Texas is smelling...

Today I was reminiscing some of the funnier stories from George and my relationship with my family, they got a kick out of them, so I thought I would share. I love laughing while I wait!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ George's mom had a dog. This was most certainly not the kind of dog that "co-habitates" the way we crazy Americans have dogs. This was an outside dog, who ate scraps and scared chickens out of the garden. No one pet this dog, played with this dog, or named this dog! I was often gently chastised for petting and playing with this dog.

"Oh BETA!" George's mom would exclaim! "Ao," she would say (meaning 'no') and continue on in Ewe that this dog was dirty, and I should NOT be touching IT! However, the dog soon came to love me and follow me around and protect me. It was pretty cute.

After years of having this dog, no one had named here, so naturally, I did. Texas was her name and it stuck. Shortly before I arrived last summer, Texas died. :( George was in school so his sister and cousin ended up burying Texas in the backyard.

Fast forward to me being in Ghana and at George's mom's place. George and I were happily lounging in the tropical backyard. It was a gorgeous evening (I was probably getting malaria, but that's beside the point) the weather was perfect, the day had been great, it was, dare I say, romantic. The roosters had settled down, there was a nice breeze and we were blissfully together....ahhhhh.

Then, the moment was smashed.

"Something is smelling," George said, twisting his face in disgust and acting personally offended by this odor.

"OH!" I said, "Something does stink! ....I think....it's Texas," Whispering the last part.

"No," George said, " Surely not. Let's go inside"

Buzz kill.

This happened on a few more occasions of trying to enjoy the backyard. The same conversation and the same outcome-going inside.

A few nights later, it was gorgeous again. So we went back out, enjoying all the wonderfulness that Ghana has to offer.

Again, in disgust and personal offense that something dare to smell around him and ruin our moment, George exclaimed, "Something is somehow smelling! What is that?!"

"It's Texas," I said. I was sure of it, slightly regretting my name choice and grossed out all at once. Roadkill is shockingly not as common in Ghana as it is here, so that smell is not familiar.

George still thought this was unlikely....

"Where is Texas buried?" I insisted.

George pointed. So we got up and walked towards the grave of my canine friend.

Before we even got there, the smell was strong enough to knock us down.

"It IS Texas!" George exclaimed in shock. "We gotta get outa here!"

So we went inside and stopped hanging out in the backyard on warm breezy nights. Bummer.

The moral of the story? Don't let skinny girls bury a dog...they dig a grave too shallow. Also, don't name an animal after your home, if they die and stink, it leaves a bad impression. That, and don't take life too seriously, laugh! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lost in translation.

Most of the time, George and I perfectly understand what the other is saying. But every now and then, his English is different from my English. Case in point...

We were going to visit friends or family members I hadn't met yet, something like that. So we wanted to look good.

"What are you going to wear?" He asked.

"I'm not sure, but not pants!" I said.

"WHAT?!?" He choked out.

"I'm not wearing pants, it's too hot."

"So...you're gonna wear a skirt or dress and NO pants?!"

"Yes, that's how it usually works. I don't know how you wear pants all the time, I don't want to wear them."

"You have to," George said, "I'm not taking you without pants on."

"What?" I said, I was totally confused. "I didn't wear pants yesterday."

"You didn't?" the puzzled look on his face was quite comical and frankly, shocked me. We went around and around a little while longer before one of us finally asked, "What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Um, me not wanting to wear jeans...right?" I asked...way confused.

"That's what you're talking about?"

"Yes, what did you think?"

George burst out laughing! A deep belly laugh that took a while to recover from. Somehow he managed to find a way to tell me that 'pants' in Ghana means underwear, he thought I was going to wear a skirt and go commando! Geez, what kind of a girl did he think I was? The story loses something being typed, but I still think it's funny. The question now is, "Pants with legs, or without?" I'm, still learning to call pants trousers and shorts knickers (or trousah and neeekah). Hee hee.

The moral of this story- know what your significant other calls underwear? I don't know, it just makes me laugh.

PLEASE keep PRAYING!!! Just a little while longer!!

Psalm 39:12