reaching down for her baby doll. Sometimes she likes me to hold it and burp it for her.
She shook her head and yanked the doll away from me. Then she ran behind me again and started pushing the baby into my rear again. When she was satisfied that she'd pushed it into my backside hard enough, she let it drop to the floor.
"Stop that, Rachel. What are you doing?" I asked.
For lack of ability to explain herself any other way, this question prompted another episode of Rachel smashing poor baby doll into my rear end and dropping her to the floor.
It took us a few minutes to realize that Rachel was enacting the birthing process as she had come to understand it at the dinner table that evening. Wonderful.
Thanks, honey, for that wonderful explanation. Now she "knows" where babies come from and I know that she knows the word "butt." By the way, dear, I so much more prefer the word "bum."
It doesn't help that Andrew, who is so erudite and deliberate in his academic papers, is a little less attentive of his dinner table conversations.
Last night we were talking about the Israel/Palestine issue. It's a common topic at our house. These things happen when your husband is majoring in Middle East studies and happens to be taking a Palestinian Refugee course.
Andrew's ancestors on his father's mother's side are Jewish. That is only slightly interesting until you consider his father's father's side. When you learn that his ancestors on his father's father's side were from Nazi Germany things get a little comical. No wonder Andrew's always confused.
Anyway, sometimes we joke about moving to Israel and living on a kibbutz if nothing else (like a job or future education) works out for us. It's kind of been our pseudo backup plan. Of course, it's all just a big joke. But we only joked about it because he is a Jew by heritage and Israel offers citizenship to Jews, so it was kind of a real possibility.
At least, we were under the impression that it was a real possibility. Andrew learned in his Palestinian Refugee course, though, that it's actually not a possibility. He's not religiously Jewish and so we're already out on that count, but even his "racial" Jewishness doesn't count because it's on his father's side.
According to the 1950 Law of Return, section 4B (of the second amendment), "'Jew' means a person who was born of a Jewish mother..."
I was naive enough to ask why.
My knowledge of Judaism is pretty rudimentary, but from reading the Old Testament I'm pretty sure that they recorded their genealogy father-to-son. Movies like Fiddler on the Roof seem to confirm such patriarchal notions.
Apparently, though, you can only become an Israeli citizen through your mother.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," Andrew said, "It's easy to verify who your mother is because you come out of her butt."
See what I mean about his lack of eloquence at the dinner table?
"It's not so easy to know who your father is," He continued.
I was a little annoyed, both at his use of the word "butt" and that Israel would question the fidelity of their women. Of course, Andrew and I both happen to descend from illegitimate children on our fathers' fathers' sides so maybe I can understand how and why they'd question the both the fidelity of their women and the Jewishness of their offspring. I mean, maybe the fathers of our illegitimate ancestors were Jewish. We have no way of knowing for sure.
Rachel looked a little confused about the whole conversation so Andrew decided he'd give her a lesson about babies, using the word "butt" several more times.
"Babies come out of their mommy's butts. You came out of Mommy's butt and I came out of Grandma's butt."
"Thanks, honey, for that wonderful explanation," I sneered sarcastically.
"No problem," he said.
And with that we continued our dinner.
Later that evening when I had already completely forgotten about our dinner conversation, Rachel ran up behind me and started pushing on my rear end. She does that a lot when she wants me to go somewhere or do something with her. I turned around to see what she wanted.
She had her baby doll.
"Oh, do you want me to hold the baby?" I asked her, reaching down for her baby doll. Sometimes she likes me to hold it and burp it for her.
She shook her head and yanked the doll away from me. Then she ran behind me again and started pushing the baby into my rear again. When she was satisfied that she'd pushed it into my backside hard enough, she let it drop to the floor.
"Stop that, Rachel. What are you doing?" I asked.
For lack of ability to explain herself any other way, this question prompted another episode of Rachel smashing poor baby doll into my rear end and dropping her to the floor.
It took us a few minutes to realize that Rachel was enacting the birthing process as she had come to understand it at the dinner table that evening. Wonderful.
