February 12 - March 4
Kudos to Amy for being such a good sport. Despite feeling rotten most of the time, she put on a smile and a smashing blouse to attend the 2006 American Women’s Association “Simply Classic” Ball. Yes, it is I, unromantic Rich, who took his wife dancing for their 4th wedding anniversary.
This goes back to a very cold night in Boston about three years ago. A friend of ours invited us to a no-expense-spared, full-on Chinese wedding dinner. In the middle of the eighth course, Amy pointed out the empty dance floor. By the tenth course and after several like hints, she finally asked her blockhead-husband to dance. The blockhead was shocked, nearly choking on his half-eaten egg foo yung. “Dance? In public?! Without anyone else to hide behind?!! Is she crazy?” he thought. By the time the lo mein was served, the blockhead knew he would never live it down if he simply refused to dance, no matter the reason. He downed a tall glass of water (as if that would help!) and ran out onto the parquet, eyes half-closed. It was the classic scenario: we were the first couple out there, but that’s all it took before a few other couples joined in.
In the end, I’m glad to have saved our marriage, but may I say: the point that Amy thinks being asked to a dance is romantic was not lost on me. By the time I was making anniversary plans this year, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find a venue here in Dubai to actually go ballroom dancing; since most nightclubs here focus on genres such as trance, European house, and Top 40, I thought we would have to settle for dinner at Noodle House and a viewing of “Brokeback Mountain,” equally as romantic, but no embarrassing attempts to remember dance sequences from Footloose, right? Well, I was pleasantly surprised: The Ball really was quite classy, attended largely by gentlemen sporting tuxedos and ladies with flashy jewelry. There was a buffet to keep me happy, and I really did have fun trying my two left feet at a swing-tango-waltz-polka dance I created from thin air. It was a great night and we did fall in love all over again, promising that maybe we could make it work for just one more year. ☺
Not to be outdone was the spread at the Nad al-Sheba horseracing course. We were invited to a very elegant three-course buffet dinner in the sky box of the country’s most prominent horserace organizers. It was a fun “local” experience, each course of the meal punctuated with a quick and exciting race of six to eighteen Arabian thoroughbreds. The horses were absolutely stunning. Since there is no gambling allowed in the UAE, you merely fill out a card of “predictions” and win things like shirts, hats, and cars. I guess it is a little bit different from gambling; well, actually it’s not, and of course these little exercises in “predicting” excluded the real horse-betting that was going on under the table. You gotta love this place for its attempts at the euphemistic lifestyle.
Perhaps the best show that can be put on is by mother nature herself. For the second time since we’ve been here, it rained. It poured, rather. For three days. You are reminded that you live in the desert when you have to pull over to the side of the road to figure out how the windshield wipers on a car you have owned for nine months actually work. The first day was a serious thunderstorm, complete with flashes of lightening and rocking thunder. Christian who hasn’t seen a thunderstorm for nigh a year was thoroughly entertained. He also enjoyed the day after when we got to wear jackets to go on a walk as a family. He rode his red tricycle around the neighborhood, delightedly making a watermark trail on the pavement of every road that had a two-inch deep, ten-foot long puddle. And there were lots of them. For all its incredible infrastructure (note the sarcasm there), the city of Dubai could use a few more drains here and there or at least a road with the semblance of a slope.
It was about the time of this storm that Henry’s human development sky-rocketed. He can build a tower with Megablocks; he can say “dzoo-dzoo” for a train (although now he says it for anything remotely like a train); he can give high fives; he loves eentsy-weensty spider (and can do some of the actions); and best of all clearly says, “Dada” when daddy comes home. He’s still a pill when it comes to eating, but has an insatiable appetite for navel oranges and knows the sign language for “more” and “all done.” You can guess which one he uses most often.
And the two boys are playing together better. Christian almost loves being chased around the house by Henry as much as he loves to chase Henry around the house. He’s on something of a roller-coaster as far as sharing goes: just when you see him consistently find a toy for Henny to play with, the next minute you see him yank one from Henny’s hands.
Last week in church, Christian was assigned to read a scripture for sharing time in Primary. He did a wonderful job (assisted by dad), insisting I not lift him up to see the congregation of children, preferring to stand on his own two feet, WAY below the pulpit. After he had finished his scripture and sat down, the Primary leader started preparing for the spotlight when she looked up and noticed that Christian was back up behind the pulpit offering what began to sound like a sincere, unassisted prayer. He thanked God for fooooooood, and bwessiiiiiiiiings, and Daddy and Amy (?!?), and the Primary Party (held just the day before), and Gracie (the neighbor’s nanny) . . . . The Primary leader reminded all the kids what an important lesson Christian had taught them all, that prayer is something we can do anytime.
We pray for our family and friends, and hope that everyone is feeling successful and healthy and enjoying life. We miss you all.
Movie Quote: “Are you crazy? Throwing trash around in the street in your pajamas. Who’s gonna pick up all this garbage? “You are, because you’re the garbage man.” “I hate cul-de-sacs.”
The Burbs