Toxic Tonic For Cheer

Who Holds The Bags In Turkey?

My wit has deserted me and I do not know how to get it back. They told me in elementary school that I could become anything I wanted to be when I grew up. Remember hearing those words of encouragement when we all sat in school as wards of the State?
Well today I had unkind thoughts about my second grade teacher. I had wished Mrs. Corridor (she always wore a jet black wig) was here today to tell me that again...in Turkish. I used to see her sneaking into the teacher's lounge to smoke, she also had the habit of teaching by the door, she would ask us a question and then mosey outside while she waited for our answer. She would always return with a blue cloud wafting around her and flared nostrils. Recess was never late because she had an itch that had to be scratched.
Whenever she would lecture us about "becoming what we wanted to be", I always wondered why she had chosen to become a chain smoking second grade teacher in a red neck town in Southern California? Sorry...they say venting is good for the soul.
We have spent the better part of our weekend on language and I am at the point where the verbs, nouns, and adjectives are spinning around in a mental blender with vowel harmony and word order thrown in. It is a toxic tonic for hope and cheer.
Stanley has the amazing ability to see the word once and remember it. Elle is already reading me street signs and interpreting what others are saying to me. While Ann and I walk around the apartment with a stack of index cards in our hands and mutter things like "I knew that" or "What was it again"...and other phrases of despondency.
So, we went for a 5 mile walk this afternoon to clear our heads and to renew some sort of parental hierarchy by getting the kids so far away from home that they thought they were lost...and then...as the father and mother, the adults and leaders of this crew...lead them home again to safety...and restore to us some of the dignity that we want so desperately to wrap ourselves in.
That was our Sunday ("Pazar" in Turkish...which can also mean a "market" or a "street market" depending on the inflection and emphasis of the voice....yada yada yada). As I was saying...That was our Sunday in Istanbul.


Water Day At The Local Mosque