Thanks, honey, for that wonderful explanation. Now she "knows" where babies come from and I know that she knows the word "butt." By the way, dear, I so much more prefer the word "bum."
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
2 AM Phone Call
It took us a while to get to bed the night Karen left. We'd barely gotten in the door and wiped our tears away when Rachel woke up screaming. It took us about an hour and a half to calm her down again. She had to go potty and nurse and have some Orajel before she settled down.
Now it was around 1:30 AM. We quickly finished getting ready for bed and were just about ready to lie down when the phone rang.
We had to listen for a minute to determine which phone was ringing: our Utah phone or our Cairo phone.
It was our Utah phone. We looked at each other slightly panicked.
Karen had said that she would call if she had any problems, but she wouldn't be able to call our Utah phone, would she? Maybe it was Reid calling. Maybe there was some problem and he wouldn't be able to meet her in India. Maybe it wasn't either of them and it was someone at home calling about a family emergency.
It was 2 AM and our imaginations were running wild. Andrew raced to the phone.
"Hello!?" he asked, trying to sound calm.
"Hello," the voice on the other end responded, "This is Mary* calling on behalf of UCCU. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time to complete a survey about how we can better your banking experience...."
"Actually," said Andrew, "Not right now. We're in Egypt and it's like 2 AM."
"Oh, alright then," said Mary. You could hear her brain working harder than it was used to. She didn't say what she was thinking but I'm sure it was something along the lines of "I swear this was an 801 number..."
What she actually said was, "Ummmm...sorry about that..." Then she hung up. And we went to bed laughing about the brilliant idea we had to keep our Utah phone to make family communication easier, all the while completely forgetting about telemarketers. Our family is thoughtful enough to not call us at 2 AM. Telemarketers bother me, in general, but I couldn't really blame this girl for calling us this late...after all, it was a reasonable hour for her.
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
Now it was around 1:30 AM. We quickly finished getting ready for bed and were just about ready to lie down when the phone rang.
We had to listen for a minute to determine which phone was ringing: our Utah phone or our Cairo phone.
It was our Utah phone. We looked at each other slightly panicked.
Karen had said that she would call if she had any problems, but she wouldn't be able to call our Utah phone, would she? Maybe it was Reid calling. Maybe there was some problem and he wouldn't be able to meet her in India. Maybe it wasn't either of them and it was someone at home calling about a family emergency.
It was 2 AM and our imaginations were running wild. Andrew raced to the phone.
"Hello!?" he asked, trying to sound calm.
"Hello," the voice on the other end responded, "This is Mary* calling on behalf of UCCU. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time to complete a survey about how we can better your banking experience...."
"Actually," said Andrew, "Not right now. We're in Egypt and it's like 2 AM."
"Oh, alright then," said Mary. You could hear her brain working harder than it was used to. She didn't say what she was thinking but I'm sure it was something along the lines of "I swear this was an 801 number..."
What she actually said was, "Ummmm...sorry about that..." Then she hung up. And we went to bed laughing about the brilliant idea we had to keep our Utah phone to make family communication easier, all the while completely forgetting about telemarketers. Our family is thoughtful enough to not call us at 2 AM. Telemarketers bother me, in general, but I couldn't really blame this girl for calling us this late...after all, it was a reasonable hour for her.
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
Elevator Cockroach
Playgroup was at Melissa's house today since Lydia couldn't let us into Maadi House and Melissa's apartment has a little playground in the back. Lora and I walked over together and once we got there we sat and chatted while our kids beat each other up a bit.
Rachel won't let Finn crawl anywhere--she pushes down on him until he can't move anymore. Finn then feels like he needs to push on Abby a little bit so that she knows how it feels. And thus the pecking order goes. It would probably go further but there's no one smaller than Abby yet and she can't really move around too well.
When the kids (ie., Rachel) seemed to be getting a little too restless to stay indoors we decided to head out to the playground. We gathered up the kids and all the necessary hud and walked out to the elevator.
After I'd opened up the outside door, I pushed the inside doors open and started to walk inside. That's when my well-attuned cockroach sensors spotted a gigantic cockroach. It was probably at least as long as my index finger and, as per the cockroach usual, sickeningly gross-looking.
