My post on 9/11 got eaten by the internet and I did not have the energy to start all over. My bad. I typed directly into the website instead of cutting and pasting from Word as any thinking person would have done, especially one living in an internet unfriendly country. The internet has been down most of this week. I am thinking maybe my post shouldn’t have been published in any event. It was sort of inflammatory.
Yesterday I went to an American Women’s group across the river. I have not been with so many American women in 12 years. Unnerving. I almost walked away from the event brainwashed into thinking that my diamonds are not big enough (I wasn’t wearing any, but still), my hair not sufficiently coiffed, and naturally, my thighs and other body parts thin enough. Could it be that I am more comfortable with the Europeans?
No, not really. The French women I have seen ooze style with simple skirts and ginormous leather bags, handbags large enough to fit a baby inside if they were so inclined, unafraid that the chains garnishing the purse would not choke the child. Their handbags so distract I completely overlook their dirty hair, pulled back in a chignon or petite pony tail.
My Russian neighbor, Svetlana, with whom I share a fence, and I took an instant dislike to one another. We barely nod to each other at the endless coffee mornings we have attended for school functions. The first time we spoke all she could talk about was those terrible American appliances. I almost pointed out that they were MIC (no American would put “fuzzy” as a wash setting cycle) but shut my mouth – arguing with her would be like asking Putin to explain that spy poisoning incident last year. Pointless. I tried really hard not to be gleeful when an army of men were digging up her yard after her plumbing exploded, the excavation so massive the workers had to tent off the yard and house from onlookers and smellers. My yard is probably next.
Svetlana, however, made me smile at this morning’s coffee get together. When introducing herself, and her daughter in absentia, she made the following comment, “All the boys know Babushka! She’s very social.” So I hear. More than one other parent tittered.
I am behind in my emails, am only 20 percent through my to do list, but this week felt rather normal. There is almost too much to write about but at the end of the day I am exhausted and decidedly not creative. My blog stats are in the tank, however, so I am trying to pump them up. Be patient. I’ll get my groove back soon.
Happy Birthday to Gamamae! Trinta e doze e demais! BEIJAOS!!!