the sun really is hotter here

well folks, summer is just around the corner and i am knee-deep in preparations. by preparations i mean i have designated my house as a "no-pants zone."

A Venn diagram (see above) with one circle being "time spent in my house" and and the other being "time spent weariing pants" would actually not even be a Venn diagram, just two mutually exclusive circles hangin out next to each other.

i'd just like to say how in awe i am of volunteers further south than me, because oh my god it's not even that hot here yet and i am already sweating balls minutes after i go outside. it's disconcerting that people keep asking me if this is my first summer in Morocco, then when I tell them it is, calling me "maskina" (poor thing).

In other news, I am either adapting to the way things work here or just getting really lazy, because I actually told a Moroccan to calm down today. He was spazzing about when I would be able to bu cookies for a party I am throwing on Saturday (ie, 50 hours from now) and I actually cut him off and told him he needed to chill out.

okayyyy bye

some figures

(listening to: andrew bird)

0: number of tasks I absolutely must complete today (I thank you, again, Monday).

5: number of hours I spent hiking home from a mountain yesterday.

22: Total number of companions on hike.

1: number of creepy white vans that drove us to the mountain (we walked back home).

16: number of teenagers in tow on hike.

1: number of adorable toddlers I want to steal and bring to America that joined us on this hike.

2: number of times I fell down.

1: number of times I fell down that I consider someone else's fault (he wouldn't let go of my frigging backpack).

0: number of alcoholic beverages I was able to imbibe after 5-hour death march.

1: number of donkeys I was forced to ride yesterday.

2-3: number of times I was "lovingly" pushed into a stream.

346776869875: number of photos taken by Amin, one of the other adults on the trip.

324565982098: number of times I wanted to punch Amin in the face and break the god damn camera.

18: number of days until I am in Europe, sleeping in a real bed, consuming dairy products that have been refrigerated, gleefully turning on the hot water tap in the kitchen and finally getting some sun on my ghostly legs.

Hello Monday, whatcha knowin?

morning mix, including but not limited to "Popular Mechanics for Lovers" by some band on the OC season 2 mix

I'd like to thank Peace Corps on this bright, chipper morning for making me finally see Monday's potential. I didn't understand it before. When I worked in an office, Monday always came like a swift roundhouse kick to the jugular, then a few kicks to the ribs while I'm still down. Monday was the "ungracious victor" version of Jean Claude Van Damme, if I am making any sense at all. I hated it, it hated me. And yet Monday always got the better of me.

The only bright spot I could look forward to on Mondays were those few precious weeks in summer in DC when there was a Screen on the Green* showing to look forward to. Even that was almost taken away from me...I'll never forget the day I pulled up the DCist.com page to check on happenings and found that SotG was in danger of cancellation. It still chills my heart thinking about it.

Anyway, I think I had a point. Yes---Monday! Since moving to Morocco and beginning work at an establishment that is CLOSED ON MONDAYS, the formerly wretched excuse for a week day and I have reconciled. Because guess what? I have ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do today. I was thinking about going back to sleep...then I decided, no, I'd rather listen to my morning playlist, write a rambling blog and have some coffee. The possibilities are endless. Maybe I'll even take a trip out to Khemisset. JUST BECAUSE I CAN. I don't know, I don't know if I'll have time. OH WAIT.

What am I going to do with my Monday, you ask? I'm not even going to tell you. It's that good. I will, however, tell you what I'm not going to do:

SHIT. I'm not going to do shit all day. There it is.

Other things going on: COngratulations are in order, because in my 7 months in Morocco I have vomited more times than I did the whole three years I spent in college. I'll pause here while you slow-clap.

The Reading Race is already over and proved two things to me:

1. the kids at my Dar Chabab are on crack
2. anything with a competitive factor is bound to be a rousing success, yet cause lots of drama at the same time. When some of the kids that didn't place in the contest found out their ranks, they FREAKED OUT and were using any method they knew to try and convince me to change the scores. (I didn't)

My vacation is coming very soon (25 more days) and I could not be more pleased. I hope Ghjpar,.eucggewst9hugyuos the Volcano settles down by then. I'm too excited to see Andy (and, you know, Europe, or whatever) for that volcano to try and ruin my life.