"Ew, there's a cockroach in here," I said as I stepped inside.
Lora and Melissa peeked in to look and decided that we could all still fit inside the elevator and avoid the cockroach. Fitting three women and three babies in an elevator here is tricky under the best of circumstances--the elevators are teeny tiny--but we'd fit that many people in before so we knew it could be done. We just weren't banking on having a cockroach running around our besandaled feet.
All of us were watching the ugly thing, trying to anticipate its next move, as the elevator started its descent. We'd huddle together in one corner of the elevator and then the cockroach would charge at us and we'd scamper around to avoid touching it/having it touch us.
"Hey, it's coming toward your foot," one of us would warn another.
That one would shriek and jump out of the way and we'd barely have time to readjust ourselves before it happened again.
"There it is!"
*Shriek!* (scamper.)
"Where is it?"
*Shriek!* (scamper.)
By the time we'd reached the ground floor Melissa, Lora, and I were laughing so hard we could hardly control ourselves. Finn, Abby, and Rachel didn't find it so funny. Finn was screaming his head off and Abby just looked confused. Rachel understood was going on better than the other two--she doesn't even like it when ants encroach on her play space (unless we play the "Let's smash them!" game) so seeing this huge cockroach kind of scared her--and she was screaming along with us whenever the cockroach charged.
We used a different elevator to go back upstairs and there were no cockroaches. Rachel was still nervous about it, though. I'm not sure elevators will ever be the same for her.
Rachel won't let Finn crawl anywhere--she pushes down on him until he can't move anymore. Finn then feels like he needs to push on Abby a little bit so that she knows how it feels. And thus the pecking order goes. It would probably go further but there's no one smaller than Abby yet and she can't really move around too well.
When the kids (ie., Rachel) seemed to be getting a little too restless to stay indoors we decided to head out to the playground. We gathered up the kids and all the necessary hud and walked out to the elevator.
After I'd opened up the outside door, I pushed the inside doors open and started to walk inside. That's when my well-attuned cockroach sensors spotted a gigantic cockroach. It was probably at least as long as my index finger and, as per the cockroach usual, sickeningly gross-looking.
"Ew, there's a cockroach in here," I said as I stepped inside.
Lora and Melissa peeked in to look and decided that we could all still fit inside the elevator and avoid the cockroach. Fitting three women and three babies in an elevator here is tricky under the best of circumstances--the elevators are teeny tiny--but we'd fit that many people in before so we knew it could be done. We just weren't banking on having a cockroach running around our besandaled feet.
All of us were watching the ugly thing, trying to anticipate its next move, as the elevator started its descent. We'd huddle together in one corner of the elevator and then the cockroach would charge at us and we'd scamper around to avoid touching it/having it touch us.
"Hey, it's coming toward your foot," one of us would warn another.
That one would shriek and jump out of the way and we'd barely have time to readjust ourselves before it happened again.
"There it is!"
*Shriek!* (scamper.)
"Where is it?"
*Shriek!* (scamper.)
By the time we'd reached the ground floor Melissa, Lora, and I were laughing so hard we could hardly control ourselves. Finn, Abby, and Rachel didn't find it so funny. Finn was screaming his head off and Abby just looked confused. Rachel understood was going on better than the other two--she doesn't even like it when ants encroach on her play space (unless we play the "Let's smash them!" game) so seeing this huge cockroach kind of scared her--and she was screaming along with us whenever the cockroach charged.
We used a different elevator to go back upstairs and there were no cockroaches. Rachel was still nervous about it, though. I'm not sure elevators will ever be the same for her.
Pretty Hair
We had kind of a low-key day yesterday and didn't get dressed until it was time for me to leave for my belly dancing class. That meant that we'd already eaten dinner and it was already dark outside. We'd spent the entire day in our pyjamas. That's how low-key our day was. We were both just feeling a little groggy.
They're doing construction on our building, and on the building across the street and I seem to be waking up every 10 minutes all night long to hammers and saws and drills and yelling. It's driving me crazy.
