Now Give Us Our Figgy Pudding!

Merry Christmas! P and I had a very quiet Christmas this year. It was really quite nice and relaxing. Alina came over, and as per our tradition we tried some new recipes. A samosa recipe--which really ended up more like an Indian eggroll. Not really any known dish, per se, but tasty none the less. The real highlight was our figgy pudding. Alina heard this story on NPR and decided any recipe that required enough alcohol to drive the NPR reporters from the room AND required us to set it on fire not once, but twice was something we had to make. I think the figgy pudding is a new Morris Christmas tradition. It was delicious and loads of fun!!! I highly recommend it. This is Alina and I with our finished pudding.

Mohammed Obama-Friend

So one of the highlights of Morocco was our time in Fes. While we were in Fes, we spent a good portion of one day at a leather tannery. Billy is writing an article on the tanneries so he needed to do interviews, take pictures, etc.

While Billy was down taking photo's of the vats of pigeon poo (read Billy's article to learn about the Fessian way of preparing skins--its worked for 700 years and starts with a good soak in pigeon excrement) we were up in a leather shop. I of course just firmly planted my bum on a bench--I could care less about shopping, particularly leather. Meanwhile, Peter was determined to buy himself a leather bag and jacket. He selected two items, and proceeded to start the bargaining game. (sidenote: P became sadly sadly addicted to bargaining..he even tries to bargain at Starbucks now!)

I got called in to be the bad cop a few times. 'You want to spend WHAT on that jacket?!?! Are you INSANE???' and so on and so on. Finally, Peter got to the point where the 'manager' had to intervene. And by manager I mean someone about our age, called Mohammed. Mohammed got the negations to within 200 dirham. He said he'd take P's hat ( a nike baseball cap) for the gap, Peter quickly said no way. Then remembered he had something in his bag, he rummaged around and finally pulled out a pin he happened to have on him. He offered it to Mohammed instead of the cap. The pin said 'Australiafor Obama.' (don't ask--long story). We had discovered during our first day in Morocco that Moroccans love Barack Obama. Mohammed instantly loved the pin, and put it on. As Billy spent a bit of time at the tannery we chatted a bit with Mohammed. He was very nice.

Later that evening, we had a rough time navigating Fes. The guides (or people wanting to sell you their guide services) were a bit relentless. As we walked back to our hotel we heard someone shouting 'Hello! Hello! HELLLLOOO!!!!' we ignored them and kept walking as we became conditioned to do.--then more 'EXCUSE MEEE HELLO HELLLO!!!" and then really loud 'OBAMA! OBAMA!!! It's me OBAMA FRIEND!' We turned around to see Mohammed.

Mohammed invited us over for harira (traditional Moroccan soup). We ate soup with Mohammed, he and P bonded immediately. He then invited some friends over and spent a good portion of the evening teaching Peter and Billy how to play an Arabic card game. As you can see, from the photos the evening with Mohammed Obama-Friend was a real highlight for us.

Here's Lookin' At You, Kid.

We just got back from Spain and Morocco! We had a blast! I’ve always wanted to go to Morocco (well since the first time I saw Casablanca anyway). We went with our friends, the Pulitzers. J.dub has already blogged about our trip with pictures—check it out here. I’m sure her blogs will be far superior (and likely more timely too) then mine.

I plan to post a few pics as soon as we finish sorting through the 8000 or so photo’s we took. A few highlights for me include:

Most novel site: The garbage donkey and coca cola delivery donkey

Most used Arabic phrase: LA! (means 'no'--followed by a strict wag of the finger)

Second most used Arabic phrase: Shokran (thank you)

Most worn clothing: all-purpose long black skirt (when cold I wore yoga pants underneath not just practical also classy) and skirt was able to double as a towel or napkin as needed

Most majestic site: the gorgeous stars above the the sand dunes in the Sahara

Surprising thing: being able to relate more to Jesus after experiencing a snippet of life in the mideast (or North Africa as the case may be)

Result of trip: A published WanMorris phrasebook for travelers to North Africa

Thing most missed: toilet paper and soap in bathrooms

Best friends made: Mohammed Obama-Friend (long story will explain later) and Akmed the Berber guide

Funniest site: Billy hanging out of car to ask for directions

Moment most feared for life: Taxi ride, bus ride, driving in Marrakech./Casablanca-- pretty much any moment in a moving vehicle

Proudest moment: only driver in car not pulled over by Moroccan police

Most shameful moment: nearly driving off road while trying to read sign in Arabic before remembering I can't read Arabic :(

Hobby likely to take up: flamenco dancing

Lifestyle most likely to pursue: life as a Berber nomad in the Sahara

My Husband is Awesome!

Last Saturday, P finished his first half marathon. He did such a great job! Congratulations, P!

