cookbooks and crockpots

So we've been in the US over a year and the date of our departure is still fluid (that's a nice way of saying we have no clue). We've been trying to use our time well and be thoughtful of what we leave in storage. So we've been packing over a series of months, partly because we have thought more than once our departure is pending and partly because we have a policy of work avoidance. We'd much rather procrastinate decision making. But now we are getting down to it. The easy stuff has been decided. Towels we obviously keep. Clothes and books that must go back home with us. For some things its clear we leave it hear. I have small kitchen appliances, pots, pans, baking things that all stay in the states in case the next time we're here we don't have a furnished home. But a few of my appliances I knew were nearing there last leg when we came home and I've kind of decided to kill them just so we don't have to store them any longer.

My mixer is a fine example of deliberate kill. My wrists don't stir heavy things anymore. Anything requiring kneading or heavy stirring - like cookie dough, I pull out the mixer. Thus the paddles of my hand held mixer don't stay locked in anymore= Pitch. My crockpot has been wonky for months. I pulled it out the other day to give it once last go. It tried to burn a hole through the counter top and didn't cook the beef stew after 7 hours = Pitch. My blender continues to serve well. I blend all of !'s food, grind grain, and make frozen smoothies all the time. Blender = Keep! My coffee grinder. Given to me by someone I worked at wal-mart with who died too young. The coffee grinder always makes me smile because of the memory of the friend and the fact that I love the coffee. Still serves faithfully = wrap back in the original box, pat it on its top and place kindly back in the rubbermaid, look forward to seeing it again in 3 or 4 years.

Cookbooks have been harder to decide. I have 4 that are my favorite Go To's. Simply in Season, More with Less, Extending the Table and Madhur Jaffery's Indian. I adore these. More With Less gets repurchased and given away everytime we're stateside. I have a copy at home that stays there. The Indian Cookbook, Simply in Season and Extending the Table go back and forth. The other cookbooks are hangers on from by gone eras. 2 from Eureka IL, where we lived when we were first married. They have very americana recipes in them. Things with Cream of Mushroom soup, spaghetti noodles, cream cheese or cool whip. I don't make anything out of them often but I keep them as unusual treat books for the states. I have an Asian cookbook that has helped me keep current on my language but I don't cook out of often in the states because the ingredients here aren't quite the same. And then there is Jonathan's cookbook contribution to our marriage. A source of constant disgust and debate. This cookbook I think came from his high school PTA and the recipes are a riddle of mistakes and false starts. Completely confusing. Its small but the repeats are ridiculous. 8 recipes for Broccolli Casserole. 4 for Monkey Bread. 3 for Avanti's Bread. And they are the SAME RECIPE but from different ladies. I have one recipe I pull out of it and Jonathan has one too. I've written it elsewhere and I ask Jonathan if we can part with it. No, its a memory. So it goes back into storage and lives to fight another day. But we won't be counting as a cookbook any longer as it really provides no instructive cooking advice.

stories to tell- baby naming

Over the last month I've had stories to tell. Lots of them. Stories of being the mom of a infant again. Of watching snow. Of watching @ become a real boy all the time- he's a nice boy but there is very little left of him being a young child. Of enjoying days laughing with my husband. Of realizing that our time in the US ebbs and flows- somedays we've been here an eternity, others its a blink of an eye. Of making new friends and hearing there stories and collecting them (I do kind of collect people).

I think I'll tell the story of naming baby !. Her middle name is Irene. I knew when we found out that I was pregnant that her name would be !. It was a certainty. I knew that God had told me her name because it was the story we were living. We were living our year of !. We've come to a place where we are well settled. We've been provided for in so many ways and we have been restored. And I knew we should celebrate that. Her middle name came harder. With @ we had thought that if we were having a girl her name would be Irene Ann but @ was a boy. So we tossed around both Ann and Irene as middle names for a girl named !. Irene is my grandma's name and Ann is the family middle name. Ann was a problem however. Her name would be prone to the nickname LeeAnn and I'm not a nickname person. I didn't want her nicknamed LeeAnn because I want to hear her name all the time and be reminded of the specialness of her name. But Irene seemed like a lot for a middle name. I didn't want my grandma's nice name getting lost behind baby's first name. That would be too bad. But really nothing else felt very right too me and I'm a believer in names singing themselves into existence. When you've found the right name I really do believe its irresitible, like there is a choir from heaven the resonates the name's rightness for that person. That really is how we chose @'s name. So we hemmed and hawed and finally ! Irene was born.

And here is where you find out just how self centered I am.

I hadn't really thought about my grandma's reaction to hearing we had used her name as great granddaughter's middle name. I think maybe some months ago I might have given a fleeting half second thought. That was it. My grandma is getting older faster. It seems that age has finally won the race to catch up with her. She's lost a fair amount of ground over the last two years. She's in a nursing home now and I don't know that alot of days she understands and remembers things. And its hard to think of a once active and alert lady declining. So it didn't occur to me that 1. she would remember me and 2. that I had a new baby. And I was ok with that for the most part. It is what it is, its sad but its the course of life. Anyway, my mom called my aunt and my aunt while visiting with my grandma told her about new baby. And my aunt said that grandma suddenly became clear. She heard her name and she knew that name. "Well that's my name." And that was special to her and for a bit she was clear. So I sent my mom around with pictures of baby ! and @ to take to grandma. But what surprised grandma and my aunts is that grandma has remembered about baby !. "Did you know I have a baby named for me?" she tells people. Its something that has stuck in her head and its been awhile since something has really stuck in grandma's memory. Its baby! Irene. And that is very nice news to add to the year of !.

