Recko

Just about the time we started thinking maybe we'd be ready to get a dog for the boys, we learned that Jacob was allergic to animal dander and dog licks. It was a sad day in the Green household. We have had several fish since then: only interesting for a few days - then the novelty wore off and only Mom remembered to take care of it. The boys lobbied for guinea pigs or hamsters: Mom said NOPE, no rat-size furry things that could get loose (not to mention that Jake would be allergic to them too). We looked into pot-belly pigs: did you know that a typical, healthy pig can weigh as much as 150lbs? Birds? Absolutely not - there is enough yelling and chaos around here without adding a squawking, pooping bird! And lastly, a caged reptile just doesn't give you warm fuzzies like a dog or cat would. I fear it would become ignored like the fish.

We have been talking the last six months about Jake getting allergy shots to lessen his sensitivity to pets and pollen. The last allergist we had seemed to think that after about a year of shots, we probably could get a dog, depending on the breed. Jake was 100% on board with that idea. Unfortunately, we were in the middle of an international move and the timing didn't work out. Now that we are settled in here, talks are in works again about starting the shots.

In the meantime, someone (something?) has adopted us: Meet Recko Green...



Yes, Recko is a Gecko (the boys are currently into rhyming names for pets. I hesitate to imagine what they would name dog). Recko likes to hang out in our garage mainly in the evening. We've also seen him on the window screen and the walls in our front entry patio. He runs very fast and does not want to be touched. We are learning to not move erratically around him, so as not to scare him to death (or scare him so much his tail falls off - is that really true?).


Here are the boys trying unsuccessfully to convince him to come out from behind the water heaters:



Last week someone left the back door (from the garage) into the kitchen slightly open and Recko scampered into the kitchen. Not a pretty sight. Mom of course was trying to stay calm, doing her best to repress images of Recko going under the oven until we went to bed. Or worse yet, dying under there. The boys were whooping and hollering, mostly hiding behind Mom. Recko looked like his tail was about to fall off! A call was placed to Dad that ended something like, "What do you want me to do from here?" A decision was made to gently encourage Recko toward the sliding glass door in the dining room. That worked pretty well, until Recko ran into the curtains where we couldn't see him.

Another deep breath was taken by Mom, who went and got a file folder and a tupperware bowl. The thought was for someone get Recko in the container and then cover it with the folder until we got outside. No one wanted to try to pick him up. No one wanted to go near the curtain. More arguing and hollering ensued, ending with Mom calling everyone else a "wuss" and taking care of it herself. As she began to bend down to find him, there he was at eye level peeking out of the curtains, mere inches from her face!

More screaming.

To make long story short, Recko was eventually escorted by Mom outside. He hasn't come back into the house since - maybe he decided he was an outside pet?

(just a side note: Reliving the "Recko in the house" incident must have been too traumatic to type in first person -I inadvertently found myself retelling it in third!)

Jake's 7th Birthday

Jacob celebrated his 7th birthday here on September 8th. Can you believe he is already 7 years old? I'd say something about how time really flies, but that would make me feel very middle aged - and with a significant upcoming birthday of my own, I'd rather not think about it.

Back to Jake - celebrating his birthday was a bit more low-keyed than in years past. We were still waiting for our shipment - expecting it any day. We really had no control over it at this point. Steve said it could come at a moment's notice, and it couldn't come soon enough. I was especially disappointed that it wasn't here before Jake's birthday. But I borrowed a cupcake pan and quickly made very plain cupcakes. I just stuck an Oreo cookie on top of each chocolate cupcake and everyone was happy.

I knew Jacob expected a birthday crown at school and wasn't sure if they gave them out here. However, I didn't stop to think about it until the morning of his birthday, so forty-five minutes before I needed to be at the school, I was in the kitchen fashioning a crown out of whatever I could find around the house. The lucky supplies ended up being a green file folder and tin foil!

Steve was delighted to be able to come to his school birthday party for the first time ever. It was pretty typical - pass out the cupcakes, sing Happy Birthday and then go out to recess. Typical, except that we were asked to keep the cupcakes covered until we got to the classroom out of respect for those fasting for Ramadan. I normally wouldn't bring uncovered cupcakes into school anyway, but I certainly wouldn't have thought about doing it for Ramadan.






Here is a very proud Jacob with his teacher, Mrs. Chavez:


Later than night we had a little family party for him. I didn't have a cake pan, so I made a tiny "ice cream cake," a modified version of MJ's delicious ice cream sandwich cake. Afterwards, Jake opened the gifts we brought from the US this summer. Can I tell you how GLAD, GLAD, GLAD I am that we had the forethought to plan for those gifts! I think celebrating your first birthday, the first time in a foreign country without your best friends is tough. And it would have been a million times tougher if you didn't get some of the the toys and books you love. It wasn't a windfall, but we were able to give a couple things that really mattered to him.