I guess I'll leave you here for now. I have a lot of NOTHING to accomplish today.

*SotG: a movie was shown every monday night on the US Capitol lawn as soon as the sun set. It was preceded by a Loony Toon and then everyone on the lawn did the HBO DANCE then sat back down and got drunk on smuggled-in wine and watched a movie classic. Basically it's my favorite thing about the city and I was usually really annoying about getting my friends to go every Monday.

helloooo friday!

CHILLING OUT in my house. Just me, my Nescafe, my doodle pad and Rachmaninoff.

Note that I didn’t mention Timmy.

That’s right, my loves. Yesterday I found a home for Timmy. It was very sad and difficult to see her go (and I half expect the kid that took her to bring her back today saying he changed his mind) but I really feel it’s for the best. I travel too much and things are too crazy at the Dar Chabab to bring her to work with me all the time, so she was spending too much time alone in my dark house.

Besides bidding farewell to Timothy Ann, yesterday was hands down the funnest day I’ve had at work. Word is telling me that “funnest” isn’t a word…but saying “most fun” seems awkward here.

It started out like a typical day with 30 kids screaming at me at once. There were the usual requests for basketballs and ping pong paddles, but since the Reading Race is still going on I’ve got a ton of kids on my hands begging me to read English books with them.

I think I mentioned earlier that I’ve been trying to train them to embrace sign-up sheets, and it’s slowly starting to backfire. They haven’t so much embraced the concept…it’s more like they’ve become completely obsessed with it. If for some reason I stray from the list order (for instance, yesterday a girl came in who, for school schedule reasons, can’t come to Dar Chabab as often as others) there is complete and total pandemonium. Seriously, heads roll, children cry and some participants threaten to quit the race.

I was just about to go apeshit on everyone and cancel the competition completely, when I looked up to see that one of my DC regulars had re-arranged all the books on the shelf so they stood more neatly, cleaned up my desk and was now re-writing the list in a neat hand so I could read it more easily.

Can I just say, OH MY GOD. My heart melted, I felt like the Grinch watching the Whos sing despite waking up on Christmas morning to find their dingdanglers and gadjinglets stolen.

This angel of a kid made me so happy I was able to get back in control of all the other kids, sending a few home for the day, arranging to read with others for as long as they were able to stay at Dar Chabab (we ended up staying until eight) and compromising with the kids that had to go home that I would put everyone’s names in a box and do a drawing for Friday’s reading order.

Once some of the more wild kids had gone home, five or six of the boys and I hung around reading and playing until eight and generally had a blast. I was actually laughing and having fun without being stressed out about every tiny thing happening around me, and let me tell you it felt nice. The boys even offered to “bodyguard” me home because we didn’t leave the Dar Chabab until well after the sun had gone down.

It seems like every time I am on the cusp of a nervous breakdown something in life gives and I’m able to remember why I like being here and why I currently love my work. Hamdullahhhhhhh.

On the subject of Timothy Ann

Ironically, my iTunes just switched over to “Lola” by The Kinks…Lola was she-man, much like Timmy is a he-woman.

Emma and I once had a conversation about what kind of kids we would want. We both decided we wanted crazy, hyperactive little boys, preferably outfitted exclusively by Brooks Brothers.

Friends, Timmy is about as close as I may ever come to achieving this goal.

Sure, she’s a girl. But for a WHOLE DAY I THOUGHT she was a boy. That counts for something, right? And she’s totally crazy.

This is a totally ADD tangent, but on the right-hand “Getting Started” menu of my Word, the Search box has an example search that says “Get rid of Clippy.” I can only imagine it is referring to that heinous paperclip I banned from Lappie years ago, the Jar Jar Binks of Microsoft software. I have to admit I still hate that paperclip, but knowing its name is Clippy makes me feel a little better about life in general.

Anyway. I was talking about Timmy.

She’s the female, canine version of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame). What more could I ask for? I weighed her today and she is 2.12 kilograms. She was too small for the scale at the pharmacy, so the pharmacist got out a kitchen scale (like for weighing meat and vegetables) and plopped her in there. I cherish these moments.