getting up off the mat

The last week has really been lovely. I had a deliciously brief labor. I sat around in the maternity ward as the only patient (no one else on the ward the entire time I was there). I and baby ! were completely healthy and had 2 nurses with no other mission for their 8 hour shift than to serve me. I had restaurant style (and quality room service). My mom and adoring husband took care of @ and after getting him off to school, they came to join in the seemingly neverending service of me. On Tuesday when I went home a nice friend brought us dinner. I sat around in lounge clothes all day Wednesday. I shuffled about the house putting things away. Folding. My mom happily busseled doing laundry. Jonathan and mom were eager for dish duty. Wednesday another dear friend brought dinner. Thursday my mom went home and I began to think about getting my life together to do more than nursing a new baby. But yet again, dinner arrived on Thursday. On Friday we took for granted that dinner would come (not that we needed it). We took a late afternoon walk, visited with friends up the way and by 5:30 we began to wonder where our dinner was. Well, dinner didn't come. And I began to grumble a bit inside myself. Where was my manna? Where was my group of neverending servants? And then I began to realize, I can still function for myself. I'm in no pain. I'm not sleeping a ton but the quality is better than when I was pregnant. I have no job. My son is pretty self sufficient (within limits). I really don't need a constant attendant doing my laundry. I can make my own food.

Today I spoke with the dear friend who has been organizing this shower of generousity. She wanted to make sure things had arrived in a timely manner and to let me know that tonight (Saturday) would be our last meal. My last supper. Delivered to me by a kind woman and her two teen daughters. The kind woman said "Dessert will be good but I'm not a very good cook." Delicious chicken chili, complete with tomato, cheese, and tortilla chips. Even @ liked it (and he has decided this is the week to grump about all food put before him). But as I went about this evening, I've found the response of "What!? I can't cook my own dinner. What will we eat? How will I pull this together?" And I remembered that I am capable. I'm a functioning adult. I need to adapt to the new routine of having a slightly larger family and its new dynamic. I've adored the kindness of all of these people but I don't need to abuse and take for granted their kindness. Their kindness is best spent on someone else now. I've adored the grace to slowly restart life. Its such a mercy. But its better for me to walk back to the other side of the table. Too much being served can be dangerous. It is Thanksgiving though and so I think I will add this week of my life to the list of things I'm crazy thankful for.

the postpartum files: Kids

I'm going to be processing this life change for awhile and since its my blog and you can go elsewhere, I'm feeling free to do my processing here. You see, its been said that I might not be the most flexible person on the planet and having a newborn again after 6 years is kind of the definition of needing to be flexible.

I should mention at this point that I'm really doing fine but realizations have been sweeping over me quite a lot lately. Not bad ones, just things I hadn't thought of.

Kids. The word "kids" got me the other day. "Children" too. I have kids. Plural. I have children. Again, plural. We've long been a family of 3. I had one kid. "My son is 6." "You just have the one child?" "Yes." Now I have kids. And so that changes. A few weeks ago we went around to the Children's Muesuem here in Indianapolis. We decided to buy a family membership figuring that it would pay for itself if we went as a family 3 times. Then we remembered that soon we would need to add a child because we would have kids. And that was strange to me.

I put in the new car seat late last week. We have car seats in the car for our kids. We talked about the best location for the each kid's car seat. See before it didn't matter, @ could sit anywhere. We put him on the side with the automatic sliding door. He's going to stay there because he can take care of getting himself in and out. Its nice having a kid that doesn't need car seat help. Baby ! goes behind the driver because there will be times when no one else is in the passenger seat and the driver doesn't want to walk around the far side of the car to get ! out. This isn't a big deal thing, just something we thought through that intrigued me. It was one of the things we didn't think about the 9 months we were waiting for her. We'll make lots of decisions like this in the days and weeks ahead. They aren't big deal things but they are the little things that remind me that our lives have changed.

weekends

For the last month our weekends have been spent mostly on the road. We knew when we choose to live in Indiana it would mean a lot of trips back and forth to Illinois to see family and friends. We don't really regret the decision. We have this really beautiful spot to live for the year. @ gets lots of time to play in the woods (he's now taken to biking the back trails). Jonathan loves kayaking in our pond. Deer come up to our house. I have put out a few mums. We try to have people over on Friday nights (when we are home) for cookouts. We're each perfecting our individual s'more (s'mores are better with reese's cups or dark chocolate). But September has found us developing a rather curious- live out of the van routine.

Friday goes something like this:
- @ chooses out clothes before he goes to school.
- Jonathan and I load up the van with host gifts, pictures, suitcases, water, car snacks, books on cd, back seat toys/ books
- We pick up @ from school just after 3 and then we head out of town.
- Normally there is a stop for gas on the west side of Indy and or dinner. Then there is the break at a rest stop. @ has choosen a few really nice ones.
- Then we stay with family or frineds on Friday night.

Saturday is a day of visiting with family or friends and being thankful for one day of not driving.

Sunday we spend the morning visiting. Then the question comes (and Jonathan and I feel the pull) if we stay for lunch and we start talking, we're never going to get home. If we're staying in East Illinois, its 3 hours + 1 to get home. If we're in central Illinois, its 4.5 hours +1. Indiana is an hour ahead. So spending too long at lunch and it gets to 3:00 means we're not home until 7:00 or 8:00. And that is before stopping for breaks and gas. Now that is the problem. @ gets home from a lovely weekend, exhausted, needing to immediately go to sleep so that he can wake up for school in the morning.

