Whatever You Do, Don't Touch That Door.

The Butterball turkey had sat in our freezer, dare I say expectantly, for two weeks, solidly frozen in anticipation of the big day. Or so we thought. When we removed said turkey three days before Thanksgiving only to find it half-way frozen we were perplexed. "Turkeys in freezers do NOT spontaneously defrost," Tony and I insisted to one another. "I mean, it's a freezer, right? It's supposed to freeze the bird, right?"

And then the question we did not want to face arose. It is the question you do not want to consider when there is a massive, half frozen, imported, precious as gold, $60 bird sitting between you and your spouse mere days before the annual pig out. "How long do you think it has been like this? Do you think it's gone bad?"

We have been without turkey for foreign Thanksgivings in previous years. In China, although there is a word for turkey (literally, "fire chicken") there was no way to actually get one in the years I was there. The best we could do were freshly-slaughtered-before-your-eyes chickens.

In Korea one year, a friend's mother smuggled one into the country from the USA under her dress or something, and it miraculously ended up in our oven. In seven years, that was the only time we ate turkey for Thanksgiving. Of course, there were always rumors that one could acquire turkeys in various markets around the country, but in reality, we never managed to get anywhere fast enough to get one of those precious black market turkeys.

But here in Oman, turkeys can be had--rock solid frozen, factory grown, yellow-net-wrapped, Butterball turkeys. The things do everything besides wave an American flag and shoot off fireworks. The Al Fair chain, famous for its porn...I mean pork section, fresh baked bread, and packaged foods also carries turkeys through November and December especially for little flag wavers like us.

So back to the here and now, standing in the middle of the kitchen with a plastic wrapped turkey threateningly half-thawed on the tile floor between us, Tony and I must have looked like we were in the middle of a comedy sketch. We poked and prodded, and hemmed and hawed as to whether this turkey could have been the source of the odd smell in our freezer. "It reeks in there."

"Yeah, but it smells like rotten milk. Do you think it's the turkey?"

"Crap, if it's not the turkey then that means we will have to empty the freezer to find what else has gone bad."

We sniffed and pinched the plastic wrapping around the turkey. And in the end we decided to risk it, threw the sucker into the vegetable drawer in the refrigerator, crossed our fingers, and started to prepare for Thanksgiving Day.

Tony went out and got a new food processor for the event, and then set to work modifying the menu to maximize the use of his new toy.

We pickled beets, baked pies, and experimented with pumpkin cheesecake. We drew criticism from Tian for baking pan after pan of casseroles. "Mom," she insisted, eyes rolling tweenishly. "Nobody (nobody being Tian) eats casseroles. Why are you making so many. They're disgusting." We peeled potatoes, snapped beans, chopped an enormous bag of onions, sliced apples, and boiled things to make them mushy, which is what we do on Thanksgiving.

And on the day of Thanksgiving, we unwrapped the bird to find...it was perfectly defrosted with just a touch of ice left under the wings and in the cavity. Now all of you who were actually there can breathe a sigh of relief--the bird was untainted. Did you really think we would serve you a rotten turkey? Really?

Just be thankful we didn't open the freezer during dinner.

What I Learned Over Eid Vacation

While the rest of Gulf States had to suffer the injustice of a truncated Eid this year, Oman is still on holiday, finishing up an epic 10-day country wide haitus from work, school, and other responsible activities. While truly faithful, wealthy, and/or forward thinking Muslims went and did the required hajj, and truly wealthy, childless, and/or forward thinking expats left the country for Southeast Asia and Sri Lanka, the rest of the infidels/poor folk stayed here.

As we are infidel, rather short sighted, comparatively poor, and a long way from childless, we also stayed in Oman. And we learned a surprising amount during that time. Reflecting back upon the experience, I can safely say that our learnings fit neatly under a variety of school subject headings, delineated below for your reading pleasure:


Math
1 inch of rain in Oman=2 feet of snow in Virginia
Recall the chaos that ensued in Virginia last winter...and the winter before...and the winter before (?) when the snow just kept falling. That one snow storm knocked out all services and roads and generally acted as a kind of glue, uniting people in a common bond of natural disaster. Now imagine the snow as rain--not heavy rain, just nice gentle rain. Now imagine people reacting in the same panicked manner, running their cars into curbs, cautioning one another against going out, and stocking up in toilet paper. It has been a bit surreal.


Biology
Animals, once dead, decompose and do NOT readily float.
On Monday morning we got a respite from the rain. On Monday morning I also discovered a dead dog laying next to the dumpster across the street. It was a wadi dog, which means that it was a wild, pack-oriented, large-ish animal that enjoyed barking at 3 a.m. And it was very dead, laying on its side next to the dumpster with no indication as to how it had died, aside from a thin gray cord tied around its right rear foot. When I went to dump the morning's load of dust and debris from the daily driveway sweeping, the sun was already beating down and the dog was bloating up.


I idly wondered whether it would eventually split and burst, if the trash truck guys would be willing to pick it up and toss it into the truck, and whether or not the additional coming rains would be heavy enough to float it away through the night.

The answer--no bursting; yes, they were willing; and no, the rains did not float it away.


Language Arts
New word: faffing.

When friends showed up late for our party, they excused themselves by remarking that they had been faffing. This seemed highly inappropriate to share with a room full of people, some of whom were complete strangers to them and so a language lesson ensued.

Examples of usage: "Stop faffing around and do the dishes already!"
"If it weren't for all of your faffing, we would be at the party already!"

