the wind blows upstairs

notice how i never uploaded photos to the other, um 5 or so posts? whoops, sorry about that. just thought i'd get the apology out of the way first thing. not making excuses or promises this time. they'll get there sometime this weekend, especially since julian is 18 months old today and i need to keep up with the photos on a monthly basis.

i was just taking julian the cranky pants out to play in the sandbox this afternoon when the doorbell rang. it was safinez from upstairs - she brought us food that her mother had just cooked. are these neighbors awesome or what? this time we got kufta (little meat nuggets) and fried cauliflower. delicious. 

the kids were trying to get julian to wave to them, only he was gesticulating and babbling and not waving. so they say, "we have to go now" and make a move to go upstairs. julian moved as fast as lightning down the stairs and over to grab mustafa's hand to go up to their apartment with them. 

and so we went...

they are too nice. julian was playing with the kids, entertaining maha and mahmoud, munching away on the food they were giving him. in short, he was psyched. i had a nice chat as well with maha, as per usual.

we had gone up around 4:30 and didn't come back down until 7:45, with serge sitting down here wondering where we had gone. had the tables been turned, i would have been freaking out, imagining both husband and son flat as pancakes in the middle of the road, bodies being ravaged by vultures. serge, on the other hand, does not stress. (don't even talk to me about his frequent question: "have you seen my wallet?" that one sends me into a frenzy every time. turns out it's usually always under a pillow on the couch or somewhere equally as bizarre.) he said to me, "i figured you were either upstairs, at zobia's or razz's house. you'd be back soon." good thing i wasn't in a ditch somewhere. for many reasons, obviously.

i think i need to get a grip on reality, really.

and in other news, i wanted to start taking arabic classes, only they meet at 6 pm and there's no guarantee that serge will be able to get home in time for me to get out the door and to class on time. so i tell this to the woman in charge of the school, and she's going to ask the class if they can meet at 7pm so that i can attend now instead of waiting until after ramadan. is that nice or what?

and to top it all off, my friend stan from holland (met him in france the summer between sophomore and junior year of high school) is visiting his sister in dubai (small world) and is coming up with his girlfriend to stay with us tomorrow. not a bad way to start the weekend!