Its Sunday lunch that kills us. We have the worst time walking out the door, saying goodbye, getting in the car. No kidding getting in the car is impossible. We're talking with the door open. This is the pull of our time in the states. Another minute to visit, to share a story, to play with the nieces and nephew. That is the pull.

We're going to be home for the next 4 weeks or so. We're not planning on making another trip until Thanksgiving. After the baby comes anytway. Then the pull is going to be worse. A few more minutes with baby and family.

I propose you all come live with us at our tree farm (if I know you for real anyway). Then you won't have to go home and I won't have long van ride trips.

8 days

We leave for the US in 8 days. And that isn't traumatizing to say. And that in and of itself, is a miracle to say.

The last time we left a country we had a little bit more than 8 days to figure out how to leave for good and never come back. That was not easy and was very traumatizing. But now here we are and I have time to write a cool and mostly collected blog. So nice. We've thought alot over the last month or so how far our healing has come, how grateful and thankful we are for healing; how (to some extent) this has worked together for the good. We're thankful.

So what's on the docket for 8 days?
- Farewell party with friends from University (because I've learned how infinitely important saying "goodbye" is).

- Casual get togethers with other friends on different days. For lunches, for coffee.

- Having a man come and look to see if the water tank can take an easy fix or if its going to be the hard fix. Really praying for the easy fix. The hard fix involves repiping part of the house. We're blessed with friends who will oversee that while we're gone, but not really something you want to have to have done. This is actually weighing on me quite a bit.

- Packing, need to sort out the luggage and set up the folding table for the staging area of the pack zone.

- Putting away- the computer, the stackable trays, the last of the homeschool materials

- Take the baby mattress somewhere and have sheets ordered for it. Meant to get that done this week but I did silly other things like establishing auto-debit at the bank for all of our bills and changing our internet and satellite service.

Yeah, I'm trying to think of other stuff but that's pretty much it. Loving that. I have a couple of bins of stuff to give away and a couple of bags that need to be thrown away. Still none of that is stressful.

I've thought about the snacks and drinks I want to bring on the airplane (I'm pregnant and often thirsty). I've thought about the clothes for @ for the airplane. I guess I could think about my clothes for the airplane. I had a brillant idea for a father's day gift for Jonathan but kind of have put that off on the idea that I'm flying him to the USA and that seems like a lot.

Yeah, for 8 days, life is good and all in all blessed beyond measure.

a public apology

When I was a child we lived in a small town. Once every couple of months we would head to a larger town that had a mall and a wal-mart. While in the stores I would inevitably get lost. It was a confluence of events really. I was born curious and, I suspect, prone to being an extrovert. My mom is not the tallest person you will ever meet. I was not and am not currently a tall person. So you see, it was inevitable that I would get lost at the K-Mart. We'd get into the maze of clothing racks. I would linger longer over something and turn around to find that I couldn't see my mom. And then adventure and tears normally ensued. The one time I recall the best was that I finally gave up trying to find my mom and wandered to the customer service desk. My guess is that it was with the encouragement of some nice K-Mart employee. And there I would whimper my mom's name "Betty Way"and they would ask me again because that doesn't sound like a person's name and "can you understand what that little lost girl is saying?" and I would again say "Betty Way" and they would call for "Betty Way" over the intercom and my mom would come to the front half furious and half relieved and then when she saw little whimpering girl, she just felt relieved. The thing is that "Betty Way" is not my mom's name. See I had a real problem with the /r/ sound for nearly forever and my last name didn't help matters.

So today I was at the grocery store. @ was desperate to go see pets. I needed to stop and read lightbulbs so I sent him ahead to pets (at the end of the next aisle over) and told him to stay there, I'd be there in a minute. I called Jonathan about the lightbulb/ extension cord he wanted. I walked to pets. And you guessed it, kid is gone. So I start looking and see his red shirt darting by at the end of the aisle, by lightbulbs. So I run, but he is too. Then I see him duck down the milk aisle, So I run. And now I'm calling out my child's rather unique name. Now if you were an adult and you saw a noticeably different boy running the wrong way from a noticeably different mother yelling a name, you'd grab that kid and point to the woman right? Well you weren't around. Not a helpful person could be found in the store. Then I saw the kid run through the produce section. Then I saw him run through the lightbulbs and then I couldn't see him anymore. Until finally I hear over the intercom my kid's name looking for his mom. And then I'm running to the customer service desk.

Now your saying, why didn't you go to the customer service desk? Because my kid doesn't listen to it and I don't think he would know what to do necessarily. Because I'm a bad mom that hadn't taught him what to do if he got lost. This is the first time I ever let him out of my sight in the store. And the thing is he normally refuses to use his language, so I wasn't sure how he was going to tell someone he's lost. For real, we've done our best on the language front but I can't make the kid produce it. Anyway there was a happy ending and he somehow knew what he was supposed to do.