We went to bed that night not knowing that the next morning would turn our little world upside down: with one hour's notice our household goods shipment were delivered at 8:30am. Looking back, it would have been a disaster to have had the shipment one day earlier. Aren't we thankful that we don't always get what we wish for?

We're Still Here

Hey everyone...bet you're wondering if we dropped off the edge of the earth. Actually, we have had a couple events that have turned life upside down for a short time. I'm just starting to claw my way back to normal and have a ton of pictures and updates for you.

The most challenging event, in addition to being the most thrilling, was the delivery of our shipment! Yes, it came, with about a one hour notice, on Tuesday, September 9th. It was nothing short of organized chaos! Steven quickly convinced the furniture warehouse to pick up all the rented furniture (beds, dressers, sofas, ect.) before the shipment delivered - the warehouse truck came within twenty minutes. Shortly after that, the local moving company came with all our blessed wooden crates. They delivered two-thirds of the household goods and then stopped for the day (even though it was only 1pm). Remember that it's Ramadan? All of the delivery guys were fasting - which means no food OR drink, even water. I can't even begin to imagine how they most have felt carry all our stuff in the heat, without being able to drink. Although we were disappointed about stopping when clearly there was enough time in the day to finish, we completely understood. Then we noticed that our mattress was not delivered yet. Oh, the joys!


The rest of the shipment was delivered the next morning and then the real work began! We mostly unpacked and organized now, though every thing is not in it's final resting place. We can even get the car in the garage. We still need to purchase some bookshelves - sure do miss those built-in bookcases in our Michigan house!

I'm happy to say that nothing was confiscated in our shipment - not even the Christmas tree! We only found 2-3 boxes that were even opened. The box of music CDs was one of them and I haven't unpacked it yet, so it's possible some of that was taken - but nothing else that we are aware of. Hurrah!

Unfortunately I do have one sad thing to report: our globe was broken in the move. There were a few dings, chips and other minor breakages, but this one hurt. We bought it in Beijing in 1999 - it moved to Seattle, Maryland, Michigan and now here. It's really a shame - they just packed it badly. It's insured of course, and we will try to replace it, but we did have a bit of an emotional attachment to it, particularly Steve.



The boys were absolutely ecstatic to see their beds, books, toys, and all their crap (mom's eloquent term for the rest of their "treasures" - bottle cap collections, old bus ticket stubs, curled ribbon from a birthday present, colored children's' menus from every restaurant we've been to in the last 5 years, ETC...yes, I shipped it all BUT only because I didn't have time to rifle through it covertly before we packed out in Michigan. Trust me, it WON'T all be put away and it WON'T be missed!) They went to school thinking it was just another day, and came home at lunch to find the mountains of boxes and paper. Here is a fairly accurate portrayal of their reaction:


Just two days after the shipment was delivered, the Wilkes arrived in the Kingdom. This is the family we met in Houston last November at the initial orientation for the job. It turned out they have a son Michael's age, and two younger daughters - and they lived an hour from us in Michigan. Neil Wilke is a doctor working now for the hospital here - he was here for a month in the spring and Steve spent a lot of time with him - "bach-ing" it. They had a very rough summer and their transition getting here was horrible. In addition, they've never lived overseas before. Steve met them at the airport Friday night, and we've been very busy helping them get settled in. So far, they are exhausted, overwhelmed, and at times frustrated with the system -- but very much loving the community, school and overall experience. Sound familiar?

I was determined to get this post up this morning - I'm still sitting here in my pajama with the breakfast dishes in the sink - so I better stop talking (typing?). Stayed tuned...there'll be more to come soon on Jacob's birthday, cub scouts pictures, Royal Saudi Air Force jets, skinny cats, our pet Recko, and many more ideas bouncing around my brain. I'm never at a loss for words, just the time to type them!

Saturday is Monday and 37 is 60 ?

I'm well over the jet lag. I've recovered from the first round of my intestines' official protest to living here. I've got the exchange rate firmly planted in my mind. But I have to tell you, between the different weekend and the metric system, I'm still completely messed up!

The weekdays here run from Saturday through Wednesday, and the weekend is Thursday and Friday. The Islamic holy day is Friday, as opposed to the Christian holy day of Sunday. So, the beginning of the school week/ work week is Saturday. And, of course, the end of the week is Wednesday. When I go to the gym three days/week, I aim for Saturday, Monday and Wednesday. Instead of activities being on Tuesday and Thursday, it's Sunday and Tuesday. It doesn't sound difficult, but I just can't seem to wrap my mind around it.

