Cahoondom II

As Wendy tells below, two weeks ago we had our first (and probably only) guests. While the rest of you lily-livered panty-waists (International Women's Day is long past: back to sexisms) were "safe" in your xenophobic western pantheons to redneckism, Grandma and Grandpa Knievel were here, with us, risking life and limb in roundabouts and going googly-eyed over the shear enormity of money-spendage.

We'll spare you the gruesome details, but let's just say it was a Drewdle trip from start to finish. They were on their way back from Uganda, after organizing a platoon of volunteer dentists to do some training, etc., and made it out of the airport at 3:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, which put us home by 4:30 a.m. Some of us--namely those of us who went to the airport to get them, namely Jon--had to work the next day. Ay caramba.

84 hours later we deposited them at the Stewart Hotel, every one of us spent and stuffed. Here are the pics Wendy promised. Those of you with access can find a few more on her facebook page.

Most of the group shots resembled a U2 album cover, but I think this was accidental, not artistic: Hobbles McCoy, lagging behind, eyes full of the place, would suddenly demand we turn around, which we would do in turns as the message made its way to the front lines, and then he'd snap before we could assemble (or suck in, sometimes). But we like the results.



Ghosts in the Mosquine. Or Shades of SHeikh Zayed Mosque. Some of you will ask the inevitable question, even though the picture above answers it. No, women are not required by law to cover up, except when entering the prayer rooms of a mosque.



This mosque is massive. The pictures, because of mechanical perspective, don't do it justice. You come over the Maqta Bridge into Abu Dhabi and it dominates impressively. Better during the day right now, but soon, with all the lighting, it will be impressive at all hours. We'll try to get a better shot of the whole thing, though there's some early video . . .

Riley's first ride. Was going to make a joke about camel . . . feet, but decided against it. Too easy.



Against the Abu Dhabi skyline, taken squinting into the Arabian sun just above the dock where we boarded a water taxi to go to Lulu Island, an unimpressive resort island that bored us silly.



Monkeys: Gramma C still has game.



Proof! He does read!



Jo getting ready for his modeling debut.



I am to be seeing beeg future for hees.



Chrisp ibn Goohnathon, Sheikh of the burning sands.



Cool.



Add one last album cover, taken like the last four at the Al Ain Palace Museum, which we have blogged about before.



That last one is more Beatles than U2, you know, if the Beatles were only three, and two of them were women carrying purses and they were trespassing on museum grounds despite the signs saying "Please No Treading on Grass." I think, secretly, Wendy wants to get us deported.

Anyway, sorry about the delay. We had platform issues all last Friday, and then just, you know, had life happen to us. By the way, more Christmas music today.

And we're extending the competition, so it's not too late. The choices are lame, except for Greg's (Hey, Greg and Melissa!), which I'm inclined to disqualify not because it isn't technically valid, but because he doesn't live in any of the places he mentions, except the last one, which is lovely but boring, and because Johnny Cash already wrote that song. Or at least he sang it. It was Arthur Miller that wrote the play. So that's been done.