But all of that to say, I'm sorry I was a frustrating kid mom.

about my uncle george

When I was little, my sister and I stayed out at my grandma's after school and during summer break. Grandma would make a trip over to Pana to see her sister, my Aunt Marie, once a week. My sister and I would play out in the yard and try not to get in trouble or fight in the house. Sometimes Uncle George would be home during the day but normally he was out hauling rock or water. He made a business for himself hauling rock and water and whatever else in some big old trucks and he did it longer than people can remember. Being self employed and frugal, he kept a close eye on everything and kept a book for it all. He did his own billing and his own taxes and knew just every cent the state or the feds wanted from him. And he paid them, grudgingly sometimes but my guess would be always on time. That's who Uncle George was.

The state notified my Uncle George some years ago that their house and land would be taken should the state ever get around to expanding the road the that ran in front of his house. I think initially it was concerning to them. It was his home but also his business. But as the years past and the state had other projects, the road in front of their house ever getting widen looked REALLY unlikely. The odds were quite good that it would be there kids problem and not theirs. Some 15 years later (by my guess), Marie and George were notified that the state was ready to widen the road and it was time for them to sell and find a new place. Uncle George still hauled for people but he was pretty well on in years and it was mostly water to fill tanks for little old widows. It was with a good bit of sadness that they moved. And within a few years, my Uncle George died.

But what was problematic upon their move and his death was his record keeping. Not because it was messy or hard to decipher but because it was complete. It was thorough. He could tell you how many gallons of water he hauled to Mrs. Smith on a particular date in 1975. How much rock went to XYZ project. How much, When, Where, To Whom, Why, and the price. It was all down. And it wasn't just his business. My Grandma went around to play cards (Rummy is the game of choice) with Marie and George at least once a month for countless years. George has a book that can tell you who won and by how much and because of which dealer in August of 1983. Every game that he ever played or conducted on his premises or vicinity, he has a record of. Generally is a1 subject spiral bound notebook. And the question comes: what does one do with 20+ years of notebooks full of record keeping on card games? Think that through for a minute. You could throw them away but it seems a shame when we're talking about a person's passion. Record keeping was Uncle George's hobby. Do you throw away a person's hobby? Even if its a bit obsessive, its represents the diligent work of a man.

I don't know what became of the notebooks. Aunt Marie has needed to downsize a fair bit. She's on her own and her health isn't great. But what I learned from this, and why I'm telling you this story is that there is a virtue in good honest record keeping. I have a fairly good memory. But if I write something down, I remember it far better. And if I need to validate or prove something, you'd better believe I'm going to write it down.

The paper man stopped delivering our paper after his holiday bonus. I had written down when he came with the last paper and when we called to cancel the paper. The next month a man came along to collect for paper delivery. I got out my calendar, showed him when we cancelled, when the last delivery came, how much the bonus was and instructed him that if he needed money, he needed to contact the delivery man. You can't argue with that.

We've been wrestling the Telekom for 3 months since we changed our internet service. I've written down and saved every bill and the contract dates. Again this month I took it all in. It was easy to correct and hopefully they really put it in their computer correctly (computers were not George's thing and he had a more than healthy distrust of them).

We've been working through the world's longest renewal of visa which has required phone calls, papers sent and delivered and to various offices and then visits to various offices. I have written down in my dayplanner every time Jonathan or I have done something with that process and what it was. Every extension filing, how long it took, and when. So when Jonathan was told he needed to pay the cost for facilitating our visa, he was confused. Because if we haven't been facilitating the visa, then what is all that work. So today he went in and explained this to his boss. With my calendar full of dates. And (Jonathan just called) sure enough he doesn't need to pay the facilitator. Now I don't know about my suggestion that they pay us for the facilitating, my guess is Jonathan left out that bit. But it makes me happy. Not because I get to save my money, although that is CERTAINLY very nice, but because it reminded me of my Uncle George and the virtue of honest, diligent work.

never good to turn up on BBC

Last week while flipping channels on a very hot afternoon we came across a program on BBC called Hot Cities. Last week's program was on Bangladesh and the rising number of climate migrants flowing into already crowded urban areas, thus decreasing the quality of life for everyone. They promoted the next week's city- our capital city. You don't want your capital city to turn up on the BBC, nothing good can come of it. Well we happened to catch a portion of it again this week. It was fun to hear the professionals being interviewed because we could understand them without the subtitles at the bottom. They were only echoing things we had been percieving in our city also. The rains maybe starting later but they are also coming at odd times throughout the year. And the tide is getting higher and things that were once percieved to be safe and high enough, aren't anymore. All of this just spells disaster on the health front. Dengue Fever (here called Blood Fever) and Malaria are occurring at times in the year that never used to be possible and at elevations that used to be safe. All very discouraging news.

Last month they started lifting another road about 6 blocks down from us. They are raising the road in front of the church we attend and the pharmacy we go to, a meter. That's 3 feet. The parking lot to our church has a 3 foot wall bordering the street. The church will be 3 feet below the road 12 feet away. I stopped in at the Pharmacy yesterday. All they can do is given a weak smile and sigh. They have no idea what they are going to do.

We've been hearing rumors since the close of last rainy season that there was a plan in the works to raise roads and install new pumps and deepen the canals. They've only really just started on some portions of the plan. We live 2 blocks from a major Artery Road that loops around the city and they've already raised that road on the other side and there looks to be a deepened canal and pump. I have no idea where the water that will be pumped will go as the neighborhoods are still lower. This week we got a for sure verification that the main street 2 blocks from us that is our connection to town, will be raised in the next month. They are planning to raise it a meter, 3 feet.

