U.S. Presidential Race (by Randy)

Have you seen all the flap that Geraldine Ferraro has gotten herself into? It's really amusing, watching Democrats (besides the New York Governor and his prostitution problem) squirm as THEY are targeted as racist and sexist and whatever. Ferraro saying her comments aren't racist, that she's all for black people, is so much fun to watch. Granted, she is caught in a tight spot...to support a woman or a black...either one would be SO PC, but in the same primary!? What's a liberal to do?

I am also entertained by all the blacks who said that Clinton was their first black president (I have known many who have said just that!). Seems like you'd want to re-pay him by voting for his wife, but no...Now you want to vote for the first black president...that wasn't Clinton... Hmmmmm. Democrats are so full of it!

Now, let's look at the Republicans. Whatever happened to Rudy Guiliani? 9/11 saved him in a way that it did NOT spare George W. It helps to be on the receiving end of a terrible tragedy without being responsible for delivering justice.

Mitt Romney? Was his departure from the scene premature? Who urged him to drop out? Was he tired of spending his own money on the pipe dream of being president?

Mike Huckabee? He would like to think of himself as another Reagan, but who is he kidding? He lacks the charisma, the political savvy, the overall ideals to be anything but an also-ran.

Ron Paul? A victim of predetermined obscurity. Most unfortunate, but what can you do?

And then there’s McCain. What can I say? When the Democrats have decided between Obama and Clinton, they need to hold another primary to pit that winner versus McCain. He is, after all, a Democrat Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing. Republicans are also full of it!

It's starting to look like the only candidate to escape the whole mess with dignity intact is John Edwards. And he is--or was-- a greedy trial lawyer who exploits the poor for his own personal gain! That makes a truly tragic presidential campaign.

If any one of the above artificial politicians is elected, I’m moving to another country! Oh wait… Never mind.

Good luck to the rest of you!

