Mmmmmmmmeeewwwww!

Waiting to ask for our comparatively palatable poitrine de poulet, I was witness to the selection and preparation of a pair of delectable cow's feet.

These were, of course, denuded (hairless), and therefore resembled the gnarly forearms of an ancient albino hermit who'd been living underwater and developed the rare condition "oiloinfantilis secreterensis."

Anyway, the "knuckle" or "ankle" bone was cut off with a bandsaw, and then the butcher split the hooves 5/6 of the way up the foot bone. He turned the feet perpendicular to the blade again and cut each hoof in sections. the whole blamed them went into a bag and over the counter.

I dunno what you'd use them for: maybe to fish for flies and rangy cats? scare off company if the dinner party isn't going well? hide them in your neighbor's laundry room as a prank? feed 'em to fussy kids? Hey, wait a minute. That's a good idee.

Riiiileeeey! We're goin' out for dinner! Today's Special: Cow Foot Soup! Mmmooooo.

Megavator Music and other Tuesday Ticklers

Hey there, kids. Sorry to miss you this weekend. Too much happening, too little time.

So we told you a coupla weeks ago about the Christmas music at Easter, which is in its own special way a rather poignant and hopeful gaffe.

Turns out it's not a gaffe, but a soundtrack.

In succession, in that gosh-awful-synthesized-couldn't-land-a-real-gig-cuz-Yanni-beat-me-to-it-so-I-churn-out-this-depressingly-catchy-crap high elevator style, the following:

Sunday: Jingle Bells
Monday: Gangsta's Paradise (I kids you not)
Tuesday: Ave Maria

What a rich and varied range of styles. Those elevator boys are nothing if not versatile.

Oh, and here's the Jonah connection: he's been reciting lines from Weird Al's "Ahmish Paradise" lately. These are, of course, things he's picked up from "the brothers" (meaning his, and not, like, Ryan), which he likes to share with everyone else under 5 feet tall. So yesterday, when he was visiting the school we've just registered him in, he lets drop the tasteful "A local boy kicked me in the butt today/But I don't mind, well, that's okay/Cuz I'll be laughin' real hard when he's burnin' in heck." Nice. Can we put Al on the no-fly list?

Also, we need to go to Megamart way less.


Funny, too:



"Ranjeet, I am wishing for to be knowing how I can quitting you."

(or, for die-hard SNL fans: "Lowered Expectay-ay-shuns.")

Alright, so I've used that joke before, but quite frankly, it never gets old, especially when you throw in "Ranjeet." Good stuff. Here's a better one, but we have to lose the "Ranjeet" and throw in an "Ahmad."



It really is very sweet when it's these old guys: two old friends who bumped into each other. The little girl on the right is the granddaughter of the man on the left, and the other man leaned over and kissed her on the head when he saw them. Felt bad taking advantage. But not bad enough.

Funny, three:






Ay caramba.

I should say that there are many highly accomplished and intelligent faculty here, and most of our administrators are the pick of the litter. The problem (isn't it always?) is at the level of middle-management: the printing office, for instance, does what and when it will: seet down, pleez, dreenk yore tee, ahnd bee-eeng payshince.

I don't actually drink any "tee." In case you were, you know, wondering.


The Three Filippigos



Lance, Roland, and Adrian (in all his chicky pock glory)


And we finally decided on our summer plans:



Yup. Picked up the tickets today: Darfur Summer Tour, here we come! Thought we'd introduce the kids to the workings of oppressive regimes, provide a frame of reference for the word "genocide": you know, your basic cultural experience with a hint of racial cleansing and a dash of anti-westernism. Though I think our Canada t-shirts will help a little. Ay caramba.



More to come soon. Watch this space. Riley goes electric (and Jon goes Tom Jones). Pictures from the pyramids, gothic reflections, Broadway comes to Al Ain, and much, much more!


Shout-outs: Hobo: you had one weeks ago. Dja miss it? Well, anyway: "Hey!"

Point of interest: photos taken on the iPhone, so take it easy, ec, on the photo-criticism. You try to catch Liv in mid-flight on one of these babies. Dare ya.

April 13, 2008

There once was a fellow named Frank


There once was a fellow named Frank

Who grew up in a city quite dank

Fell in love with a girl

By the name of Ann Shirl

Had kids, and turned into a crank



I know that old lady named Shirley

Her grill is all artifi-pearly

She's put up with her Franks

And his fetish for spanks

And loves him good, even when surly



They've been married for forty-five years

Full of laughter and music and tears

Leven kids have they had

And you'd think they'd be dead

But they're just barely getting in gear



So to Spanks and his pearl of a girl

We say never in all the wide world

Have there been better folks

And that ain't no joke:

It's been fun, it's been wind, it's been whirl



Happy Anniversary, Fogies!

Al Ain Branch Times

Quick update for those who care:

J and S Orbiso and Baby are in the Philippines visiting the Orbiso patriarch. Miriam has also returned home, may come back, but to Abu Dhabi, most like. Joanne has been reassigned to Dubai, which leaves us with two single sisters.

Adrian has chicken pox, poor spotted fellow. Is in isolation: dying of boredom.

