At this point in my life, I thought I'd be living in a nice house, having my grandkids over to bake cookies and spoil them, sitting on the couch holding my husband's hand while we watched the news hour.
Instead, I live in a big house close to campus with an old friend and two international students, one from Africa and one from the West Bank.
The African student likes to cook his native food and drives everyone else out of the house with the smell, something between dead billy goat and sour milk with onions. I said, one day before I had experienced the smell, gee! I'd love to taste some of your native food someday So, he prepared this dish and then I just could not get past the smell to taste it. He said he understood.
The young man from the West Bank is like Steve Martin in the Saturday Night Live skit, Those Wild and Crazy Guys. Remember them? It's true, he loves to go after those beautiful American women, leaves his phone on speaker so we can hear the girls turning him down while he shouts into the phone, and loves to party.
Not exactly the image I conjured up when I was a young bride of 23.
Now, a few decades later, I'm just going with the flow and life is an adventure and maybe if I am patient, I can get on in the dish room.
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