This is my son, Erlan,(very close to his 6th birthday) in July of 2003, home just shy of two weeks from an excruciating transatlantic flight. I am an adoptive mom who went through 36 hours of hard fucking labor on an airplane and in the Frankfurt airport. I will save this tale for another post, as my intention here today is to explain the meaning of deloopdelee.
Largely due to a dramatic change in diet, Erlan had stupendous flatulence for at least a year after his arrival (who am I kidding; he still farts all the time). One of the very first English phrases I taught him was 'excuse me' which because of his serious articulation problems (even in his native language which was primarily Russian and some Kazakh, both spoken poorly and with significant developmental delays) came out sounding like deloopdelee. There would be a loud and usually malodorous passage of gas; I would promt "What do you say"? Erlan would reply "Deloopdelee" with great glee.
Thus, I have christened this site after one of my fondest memories from Erlan's early childhood with us.
Deloopdelee my sweetie!
Pam, Pam Fazier, formerly of Seattle, then Bozeman?
Pam who I've been trying to trace for years?
Pam who took me whale watching on the Pugeot Sound?
Pam who made Vicki, Kirstin and myself dress in silly clothes, drink booze and attend a barn dance one thanksgiving eve before eating an overcooked, exploding turkey?
Pam who visited myself and brothers Mark and Andrew in Timsbury, England then drove around Devon and Cornwall in a rickety camper van where we 'surfed' and ate 'fish and chips with vinegar' washed down with beer every evening for two solid weeks?
Lord! can this be you?
Please, please find this message and get in touch or if anyone out there can make the connection tell her its SARAH COTTLE from ENGLAND who loves and misses her...
Soon...x
Posted by: sarah cottle | December 08, 2008 at 08:49 PM