Beginning of the year
Olympic Rings
If you want to know what’s going on at our house, sit on the couch, turn on the Olympics and let it run all day and into the night. Take short breaks for food and alternate your own Xbox football (soccer) competitions with watching the real thing. Cheer for America along with all the countries that never get any coverage — especially Bahrain or any of the other GCC countries (Qtar, UAE, etc). Boo at all the Russians and yell “Doper!!” every time one comes on the screen. During boring “sports” like synchronized swimming, horse dancing, trampoline, or golf play Minecraft on your computer while you keep half an eye on the TV, checking all the different sports channels every now and then in case they are airing athletics (Britishism for Track and Field), weight lifting, volleyball, football, water polo, cycling, or any of the other more interesting (and real) sports.
Not because we love the Olympics in an unnatural way, but because the alternative experience would be for you to run around your neighborhood, douse yourself with the hose, and set a blowdryer on high angled right at your face. Throw a handful of sand in the air and let it rain down over you to round out the fun. We have a pool in our compound, but the water is hot so it feels sweaty both in and out of the water.
We last about 20 minutes at the pool, then retreat indoors. We’re tired of hibernating, but that’s life in August.
The third week
This week passed quickly, relatively speaking. I guess when you sleep in until 10 or 11am there’s not a lot of time left in each day. We have blackout shades in all the bedrooms and they work a little too well. Poor Nanny gets up at whatever time and cleans the downstairs and then waits for us all to wake up so she can straighten up our bedrooms. (*** Josh is not on the lazy family summer schedule. He gets up and out around 6am or something like that. I’m not sure since I’m always sound asleep.) Not like there’s a lot for her to do these days. It’s pretty empty in here aside from a few pieces of furniture in each room. No explosion of toys and clothes to manage yet.
We are hitting our stride in these days of limbo. Wake up, eat brunch, watch Olympics — we have amazing coverage, and hang out inside the house (because it’s blistering outside) until Josh gets home. Then Josh and I go to the gym together, come home, eat dinner and more Olympics until we make the kids go to bed sometime before 11pm.
Add in some yelling to get off the computers, and some yelling to go to bed, and a million requests for junk food snacks from the mini-mart/cold store that is in our compound and that about sums up our days.
My car supposedly left Bahrain yesterday and should be here in a few days. That doesn’t mean that I’ll get it in a few days, but at least we’re one step closer.
A thin line between peace and apathy
Let me start by saying that I’m feeling better than I was at the end of last week, but I know I still have ups and downs ahead of me. Moving is hard. I forgot how hard it was last time, and the time before that . . . really, every time. These international moves are making our cross country moves feel like a piece of cake. Or maybe because I was younger then and had more energy/more flexibility and my sense of adventure hadn’t been satisfied yet so it felt more tolerable. Or I’m just remembering it better than it actually was.
I remember one time I called my dad crying when we arrived in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. He told me to always keep my expectations low and I burst into tears all over again because I had, and it was even worse than that (a toll road to nowhere ending in pawn shops and strip joints was not an awesome introduction, but we grew to love it anyway).
I’ve always said I’d be willing to move wherever the job takes us and wherever Josh wants to go, but I’m not so sure about that these days. That shack in Iraq isn’t looking so appealing right now and I’m not feeling too resilient. The way to survive a life that I can’t control is to say that I’ll be OK with whatever happens. No need to get frustrated or mad because “God is in control.” Except that same inshallah attitude can easily slip into, “why bother getting out of bed? Nothing I do makes a difference anyway . . .”
I’m trying to make the days matter, but we are still in limbo. I’m so thankful that we didn’t have to go house hunting, but there have been some drawbacks to moving right into our home here. First off, I don’t have a purpose. When we arrived in Bahrain Josh started working right away, and my job was to find our house. We landed and I had a task to accomplish. It was a frustrating task, and it wasn’t easy, but it was a goal to achieve — something to work toward.
The other difference is that when you arrive and land in a hotel, you don’t expect to be able to get settled right away. It’s still part of the transition. Here I expected to move into our house and start operating as normal. But nothing is normal. I don’t have my stuff and I have loaner kitchen equipment so when I go to cook I’m trying to slice onions with a very dull knife on a flimsy cutting board and then I realize that I only have salt and pepper in the cupboard because I forgot to buy any seasoning or garlic at the store and where is my tzatziki seasoning that makes everything taste magical?
Over the weekend we bought a decent cutting board and a sharp knife (the pains of military moves — we always end up buying things we already own while waiting for our shipment to arrive) and I’m working on restocking my pantry so I can go back to cooking via inspiration from my cupboards. FYI, cornmeal is nowhere to be found and “corn flour” is actually corn starch. Thankful for Amazon to fill in the gaps. Baby steps.