The last few months as we have seen these projects begin we've had a little sense of anxiety creep into the back of our minds. Our contract on the house we are in runs through Jan 2011 and we have every intention and desire to stay in this house. We love our landlord. We have a terrific house and yard at the world's most ideal price. We have neighbors and friends. But the house in our neighborhood don't sell, they barely get renters. Everyone knows it floods but the question is how much deeper will the water be when the raise these main roads. No one believes the pump installations will help. They can pump whereever they want but it doesn't change the fact that the lowest guy will still get water when the canals they are pumping into are filled.

So we have been sighing a fair bit lately. We know there is a limit to the amount of time we will stay in this house. The demands of Jonathan's job location will inevitably pull us away. But the thought of having water come into this house that we've made into our home... its happened to our friends and watching their sorrow was impossible. Sigh... and we're powerless against it.

But we find ourselves waiting for rainy season, if only to confirm or but to rest our concerns. Either way, we'll ride it out. We're still in a good position to help and encourage our neighbors. But sitting in this crazy heat makes me wonder what's to come...

about christmas

I've started to kind of vaguely think about christmas. A friend sent me a christmas stamp set so that I could switch up some of my christmas cards. I have a bit of fun making the cards but then it comes to addressing them and posting them and somehow the magic dims a little. I started playing with the stamp set yesterday after having them sit on my desk for 2 weeks. Wasn't feeling clever enough to have such pretties so it took me a while to work up the courage. I made some little lovelies- at least in my estimation.

Last week we were up in our first town and i stopped at the ribbon shop that i like to go to. Its small but things are out on the shelf so that you can touch them. That's kind of unusual here. Small things are often kept in a cabinet and you have to ask the keymaster to open the cabinet and tell her which one you want to touch. If you're window shopping, as I often do, this gets a little on the tedious side. Having someone stand there waiting for you to either buy or ask for something else. Anyway, I came away with a few meters of ribbon, some slicky paint to finish off stockings and some fake poinsettas. I'll add them to wreathes and homemade christmas ornaments this year.

Jonathan and I have entered into idle discussion of christmas for @. He's 5 and we are going back to the states 7 months after christmas. He's WELL STOCKED for toys and oys seem silly because we aren't bringing them with us. He has a bike. A list of the things we've talked about as family presents:

We've talked about a keyboard for the family- I like to play, or attempt it, and we've both thought @ should learn and instrument. Jonathan's family all play something or had a lesson when they were kids. So for Jonathan its how kids grow up. I've just always fancied the piano. A keyboard would start somewhere around $120.

We've talked about a camera for @. I know that sounds wasteful but we will be in the states for a good 8-10 months. Meaning the 5yr. old will be without the bedroom he's used to, in the house that he is used to with his bike and friends and toys for 8-10 months. That's kind of a lot it seems like to me. We walked by a display of Fisher Price 1st cameras when we were in Singapore some months ago and as was the display's intention, it got us thinking that might be a way for him to take some memories with him. What he wants, not just what I take pictures of for him. But then i read the reviews and it doesn't sound like its much of a decent camera. We've talked about buying his a cheapy here ($50) but then that seems silly too. Or I could just take pics of what he tells me to- which is what we already do and it seems to work just fine.

We've talked vaguely about a handheld video game system for the family. They are everywhere here. Our thought is that we have 30 hours in the air back to america, another 30 to get back here and countless car trips in the states. Maybe a game of tetris would be pleasing to everyone. We haven't looked at them or really even talked about it more than in passing but i think they would probably start at $175.

Now understand, we don't do lots of presents for christmas or birthdays. Normally its one present and then some books or a new set of markers, paints, etc. The grandparents send the child plenty of stuff! Indeed, presently we need to work through some of his stuff again to get rid of some of the things. We try not to buy him things that he will grow out of quickly. And these are all items for the most part that will be family gifts- even the camera to some extent because I'd love to see what his eye sees.

So tell me, what do you think? What do you do for christmas gifts? Tell me about your kid and taking pictures? Am I just crazy on that idea?

Called Out: Belgian Milk Farmers!

I know, could I be more obscure. Because when you woke up this morning you were thinking "Blast those flipping Belgian Milk Farmers!" But we have a problem here people! I was just going to go and shut down the computer and make my family a healthy breakfast but I have a nasty habit of checking the newswire and this is what I see.

These farmers are DUMPING a DAY'S worth of milk production on the field's of Belgium to protest low milk prices. The prices, they say, don't cover production costs. Now, people, we here at Curious Aside feel for the farmer. Really, we do. We grew up with farmers always wondering how to make ends meet. Sweating planting season, praying for weather and against weeds and bugs. We like to think we begin to see the plight of the farmer. BUT THIS IS MILK!!! Babies need it to survive. Mother's need it to support babies and children. Do we have to remind you, in the most trite way "THERE ARE PEOPLE DYING IN AFRICA!" and other parts of the world. And you're throwing MILK on the ground in a sign of protest. Sigh... obviously someone isn't getting the message that we're all human together. Heck, babies in China didn't get the milk they thought they were getting. They got plastic instead. Could we protest in some other way. Maybe you could throw sugar on the ground, the world would be ok with a little less sugar. But Milk. Couldn't they put in a thermos and send it somewhere instead? I'm trying to stop my mind from thinking of all the different NGO's that would gladly come to them and pick up the milk they want to throw on the ground.

I frankly, have no solution to for the farmers, nor how to stop this madness. But I have my little humble soapbox to yell from...sigh...

when summer doesn't have an end point

Our weather is the same here everyday. Its hot and sunny. For a few months of the year we'll get rain but even then the sun shines most of the day. The sun comes up about 5:00a.m.. The sun goes down a little after 5:00p.m. We live just south of the equator.