Anyway, even though we didn't get dressed until after the sun went down, I decided to do Rachel's hair all fancy. My sister linked to a hair blog and I was looking at some of the hairdos on various blogs linked to this one and was feeling lazy because I only ever put Rachel's hair back to keep it out of her face. I rarely try to make it look nice or even spend time on it because she hates having it done.
But she actually sat still for me...actually, she sat still for Sylvester and Tweety...and I was able to get a braid in her hair. It lasted the whole time she played at Lora's. I was amazed it didn't fall out with how rambunctious she gets.
I'm not sure when Ill be able to do anything like this again. I'm not even convinced she has enough hair yet to really pull off a nice braid--she kind of looks half-bald with it braided, actually...but oh, well. I think she's cute all the time whether her hair is done or not.
They're doing construction on our building, and on the building across the street and I seem to be waking up every 10 minutes all night long to hammers and saws and drills and yelling. It's driving me crazy.
Anyway, even though we didn't get dressed until after the sun went down, I decided to do Rachel's hair all fancy. My sister linked to a hair blog and I was looking at some of the hairdos on various blogs linked to this one and was feeling lazy because I only ever put Rachel's hair back to keep it out of her face. I rarely try to make it look nice or even spend time on it because she hates having it done.
But she actually sat still for me...actually, she sat still for Sylvester and Tweety...and I was able to get a braid in her hair. It lasted the whole time she played at Lora's. I was amazed it didn't fall out with how rambunctious she gets.
I'm not sure when Ill be able to do anything like this again. I'm not even convinced she has enough hair yet to really pull off a nice braid--she kind of looks half-bald with it braided, actually...but oh, well. I think she's cute all the time whether her hair is done or not.
Sorting is hard
Yesterday Rachel pulled out her shape sorter. The poor girl just doesn't quite grasp the concept of shape sorting, although she is rather good at colour sorting.
She flipped the cube over so that a green side was facing up and then she separated out all the green pieces and proceeded to try to shove them in. The problem is that the shapes and the colours don't match up...
Here she is trying to shove a green square in the hexagon hole. See how she has a green circle ready to put in next?
And this is the face I got when she realized that the square just wasn't going to fit in that hexagon hole:
Sorry, baby! It just isn't going to work no matter how hard you push!
She flipped the cube over so that a green side was facing up and then she separated out all the green pieces and proceeded to try to shove them in. The problem is that the shapes and the colours don't match up...
Here she is trying to shove a green square in the hexagon hole. See how she has a green circle ready to put in next?
I can do this...And this is the face I got when she realized that the square just wasn't going to fit in that hexagon hole:
Sorry, baby! It just isn't going to work no matter how hard you push!
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
So long, farewell...
Of necessity our goodbye was short. I have a tendency to cry a lot when it comes to saying goodbye so I now try to act like my mom and pretend that when I have to say goodbye for a long while I'm only saying goodbye for a little while. That way I don't end up bawling all day long (as Abra and I have been known to do) and can instead have a little fun before the time comes to say goodbye.
So Karen, Rachel, and I had a little fun today. We went over to the CSA bazaar and did a little shopping. Karen bought a cute dress for Rachel that was made in a village oasis called Bahariyya. The proceeds of the dress go back to the woman who stitched it, which I think is cool. It's really cute!
Rachel was having a bit of a grumpy day so we had to come home and take a nap; Karen was brave enough to venture out into Maadi all by herself in quest of more band aides. She successfully navigated the streets, although she didn't turn up many band aides.
When Andrew came home from school (he left class early...he said it was because he missed me, but I think it was because class was boring) we went out to have dinner on the Nile at TGIFriday's. Rachel insisted that she sit in a regular chair and climbed out of her high chair and onto my lap and then proceeded to kick and push me until I stood up and said,
"Fine! You can have my chair!"
She just looked up at me gloatingly and very self-satisfied. I ended up sitting across from her and she was very well behaved for the entire meal, besides trying to climb on the table once or twice.