A Nice Day for a Wedding in Dubai

6 March 2008: One Wedding and Four Egyptians
By
Randall “Roland” Ball

Christine and I took a day off school to accompany a bride-to-be to her relatively quickly-arranged wedding in Dubai (no, she wasn’t pregnant). The bride, a Canadian whose mother comes from Trinidad and father is from England, was getting married to an Egyptian, and the wedding was to take place at the Egyptian Consulate in Dubai. We would be the two token whites at the wedding.
Meanwhile, “shock and awe” was the order of the day at school as the rumors spread. The bride had to go to school to pick up some paperwork, and there she found out that the school was definitely talking about her. She then rushed back home to get dressed for the big event.
First, we needed a taxi to Dubai because the bride understandably didn’t want to make the trip in a cramped mini bus. Christine called the cab company, and shortly afterwards, a driver who spoke no English called back trying to find our apartment building. Somehow we flagged him down a block from our building (one thing many people back home can’t understand is the lack of real street addresses. We have a building number, but no one knows it; directions to our building include Khalidiya—an Abu Dhabi area or borough if you’re a New Yorker, opposite Dana Plaza, behind Rak Bank and behind the Domino’s Pizza building. Our flat is above the Geneva Laundry. These directions will still probably not work).
Two hours later, we were in Dubai, driving in circles around Bur Dubai before finding the Egyptian Consulate. We met the groom, who kept calling me “Roland,” and the wedding party boarded two cars for a quick toilet and beverage break at a little restaurant before the ceremony. Plus, the groom needed another witness. According to the consulate, the couple needed two Muslim witnesses. The groom had one male and two females (two female Muslims equal one male Muslim). However, the females didn’t have their passports, so at the restaurant, which was inside a shopping complex, the groom searched for another male Muslim witness. He found one, and the witness took ten minutes off work to do his part for a stranger. The process would, in fact, take over an hour. But we had our witnesses: one Egyptian and one Yemeni.
Now we were running late. We chugged down our fruit juices in record time (Christine won, but she was drinking for two). Packing the wedding party (now plus one—he sat in the middle of the front seat, on the gear shift) back into the cars, we sped up the ramps of the parking garage, taking corners on two wheels. I remarked to the bride that I was delighted that I had decided to attend her wedding. It was developing into quite an entertaining experience. We zipped through the crowded streets of Dubai, hitting 130 kph along Dubai Creek. I think we may have reached Mach 2.
Somewhere along the way, we lost the two Muslim girls, which delayed the wedding a bit further. Then there was the passport issue. The groom was still waiting on delivery of his passport. His company was withholding his passport, but he managed to convince someone at the company to meet him at the consulate with his passport. They would take it back afterwards. But delivery of his passport was delayed, and all the while the wedding party sat in a comfortable little room in the consulate, chatting away in Arabic with some English translations here and there.
The bride had her own passport issue, but she was ready for the wedding. From what I could gather, she had one passport that was registered for the impending wedding, but a second passport had her visa in it. She had to leave the country and return, getting a visa stamp in the former passport. Fortunately, she had taken care of this before the wedding day.
One missing passport and two missing girls later, we were still waiting. Finally, we were ushered into a much nicer office and met the Egyptian consular. The ceremony itself was quick, especially when compared to the other events of the day. The wedding took place in Arabic, which the bride does not speak; thus, the consular spoke slowly for her, and she recited what he told her, phonetically delivering her vows in Arabic, according to Islamic sharia law.
Afterwards, the consular, in all seriousness and in a tone that convinced him, at least, told us why two women equal one man in such a ceremony: “If one woman forgets, the other can remind her of the marriage.” (Men, of course, never forget wedding dates).
Then the groom “networked for the bride’s future happiness,” as Christine said. He talked with the consulate about getting a job there. While the rest of the wedding party disappeared for parts unknown, the bride and her two extraneous North Americans were left sitting in a room at the consulate, pondering her fate. Occasionally, the groom would suddenly stick his head in the room, apologize for the delay, and assure us that it won’t be long now.
Finally, we were off again, loading into the car for a trip across town for dinner. After slamming the bride’s finger into the car door, the groom directed his friend, who might have been the Egyptian Mario Andretti, to take us to the Mall of the Emirates, where we enjoyed a wonderful dinner at a Lebanese restaurant overlooking Ski Dubai (the indoor ski slope in the mall). Aside from the usual skiers and snowboarders, many of whom were humorously falling flat on their faces and rears, there were also people riding inner tubes down another part of the slope. Christine and I were amused when the men wearing their dishdashas would board the inner tubes; usually, the white robes would go flying over their heads on the trip down the slope.
After dinner, we made like sardines again, cramming ourselves into the car for the drive to Abu Dhabi. And I thought the driver was in a hurry to reach the wedding at the consulate! He raced toward the capital city, driving seemingly in all lanes at once, weaving in and out of traffic, testing the car’s brakes every few minutes, and generally acting like a crash test dummy. All in all, however, it was a pleasant day for a wedding, even if the arrangements seemed hectic at times. We had a good afternoon, and the beautiful bride and her charming groom make a very lovely couple. Christine and I wish them every happiness.

And the word is...

...the bat/gymnast person inside of me is a GIRL. "Bat" because she's upside down in every scan; "gymnast" for the spectacular floor routine she performs inside me each night as I lie down to sleep. Other terms the baby has been referred to include: tater (now sweet tater- ask Rebekah!), maggie (because she was like a little maggot in the beginning), dhub (which we thought meant "gazelle" but may instead mean "lizard"), cheeky (by the midwife chasing down a fetal heartbeat), Balldini Junior, and the Middle East seed for the "Meunier world domination program" (thanks to Pat for that one).

Recent AISA student online research based on a Chinese calendar, a colleague's dreams and Randy predicted this outcome. Hunches supported by my first trimester vomiting record and Randy's weekly meat consumption proved false.