If you're interested check out the photos here .

Why I Dread Wednesdays

Every Thursday morning it starts--a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, knowing that Wednesday is only 6 short days away. Why? Well, in short, it is because Alina is a moron!

Let me explain...

About 2 months ago, Alina found a notice for tango classes at a local university. So fun, right!?!? Alina's beau is many states away, so she asks me if I'd like to take tango classes with her. Of course I do! Who doesn't want to learn tango? I have visions of myself in a long black dress with a rose between my teeth tangoing like a pro.

Then I pause and say..."wait, if your beau isn't coming, can my hubby come? Do we need dates?" These are reasonable questions, right? Well, she tells me - pointing to the tango flyer - we don't need partners. Perfect!

Class is on Wednesday night. Every Wednesday, it is the same. Alina and I show up. The class is full of young undergraduates...more correctly, undergraduate couples! Everyone has a pre-determined partner! EVERYONE!

The lesson slowly disintegrates into a junior high dance. Alina and I line up against the wall and hope one of the 'men' without dates asks us to dance. (Note that by men I mean: shower-averse, uncoordinated, international, undergraduate students looking for girlfriends). During the dancing, they either fail to conceal their disappointment that we are MUCH older than the other girls (and therefore less attractive) or try to make the best of the situation by repeating classic lines like, "Maybe we like each other?"

So I spend the night being tossed around the dance floor (not kidding I think my wrist was sprained last night by the less-than-suave Mushbir) by some smelly teenager and constantly repeating to each partner: "My HUSBAND would be here, but my idiot friend told me we'd be fine without partners."

Only 6 more Wednesdays till we're done.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PETER!

The Great Grape Stomp of Aught Eight

Like every little girl, I had big dreams. After my dream of becoming a mermaid didn’t workout, I turned my sights to the Olympic all-around title in gymnastics (I think I was closer to becoming a mermaid!)

Those dreams have faded but one remains - my elusive dream to emulate the life and hijinks of Lucille Esmeralda McGillicuddy Ricardo. I’ve had a few Lucy-esque shenanigans –the disastrous pull-up bar is just one of a litany of examples. Given my penchant for Lucy-like schemes, you can then only imagine how excited I was when Alina found the 2nd Annual 'I Love Lucy' Grape Stomp Competition at 3 Foxes Vineyard.

To prepare for the competition, we started by doing just the slightest research into grape stomping strategies (How do you stomp effectively? Common problems to avoid, etc). On the big day we donned our Lucy-inspired outfits and headed to the winery. When we arrived, the competition was already underway. We were placed in the 9th heat and competed with the over 50 teams that were registered. Then suddenly a crazy thing happened---I had a strange feeling wash over me—COMPETITIVENESS!

I suddenly thought, "we can do this! Look at all those people stomping without a strategy—wasting time and energy hopping around, or twirling about like a washing machine gone awry." It was stomping chaos and I knew that we could make it to the finals. After warming up, stretching, and a few practice stomps in the grass, it was our turn.

We climbed into the barrel full of grapes, and stomped. We executed our pre-planned strategy - of course, I can’t reveal the details of our strategy here, for fear our competition for next years stomp may be trolling the blogosphere in hopes of stealing our strategy! ☺ For 3 minutes, we stomped and filled 14 cups of grape juice—we were seeded 2nd going into the finals! HOORAY

The rules were different for the finals. Only one minute of stomping and we had to provide our own "cupper." Suddenly, JC - who we convinced to come along only to take pictures and hold the dog - was recruited as a critical team member! I talked her through our strategy and what we expected of her as cup filler/hole poker/stem remover and finished with some really encouraging words like, ‘if you screw this up for us—I’ll kill you with my grape-stained feet!’ Poor JC, she’s a good sport!

We were in the first group of finalists. The defending champions, a team of 60-something men with gigantic feet, were in the second group. We knew we had to be really effective stompers to overcome our biggest weakness—my tiny little (useless) feet!!!! WHY, OH WHY, wasn’t I born with giant clown feet. We had to stomp and hope our number held. Right before we went out, Alina said—‘we’re in it to win it!’ And we were! We climbed in our barrel, got the go cue and stomped like lunatics. The competitiveness was overwhelming, I found myself screaming things at JC like ‘NEW CUP NEW CUP’ and ‘GET THAT STEM CLEARED, NOWWWWWW!!!!’ A minute later, we had stomped 13.5 cups of grape juice. What WERE we doing the last 2 minutes of the first round?!?!

We had to wait, watch and hope that we had set an unbeatable standard. It was not to be! The defending champions (aka Big Foot) won the day! But, we came in second (and looked much more like Lucy and Ethel doing it!). We’ll be back next year ---I’m sure the defending champions are quaking in their giant boots.

For all pics see here, courtesy of JC