Presently Jonathan is out of school and he doesn't have any clue of the timeline of when he might be able to officially return to work. 1. he doesn't know when classes will start again. 2. we don't have a visa presently allowing him to work even if they started tomorrow afternoon. 3. we have no timeline on when the paperwork will be ready for the work visa. So we're waiting.

@ is out of school. He's not returning to school when it starts again on 13 July. We're going to homeschool. I'm sure its the best arrangement for him and us as a family but I'm a little perplexed about when to start school again. He's ready to go tomorrow. Young children have no concept of this whole "summer vacation" concept and folks here only ever get 4 weeks of summer break at best. I have varying thoughts on when i'd like to start homeschooling and try to establish something of a daily schedule but i haven't had a chance to look at a calendar. I need to try to think about our schedule for the next year and things that i know are coming up but there are several things i don't know when to put on the calendar. - another trip out to singapore - jonathan restarting school - friends remodeling their house (they'll need us available for support) - 6 trips to the immigration office to start new paperwork . I'm not worried by those things much but they are in my head, in the background of what will be coming.

I've been missing Illinois a bit. I get a bit homesick in May and June each year. I have a deep felt need to see corn and soybean fields. Yes, crazy. But that is how I grew up. With farmers chewing their lip about spring planting. Their slight sense of relief when the planting was over. Their greater sense of relief when then rains let up and the crop started popping through the ground. 4th of July when for one day they didn't seem to worry as much about the crop. Their anxiousness come labor day to get to the harvest. My immediate family doesn't farm, has never farmed. But we've always had friends that relied on it. And it makes me feel from Illinois. Indeed, the word Illinois rings synonymous for me with farming.

So here we are with no seasons. In very much an inbetween season of our lives and there is no field of soybeans to look out on...sigh.

yellow bunny rabbit

Tonight we were talking about how @ has admitted a new member to the circle of "guys". Woobie/aka Green Blanket, Doggy, and Peno are the "guys" (stuffed animals) that feature most prominently in @'s life. But of the late he has allowed in little green bunny rabbit. And tonight he asked if he had always had green bunny. I explained about yellow bunny rabbit and told him the story of yellow bunny rabbit.

Yellow Bunny rabbit was sent to us in Africa by my sister Jennifer. Jennifer is very good at holidays and gift giving, she remembers them and does them WELL. She's that person. So my sister sent our 8 month old child an easter basket complete with the annoying green grass, which Jennifer says is the best part (this was before she had kids). And @ didn't make much of it, he's 8 months old. He did latch onto the yellow bunny rabbit finally, but the rest of the uber-stimulating, learning toys were not so much a thing. He liked to pet and chew yellow bunny rabbit.

That December we were asked to leave and he had made an attachment to the rabbit and it came everywhere. So when we went to say final goodbyes to my dear sister Ab, yellow bunny rabbit came along. At some point in the flurry of what was a very quick trip, yellow bunny rabbit didn't make it in to the car. This happens to everyone and its normally not a big deal, you swing back by or pick it up next time. Problem is that we are flying out of the country in 5 hours and I will probably never see this person again on this earth. And you are throwing your 18month old into a world of flux and the least you could do is provide him the stability of the yellow bunny rabbit. So my friend knows we need this bunny and I don't even know its gone. She travels out to the airport at 10p.m. to bring the boy's yellow bunny rabbit. And we cry and say goodbye again...awful.

We get back to the states at christmas and are living with the grandparents and my sister says why don't you come down and stay at my house for a while. She's still living in her post Katrina apt and her house is sitting empty. A good excuse to have someone in the house, bring down some of her belongings she had left in IL and we could see her a little. And we could avoid the question of what next for a few weeks. So we're off to New Orleans. We load up the huge boat of a Crown Vic we've borrowed (thanks to my very extended adopted family) and yellow bunny rabbit is in tow.

During our time there we do some shopping. We have a few pieces of winter clothes and @ has very little. So one day we are out at the K-Mart. New Orleans is having lots of sales tax holidays to help people afford to buy stuff, particularly home remodeling stuff, post-katrina. And we're thinking we could buy this stuff in IL or we could help the local NOLA economy and buy there. So we're shopping. We get out to the car and there is no yellow bunny rabbit. Its a windy day, we start scouring the parking lot. Then we go back in the store and somehow try to convey to part-time, post-traumatic stress NOLA K-Mart employee that WE MUST FIND THE YELLOW BUNNY RABBIT! And so I'm trying to convey the urgency of I lost my home and I can never return and all I need to feel ok is for my kid to have this yellow bunny rabbit. K-mart guy= not getting it. So after searching the store, the parking lot and begging the guy to look one more time in lost and found, yellow bunny rabbit has returned to her home in NOLA.

The rest of the night I'm sick at heart. How could I have lost this yellow bunny rabbit and now we have nothing left. Not even the bunny rabbit. And I commenced boohooing all over again.

