One of the truly great experiences in my life over the last few months came in the form of becoming a real-life aunt to my sister’s little Tater. And in just a matter of days The Boss will experience first-hand what that feeling was like for me (but the man version) when his big sister has her baby girl. And it could be any day. In fact, it could be happening RIGHT NOW as I blog. Maybe I should call to find out how things are going. But I don’t want to be that person. You know, that person who calls the expecting mama three days before her tentative due date and then on the due date and then EVERY HOUR until she has the baby asking why she hasn’t gone into labor?!
Yeah. That person. Is not who I want to be.
We drove up to Connecticut on Friday to hang out with my sister-in-law’s in-laws who are visiting from Egypt and I had a really fascinating conversation with a woman who was born and raised in Saudi Arabia, but is of Syrian and Palestinian descent. It was a real eye-opener to talk with someone who is “in the trenches” (so to speak), but not accepted as part of the Saudi culture — a culture that is so foreign to most Americans both Muslim and non.
We were having this really in-depth conversation about politics and education and culture at the far end of a table packed with 15 people at iHop on a Sunday morning and I swear every time I said something to my new friend the waitress thought I was talking to her.
Me: So, school is free for Saudi nationals, but not for you even though you were born there? That’s not fair.
Waitress: I’m sorry Miss, did I forget your side?
Me: What? No.
Me: So that’s cool that you can be considered for a job over a man that’s a Saudi national since you speak English.
Waitress: Did you say you wanted another hot chocolate?
Me: What? No.
Me: I heard camels are really mean and they spit on everyone.
Waitress: Did you say your food isn’t hot enough?
Me: WHAT?! NO!?
There must have been 300 people getting breakfast Sunday morning so I guess I can understand the confusion as to who’s saying what to whom in all that commotion of eating and taking orders and FDA warnings about how all of us are consuming DEATH CALORIES by simply being in the restaurant. But looking back at the several misunderstandings I had with the waitress I’m most concerned about how she found a connection between CAMEL SPIT and MY PLATE OF FOOD especially given that horse and/or donkey meat were recently found in burgers in Europe.
In order to get to the bottom of this misunderstanding I need to consider my options aside from sending a sample of my stool to the Centers for Disease Control or the Food and Drug Administration (or both). Maybe a good starting point would be to hide and scare The Boss when he gets home from work today. If by chance when I jump out from inside the closet with every intention to scream BOO(!!!) I end up gargling up a wild donkey sound then I might need to look into finding a pair of rubber gloves and a plastic container. And then someone should promptly inform The Boss that Hide and Seek just got a whole new set of rules.