When we came home Andrew and Karen went into the kitchen to caulk the splash board for our sink. The old caulk was long since gone and so water had been splashing and dripping down behind the faucet, rotting the wood and creating all sorts of mess for who knows how long. It was one of the cockroaches' favorite places so, even though we haven't seen a cockroach in over a month, we decided that we needed to patch up all possible entry points.
We bought a caulking gun a couple of weeks ago and Andrew's been so excited about using it.
"This is the first caulking gun I've ever owned! And we live in Egypt!"
I can understand his amazement. I didn't ever think I'd be buying a caulking gun in Egypt, either. But here we are and we have a caulking gun.
They did a great job! The sink area looks so much better. Hopefully the rotting smell will go away soon...
And after that it was bedtime. Grandma helped once more with getting Rachel ready for bed: brushing her teeth, and giving her lots of hugs and kisses goodnight.
Rachel is going to be one confused girl in the morning, even though we've been talking about Grandma leaving all day today. Maybe I'll just tell her that Grandma went to school. That's what I say when she asks where Daddy is and she rarely gets upset about that...
With Rachel in bed and a few hours to kill before Karen's taxi arrived, we decided to play a game of Hand and Foot. Karen won, which I'm very happy about because Andrew totally whipped us the first round and took a huge gamble the last round. He beat me...but only by one book (which, by the way, I totally had but decided not to take because I wanted to see what was in my foot...so we'll pretend that I had it and that I came in second and that he lost).
That game took us right up until quarter to midnight, so Karen just had time to do another inventory check before we were out the door and saying goodbye.
There were hugs, there were tears...and now I think I'm the most homesick I've been since coming to Egypt. We'll miss you, Karen! Come again soon! (And anyone else in our family that wants to visit (apparently the spare bed isn't too comfy...but we can work things out) we'd love to have you!)
So Karen, Rachel, and I had a little fun today. We went over to the CSA bazaar and did a little shopping. Karen bought a cute dress for Rachel that was made in a village oasis called Bahariyya. The proceeds of the dress go back to the woman who stitched it, which I think is cool. It's really cute!
Rachel playing in her new dressRachel was having a bit of a grumpy day so we had to come home and take a nap; Karen was brave enough to venture out into Maadi all by herself in quest of more band aides. She successfully navigated the streets, although she didn't turn up many band aides.
When Andrew came home from school (he left class early...he said it was because he missed me, but I think it was because class was boring) we went out to have dinner on the Nile at TGIFriday's. Rachel insisted that she sit in a regular chair and climbed out of her high chair and onto my lap and then proceeded to kick and push me until I stood up and said,
"Fine! You can have my chair!"
She just looked up at me gloatingly and very self-satisfied. I ended up sitting across from her and she was very well behaved for the entire meal, besides trying to climb on the table once or twice.
When we came home Andrew and Karen went into the kitchen to caulk the splash board for our sink. The old caulk was long since gone and so water had been splashing and dripping down behind the faucet, rotting the wood and creating all sorts of mess for who knows how long. It was one of the cockroaches' favorite places so, even though we haven't seen a cockroach in over a month, we decided that we needed to patch up all possible entry points.
We bought a caulking gun a couple of weeks ago and Andrew's been so excited about using it.
"This is the first caulking gun I've ever owned! And we live in Egypt!"
I can understand his amazement. I didn't ever think I'd be buying a caulking gun in Egypt, either. But here we are and we have a caulking gun.
They did a great job! The sink area looks so much better. Hopefully the rotting smell will go away soon...
Karen showing Andrew the ropesAnd after that it was bedtime. Grandma helped once more with getting Rachel ready for bed: brushing her teeth, and giving her lots of hugs and kisses goodnight.
Brush those teeth!
Sealed with a lick 'cuz a kiss don't stick...
Smooch and Smack!
Muuwah!Rachel is going to be one confused girl in the morning, even though we've been talking about Grandma leaving all day today. Maybe I'll just tell her that Grandma went to school. That's what I say when she asks where Daddy is and she rarely gets upset about that...
Don't be silly, Grandma! You're not really leaving...you live here now!
