Day 22

I am starting to get a little tired of cleaining up bodily fluids.  It seems as though the dog's bout of explosive diarrhea has subsided in just enough time for me to shift my focus to my youngests projectile vomit.  I suspect it is just the fall out from the recent hotdog overdose, but I am going to monitor the situation closely just the same.  We had another day of rain today.  Not really a down pour, just enough to be an inconvenience. We really didn't dare to get too far from the hotel as the three of us have had quite a case of the bg's (bubble guts) today.  In fact, I am thinking of intalling one of those "next customer" counters on the bathroom as there seems to be a steady line at its door.  Thank god for the scented toilette paper. 

We did get out of the room for a bit while they came to do their weekly cleaning.  We took a nice long walk through the city center to experience the flow of commerce on a Saturday afternoon.  It is an absolute madhouse and quite intoxicating.  The sights and smells are beyond description.  Everything is a boutique of sorts here.  There aren't many stores of general merchandise and the price of admission into these boutique stores is enough to send a cold shiver down your back.  There is definitely an old school flair to shopkeeping here.  Stores are item specific and the craftmanship is carried on as it has for centuries.  From cobblers to hatmakers, you can press your face against the plate glass and watch the artisans at work.  It is a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon and an easy way to relieve some of that extra weight from your pocket book.

On our way back, I made the mistake of seeking out a second bicycle store that I had done a little research on.  There she sat . . . a pretty little thing.  The new object of my affection.  I had already made my selection at another bike shop . . . but this baby was a game changer.  Black as the night and with all the subtlty of a bullet through your skull.  An urban streetfighter with the brawn of Rocky Balboa and the grace of a Ferrari Daytona.  If a mechanical thing can be a work of art, this is such an item.  Now the sticky little matter of passing this expense by the boss.  Sent a quick text to test the waters.  Things were not going well on the other end.  Her flight back home had been overbooked due to an earthquake and tsunami threat, and at last check she would be re-routed through Qatar.  Hmmm, maybe not the time to ask to spend a solid chunk of her hard earned cash.  Reluctantly I pulled my face off the glass and with one last look over my shoulder and a tear in my eye, I headed back for the hotel.  I plan on visiting her daily until she is mine.  My hope is that my wife will see my pathetic yearning for this item and have eventual mercy on me.  It works for the boys, so I figure I may as well give it a whirl.

Back at the room, the cleaning had been completed and we were welcome to return to a semi-vegitative state for the rest of the afternoon.  I should have known something was a miss, as the youngest complained of not feeling well and took a rather long nap, which is not usually his style.  When he awoke, the complaints of feeling puny had not subsided and not two steps into the kitchenette, the vomiting commenced.  Sort of an exorcist style affair without the split pea soup.  This baby was all hotdog and corn flakes.  For vomit, it really had sort of a pleasant aroma about it.  Kind of reminded me of an afternoon at the ballpark.  I could almost hear Harry Carey singing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game".

If my wife makes it beyond the Arabian Sea, we should see her sometime tomorrow evening . . . and not a moment too soon.  This week has been one for the record books and my skills as a single father have been tested to their max.  I am ready to have my partner back to assist in the raising of these lads and to nurse my injured soul back to health.  We have a way of doing that for each other.  I think that is the hallmark for any good relationship and we have it well perfected over the years.  We are a unit she and I.  By ourselves, I would argue that each of us are a force to be reckoned with . . . but together we are a force of nature.  I do miss her so.  At least for the moment anyway.  Ask me again about a half an hour after she returns and my tune may well have changed.  She has my heart and she indeed has my soul, but the woman can be a damned handful when she wants to be.  I suppose that is the way of things, for I am no saint myself.  The key is finding that perfect someone that puts up with your insanity as well as you put up with theirs.  Somewhere in the middle you will find grace.  Someone to lean on when times get hard . . . Someone to set your shit straight when you are out of line, and for me . . . someone to share that "what the hell were we thinking" moment that seems to creep into my life more often than I care to admit.  Who better to share your life with?

The coming week promises to be another action filled adventure as we FINALLY get settled into our new home after a month in a hotel.  With our personal items on dry land and a fresh coat of paint on the walls, we are finally heading in the right direction.  I will keep you posted as life at Madame Chabou's unfolds and I promise keep a watchful eye on the horizon for any of you brave enough to come and share in our adventure.  Until tomorrow . . .