And they’re off………

I have had yet another adventure that I probably would not have experienced if I was still in my comfort zone the U.S.

There are quite a few Australians who live in Delhi. It turns out that they are a really fun bunch. They are also a charitable bunch.

The Melbourne Cup is apparently THE horse race in Australia – think Kentucky Derby. It is actually called “the race that stops a nation”. So imagine how sad the Aussies in India must be to miss this special day in their homeland. But sad they need not be. Those living here throw a party at the same time as the real race in Australia and call it a fundraiser. See, smart, fun, and charitable. I like them already.

I was lucky enough to go. And, as any good horse race attender would do, I donned a big-arse hat.

The woman on the far left just had a baby 4 weeks ago – so she totally gets a pass on not having a hat. In fact, she gets a big round of applause for going out at all with her first born baby to a party in India when that baby is only 4 weeks old. (And to think I was so impressed with myself when I made it to Walmart with my first newborn. Ha.) The woman in the middle does have a hat on – really a fascinator (which is a head band with big-arse stuff on it) – but you can barely see it because my fascinator is actually the size of Australia and it was blocking out the sun. Kind of hard to see anything around that big-arse thing. At least it hid my roots.

This lady is one of my favorite people here – she always has a big smile on her face and an amazing attitude. Yes, I dumb her down a bit. Here is a good tip to remember – if you have a friend who is not exactly tallish and is not wearing heels, and you are wearing heels and a fascinator that can block the sun, you are going to look a wee bit Hagridish if you stand next to her and take a picture. And see that skirt of hers, that is exactly why I love her – she thinks if you are going to wear a crazy hat, you might as well have a Barbie skirt to match it.

There were contests for the best hat, most creative hat, best dressed woman, best dressed man drunkest man, and so on. Did I mention the champagne was free flowing? It was.

The lady on the right was sitting at our table and she got nominated for best dressed – at first I thought she was selected for having the best table mate, but apparently her recognition had nothing to do with me. Whatever.

This lady won for best hat. It was a pretty fun hat.

All in all, it was a fun morning. If you are in Delhi the first Tuesday in November next year – mark your calendar and get shopping for a hat. And if you choose a big hat, you might want to start doing some strength training on your neck.

You’ve Got Mail………….

Have you ever been to a Post office in Delhi? Walk with me stand in line with me as I share my experience today.

I needed to mail a few things to locations around Delhi, which is unusual. Most people here have drivers and so, more often than not, we just send our drivers off with the things we want delivered. And we sit all comfy cozy in our pjs while our driver maneuvers thru traffic and crowds and runs many of our errands for us. It’s lovely really. And yes, it is absolutely amazing that it is actually more practical to have things hand-delivered than to use the mail system. But such is life.

My driver, as fantastic as he is, does not speak great English, so today I wasn’t confident that I could properly explain what I wanted done. You might think – really – your driver wouldn’t understand the simple instructions of “take these packages to that post office and mail them”. Really? Yup, really! It does not mean Khan is not a smart guy – in fact, I think he’s pretty smart – but it does mean that I did not feel confident that I could explain exactly what I wanted done and that it would get done.

And isn’t that lucky for you – because now you will know what it is like (at least what it was like for me) to go to the post office in Delhi.

First a little background – forget what you might know about the American mail system. It’s a wee bit different here. For example, there really aren’t mail trucks. There are mail bikes. Yes, that is right – bicycles. The postman rides through the neighborhood with mail strapped on to the back of his bike. It’s not exactly the Pony Express – but it isn’t quite FedEx either. You kind of cross your fingers and wish upon a star. Sometimes it works amazingly well – sometimes, not so much.

Knowing that I wanted these packages to arrive sooner than later, I decided to go to to one of the Head Post Offices – rather than one of the smaller offices that most neighborhoods offer. I believe there are 7 of these “head” offices in Delhi. I went to the one near JorBagh. By going to the larger “central” post office, I am hoping that I could cut off about two days of transit time from the smaller branch to the central processing branch. We’ll see how well that works out.

Before I headed over to the post office, I tried to look up on-line some information about their hours, locations, processes – you know, find out when to go where and what to expect when I got there. I never found a website that showed the hours. Just a few sites that would tell me the postal codes for the post office locations. I am not sure how it is helpful to know what the zip codes for the actual post offices are, but if you need to know, you can find that on-line. Other than that, you won’t find too many other (helpful) details. At least I did not.

So, I took a chance that they would be open today (Wednesday) at 12:30ish. They were. I walked in and looked around. There was a small window in the entrance way – but that seemed too easy – so I headed further back to the larger, busier area. There were several lines but I didn’t see any signs that explained what they were for. And there were no “take a number” stations. So, I got in the shortest line thinking that at least if it was the wrong line I would waste the least amount of time waiting. I am wicked smart like that.