But I'll give you a hug, just in case.With Rachel in bed and a few hours to kill before Karen's taxi arrived, we decided to play a game of Hand and Foot. Karen won, which I'm very happy about because Andrew totally whipped us the first round and took a huge gamble the last round. He beat me...but only by one book (which, by the way, I totally had but decided not to take because I wanted to see what was in my foot...so we'll pretend that I had it and that I came in second and that he lost).
That game took us right up until quarter to midnight, so Karen just had time to do another inventory check before we were out the door and saying goodbye.
Loading upThere were hugs, there were tears...and now I think I'm the most homesick I've been since coming to Egypt. We'll miss you, Karen! Come again soon! (And anyone else in our family that wants to visit (apparently the spare bed isn't too comfy...but we can work things out) we'd love to have you!)
Monday, October 20, 2008
Elder Holland's visit
Our little branch was visited by Elder Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and his wife, and Elder Snow of the Seventy and his wife this evening. I suppose our branch, with its 80+ members, is technically rather large, but the meeting was still very personal.
Sister Snow spoke first. She mentioned that we have a special branch, and we do, and that Sundays must be one of the highlights of our week...she then corrected herself to say that Fridays must be one of the highlights of our week because that's the day we go to church. I have to agree with her that going to church is definitely one of the highlights of my week.
I was still pondering this when Elder Snow got up to speak and mentioned that we can help bring people into the church and can help bring those who have strayed back into the church. He said that our branch is like a little family, and it really is.
That made me think about how important the church is in my life. I need my branch family here! I don't know how I would survive life in Egypt without the church. Having the McCallisters open their home to us so while we looked for an apartment, immediately being fellowshipped by the sisters in the branch, having so many "siblings" for Rachel to run around with have been such blessings in my life.
It's not that I don't miss my family, but I'm really not homesick. I love my family and I need them, too, and it's been so wonderful having Karen here, but I know that my branch family will take care of me and I'll help take care of them.
That's just how things work in our church. We're a family.
I can't imagine how lonely I'd be if I didn't go to church every Friday to see my "family." And it isn't just a social thing, either. I definitely need the spiritual nourishment offered as well.
I was touched by Sister Holland's words when she mentioned praying every day for what Heavenly Father would have us do. I am a list maker, and I try to pray every morning, but I don't think I've ever prayed to have my day go as Heavenly Father would have it go. I usually pray to have my day go how I want it to go. She definitely made me think that I need to involve prayer in more of my daily decisions so that I can be on the Lord's errand more often.
She talked a lot about how the light and love of Christ can heal anything in our lives.
Elder Holland is so funny. He had us all laughing, frequently. He even sang some Fiddler on the Roof when he mentioned that we don't bet and shouldn't even appear to look like we bet, but that if he were a betting man...
"That sounds like Tevye!" he declared, stopping his train of thought and bursting into song, "If I were a betting man! Ya-da-de-da...anyway..."
He said that if he were a betting man, he'd bet on the church. Other things will falter: politics, the economy, men. But the church will remain strong. We are going forward and we aren't going back.
The Middle East and North Africa has just been made into its own area--we're no longer the little pretend area that we once were. We're a fully functioning, albeit fledgling, area.
That's really exciting!
No proselyting. But we're represented with Humanitarian Missionaries and can answer any questions asked.
He spoke a lot about both President Hinckley and President Monson with a lot of love, and quite a lot of humor. He said that President Monson is just a baby compared to President Hinckley, but that President Hinckley had them all thinking they were young. None of them could complain about being old when President Hinckley was alive because, let's face it, he got to be pretty old!
When he opened up for questions and answers, someone asked how the General Authorities go about making decisions, like on whether to make the Middle East an area, and so forth. In answering, Elder Holland bore testimony of the miracle of the restoration of the gospel, that it was revealed to a mere boy! But is so perfect.
They use D&C 107, which was revealed to Joseph Smith before they even really used the seventies, but now is so needed to guide the quorums of the seventy daily.