We're both quite happy with the news. I not-so-secretly hoped for a girl and Randy has maintained a happy-with-either stance. With this information, I think I may be on my way to recovering from the relentlessly consistent births of my 5 younger brothers- the youngest of which is now 22. My oldest brother and his wife found out last week that their new addition, also anticipated in July, will be a boy.

Below are some pictures from the most recent doctor visit (28/2/2008) that revealed all of this. New belly photos are promised soon.


No penis visible between bent legs


Overhead view; with arms in front and to side

Baby Questions (by Randy)

Here are the questions that we are often asked—and the answers, of course:

1. Do you know the sex of your baby? Soon, we should know…There’s a doctor’s appointment at the end of this month, and if the little one is cooperating, we will find out, inshallah.
2. What surname will the baby have? It will be a Ball. There are enough Meuniers in the world already (just kidding, in-laws!)... (This is Christine: the MIDDLE name will be Meunier!)
3. Do they even have hospitals in Abu Dhabi? Yes, and they are state-of-the-art, the best that oil money can buy. Our current doctor is a well-qualified German woman. The hospital where we will have the baby is called the Corniche Hospital, and midwives will deliver the baby. The medical care we receive here is better than what we would have gotten back home. Abu Dhabi—and the United Arab Emirates—is NOT the third world.
4. Is there a baby shower, or is there anything you need? Hmmm…If you’re willing to pay the child’s future college tuition, great (of course, with those Ball-Meunier genes, the kid should be a genius and get a full ride). Otherwise, various family members may be contacting you about planned showers, etc. If you don’t hear from them within the next few weeks, let us know. We can ALWAYS tell you something that we need. By the way, Christine is doing most of this. I’m busy trying to figure out how to do taxes…We worked in the States for half of 2007, which means we have to pay…Next year, we shouldn’t really owe anything…but we still have to file. It’s a complicated business. How about a national sales tax and an end to this income tax nonsense already? I blame FDR, of course. The income tax isn’t even constitutional…okay, my libertarian values are showing. Sorry for the sermon.
5. Will Christine have maternity leave? Well, we've timed this a bit weird, so having the child in the summer means we may not use it. However, Christine has 45 days of paid maternity leave that she can use before or after, if necessary.
6. What about child care? We will hire a nanny. We will have her come in a week or so before school starts in August, so that we can see how she behaves toward the child. Christine will have late arrival to school, so she can stay with the baby later in the mornings and breastfeed, etc.
7. I guess that last sentence answers another question people sometimes have...

A Truly International Community...A Truly International School

Last week, we came home to a nice clean flat. Our new maid did wonders! We plan on having her come in once a month…less than $15 per visit. It’s worth it to have a really clean house. Yes, now we have a maid. She writes her name as “Batty” but pronounces it “Betty.” She’s Filipino.
We also had parent conferences last week. It was a long week, but at least that one’s over. I met several really nice parents. Funny, most of these kids are so proud to introduce their parents to their teachers. Very refreshing…And the parents speak English better than many of the native English speakers back home...
Of course, most of these parents would probably spell color "colour" and recognize "recognise," but what can you expect with years of British occupation?
Actually, I have kids from all over the world: Brazil, Argentina, the US (including William Faulkner's great grand-daughter), South Africa, Egypt, Palestine, Austria, Germany, England, Iran, Iraq, South Korea, Lebanon, the United Kingdom, Sweden, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, Oman, Sudan, the Philippines,and so on...
The doctor looking out for our baby-to-be is German, my cab driver last night was Pakistani, the director of our school is Austrian, my closest friends in the English department are from Canada and New Zealand, my high school principal is from Ireland, my Assistant principal is from Australia, the owner of the little grocer across the street is Indian, our doorman is Egyptian, my three best students are South African, Palestinian, and Brazilian, and most of the nannies in town are Thai.
It really is an international community...