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“He was like ‘OMG! WTF?’ and I was all ‘what–ever!'”

One of the nice things about living in Egypt is that I couldn’t understand the myriad of inane conversations that surrounded me.
Even when I learned the tiniest bit of Arabic, it was easy to tune out any meaning from the babble around me.

I could imagine that the people around me were discussing poetry, art and philosophy.
I could imagine that there was depth and texture to the discussions.

I am now surrounded by conversations in my native tongue.
I am no longer able to pretend.

Too bad, that.

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You may not be able to go home again, but there are some exceptions…

We had lunch the other day at our favorite lunch spot, Salumi.

We have been going there for years. It was one of the last places we dined before leaving for Cairo.

Numerous friends that came to visit us in Cairo stopped at Salumi and picked up a few sticks of salami to bring us.

The friends that stocked our house with vittles for our arrival included a couple of sticks from Salumi.

God bless them all.

But the place, to us, is about more than the food (which is fabulous).

We finally made our first trip back in person in 3 years.

It was like going home to family. It wasn’t the big “NORM!!” kind of thing from the old Cheers sitcom. (We did get that kind of welcome at the Beveridge.)

The welcome we got at Salumi was more like the long lost family. But better. There was none of that awkward “so you’ve been gone for 3 years…. how you been… uh-uh. That’s nice…”, or the “you didn’t call” guilt trip that comes with some family reunions.

This was a warm hug and a smile. We sat and ate with Gina and caught up on each others lives. (Which is different from a lot of our reunions. Most of them are all about what we have been up to. We want to hear about what is new with you too, ya know…)

We talked about the business, what Dino is up to, remembered Izzy (RIP) and all the rest of the gang.

It was almost like we never left.

We left our lunch with a glow that had nothing to do with the wine consumed.

These places are the touchstones that help define “home”.

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I vant to be alone

The hardest thing about being back for me right now is I that get no “jack time”.

I am used to working out of our apartment. I would have anywhere from 6 to 10 hours/day of quality time with myself.

Now, I am back in a cube farm.

Lots of noise, random conversations.

Today was tough:

I went “up the hill” for lunch. Sat down and ordered my lunch.

A crazy homeless guy sat down next to me, ordered a plate of fries and then insisted on talking to me.

I went to lunch to get some peace and quiet.

I am getting cranky…