Rough Re-Entry

I had a great time in the States.  Everything was perfect; the family, the weather, the Christmas decorations... the total package.  I caught up with some old friends and had a lot of giggles. I spent a lot of time with my mommy.   I finally opened the bottle of champagne that my dad gave me on my 18th birthday.  I had been saving it for a time in my life when I was really happy.  Mashallah, I am happy.  Although champagne THAT old (no, I'm not giving my age away) tastes like pee (just guessing).  It was not a good taste.  Props to my dad, however. Thank you, Daddy.

(I didn't drink tequila until I got back to Kuwait, by the way.  I know - totally unusual, but I was into Irish Coffees and French Martinis.  What can I say?  I'm international.)

So on the horrendously overbooked United Airlines flight on the return to Kuwait (packin' 'em in 4 times a week rather than on a previously-daily schedule), I sat next to Hack-and-Spew Man.  He hurled up loogies at an alarming rate, constantly, for the 12.5 hour flight;  Making MY re-entry into Kuwait not a pleasant one. H&S Man infuckted me.  I'm a lady, however, and never hock loogies.  It's rude and not done in polite society, n'est pas?  I got away with a very bad 3-day-long headache, fever,  runny nose (red and cracking from tissue abuse), and then, stomach problems.  Oh joy.

I was okay for about 5 hours when I arrived to Kuwait; including the ride home with a gorgeous man sent by my friend who had an emergency and couldn't pick me up.  (Send MORE!)  I admit, I was miffed when I heard he wasn't coming.  I had thought that for once, I would be greeted by a group of my friends and that one of them might even have a flower. That is my dream; on this side or in the States.  Just one flower or a balloon when I get there.  Why not?  But alas, tall gorgeous CID man driving a Merc G series (black, bien sur) had to do. Too bad he's married.  Dayum.

Let me back up a little:  I could have started getting sick the day I received an SMS from a friend announcing the reduced speed limits in Kuwait.  Twas the night after Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was spared as I shouted, "WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUCK!"  (My mother thought someone had died.)  Yes, they have reversed the decision now (thank you!), but not before I had a mild cardiac arrest and started looking at 10 year old Lancers for sale.  Why should I drive a Camaro if I can only go 100kph on the highway?  That's like a rural road in the US - NOT why I came to Kuwait.  Yeah yeah, it would save lives, blah blah blah... but many States in the US are even raising the speed limits (again, in rural areas).  At Kuwait gas prices, let dem horsies RUN!

My friend, E, kept my baby while I was out of town (the car).  I was a little concerned about it until I got back to discover how much work he had done on it (maintenance stuff and a little damage from a ding I got on Bidaa Roundabout).  So nice.  I've been helping him with a little banking issue in the States that I finally managed to get finalized.  I don't know if we're even, but I got him his $20K so perhaps.  That should cover it, right?

I saw the Kuwaiti family when I returned, but I was so sick that most of it was a blur.  They know I love fish and made it special for me, but when your stomach is doing flip-flops, fish is the last thing you want to see.  It was great regardless.  I love that family so much.

Clean/Dirty was there.  Something is happening with him.  I knew he would eventually feel guilty and like everything you do, it comes back around. His 2 brothers didn't give him "permission" to talk to me; they still sit on both sides of me and are still very protective (which I find cute and ironic at the same time).   He wanted me to take his car (mine's a manual gear) because I didn't feel good and he thought it would be easier for me to drive.  I don't know what that was all about, but he insisted on it.  I insisted on driving my car.  What does he want?  Pshhhh (she said with a head-toss to the side).

My friend, CG, stayed with my dogs while I was gone.  That woman is a saint.  Desert Dawg is no problem, but the new one is Hell on paws.  He's like a teen-aged boy.  He's pushing 3 months old now (his 2nd ear just went up) and everything is a toy; including water dishes which he likes to slap his paw in and eventually knock over.  His Indian name is Pee-a-lot.  I swear, if I turn around for 2 seconds, there is a new puddle.  (Thank you SO much, CG!!!)   He knows he's being naughty; he gets the guilty look.  He is fine in the desert when he's away from DD (really obedient and submissive), so I think it might be a jealousy thing.  We are going through the transition phase in our little family; everybody is getting to know each other.  DD isn't enjoying it; although when she's not getting negative attention from Sir Pee-a-Lot, she'll run over to him until he bops her again with his gigantic paw; like a club.  He's almost got a complete understanding of "speak" and "don't speak" on command.  He's really a smart guy, Mashallah.  He's from very good stock.  His parents are valued at around 6,000KD a piece (champion line).  I got lucky with the little shyt (Mashallah).

DD is pushing her 17th year now.  I had planned to get a GS after she went.   As my friend, Hmood said, "Maybe he came to you as a blessing the way he did."  He just kind of fell into my care when I didn't expect it.  My sister has told me something similar before; to prepare myself and that it might be better to get a puppy before it happens.  Personally, after 17 years with any living creature, I don't think there is any way to prepare.  It is going to be awful.  I'm getting more emotional now that I'm almost in my 30's (ha ha, good one, DG!).

Anyways, dog-story-short, I've got a cranky bitch and a puppy that pees constantly (and not in a neat little puddle, but more of a puddle and stream-trail) and dealing with all that crap (and I mean that quite literally) just is no good when you have the flu and are tired and jet-laggy-assed and you have a headache and no one is calling you to bring you frickin soup (yeah, I remember, girl - thanks for the memories) or sending PINK FRICKIN ROSES, damn it. OOOOOOOH SAAAAA, Desert Disaster.  It otay.

It is 2014 and you are blessed.  You is smart.  You is kind.  You is important. (You guys too!)