Having him answer our questions so personally was amazing. And then after the meeting was over he stood there and met with each of us, one by one, shaking our hands and taking pictures, even though I'm sure he was travel-weary. It reminded me of how the Savior didn't turn anyone away that wanted to be in his presence. Elder Holland is a special witness of the Savior, and it was special to be in his presence. He even shook Rachel's hand--and she let him, too!
Anyway, I suppose I should get going to bed. We were out much too late and I feel like I'm rambling. I didn't take notes (Lydia did--her post makes much more sense than mine) and missed half of every talk because I was busy keeping Rachel happy. I was sad to miss the apostolic blessing that Elder Holland gave our branch, but since Rachel was busy making animal noises and screaming, we were out in the hall.
Sister Snow spoke first. She mentioned that we have a special branch, and we do, and that Sundays must be one of the highlights of our week...she then corrected herself to say that Fridays must be one of the highlights of our week because that's the day we go to church. I have to agree with her that going to church is definitely one of the highlights of my week.
I was still pondering this when Elder Snow got up to speak and mentioned that we can help bring people into the church and can help bring those who have strayed back into the church. He said that our branch is like a little family, and it really is.
That made me think about how important the church is in my life. I need my branch family here! I don't know how I would survive life in Egypt without the church. Having the McCallisters open their home to us so while we looked for an apartment, immediately being fellowshipped by the sisters in the branch, having so many "siblings" for Rachel to run around with have been such blessings in my life.
It's not that I don't miss my family, but I'm really not homesick. I love my family and I need them, too, and it's been so wonderful having Karen here, but I know that my branch family will take care of me and I'll help take care of them.
That's just how things work in our church. We're a family.
I can't imagine how lonely I'd be if I didn't go to church every Friday to see my "family." And it isn't just a social thing, either. I definitely need the spiritual nourishment offered as well.
I was touched by Sister Holland's words when she mentioned praying every day for what Heavenly Father would have us do. I am a list maker, and I try to pray every morning, but I don't think I've ever prayed to have my day go as Heavenly Father would have it go. I usually pray to have my day go how I want it to go. She definitely made me think that I need to involve prayer in more of my daily decisions so that I can be on the Lord's errand more often.
She talked a lot about how the light and love of Christ can heal anything in our lives.
Elder Holland is so funny. He had us all laughing, frequently. He even sang some Fiddler on the Roof when he mentioned that we don't bet and shouldn't even appear to look like we bet, but that if he were a betting man...
"That sounds like Tevye!" he declared, stopping his train of thought and bursting into song, "If I were a betting man! Ya-da-de-da...anyway..."
He said that if he were a betting man, he'd bet on the church. Other things will falter: politics, the economy, men. But the church will remain strong. We are going forward and we aren't going back.
The Middle East and North Africa has just been made into its own area--we're no longer the little pretend area that we once were. We're a fully functioning, albeit fledgling, area.
That's really exciting!
No proselyting. But we're represented with Humanitarian Missionaries and can answer any questions asked.
He spoke a lot about both President Hinckley and President Monson with a lot of love, and quite a lot of humor. He said that President Monson is just a baby compared to President Hinckley, but that President Hinckley had them all thinking they were young. None of them could complain about being old when President Hinckley was alive because, let's face it, he got to be pretty old!
When he opened up for questions and answers, someone asked how the General Authorities go about making decisions, like on whether to make the Middle East an area, and so forth. In answering, Elder Holland bore testimony of the miracle of the restoration of the gospel, that it was revealed to a mere boy! But is so perfect.
They use D&C 107, which was revealed to Joseph Smith before they even really used the seventies, but now is so needed to guide the quorums of the seventy daily.
Having him answer our questions so personally was amazing. And then after the meeting was over he stood there and met with each of us, one by one, shaking our hands and taking pictures, even though I'm sure he was travel-weary. It reminded me of how the Savior didn't turn anyone away that wanted to be in his presence. Elder Holland is a special witness of the Savior, and it was special to be in his presence. He even shook Rachel's hand--and she let him, too!
