Nothing Special

Morocco redefines the term "raining buckets." Since midnight last night there have been regular five-minute downpours that are the equivalent of annual rainfall in the southwestern US. People are saying that this is the most rain that's been seen in thirty years. Also, it's the coldest it's been in more than fifty years. It's an exceptional winter for everyone.

My weekend was spent almost entirely inside my house because my phone has no more calling credit and because I did not go with people to Casablanca. My "party" on Saturday consisted of my mother bringing home some really strange feminist poet French lady. She put on a CD of her friend's hip-hop reflections and kept pointing out that poetry "is all around us." She brought out a ball and had us play a bunch of poetry games. For dinner we had a pizza with a cornbread crust, really sweet tomato sauce, almost no cheese, and peppers and onions. We had orange soda and CAKE! Fayçal kept trying to pick out his pieces of cake but Mother slapped his hand saying that the cake belonged to me and that I get to pick who gets what piece. It was a six-layer cake of white cake, cream, chocolate, cream, white cake, and lemon custard topping. It was absolutely delicious.

Otherwise, nothing really special has happened. We just discussed a lot of poetry in culture class. The SIT kids are coming up to mingle with us. We will have a lot more boys how, thank God.