Definition: wasting time by mucking about


Home Economics
Lamingtons are a topic of hot debate, are most readily consumed at one's grandmother's house, and are delicious.
http://australianfood.about.com/od/bakingdesserts/r/Lamingtons.htm
"Lamingtons are a quintessential part of every Australian's childhood. The little sponge cake is dipped in chocolate icing and then rolled in desiccated coconut."

We have yet to actually taste or attempt to create our own lamingtons. However, we were made to endure quite a lengthy discussion/argument as to whether or not lamingtons are a originally a product of Australia or New Zealand, and whether lamingtons must be dipped in chocolate in order to truly be a lamington. Heavy stuff we contemplate herebouts.


Social Studies
We would all love to drive. I think.
Even though Eid was long over as of Wednesday, people were still out in droves enjoying the cool weather, cloudy skies, and their families. Invariably througout that day we would find a clutch of men, women and children with their cars parked on the beach in a chuckwagon style formation. The patriarch would be ensconced upon his beach chair throne, quietly observing his grandchildren, fully clothed, frolicking in the waves.


One woman broke away from her gaggle of family members to walk briefly up the beach with the kids and me. She bemoaned the fact that she had only two teenaged daughters and no son, admired Silas in all his maleness, and asked where Tony was. When I told her that he was at home she was shocked. "What?!? You are drive?" When I told her that women in America had to learn how to drive, she shook her head in wonder. "Some things change and are very different from old Oman. Some things must change for good. Some things are change and are bad. But you are drive!"


I think she thought that women driving is a good thing. I think. At any rate, it was nice that she was so easily impressed by something as mundane as me driving the kids to the beach.


We are back to school starting Saturday. I am afraid the week ahead will be fairly dull in comparison.

Low Pressure Systems and the Five Year Old Brain

It often takes a natural disaster to show people's true colors and the media tells us that when our mettle is tested, our American character shines through. I am confident enough now to state that I truly know my children and I can blame it on the rain.

Rumors began to circulate at the beginning of the work week. "Rain is coming...It's going to rain on Monday..." and with each retelling the fabled storm grew bigger and stronger. "I heard it will stay for three days and dump a foot of rain!" until it had evolved into a storm to rival the legendary Gonu of a few years back. Gonu wiped out villages, killed hundreds (by unofficial reports), and turned the town upside down. This storm does not even have a name, but it still holds the power to make folks trippy, as rain will in a country where so little of it is ever seen.

So we all sat on our hands and waited nervously for the enormous storm to hit. For many days it lurked off the coast, spinning in the Indian Ocean, while those of us in this parched land continued to speculate as to whether or not it would hit and we would actually get to see rain. And then it happened--the rain began.

One moment we could see the mountains out the school room, beige, dusty, and comforting in their arid regularity, and the next they were gone, buried in deep purple clouds with wispy bottoms. Having been coerced by my triathlon team, The Turkey Basters, I ventured out in the evening for a run in the rain. Tian, Silas, and Tehva ran like lunatics through the drizzle that dampened the dust trapped in the air, and Tony went for a swim. The rain was soft and happy and everyone smiled.

This morning dawned with blue skies, but by 3 p.m. the rain had begun, this time with a flash of lightning from the clouds that were now brown and black. The rain fell in an enormous torrent and within an hour the wadis were so full that driving on any road in our area became an amphibious experience. By my count, three out of every five vehicles on the road either hit a curb, skidded off the road, dinged another auto, or skidded in the slick of oil-tinged rain water. Driving the ten kilometers to the university to pick up Tony took 30 minutes, and the return 45 minutes.

And when we returned?

Tian and Tehva, whom I had irresponsibly left at home, greeted us at the door, wading through standing water in the foyer. "Oh my gosh! Where were you? I thought you had been in a car wreck!" Tian's had very attractively rolled her pants nearly to her thighs and she wrung her hands like the mother of a teenager. "You have been gone for like THREE HOURS!"

I didn't have a chance to point out that we had been gone less than two hours as she plowed right along with her story. "I was upstairs with Tehva and came downstairs because I thought I heard something and THERE WAS WATER EVERYWHERE!" True enough, the grit, dust, and dirt with which we live in its dry form had been carried by rain water into the house and now, in the form of a silty mud, coated the entire first floor.

"The landlord told me to unplug the drains in the floors, so I did, and then the water all flowed away. Well. mostly. But I ran around the neighborhood and asked lots of people to use their phones so I could call you, but the phones were down." I must have been looking concerned, imagining Tian skipping through flood waters in the dark. She added, almost as an after thought, "Oh, but don't worry, I left Tehva here alone. She was fine."

I look over at Tehva and she is uncharacteristically quiet, flipping through a book. "You stayed by yourself, Tehva?" (Wait til the Royal Omani Police hear about this one). She nods and turns the page without making eye contact.

The cat, who is in a panic to get up off of the wet floor, climbs onto my head and perches as far away from the standing sludge as possible. Or maybe she endeavors to escape the girls, who are positively creeping me out.

"Tehva was really freaked about you guys because she thought you had died and was concerned that we wouldn't have any money to live on. But then I told her not to worry and that I know the PIN number at the bank. Then she told me she hoped you wouldn't come back because then we could have all your money and buy whatever we want."

Ah-hah.

After the clean up I hid the bank cards. Then we walked over to the mall to pick up some take away for dinner, only to find that rumors of a crippling power outage there were false. Consumerism was proceeding at its usual frantic pace and nary a dishdasha was besmirched by rain or mud.

The rain has been forcast to continue through the weekend.

If reports filter through of a five year old who has offed her parents and absconded with the bank cards, please check on us.

Between the way our house is situated off the road and the pounding of the rain, no one would ever hear us scream.