Anyway, I suppose I should get going to bed. We were out much too late and I feel like I'm rambling. I didn't take notes (Lydia did--her post makes much more sense than mine) and missed half of every talk because I was busy keeping Rachel happy. I was sad to miss the apostolic blessing that Elder Holland gave our branch, but since Rachel was busy making animal noises and screaming, we were out in the hall.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
She's a quick one...
This evening after the fireside we were out in the sun room munching on cookies. I was eating an oatmeal cookie and had one of the brownies (technically a blondie) that we had made this morning on a napkin in my hand. Rachel was sitting beside me eating her own blondie.
Although she had one in her hand and her mouth was full, she was still rather interested in my blondie. I kept telling her that she had one and I had one and that fair was fair.
She put her head down to sulk for a little bit one time after I had told her no again. Suddenly, though, she perked back up. She had noticed the kids playing outside and wanted to show them to me. She kicked her legs, started making monkey noises, and pointed out the door behind me.
I turned around to acknowledge that she was showing me something.
The little trickster took this opportunity to steal my blondie! I could hardly believe it.
It amazes me, how smart she's getting. Sometimes I wonder how she thinks up the things she does.
She signs "potty" when she wants to get out of doing something she doesn't want to do. Like standing in line, or going to bed. Usually when it is time to go to bed she starts screaming and signing simultaneously. Tears will be streaming down her face while she wildly switches back and forth between "more" (for nursing) and "potty" in order to prolong bedtime.
Tonight, however, she started doing the actions to "Popcorn Popping." That's the first song on the current CD we play for her at bedtime and we usually go in and do the actions with her. Tonight instead of signing "more" or "potty" she signed "popcorn popping" and then closed her eyes tight.
I guess we kept her out a little too late hobnobbing with apostles.
Andrew refueling in the sun roomAlthough she had one in her hand and her mouth was full, she was still rather interested in my blondie. I kept telling her that she had one and I had one and that fair was fair.
She put her head down to sulk for a little bit one time after I had told her no again. Suddenly, though, she perked back up. She had noticed the kids playing outside and wanted to show them to me. She kicked her legs, started making monkey noises, and pointed out the door behind me.
I turned around to acknowledge that she was showing me something.
The little trickster took this opportunity to steal my blondie! I could hardly believe it.
It amazes me, how smart she's getting. Sometimes I wonder how she thinks up the things she does.
She signs "potty" when she wants to get out of doing something she doesn't want to do. Like standing in line, or going to bed. Usually when it is time to go to bed she starts screaming and signing simultaneously. Tears will be streaming down her face while she wildly switches back and forth between "more" (for nursing) and "potty" in order to prolong bedtime.
Tonight, however, she started doing the actions to "Popcorn Popping." That's the first song on the current CD we play for her at bedtime and we usually go in and do the actions with her. Tonight instead of signing "more" or "potty" she signed "popcorn popping" and then closed her eyes tight.
I guess we kept her out a little too late hobnobbing with apostles.
When we're helping we're happy
Grandma, Rachel, and I made some squares this morning for the fireside this evening. Rachel was so excited to get to help stir! She loves helping--and has recently actually started being a useful helper! She helps set and clear the table by carrying dishes back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room. Obviously we don't use glass dishes.
Helping makes her so happy!
She had a hard time letting the chocolate chunks be stirred into the batter, as did I. I used up some of the yummy Swiss white chocolate that Karen brought from Austria. It was sad to see it going into the cookies and not into my mouth. Rachel was stirring when we put them in and she let go of the spoon to try to grab a piece out. In the end she decided that stirring was just as fun as eating chocolate.
Rachel also likes to help put her clothes away and clean up her toys (sometimes). She's getting to be such a big girl and a great helper!
Helping makes her so happy!
She had a hard time letting the chocolate chunks be stirred into the batter, as did I. I used up some of the yummy Swiss white chocolate that Karen brought from Austria. It was sad to see it going into the cookies and not into my mouth. Rachel was stirring when we put them in and she let go of the spoon to try to grab a piece out. In the end she decided that stirring was just as fun as eating chocolate.
Rachel also likes to help put her clothes away and clean up her toys (sometimes). She's getting to be such a big girl and a great helper!
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