This will be my last entry for this blog. If the spirit
moves me, I’ll keep writing but with another blog title. Time will tell. We are
back, our bout with the intestinal virus we smuggled in from Egypt has
passed, and we are busy watching American TV, reading a real paper newspaper
every morning, and catching up with friends and self-care (read: lots of
doctor’s appointments).
I went to New York on the 8th for dinner with
Noel Taylor and Mike Whitlow after a year’s absence. Happily, we Skyped often,
so it didn’t feel like much time had passed. Harris stayed home, nursing his
virus, while we went to dinner in Battery Park City at a fantastic place there,
North End Grill (another of Danny Meyer’s amazing restaurants). I made a point
of eating pork and raw oysters, neither of which I ate in Egypt. As we strolled
around Battery Park after dinner, I was struck by the openness of the area,
with its harbor for fancy yachts and the rising replacement to the World Trade
Center.
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I had to wear my Egyptian styles in New York! |
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Battery Park City's yacht basin |
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The new tower |
In fact, the whole time I was in the city, I kept remarking
to myself how quiet and clean it was—we are talking about Manhattan, folks. The
fact it seemed so tells how used to the noise and garbage typical of Cairo I had become.
One behavior that will never leave us is following the news
in Egypt. The imbroglio of the elections has distressed us deeply, and I am
sorry to say that my private prediction back in March that the military would
stage a coup seems to be right.
Malesh.
Both of us want peace and prosperity for Egypt, and the prospects are dimming for the now. At least we have video Skyped with Sarah, Mark, Emad and
family, and they are fine.
Returning also meant a return to Planned Parrothood--Nelly and Dickens are home to roost. They were spoiled by their Aunt Annie in Brooklyn, and are now spoiled again. They have one house, and like the 1%, also have a vacation home next to the glass doors with a view of the backyard. We call it The Resort. As you might infer, they have the run of the area, though cockatiels' innate territoriality makes them prefer staying in known locations.
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Dickens tucks into a bowl of healthy treats |
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Nelly more delicately enjoys her treats |
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The Resort |
Catching up included my family. Brother Bruce—whom you can
see in the blog entry “Christmas on a Dahabeya”—came up for a surprise visit
last week, making great time driving from Virginia. We enjoyed ourselves in New
Haven, then drove up to New Hampshire to see my sister Ann, David, and the
kids, Mary and Jack. Since one of my life’s missions is to spoil Mary rotten, I
worked on that.
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Mary and me |
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Mary, the 13-year old |
Harris and Jack put together his electric race cars, and
pretty soon, all the boys were mesmerized.
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Boys and their toys |
The visit included outlet shopping and a New England seafood
feast at a local restaurant in southern Maine. Yummy.
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Steamers with Harris, Bruce, and Ann |
On our 20th wedding anniversary, we finally got a
delivery of our alabaster lamps from Cairo. Two were broken (one far beyond
repair) but considering the distance, that’s not so bad. They bring some of the
atmosphere we cultivated in our flat in Ma’adi to New Haven, and it makes us
happy. We have also hung our appliquéd hangings from Hany in the Street of the
Tentmakers.
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A few alabaster lamps glowing in the living room. Wiring them for 110 is Harris's passion. |
I certainly don't wish to jinx what is not yet done, but insha'allah, I got a promotion! Again, this is provisional until the papers are signed. But Bill Barnett, the enormously capable Director of
Graduate Studies at Trinity, asked me if I would become Associate Director of
American Studies. Wonk that I am, I was delighted to say yes. A raise, new
office, and new business cards are forthcoming. This should work well with the
more visionary director, Paul Lauter, since he’s a far-seer and I’m a
clean-desk person.
We depart next week for a real vacation at our cottage in
Bonaire, and other than tinkering with syllabi, I plan on doing no intellectual
labor harder than figuring our how much bottom time I have left while diving.
It’s hard to give up this blog. It’s allowed me to focus on all the things that
made our year so thrilling—not always beer and skittles, but always thrilling—and
I’ll miss the focus it brought. Let me know if you have an idea for another
blog!