That That Surrounds Me

Granola is baking in the oven. The oven came from a generous coworker named Justin who had an extra one. It's like a family-sized toaster oven. Justin gave it to us at work, and I carried it home.

My wrist brace is on as I type. The combination of playing basketball and using a computer mouse at work has left me with a case of tendinitis. The wrist brace makes me feel like a cyborg. First, the pharmacy had to order one. When it came in, it was for the wrong hand. Eventually, I got the right one. The guy at the pharmacy put it onto my hand at the counter. I felt like a child and had to loosen it outside.

Our basil plant is dying on the coffee table. Ela, my officemate, took us downtown one day, and when we were walking past the plant stores, I stopped and wanted to buy it. I gave the man what would amount to a twenty dollar bill. He began to go from shop by shop to get change. This happens often. At the florist. At the corner market. Ela pulled the exact amount out of her purse and gave it to the man. She said to take the basil as a gift. Today I've pruned it and tried to give it more sun. I'm not sure how it will fare.

The card for our internet company sits on the coffee table next to the basil. On the card is a phone number in case I want to call them. I don't. Although I've never tried it, I'm guessing that speaking on the phone in Turkish is not my forte. It's hard enough to understand people in person when I have the help of paralinguistic gestures to guide me. The internet we have now is faster. I can use YouTube. But it cuts out sometimes, and I think it's the wiring in the building. On the night that we began the internet-getting extravaganza, the internet guy showed up to my officemate-and-neighbor's apartment earlier than expected. By the time I showed up our translator, another coworker, seemed as if she needed to go. I rushed to agree to a contract. The guy had me sign some papers and gave me a modem. Then he asked for my passport. I asked how long he needed it. My coworker said, "You'll go with him to the store now." I was in my slippers.

Our new bed is made and to my left in the bedroom. It is a queen, I think. One day this week the security man asked for our key. We gave it to him without knowing why. When we got home we had a new bed.

My legs are sore, although I rested all of yesterday and today. On Fridays the male coworkers play soccer together. I know it's called football here, but in the midst of conversations, I always forget and call it soccer. My coworkers say, "It's okay. We understand." I am fairly worthless when I have the ball. I have kicked the air more times than I'd like to admit. I have touched the ball with my hands. I have taken a shot from six feet away from the goal and despite deliberately aiming to the right of the goalie I have kicked it straight at him. Nobody knows what hackey-sacking is here, but I assure them that I can do that.

To my left, Jena is writing an email. She is the only person who understands ours trials and errors as closely as I do. And she is amazing. Case in point: We're at the home improvement store, and she knows the centimeter size for fitted sheets. Meanwhile I'm wondering to myself how I can say "Not King" to a store worker. Another example: After getting her haircut, she walked around with me in the sun today helping me to collect small Weeping Willow branches that I think I can make into baskets. I know this doesn't sound like much, but having a hobby, one that is fairly mindless and something that I can do while watching Star Trek, seems very important right now. Before we left, a professor of ours said that that Jena and I were lucky to begin our married life in a new country together. We could grow together strongly that way. Right now it feels like we have.