I didn't share that last bit with @, nor the frantic un-ravelled mom I was. But tender hearted @ did ask about "where is yellow bunny rabbit now?" And we talked about how maybe some other kid has him and its ok to loose a "guy" sometimes, we have others and the old ones are special memories... Very unconvincing explanation, I'm sure. So after the story, which I didn't intend to be a tragic reminder of loosing his toy, he suggested "we put up signs on all the trees so that if someone finds yellow bunny rabbit they could return him. " All the trees between here and NOLA... another explanation for another night.

remind me to tell you sometime how he came by green blanket...

singing

Today @ was running through the house singing

"Caste is a lie, Caste is a lie. Prime Minister, caste is a lie"

This from Caedmon's Call CD Share the Well a song entitled "Dalit Hymn" . And if you haven't given this CD a listen you really should.

impending death and other misunderstandings

I just came from putting @ to bed. I normally laydown with him in bed for an extra minute or two. He likes a little one on one snuggle time with each of us at bedtime. Maybe its a stall but I'll take the snuggle where I can get it. Normally he'll talk over something with us that has been on his mind. Something Cleo said to Clifford or a joke Pig made on Word World. In January it was concern over going back to America. He decided he didn't want to go to America and was under the impression that we were going tomorrow. We had quite a few friends coming and going from the states the months of December and January and somehow he got it in his head that we must be going too. And he didn't want to. This was a source of major concern for him and each day found us reassuring him multiple times that we were staying at home here for a long time "a lot of days @". So we put to bed the worry about moving to America and now I'm wishing for it to come back. Tonight the new concern surfaced "Am I going to die?" I told him that everybody dies, that's what happens but if we love Jesus then we get to go be with Him and that's great...
"Not for a long time?" A long time from now. And then after a minute or 2, he starts sniffling and then bursts into full fledge tears. "But I don't want to die. I don't want to be old. I don't want you to die. Can you pray and ask God to not let me die?" You can tell me a million different things I should have said but I was stumped as to how we got to "I don't want to die." Sigh... so we snuggled a bit longer until the tears passed and we prayed again. Now Jonathan is "bringing him a glass of water" (@'s stall whereby daddy comes in for a snuggle). I directed Jonathan to skip talking about death...

Nativities & Advent

One of my real favorite things about Christmas is pulling out the Navtivity set. I have the set out all year typically but I pull it out to the coffee table at christmas. Some years ago my mom took a painting class on a regular basis (it was her fun thing) and she painted all manner of boxes and knick knacks but really my favorite thing she painted was this puzzle piece nativity. It all fits together with the star on top of mary and joseph. And the best thing about it is that its fine for @ to play with. He likes to take it apart and have the "guys" do stuff and then he can put it back together. Its one of the few things I've carted around the world.

Next to that is my Advent basket calendar. Last year out of a desire to have an advent calendar but lacking time to make one, I bought this basket. I bought a styrofoam wreath for the bow, the bow= nice, styrofoam wreath=hideous. Inside it are envelopes with numbers on the outside. I prettied the envelopes a little too. But inside each envelope is the vs. for the evening, an activity, a special song, a special story about some aspect of the nativity. @ gets to find the number and open an envelope every night. We light candles and remember the advent. Its something he looks forward to throughout the month.

New to our collection is this Advent Puzzle. My mom picked it up some years ago at Ten Thousand Villages. Her hope was that there would be a grandchild that would come play with it at her house. And the year we were home for christmas, @ really enjoyed it. But she felt like we could give it more use and she sent it to us. I was surprised she would part with it- its just beautiful. We just got it in the mail yesterday and @ has loved touching the first 7 pieces. He asked at bedtime tonight if we would do another piece tomorrow.

Maybe we should do a wreath to be good traditionalists but its a tradition we're creating for our family and so it will evolve a bit over time. The candles we've been using are a fragrant cinnamon and a citronella candle not the special traditional colors. We've enjoyed having this special time every evening and slowly @ is picking up the words "Prophecy, Hope, Bethlehem, Love and Joy". Its reminding me too of the wildness of Hope, Love with abandon and the thrill of Joy. @ has taken to singing "comfort and joy, comfort and joy, comfort and joy" as a song and everytime he says Joy my heart stops and jumps all at the same time.

Oh Christmas Tree

We put up the christmas tree last weekend and it really is a nice tree. We bought it last year at a newly opened dept. store and it was the only one left so the guys at the store had to take apart the display tree to box it for us. We hauled it up the mountain only to take it down a few weeks later and move it back down the mountain. Its a nice tree and sets up well- for this I'm thankful but it always leaves me wanting.

When I was a kid we always had real trees. My mom loves christmas trees. We would go the first week of November to the christmas tree farm to pick out the perfect tree for us. My mom is less than lofty and so the perfect tree for us really was less than 5 feet. Of course the problem being when you pick the less than 5 ft. tree the first of November, that tree has grown what seems like 2 feet by the 1st of December and now we have a story kids. The nice young man would go out and cut down our tree for us in seconds and drag it around to the parking area. They'd shake it and wrap and slide it very easily into the car. We'd drink cider and smell trees and vaguely worry, just a little, that the tree seems a little taller and its pretty big around. Truth is the tree was way to tall for us, was twice as wide as it was tall and bound to have the crookedest stump you'd ever see. So when it came to getting the tree in the house its my mom, my older sister and I. Yeah, you're seeing it now. It was impossible to get out of the trunk and a brawl to get in the front door. The tree's crooked stump now takes over as my mom shimmies under the tree to screw in the bolts to hold the tree in the stand- which isn't really possible to do and have the tree stand straight because you can't screw bolts in evenly on an S curve. So then we all sigh. Mom manages to get the bolts in the tree, shimmies out, and the tree does a slow tip towards the ground. We catch the tree, mom shimmies under and re-works the bolts. This happens a few times and mom decides we need to take off a few branches. So the tree goes back outside (a full body fight ensues between girls and tree) and small women work on cutting off branches and "straightening the trunk", tree goes back inside with just a little swearing. Mom shimmies under and bolts tree. Tree falls over. Mom calls the pastor from our church- divine intervention is now necessary. Pastor Dave comes over and works the tree over, giggling only a little at the girth of the tree these small women have picked out. Tree falls over for Pastor Dave. but being a man he is undaunted. I really do remember tying the tree up that year but I may be wrong. Dave worked it over quite a bit, lots of "straightening" went on after Dave got hold of the tree but the tree stood.