It doesn't help that one of my new friends is even worse than I am at deciphering what day it is. Here is an excerpt from a conversation in which we were trying to set up a playdate:

Lani: What day do you want the kids to come over and play ?

Friend: I think Friday works the best for me.

Lani: Pause. Do you mean Wednesday?

Friend: No, Wednesday we have a dental appointment. Can we do Friday?

Lani: Well...we usually try to do family things on Fridays.

Friend: Uhhhh...

Lani: Do you mean Friday, as in Wednesday? Or are you thinking of the weekend?

Friend: Uhhh...

Lani: Ok. Can you get to a calendar? What DATE works for a playdate?

I'm telling you, it's painful.

Steve made a calendar template for me in Word in which the week starts on Saturday, and Thursday and Friday are in gray at the end of the week. It's tremendously helped my capacity to even picture the week. Now, when asked when Back to School night is, I pause only briefly as I hesitantly say, "Sunday," instead of what I want to say, "Tuesday."

But then there's that metric thing! Curse the day I thought I didn't really have to learn it in 6th grade! It has come back to haunt me in a big way. Just a few examples...

Most of the products in the stores are not from the US, even the recognizable brands. A brick of Philadelphia cream cheese seems pretty standard, no matter where it's from - right? But the plant here prints metric volumes (?) on the box. The salmon dip recipe calls for 16 oz of cream cheese, so you have to figure out many grams that is (it doesn't come in bricks either, it's a tub). The butter doesn't have tablespoon marks on the wrappers and it's a different shape, the milk comes in liters, gas is sold in liters, produce is sold by the kilo...I could go on and on. When cooking, I have to stop everything, go to the metric converter that is now a prominent bookmark in my web browser, and try to figure it out. I'm going to atone for the stupidity of my past by wising up and writing the converted amount in the margin of the recipe from now on. Thankfully my liquid measuring cup has some metric on it!

Metrics are everywhere here - the outside temperature, the boys' height and weight at the clinic, buying lengths of ribbon, rope or fabric, etc.

The speed limit signs are in metrics as well. All the limits are round numbers such as 40, 50, 65, 85, etc. Fortunately Honda took pity on us Americans and put the kilometers per hour on the dash in very tiny numbers. No tick marks though, and only the even numbers: 20, 40, 60, 80. A very common speed limit here is 65. Instead of guessing what 65 might be, I just drive 60 (which is 37.28). I know you are sitting there say, "Lani, give me a break. Just keep it between 60 and 70. You don't need tick marks." Yep. But seriously, the numbers are really small, and I'm scared to go 66 by mistake. There are Aramco Security cars, aka police, lurking with radar guns everywhere here. Word on the street is that they show absolutely no mercy. And if I get a speeding ticket, Steve will get into trouble at work, and may not get the yearly merit increase. Six percent a year doesn't sound like much, but if you do the math and carry it forward the five-to-ten years we'd like to stay...a $70 speeding ticket turns into tens of thousands of dollars. Ouch! You might say that's incentive to drive well under 37.28 mph.

It's a good thing whoever said, "you can't teach an old dog new tricks" was wrong. Just give me awhile and I'll get it these things down. In the meantime, you'll find me driving five miles (or is that five kilometers?) below the speed limit.

Please Leave the Lid Up

Have I ever told you how warm the tap water is here? The only true options for water temperature in the washing machine are quite warm, and hot. It's not surprising considering how hot it is outside. What is surprising though, is how it affects the toilet.

From the day they learned what a toilet was, I have been relentless in training the boys to put the seat and lid down on the toilet. With Michael, putting the lid down was so that Jake didn't play in the toilet water. With Jake, well, I guess by then I just had already made it the standard and it was easier to stay the course. They do a great job and I rarely need to say anything to them about it. So naturally, they continued to put the seat and lid down after moving to Saudi Arabia.

Being boys, they are also in the habit of taking care of business just as fast as they can. I have also tried to train them, not as successfully though, to wipe up "drips" that happen when they wait too long and quickly fling the seat and lid up. Any woman will tell you, it's absolutely disgusting to sit on a wet toilet seat. (Guys, I'm sure you would agree - it's just that you probably don't run into it as often as we do.)

Immediately after arriving here, I started finding wet toilet seats on a regular basis. My reaction started out as gentle reminders, and after mere days turned into roaring! I cannot find words to describe how loudly I was yelling at one point (the abundance of tile and lack of rugs on our main floor really turn this place into an echo chamber too!). I couldn't figure out what the deal was: Jet lag? New surroundings? Did going from 70 degrees to 118 overnight erase a portion of their memory?

I continued to flame the male members of our family for a couple weeks. Yes, I had moved onto yelling at Steve too. Why not...the boys naturally protested that it wasn't them and it had to be someone. It really wasn't pretty, and I'm positive they conspired to hide the bottles of water from me so that I'd drink less, therefore pee and scream less.