In the way that I am very used to, I created and then stood behind that imaginary line that westerners like to draw on the ground to politely wait their turn. Respecting the privacy of the person in front of them and all that jazz. However, four people went up to the counter in front of me. One at a time, looking at me first, completely dismissing the fact that I might be in line, and then waiting for their own turn – now ahead of me. Interesting, right?

In the U.S., I would have very quickly pointed out to them that I was in fact in line – I would have explained to them that the line starts here – behind the imaginary line – behind me – I would have asked how they didn’t know about “the line” – I would have reminded them that everything you need to know you did learn in kindergarten – and I would have reclaimed my “next in line” status.

But I am not in Kansas anymore and I really was not sure what was going on. I really, truly could not bring myself to believe that all those people just cut in front of me. I let myself assume that they were all related – that they were there together.

But the seemingly new line was a wide line with people adding out to it from both sides. It was not the line I know and love – single file, straight back behind the leader of the line. It was becoming clear that a new line was forming down the width of the counter rather than behind me and the shortest line had now become the longest widest line.

Then I heard. “Pssssssst.”

And then, “Excuse me ma’am,” and this woman is laughing a little bit – not really at me – but, okay actually, at me. She said, “If you want a turn, you are going to have to push your way thru to the front of the line. Go ahead and get up there.”

Me: So, all those people just cut in front of me?
Her: Yes, I am afraid so.
Me: You don’t think they are related? Here together.
Her: No. I really don’t.
Me: Is that really what just happened? They ALL just cut in front of me?
Her: Yes, you’ll need to get up there. What are you here to do?
Me: I want to mail these packages.
Her: Speed post or regular post?
Me: Uhhhhhhh
Her: Speed post is faster.
Me: Then I want speed post.
Her: You are in the wrong line altogether – move over here.
Me: Thank you so much!

Personal space in India doesn’t mean the same thing as it means to me. Actually it doesn’t mean diddly squat. There is no such thing. The line was 6 people deep, but we were all within 3 or 4 feet of each other. It was a postal line sandwich. Smooshy. Twins aren’t that close to each other in the womb. And it’s still hot here so sometimes people still smell a little fragrant from being outside. Holy, standing on top of me, batman. But at least I am in the right line – I know what to ask for – speed post – it’s all good, right?

How did you know it was not? Did you read ahead?

Apparently that particular line closed at 1:30p. Good to know – except they never announced it – never put out a sign indicating who would be last. The guy just finished with the person two ahead of me and got up and walked way. And it was frankly 1:26p. Not yet 1:30p. There was still time to help me for stamp’s sake.

Then my little post office angel came over again, still snickering. Not at me, okay, yes, she was still laughing at me. But that is okay – you can laugh at me all you want if you are helping me with this process. Laugh away.

Her: They just closed the window. You’ll need to move to the next line over.
Me: You are kidding right? That line has a lot of people in it. Can they explain that I have been waiting?
Her: No – it closed at 1:30p. Just turn around and hand your envelopes to the man at the window behind you.
Me: There are at least 10 people in that line.
Her: Sure, sure – it’s fine – just do it. Push your way through. Hand him your envelopes.

So that is what I did. I effectively cut in front of about 10 people and handed my things to the man behind the window. No one complained. Actually I recognized most of them. They had been in my line but they moved when they realized the first window was closing. But none of them told me. No, that wasn’t very nice.

The guy in the new window was kind of laughing at me too – in a “you’re a dingbat and I feel sorry for you so I am going to help you” sort of way. Again, I am good with that.

The post man took all my envelopes and asked me if I wanted speed post. Of course, I do, I said very knowingly, – I think I was (not) very convincing that I knew what I was doing.

He stuck stickers on all the envelopes. Then he weighed them one by one and typed in a good portion of the address onto his computer as to  where it was going, calculated the postage, and printed new stickers. It took about 10 minutes. The people in the line behind beside me all waited patiently, some had their mail out to be processed, but most just waited.

The total bill for about twelve 9×12 envelopes loaded down with flyers and invitaions – $3. I marvel how that entire process can only be worth $3. I am not going to question it – but I am going to wish I may, wish I might, wish upon the first star I see tonight – that the mail actually gets delivered.

As I walked out, I once again saw my little angel. She was still smiling and I thanked her profusely. Thank God for the kindness of strangers.

What not to wear………….

When you travel around and visit different religious sites, it is very good to be prepared – to know what is considered acceptable attire. Most people don’t want to unwittingly insult their hosts – count me among those people. I am careful and try to pay attention to the rules. I take a scarf to cover my head and wear longer pants or skirts. I keep my shoulders covered and try to leave all leather materials at home. I know to take my shoes off before I enter and to walk away from idols backwards. I know not to point my feet out in front of me when sitting on the ground.