Here is what I took away from putting up christmas trees as a child:
- buy the tree that is kind of your height- rounding up, of course.
- have goofy high hopes about the ease with which that tree will go into your house and the space you have allotted.
- putting up the christmas tree requires just a bit of swearing (I'm going to get in trouble for that but in truth my mom wasn't prone to swearing until putting up the tree).
- the lights won't work after you put them on the tree so plan on putting more on but the dead ones may spontaneously rejuvenate but don't count on it.
- put on that "Messiah" Cantata from the Gaither Vocal Band- its wonderful! Christmas isn't christmas without one of the Gaithers being Herod.
- Live christmas trees with white lights are painfully beautiful and bring peace to the home.
- No matter how much fighting and exhaustion goes into putting up the christmas tree you still have very fond memories of it and it always makes you laugh and you will do it again next year.

Girl Scouts

You have girls? They in Girl Scouts? Yeah, I thought not.

Reading this article about the Rethinking of Girl Scouts and remembering my time in Girl Scouts. We had just moved to a new town when I was in 4th grade and mom wanted me to make friends. My sister had been in Brownies when she was younger and the offer of a troop of 4th grade girls that all went to the same school seemed like a good idea. And in theory it was. Quickly though I learned that really it was an extension of a popularity contest, this time with mom's involved. One mom was the "leader" of the troop but really she was kind of a looser at that job. The "Co-Leader" was salivating after the "leader" title and so hyper-prepared for things, foisting around rules and badge work. It wasn't pretty and as a 4th grader I remember watching these two women kind of duke out the leadership role during our meetings.

Selling cookies was really entertaining because as an elementary student I quickly understood from my mom that selling things for school was a burdensome task- and she was right. I had no motivation to peddle things to my neighbors that had no value. Crocks of yucky cheese, teeny overpriced candles, and then Girl Scout Cookies. Now don't get me wrong, I love Thin Mints and those Lemon Cookies. But $4.00 for 12 cookies, are you serious? So my mom would buy some for us at home and the folks she worked with would buy several boxes but that was really all of me selling stuff. What potentially killed my motivation even more was what we were to do with the cookie money. Humanitarian good right? Paying for the big trip to a museum to learn stuff and earn badges? No. Each of the girls in the troop got $50 to spend on a trip to the mall. Yep. It was great at the time but I do remember being confused by our mission as Girl Scouts.

So am I sorry that Girls Scouts is dead? Sort of, but really if that was their mission in 1989 they were showing a real lack of direction and mission. Maybe some forethought, some innovation and driving forward Girl-hood. But Girl Scouts I'm guessing became irrelevant a long time ago for Girls and families. Truly that's too bad because I really do believe that Girls need direction and from as many sources as will provide it the better. I'm thankful I had lots of other places to look. Sadly though, Girl Scouts wasn't one of those sources.

feeling proud

I love the electoral process. Love it. I love the tacky, fragile poll booths with their old curtains, the ballot forms that look so serious, the heavy marking pens (such good quality pens), the little old people that sit as election monitors that act like they are at a funeral, that big metal box they put the ballots in, the stickers, the fact that my sister and I are still on the rolls right next to my mom (actually I think we're off the rolls this year). I love all of it.

Watching election coverage I can go either way. Tim Russert not being around is a bummer and I still remember Wolf Blitzer seeming like a complete idiot during the first Iraq War, so Wolf just isn't doing anything for me. This year though I sat at the TV and cried with Jesse Jackson, because it struck me that when my mom was 31 America wasn't ready for a black man to be President. When my grandma was 31, America wasn't really ready for black children to go to school. So I'm feeling the historical significance of a black being elected President of the United States of America. I promise you I like John McCain but my guess is that he is even just a little proud that the America he's fought for his whole life for is ready to elect a black man. That's why guys like John McCain fight, because the blessing of liberty is for every man, woman and child.

Sorry for the loss

My friend Tanya and I met in NEA some years ago. Intermittently she would come and be my down the street neighbor. Life has taken us different directions over the last few years but still I follow her life quite avidly. She's Canadian and, while we've made our peace with that, I've come to learn that Canadians are just crazy folks. At least that's what it seems like to me. And they are everywhere. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Canadian. Well in the true spirit of crazy Canadians, Tanya told the story of her friend that had decided to Bike West Africa. On a bicycle, peddled by his legs. So that is both hard core and crazy. So I clicked around and found her friend Steve who sounded just about as crazy as any other Canadian and big hearted as well. I was entranced by his blog because he's one of those people that dream big and do the things they dream and I respect that a lot. Jonathan and I talked about biking africa and all number of crazy other dreams but still I know we will never do those things. Well Tanya just posted that Steve had an accident while biking West Africa and he went home to be bike with God. And here is a person I've never met but I know that heaven just got to be a more fun, bikeable place.