Chapel is almost completely furnished now: rugs, curtains, couches, tables, office for the president, wi-fi, etc. Official chairs will be sent to us in future.

New member, just found us. He's been here since November, working as on-site nurse at the new campus construction for my university. Name's Roland, and he hadn't been to church for 3 years because he'd been in Saudi before this, so he's come twice: we pick him up and drop him off, and will try to keep him company as much as we can. Pretty lonely setup. Good man, though: lifer, rm, pretty excited to have found us.

We're hoping that enthusiasm is infectious. We've been missing a few fairly consistently, and pray that changes soon.

Jordans and Fletchers are, as always, missed.


Shout-outs: D-Law, it's good to have you around. Glad you read and comment. Bodes well for your marriage.

Smash, congratulationisms! Little Ashley is expectorating a blue one in sixish months. Our baby sister, mit two babies of her own. Ay caramba.

Lurkers: let us know you're there now and then, would ya?

Oh, and a belated one to the Shirl: we appreciate your loyalty, Ma! Thanks for gracing.

Salaam alakum, todos.

What would we think of an alphabet poem cycle with an eco-conservationist theme? Who'd buy that for a dollar?

Okay, okay, so there are lots of these out there, but they tend not to be sophisticated or interesting poetically: sloppy, cliche', trite even. I want to write one that sings for its supper.

Poem the first (Adam, even you can deduce the structural conceit at work here; Earth Mother, if he asks you, that's cheating):



Albert Ross the Albatross

Auld Albert Ross, the albatross,
Adores the wide, blue sea:
Al loves its winds, its waves, its fins
And every kind of food that swims
But not the plastics, bottles, tins
Collecting annually therein
Because we treat it like a bin
And make life difficult for him,
Al’s friends, Al’s food (the kind with fins)
Across the wide, blue sea.
Auld albatross, our Albert Ross.


Of course, the next poem will have to follow suit: BBBBCDCBBBB, with the reversal in the last line (Y and Z would either have to dip back into A and B respectively, or I could use numbers instead). Or I could come up with a new poetic form for each letter. Or better yet, find a form for each that starts with that letter: ode for O, rubaiyat for R, sonnet for s, epithalamion or epigram for E, palindrome for P: you get the idea: world's first multi-tasking poetry primer for kids: an introduction to poetic forms, eco-conservatist political messages, and an introduction to alphabetical literacy. Whizbang.


Photocred: Dr. Mike Double

Potential problem: Ralph McTell's already done the "Albert Ross" thing. Not surprised: it's a no-brainer. But my poem is better than his. Trust me.

Random Acts of, erm, Music (sort of)

Proof positive that there are still people out there willing to make fools of themselves to spread a little sunshine. Nice antidote to car wrecks and nuclear war.

Armless, or better, Armful, or better, Signs that it's time to head back to the gym for toning exercises

Weekly cute: perhaps as part of his oedipal fixation, or maybe as a compensation for his refusal to nurse properly as an infant, Jonah has developed a tactile fetish for what he calls "chubby": "Dad, I love your chubby," he'll say, while patting my, ahem, svelte and rock-hard abdomen.

But as I said, he is an oedipal soul at present, so this fetish has as its apex the squeezing of Wendy's upper arm. The other day, by her account (and I should tell you she has instructed me to share this story), Jonah was in the middle of his squeeze fest when he made this comment:

"Mom, I love your arms. They're just like play dough."

Ay caramba.


We should also say that our other two kids are cute, it's just that they rarely do anything expressly cute, since they are of course manly men. But, we did get a few calls last weekend from girls calling Christopher to inform him that some girl named Alex S likes him.

Christopher's response: turn several shades of red, stammer, and hang up. Also, avoid the phone for the next two days, but never be very far away when it was answered, and without exception ask the respondent who, what, and what else.


Report cards are in (well, Riley's is. Christopher "never got [his]"). Uh-huh. Anyway, Riley is at year level or better in all but two of his subjects, to which he is a newcomer, and his Arabic teach anticipates him being at year level by year's end: in Spanish, where the expectations are higher, he'll almost be there. We may have an heir-apparent.

Peace out.

April Fool

So on the morning of April 1st, all the boys discovered what looked like giant flies or rat droppings in the mouths of their tubes of toothpaste. And thus, disgustingly, began the month of April.

Turns out they were raisins, not some horrifying manufacturer's defect. To quote Christopher, "Ach. I brushed my teeth with raisin juice."

Had Jon not been running late, he would have noticed that the cereal bags had been switched in all the boxes, so that eaters expecting chocolate-flavoured Wheetos were instead favoured with something resembling twigs and bark fragments. Nummy.

As it was, it wasn't until the next morning that he discovered that the milk had gone off . . . pink. Christopher's little addition, apparently. Oy veh!

What happened at your places last week? Anything funny?


Shout-outs:

all: Riley thanks you. He really is coming along with the ghee-tar.

kr: will call you tonight. We're interested, price being right.

barnwellians: good times. Watch this space: maybe we'll get operatic sometime just for you.

ec: it would never work between us.