robinchartier

So what is there to do in Abu Dhabi?

First up, the zoo. It’s basically one big petting/feeding opportunity. Nothing like a zoo in America. Low walls, minimal barriers, and almost no supervision. They sell bags of vegetables, bundles of grasses, popcorn, and other animal treats all over the park. We got up close and personal with all the species.

Including these freaky looking ROUSes (aka, Nutria) that would stand up and reach for slices of cucumber. They are bigger than my cat. Huge rat-like creatures with webbed feet and teeth like a beaver . . .

bottle feeding a baby sheep

The giraffe’s tongue had a grip like a human hand. He wrapped it around part of my bunch of grass and almost yanked the entire thing out of my grasp!

If you subscribe to my blog updates, then yesterday you would have gotten a very, very long email with a list of 1300+ links. No, I didn’t go on a writing spree, but I finally cracked the code on migrating my old blogspot blog posts over to WordPress.

It’s something I’ve been wanting to do since I opened this blog. I have researched and read blog posts and watched youtube videos explaining the process, read troubleshooting forums and googled my heart out. Nothing worked. I was 10 minutes away from copying and pasting my content post by post (which would have taken years) when I decided to try one more thing.

I installed the recommended plug-in and things started to move. The process stalled out after transferring all of the posts, so none of the comments are showing, but it’s good enough for me. As long as I have words and pictures and the posts show up in order, I’m calling it a victory.

My early posts don’t have photos, but that has been a long-standing problem ever since one of my google drive folders suddenly came up empty. I have those photos saved on my computer and will someday get them all put back in place.

I’m happy to finally have all of my baby birds back in one nest. And as I’ve been clicking back through old posts (the archives can be viewed at the bottom of this page) it amazes me how many crazy stories I’ve lived and written down. Like August 2014 when Josh was still in Iraq and my car blew up and the kids and I walked home carrying a bowl of fruit salad. And then my back up car had no taillights and then the battery died so I couldn’t drive it anyway.

Or fall of 2011 when Carter was hiding under the car in the front yard because I wouldn’t let him wear his barefoot shoes to school one day. Or the time(s) that Camille screamed through swimming lessons so we quit. Or our Egypt: No Regrets tour during spring break 2012 when we took the train to Alexandria and sailed the Nile at sunset. These archives are a gold mine of crazy. And wonderful. And the perfect inspiration to keep writing because somehow our mundane day to day experiences take on a magical quality when I look back on them.

I’ve hit the jackpot.

All the tears and emotional breakdowns. I can’t handle it. Never again. The end. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

My girlie spent the night at a friend’s house last night. No nerves, no tears, no second guessing. It’s as if I have a new child. I thought for sure around 9:30pm that she would have second thoughts and need to come home, but morning came without incident.We finally had to drag her home at 10 am. This is the kid who was too nervous to sleep over at her cousin’s house at Christmas. Extra sleep and an improved nighttime routine is changing her life (and ours!).

She strolled in the house and immediately demanded, “Pictures of Ingrid please!”

Looking at prom night photos with Dad. This blur is all I’m getting from my camera these days . . . grrrrr.So irritating.

Thankfully Josh was able to fill in as photographer. Prom kids had a great night and Meels is already planning her next sleepover.

Today is prom and Carter is going with his girlfriend Ingrid. They are adorable and happy but I don’t have any photos because my phone camera is crap these days (and I’ve promised myself that I’m not replacing it until Josh has a job). But there’s a different sort of dance that’s been happening around our house for the past few weeks.

We’ve been mulling over Josh’s interviews and progress, trying to read into each conversation and measure his chances of advancing: “If you weren’t a serious candidate, would he have spent 90 minutes talking to you?” or “he called you from a business trip in South America — you must be near the top of the list!” or even “She must think you’re the best person for the job if she wants you to meet with these people too.”

And then I had a revelation: that is exactly what every single woman on The Bachelor thinks right before she gets sent home. “We had the best conversation. It was so natural. I’m sure I’m the one.” Oops.

So I can only assume that there are several other candidates out there who have had equally exciting and satisfying interviews that think they’ve also made that personal connection and are expecting to get the rose at the end of this process too.

Yesterday when we got the email about Germany our initial reaction was, “Is this the answer? Is this the job that Josh is supposed to take? Is the guaranteed job (and Germany!) better than gambling on the unknown?”

Our first instinct was to pray about it so we decided to reply and ask for 48 hours to consider the proposal, but separately we both started to feel that it wasn’t the right thing for us. Mid-afternoon, I messaged Josh, “This feels like a distraction. Just tell him ‘No.'” Meanwhile, he was feeling a prompting that he needed to reject this job before he would hear about the one he’s been pursuing for the past 2 months.

So instead of following through on our initial plan of asking for time to think it over, Josh replied yesterday with a “thanks, but no thanks” email. And this morning, what did he wake up to? An email saying, “Josh will you please accept this rose?” OK, not quite, but almost. What it actually said was, congratulations on making it to the final two and are you available for an interview a week from today in Abu Dhabi?

He made it to the hometown visit date!! We’re one step closer to the final rose. And more real than Reality TV. Stay tuned.