Just Don't Print It in Farsi

Oh my word.  Last week was the week from hell.  Sickness in the Scallorn home.  I was quarantined with whooping cough from the world as I know it.  Utterly miserable.  Hours of coughing and staring at the ceiling and occasionally watching an episode of Hoarders or Deserving Design.  More coughing and a week's worth of no real sleep.  Coughing until I almost blacked out and all the while trying not to be anxious about all the work I wasn't getting done.  Then I almost cried when I read that this infection could last up to six weeks.

And my sweet Bruce brought me flowers.  Twice.   And a humidifier shaped like a  giant green frog.

This week it's back to school and the mad dash to graduate in May.   Pray for me.  I'm fairly miserable.  

Oh, guess what else?  I almost forgot, but now it seems strangely appropriate.  In Fremont my friend Kayla learned that her name in Farsi means "banana," and all the Afghani ladies basically gushed over this fact:  "Banana!  Your name means banana in Farsi.  Beautiful.  It's so beautiful.  Kayla.  Banana.  Yes, yes?  Yes!"  They kept repeating her name over and over.  Of course I noticed that no one repeated my name and it had me wondering what it meant in Farsi.

I should never have asked.  And actually I didn't.  But my friend Danielle found out and apparently nothing under the sun could keep her from disclosing this little gem:  "Ann!  You're not gonna believe this.  Your name in Farsi is an explicative for excrement."

What!?  Seriously?!  Seriously.  In fact, I soon learned that if one is named Ann, when in Afghani culture one should always pronounce said name as "Ahhn" and never "Ann" so as to avoid offense, miscommunication, or awkward interactions.  Oh my word.  Needless to say we had quite a few laughs over this little discovery.

So, there you have it. My name and my week all summed up with one word....or perhaps a new bumper sticker:  Ann happens.   Just don't print it in Farsi.  Or say it for that matter.