She’s even getting used to her leash! She walked with me to run errands this morning, then went to Dar Chabab with me, too. I don’t bring her on days I know it will be busy, but Wednesday mornings are pretty tame and mostly just kids I know really well come. She’s pooped from all the walking and taking a nap on the rug now.

Also, I may have a sweet hookup in terms of veterinary services. My friend, Amin, knows the vet here and said he might be able to set her up with her vaccinations for free. This’d be pretty awesome, because the only other free clinic I know of is in Rabat and then I’d have to pay for transportation (and convince drivers to let me bring her in the cab and not the trunk).

In non-puppy news, I kicked off the Reading Race yesterday. Photos of the Reading Race board (brought to you by fellow PCV Mari, a kid from Dar Chabab and me) are available on Facebook. Competition is already getting heated! The intermediate kids are really serious about winning and it’s great to see them zoom through books so fast.

I wish I could say that’s all I’m doing right now, but a counterpart talked to me today about having a chess tournament in Rommani and doesn’t understand the long, involved process of writing a grant. He wants to have the tournament here in about three weeks! Shoot me in the face. Clearly, I’m dealing pretty well with the impending doom of writing a grant by blogging about nothing in particular.

Plus, there’s Earth Day to deal with. I hate all these specific days where you HAVE to do a specific type of activity or everyone thinks you’re a terrible person. Fuck you, Earth Day. And same to you, International Women’s Day. I respect the Earth and my sisters from other misters all the time. Don’t make me drop everything on a certain day to pay homage to something I care about all the time. Hashuma 3likum. I don’t need the pressure.

Okay that was a weird tangent. Timmy just arose and I think she’s about to pee. I’ll check on that while you guys discuss women saving the planet internationally. With AIDS.

On the subject of Timothy Ann

Ironically, my iTunes just switched over to “Lola” by The Kinks…Lola was she-man, much like Timmy is a he-woman.

Emma and I once had a conversation about what kind of kids we would want. We both decided we wanted crazy, hyperactive little boys, preferably outfitted exclusively by Brooks Brothers.

Friends, Timmy is about as close as I may ever come to achieving this goal.

Sure, she’s a girl. But for a WHOLE DAY I THOUGHT she was a boy. That counts for something, right? And she’s totally crazy.

This is a totally ADD tangent, but on the right-hand “Getting Started” menu of my Word, the Search box has an example search that says “Get rid of Clippy.” I can only imagine it is referring to that heinous paperclip I banned from Lappie years ago, the Jar Jar Binks of Microsoft software. I have to admit I still hate that paperclip, but knowing its name is Clippy makes me feel a little better about life in general.

Anyway. I was talking about Timmy.

She’s the female, canine version of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes fame). What more could I ask for? I weighed her today and she is 2.12 kilograms. She was too small for the scale at the pharmacy, so the pharmacist got out a kitchen scale (like for weighing meat and vegetables) and plopped her in there. I cherish these moments.

She’s even getting used to her leash! She walked with me to run errands this morning, then went to Dar Chabab with me, too. I don’t bring her on days I know it will be busy, but Wednesday mornings are pretty tame and mostly just kids I know really well come. She’s pooped from all the walking and taking a nap on the rug now.

Also, I may have a sweet hookup in terms of veterinary services. My friend, Amin, knows the vet here and said he might be able to set her up with her vaccinations for free. This’d be pretty awesome, because the only other free clinic I know of is in Rabat and then I’d have to pay for transportation (and convince drivers to let me bring her in the cab and not the trunk).

In non-puppy news, I kicked off the Reading Race yesterday. Photos of the Reading Race board (brought to you by fellow PCV Mari, a kid from Dar Chabab and me) are available on Facebook. Competition is already getting heated! The intermediate kids are really serious about winning and it’s great to see them zoom through books so fast.

I wish I could say that’s all I’m doing right now, but a counterpart talked to me today about having a chess tournament in Rommani and doesn’t understand the long, involved process of writing a grant. He wants to have the tournament here in about three weeks! Shoot me in the face. Clearly, I’m dealing pretty well with the impending doom of writing a grant by blogging about nothing in particular.

