P is for the Philippines, my long-suffering, embattled, country of origin. I'll always feel ambivalent that it was an accident of birth that enabled me to grow up somewhere where I'd have a lot more opportunities and choices. I see my cousins making life choices based on sheer survival rather than interest or ability. I could've easily turned out the same way.
During this week's training there was a gaggle of Filipinas who all hung around together. On the second day I went up to them and asked if they knew I was a fellow Filipina or not. They said they weren't so sure because I was so...American.
Finally, the end of Ramadan and thus the end of Ramadrama* with Mr. Grumpy at our house. I have yet to see the festive side of this holiday. I appreciate MoBob though for faithfully observing Ramadan despite some difficult work situations. OK, there was one slight nicking of another vehicle while parking but he swears it was the other guy's fault.
ETA: *thanks to Adriana for coming up with this!