And it continues...

Much to my surprise.

I have long toes. I mean, freakishly long toes. Ordinarily I don't wear sandals because I hate it when my feet get dirty and dried out- it's just a pet peeve of mine. I don't go barefoot at home either, stateside or Kuwait because I hate the feeling. So when my feet are exposed... To be fair, my fingers and hands are very long and narrow. To be unfair, some people are looking at my feet when asking "Do you play piano?"

Due to a dress code at work and a whole new depth of cultural quicksand, I wear sandals now. Pretty, leather Clarks that I got on sale a couple of years ago and stuffed in the back of the closet figuring they would come in handy at some point. One of the pair barely made it into the suitcase to Kuwait. Now, they are practically all I wear.

It's not because of the heat- I managed to rustle up a pair of Converse All Stars that I prefer to wear much more. It's that a pair of shoes really do make the outfit you're wearing, and this particular pair happens dress up everything from cotton pants to skirts to capri pants. Very handy if you feel like looking like a girl in under 10 seconds on 2 1/2 hours of sleep.

Yes, Man-Thing is still quite present. As J. at The Silver Star said, "Too much handsome, too much money, too much problems!" I couldn't agree more. Until now.

This is where the toes come in.

Picture, if you will, a warm Kuwait evening near Arabian Gulf road...a little humid, somewhat fragrant...cats wander by, roaches wander by, palms trees wave gently in the, well, fragrance. In the distance, small Kuwaiti children are tearing apart a brightly lit, 3 story Burger King.
A man and woman are sitting on a low wall overlooking the water, leaning into each other, talking quietly. One of those early gentle conversations undercut with "The World Is Much Better With You Around" tones.

There is a lull in the conversation. The woman looks up and out at the lights of boats on the water. The man glances down at the ground, catches sight of her feet.
"You have really long toes."
The woman gives an "Aw shit here it comes" sigh
"No, seriously, you have really long toes. Can you do things with them?"
The woman sighs again. "Look..."

Cut to a month later, 1 AM, standing in a parking lot in Dasman after an evening smoking Sheesa with friends. The man and woman have been playfully poking each other in the stomach, and have taken the opportunity of Everyone Else Is Gone to lean into each other, against the car. There is a lull in the conversation. He looks down.
"You have really long toes..."
"Look, you know I have really long toes..."
"No! No!"
"Come on, my toes aren't just long, they're bizzare. You know it, I know it. The reason I like you, is that you can look down at my toes and say, 'Man your feet are freakish" but you still like me, you still think I'm pretty. That's the reason I like you."
He smiled.

So, Man Thing is still around for a number of reasons. Some of which, I haven't scared him off yet. Others being, I'm curious why I haven't scared him off yet and still others, I'm worried why I haven't scared him off yet- I mean, if my toes don't do it and he can more than keep up a conversation with me and he beat my ass in Chess, I think I have a lot to worry about.

So

back to our scheduled post...

(had to take care of a student who was opting between sirens only he could hear, and music class. You can't go to music if "the sirens" are hurting your ears? Right? Much better to stay and finish your multiplication...? Guess the sirens aren't that loud.)

Six more weeks of school, Spring Break was just last week. I've come to the realization that, despite H. faking a choking/heart attack/general dying spell when served with detention, and J. asking about cross dressers in Paris during math, and O.'s genuine "Fish Stories" (without having the faintest cultural clue to the words), and watching Y. trying to collect rocks while being pursued in slow speed by three administrators, I'm going to miss these miscreants terribly. Despite driving me up the tree every day, I am sure next year will be much more dull.

In neighborhood terms...I have the windows open, it's a nice night. Someone took the equivalent of a Ford Fiesta and managed to back it straight into the only '84 Honda Prelude ever quipped with an alarm. This emptied all of Friend Bakkala, the International Phone Booth, and two apartment buildings. What I don't understand is the Ford Fiesta- the thing can fit in my armpit with turning radius, and it managed to go back three car lengths and across the street into a separate bank of cars without turning the wheel.

What was I thinking? Fifth Ring is in sight! Nothin' sez Kuwait like 4 wheelin in a Fiesta through a construction job. In reverse. Over your neighbor's Prelude.

I haven't posted here in forever

for several reasons...

The first being there is a Man-Thing in my life. My goodness. No, I guarantee that no one is more shocked than I am.

This Man-Thing happens to be handsome enough, that when we're out together I have to keep looking to the side to make sure we're still out together. Yet handsome without being egotistical? With a work ethic? What the....

A few posts ago, I mentioned that I was out at Al Hashemi Ballroom to listen to a mezzo soprano. He was one of the "friends" that I mentioned, he sat next to me and we all went out for coffee afterwards. The main thing I remember is that he was figety the entire performance, and I was worried to think he was bored or not enjoying himself.

It was several weeks before we were all out to coffee again. This time I rounded the corner of the booth with my mug, just to hear him tail off on a conversation about work with Hot Mama. I put my cup down, and said very politely "Excuse me, I missed it: what is it you do again?"
(completely deadpan, looking me straight in the eye)"Oh, I'm a pimp."
At which point, I absolutely lost it.

All things considered, Man-Thing and work have kept me wondering and keeping to myself, not really wanting to post, not having too much to post about that wouldn't bore anyone but me to tears.

(being hijacked by a student)