Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Oh Look, Somebody Fixed the Blog

Guess what?

I would like a job with someday...

Last year, I thought I'd make the blog "cuter" (always a bad idea, always) then we got all busy and shiz and I disappeared. My apologies to all four people who read my blog, I'll never screw with the settings again, I promise! Phil finally fixed my technological mess earlier this week and here I am, blogging my incoherent thoughts.

Anyway, what happened during my absent year? Many, many things. The most important one, of course, being the arrival of this thing:

We call him WeeBallz. And Eyebrows. And The Jumbo Baby. And Circle-Face (that's right, look at the picture. See it now? Like a tiny beach ball.)

Other things that happened: I worked at the embassy, we had a handful of uneventful protests following Djibouti's elections (which were totally fair and not rigged at all *cough*), I entered a new decade of my life and got really paranoid about wrinkles, medevac'd for three months, was put on super sucky bedrest, watched all of True Blood and Game of Thrones, barely read at all, gave birth to the hairiest baby ever seen, came back to Djibouti, and got super grouchy.

But here's the big, happy thing happening right now - packout is in three weeks and WE ARE ALMOST DONE WITH DJIBOUTI. Not that I don't luuuurv it here, but it will be nice to do...things, again. I look forward to several months of Djibouti recovery in DC.

I'll leave you with a picture of JBallz, who is a hilarious cheeseball.

Friday, December 28, 2012

In Which JBallz is Kinda Racist

Little JBallz has contact with two Djiboutians on a daily basis. One of them is our nanny (the same woman who screamed when she saw Peeta).

She gave these cute little Ethiopian duds to JBallz for Christmas. He loves them. Too much actually. It was more or less the end of the world when I told him that he absolutely could not wear them for four days in a row and that they had to be washed. Anyway...

  JBallz calls her Mozza (like mozzarella) even though that is not even remotely how you say her name. The other Djiboutian that he sees daily is a day-guard guy that we share with our fourplex named Mohammed.

Now, JBallz is almost three and a semi-intelligent little guy. You should see the intricate train tracks he builds (100% positive I have a future engineer on my hands) and he speaks two languages. That's right, English, and the always-useful Amharic, which our nanny speaks to him. (On a side note, we only recently realized that a lot of the gibberish he says is actually Amharic - we just thought he was a slow talker there for a while. Oops. MomFAIL) He also knows all those little toddler things that kids learn - shapes, colors, letters, numbers, etc. 

He's not a stupid kid, so you'd think he wouldn't call EVERY SINGLE BLACK WOMAN HE SEES "Mozza" or EVERY SINGLE BLACK MAN HE SEES "Mohammed".
 He seriously feels no shame about calling out to random strangers and saying things like "Hey Mozza, I want a snack!" or "Mohammed, gimme high-five! Up high? Down low? Too slow!"

I think it's completely embarrassing.

Mozza thinks it's hilarious.

Anyway, I live in Africa with a racist toddler so that's...fantastic.

Friday, November 23, 2012

Gettin' Busy

After almost an entire year of boredom so great that I read 132 books (actually, more than that. There were a few I read that I was too embarrassed to admit to on goodreads. Fluffy paranormal young adult romance, anyone? Anyone? No? Yeah, me neither. That stuff is totally lame) AND wrote, like, half a freakin' novel (no, I really did and as you can imagine, it's quite terrible) I am happy to say that the last few weeks have actually been BUSY. Why?

I finally started my job at the embassy. Ask me when I interviewed for this job? Go ahead, ask me.
MAY. It was back in MAY.
Anyway, I started three weeks ago and it's been a very good change.

Also, winter is officially here and it no longer feels like Mordor. Now it's more like Arizona which is pretty great and we are able to do, you know, things.

Like spending the weekend in a bungalow on an island in the Gulf of Tadjoura. Which was completely awesome.

 And just in case you ever wondered what ground ginger is in french, or ever have to go searching for it on Thanksgiving morning, here it is.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Motor Home Enthusiasts

Phil and I are having blog naming/template issues. And by "issues" I mean arguments, of course. Just ignore them.
(I just really hate puns, okay. Is that so wrong?)


You know how I love to draw on my little boy's face (as evidenced here and here.) I wanted a costume that would of course incorporate that very activity. And so, in an effort to not be offensive jerks, we were not "White Trash" for Halloween this year, we were "Motor Home Enthusiasts". And I am oh-so-disappointed in Djibouti for having like 90% humidity. My awesome fanned out bangs fell almost immediately. 'Twas a bummer. Also, Phil's not showing nearly enough chest hair. That was a bummer, too. And to top off the disappointment, we don't even smoke so we didn't have any half-finished cigarettes around to wag up and down in the corners of our mouths while we talked. Nor do we own one of those beer helmet things.

We made it work, though. Especially JBallz.

Flat bangs. Sad.

Peeta was a cowboy. Happy!

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Feral Cat Only Eats Filet Mignon


We've been back for almost two weeks now. In that time I have found three (three!) dead (well, murdered) pidgeons in my yard (and by "yard" I mean rocks, of course). It's Feral Cat, I'm sure of it.

Have I ever mentioned Feral Cat?

Feral Cat is the sluttiest cat there ever was. He lives sort of around my house and I hate him. He's gotten into my garbage and spread it all over the yard (again, rocks) several times. Six months ago, he got one of his girlfriends pregnant and the kitty was a boy and you know what he did? He murdered his own son. It was so sad. Call PETA if you want, but I throw rocks at him whenever I see him (hello?! He's a murderer!)

Anyway, this pidgeon thing is new. And what I don't understand is why Feral Cat (or one of his many hoochies) would kill a pidgeon and not eat it. Everybody else around here is starving and parched and I see at least two dead cats a day on the side of the road, but Feral Cat didn't feel like eating his catch?

What a snob. If I can eat goat, I think Feral Cat could choke down a little flying rat.