my texan mother in armenia

Most of the past week I think I’ll save for my novel/memoir/perpetually-put-off-piece-of-literature.  That is both a artistic decision, and a way of avoiding the impossibility of putting into words this past week with me, Mom, and Armenia. But, despite the length, consider this a taste. I saw her at first down the hallway, behind the glass partition, my mother looking much skinnier, a little lost, and washed over with anticipation.  She saw me jumping up above the crowd, waving one arm and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other, this little collection of green, white and lavender, a message…

a ghoul in winter

I’m home in my little Armenian town for a quick minute and feel the need to send out a tiny message to the blogosphere:  There’s a little monster I like to call the I-Thought-I-Knew-What-Was-Happening Ghoul, and it got me again. I’m not sure if this is a working-in-a-foreign language phenomenon or it’s just me, but I often find myself agreeing to go places for what I think is a short event only to be gone FOR SEVEN HOURS or so. I thought I was going to “install a khachkar” and have a quick word about the project I’m going to…

mold tastes like dirt and ghosts eat cake

Spring Chicken is quite upset with me.  It has been raining for a few days.  Rain makes mud.  Mud gets stuck in paws and then leaves stains on clothes and tracks on the office’s tile floor.  I am not allowed to keep her inside the cottage and bringing her mud ridden to work would be the end of her office life altogether.  So I leave her behind bars, and she screams at me and shivers in her little cage. Guilt is not a good way to start (multiple) days.  It is also little use to follow them with days of…

I should never be a speech pathologist.

I am very inconsistently going to what I would call my secondary placement here. I go in the evenings to a slum and hang out with the guys there who are all about my age. My relationship to these guys started when I came in 2007. One day, early that summer, I asked a friend to teach me carom, and suddenly a swarm of young guys wanted to play as well. The swarm later dwindled to just a few guys who consistently taught me the various striker flicking techniques, the practical rules of Carom, and how to count to 29…