I don't even know when I figured it out, but I did feel very bad when it hit me: Putting the lid down causes the water to condensate onto the seat.

I've clearly stopped yelling at the three of them for peeing on the seat. Now, I've moved onto yelling at them for putting the seat down.

First Day of School, ...and Michael Squarepants

The first day of school was August 30th! The humidity was so high, that I had to wait about five minutes for the camera lens to clear before taking this picture. Thus, the very annoyed look on the boys' faces. "Come on, Mom. Let's go! Who cares about a picture?" Sigh. At least I got a quick one, and I'm delighted that they were eager to get to school.


And just another picture to deliver your daily dose of laughter: Michael Squarepants! He did this at bedtime and we were laughing so hard it took us 20 minutes to get the boys settled down enough to go to sleep. Oh, the joys!

More Thoughts on Covered Women

Again today I was the only Western woman in the waiting room, make that the female waiting room, at the clinic.

We had dinner with some new friends, Andrea and Roy, from Vancouver Island. Andrea once had a Muslim friend in college who wore the abaya and covered her hair completely, but not her face. In a discussion once about women "covering", Andrea's friend said that Muslim women think we are the enslaved ones: enslaved to culturally defined ideals for weight, beauty, breast size, hairstyle/color, fashion, etc. They are the "liberated" ones. When they make a first impression, they are not judged on any of those things - only their inner beauty and intelligence. Stops and makes you think, doesn't it?

I love this stuff!! It's been ages (OK, maybe only 8 yrs) since I've lived in a place that turns all my preconceived ideas of "what is" onto its head. I love being challenged to look at something from a different, sometimes wildly unimaginable, but still valid perspective. I love the way it expands my mind and requires me to accept that our way isn't the only way, and at the same time, this new found knowledge doesn't shake my beliefs or customs (yes, I am beginning to get why Muslim women cover, I respect it, BUT I'm not running out to buy my own veil!).

I don't think that all Muslim women embrace the veil as liberating. And I have to admit that I wonder if they use this reasoning as a way to make themselves feel better about it. There again though, that's my "Western Woman-colored glasses" thinking they couldn't possibly enjoy covering. Is it possible to shake off those glasses and accept differences without cynicism?

I hope someday to be able to talk personally with them - it's going to take a lot of courage on my part though. Not one has ever struck up a conversation with me. Not one has ever even caught my eye. I think I would have to be good friends with someone before they would honestly open up, exposing their true feelings/beliefs about such a sensitive topic. It's not very likely to ever happen, and that makes me sad.

The Salad Spinner

I have been wanting a salad spinner for ages. Dawn has one, and I always thought it was so cool to spin it, and amazing how much water comes out (I'm apparently easily entertained). But, for reasons unknown to even me, I have never bought one and have just continued to buy the already washed, bagged lettuce.

When we first arrived here, I was astounded to see a salad spinner in the commissary. They do have a very wide variety of things, just not many different brands or styles of all those things (did that make sense?). It was around $20 and after convincing Steve (actually myself - he couldn't have cared less if I bought it) that I really "needed" it, I was the proud new owner of a salad spinner. I also bought a head of romaine lettuce and promptly "gave it a whirl" when we got home. It works wonderfully, and I now have a ziplock bag of clean, bite-sized romaine lettuce in my ugly produce drawer.

I really believe that a significant aspect of a successful overseas assignment is flexibility. That ability, or the lack thereof, makes it or breaks it for you. You just aren't going to be able to do some things the same way you did before. You may not have the same tools. You may run into obstacles, different processes, or even impossibilities. You really have to be patient, creative, and have a good sense of humor...or you will go completely batty!

My salad spinner has become the symbol of that adaptability. We have had limited kitchen gadgets so far: a few pots/pans, cutting board, silverware, dishes, etc. The spinner, comes with three components: the large, clear bowl that holds the water that is spun out, the basket that holds the lettuce which fits inside the bowl, and the lid which has the spinning mechanism. We have used the bowl numerous times as a salad bowl, trifle dish, serving bowl, and a mixing bowl. The basket has been used as a colander and makeshift bowl while the clear bowl was being washed. I haven't figured out a use yet for the spinning mechanism (all my creative, problem solving friends out there - and you know who you are - be sure to leave your ideas in the comments).

And by the way, not only has the spinner justified its place in my cupboards with it's versatility, but it's saved me piles of money that I would have spent on temporary colanders, mixing bowls, etc. More importantly, it's a proud reminder to me of being able to look challenges and adversity (albeit minor kitchen-related adversity) in the face and say, "bring it on!"

Salad, anyone?