Apple Crisp and Cooking in Jordan

I just popped some Apple Crisp into the oven. I had to take guesses on measurement as I still don't know Arabic, but I trusted my memory. I think I added too much butter, but I think Julia Child would approve.

Anyways, I was using up the last of our fruit before our cook comes in tomorrow and throws them away. We just got them four days ago, but that is his routine. I peeled, sliced, and cored seven apples, but since I needed ten I added a pear, two small peaches, and two white plums. I hope it goes O.K., but then when you think of it, fruit, oatmeal, sugar, and butter makes everything taste just fine.

I searched and searched the house for baking soda, but could find none. I did find something called carbonate, which sounds like soda so I added it. I left out the baking powder too, since we are bereft of it. Our cook does not know how to bake. Let's see how it comes out.

I then made Lasagne Verde with broccoli, onion, and carrots. I didn't have a large enough baking pan so it will be moderate size. I was hoping to use all the lasagne noodles, but could only use a third. Well, if this fails, I still have more noodles to us.

I laughed this weekend when three Jordanian drivers pulled their cars to the side of the door to ask me directions. Surprisingly, I was helpful to each of the three. Go figure.

I felt bad for this one young Jordanian girl who was standing at the front of the church last night crying her eyes out. She must have been seven years old. I asked her name and then why she was crying. Since she mostly spoke Arabic, I had a hard time finding out, but I guessed right. Her mother dropped her outside the church and told her to stay the hour and she would come back and get her. The poor thing. The mother didn't even bring her into the church, but let her on the sidewalk. I guess I should be glad the mother was thoughtful enough to bring her to church, but it sounds like she needed the church to be a babysitter.

After another young girl confirmed her story, I asked her if I could take her to the front of the church where she could see me and I could see her. She said, "yes." So I brought her to a Jordanian woman and an Indian family with two girls around her age and they adopted her for the hour. As Mass ended, I asked the young girl to process out with me so I could call her mother. All ended well. The poor thing felt so foreign in a place of adults.