Plus, there’s Earth Day to deal with. I hate all these specific days where you HAVE to do a specific type of activity or everyone thinks you’re a terrible person. Fuck you, Earth Day. And same to you, International Women’s Day. I respect the Earth and my sisters from other misters all the time. Don’t make me drop everything on a certain day to pay homage to something I care about all the time. Hashuma 3likum. I don’t need the pressure.

Okay that was a weird tangent. Timmy just arose and I think she’s about to pee. I’ll check on that while you guys discuss women saving the planet internationally. With AIDS.

Hello pets, it's been awhile

Emo-ing it out with some Death Cab

Oh my. So spring camp. Considering all the obstacles (last minute planning, hardly any funding, language barriers, mass confusion and hysteria, fire-breathing dragons and general sorcery) the kids had an awesome time and even learned a little English. I did the best I could, ya know? Next year will be better.

Now I’m back safe in my little house, hangin’ out with Timmy and drinkin’ a cup of tea. This month’s goal is to chill the fuck out, hence the tea. Plus I am out of milk and black coffee is gross.

Timmy’s gotten kind of fat this week and I’m very excited about it. I’m going to try to get out to Rabat this week, maybe even THIS VERY AFTERNOON to buy her some stuff…then it’s all about figuring out what shots she needs so I can maybe take her to America with me twenty months from now, how big I can expect her to get (true to form I have totally spazzed out and convinced myself she has St. Bernard in her and will be humongous) and cracking down on the potty-training. She kind of gets it, but not enough to avoid whizzing on my sheepskin rug. Whore.

I don’t really know what else to say right now. This would be a good place to stop but I think instead I will ramble for a bit, in practice for when I’m old and sit around on front porches with a shotgun in one hand and a bottomless firefly-and-lemonade in the other. (Emma do people still drink those? Please lie to me if they don’t.)

Yesterday I was sitting outside while Timmy sniffed around the alley and some dar chabab kids came by to play with her/ hang out with me. It was so relaxed and normal and it hit me that I actually fit in in this town. I’m definitely still an outsider in some senses and always will be, but I feel like my differences are generally accepted. I’ve experienced complete acceptance with small groups of close friends before (ESTA for life), but never with a whole community ranging in age, socioeconomic status, education level etc. I don’t know how I did it because I’ve always felt like a pretty socially awkward person, but there it is.

Other things—Lindsey, my very dear friend from further back than I even remember sent me a letter recently and she enclosed some pages from a handbook we had made when we were kids with a bunch of crazy ways to flip and jump off of a recliner. Can I just say, oh my God I am lucky to be alive.

I give you the “Side Slide”:

-approach chair from the back. That’s what she said?
-jump up on the back of the chair, on your side
-slide down the front of the chair head first
-land

Genius.

There’s also the “Spinnie,” which involves doing the ballet equivalent of a single tour en l’air (jump and turn one revolution in the air before landing), landing on the seat of the chair and pushing it over backward, sliding off and landing, again, headfirst, on the ground for a 10.0 finish.

However horrifying these feats seem now, they totally jogged my memory and I got to thinking about all the ridiculous shit Lindsey and I used to do:

-on cold fall days we would zip our arms inside big puffy jackets and run around slamming into each other until we fell down. Once her little sister played and we knocked her down and ran away and she couldn’t get up. It’s okay, I made up for this horrible deed by joining the Peace Corps.

-we used to play “explosion,” where we would practice for our future careers as stunt doubles, first making a huge explosion noise, then running in slow motion and flipping onto the ground, knocked out.

-there were countless hours spent drawing yearbook pages with made-up people. I have no idea why.

Anyway my (badly-made) point is that my childhood was better than yours. It may have been weird, but it prepared me well for the “work” I do in Morocco, which of late has involved, among other things, dancing like a chicken and kung-fu fighting.

Moving on. New things I learned about stuff kids like:

Taping their mouths shut
The “Time Warp” from Rocky Horror
Anything I do that involves yelling, singing or dancing
Cookies (not that I didn’t know this before, I just didn’t realize HOW MUCH they like cookies)

So this tea ain’t bad, but it’s just not gonna do it for me. Off to buy milk!