I have been around the temple block so to say.

H.o.w.e.v.e.r., when you are in Old Delhi and you visit the Jama Masjid Mosque, short sleeves are also a no no. Ooops.

But, have no fear, the keepers of the mosque are gracious hosts and they will offer you a robe to wear insist that you wear a robe so as not to embarrass yourself.

I will leave it to you to decide whether you will wear short sleeves in the Jama Masjid. (And men, you can laugh it up all you want. But if you wear shorts, they will give you a wrap – read skirt – to cover up those too sexy legs of yours.)

What do you mean we are out of water…………..

Coming from the land of plenty, running out of water is a new phenomena to me.

I don’t think it has ever happened to me before we moved here. Running out of hot water, sure – but running out of water altogether? No so much.

We have easily survived water shortages in the U.S. Someone announces we are reaching dangerously low water levels and we should all stop watering our grass and washing our cars. Not really a big sacrifice – especially if you weren’t doing those things in the first place. Shhhh. I am not a big car washer or grass waterer. Tell me to take two chores off my list I wasn’t going to do anyway – fine. Happily. Done.

But in India, there is the real potential to be out of water. Completely out. There are lots of people who never get it in the first place – so they aren’t out of water – they just never have it. It’s hard to fathom really.

The other day our water tank was empty. Empty? No water. Not even one drop. It ran completely out. Hmmmm. Give me a second to digest that. Empty? What happened?

Well, it turns out the guard is supposed to turn on some faucet somewhere and fill our tank. He is supposed to do that twice a day. We have new guards (long story) and apparently they did not get the memo. The night guard did not turn on the faucet. Righto.

So someone called someone and a big water truck showed up a couple of hours later. They filled our tank. It took about 5 people to watch the hose fill up the tank. Kind of funny really. In India, it often takes lots of people to complete even the simplest of tasks. Then our cook told me that the tank was dirty and that “hopefully” they cleaned while they were here filling it up. Yeah – gross. And, even more so, yeah – hopefully. We now have water – how clean it is, I really cannot be sure.

Then this morning, in the middle of my shower, the water instantly turned cold. Brrrrr. Then it stopped. Completely. It completely stopped coming out of the faucet. Did I just put conditioner in my hair and soap up? Dumb question – of course I did.

Wait. one. minute. Didn’t we solve this problem already? Doesn’t everyone know to turn on the faucet – twice a day?

I hopped out of the shower, cracked my door ever so slightly, and called out to our cook. I asked if anyone was running the water in the kitchen. It is strangely connected to the bathroom – so I was hoping against hope that they were cleaning up and that the dirty dishes could wait. He. was. not. using. the. water. ARGHHH. Now we have what you call a mystery.

Back to the bathroom. I turned the water back on. Mystery mysteriously resolved. There was once again water coming out of the faucet and now it was scorching hot. I turned down the heat and finished my shower and got dressed.

Number One Hubby is at work, so I went into the kitchen to explain the injustice of it all to someone, anyone who would listen. I had conditioner in my hair for pete’s sake. That water was cold. Dag nab it. It was all terribly inconvenient.

I started to tell my tale of woe to my cook – yes, that would be my cook who takes water home from my house every night because his water makes him sick if he drinks it. I doubt he has a bathtub or much hot water – I wonder if he even has an indoor toilet.

Yes, I shut the h-e-double toothpicks up and quickly decided I didn’t have much to complain about.

Where’s my pumpkin……….

The Canadian Ambassador recently hosted a Thanksgiving Ball at the Canada House in Delhi. I have not gotten dressed up for a formal affair in a while, so I felt a little like Cinderella. I just needed some helper mice and a fairy godmother. Luckily I had an outfit I could wear.

The night was actually a fund raiser for CanAssist. The meal was authentic with turkey and, dare I say it, gravy. There was also stuffing. Yum. I got to enjoy a real Thanksgiving meal while helping people with cancer – yes, that is a win-win.

If you ever move to Delhi – this is the woman you want to know.
She can tell you where to get your hair done, who to trust with braces, where to effectively donate your
time and energy, and she will tell you about fun things like this Thanksgiving ball.
She is a Delhi Rock Star!

Anypumpkin, the night was great fun. I didn’t stay past midnight because I am not
21 anymore and don’t have that much energy. But it was a blast!
My pumpkin was waiting and took me and my tired feet home.

Monkey love…………….

On every trip we take, we cross our fingers and hope, hope, hope to see monkeys. They are supposed to be everywhere in India. And it seems they are – everywhere we are not.

But not in Kathmandu! In Kathmandu, you can get your fill of monkey love.

And that is true monkey love – picking bugs off of one another. Smooch.

You talking to me?

I loved how these monkey mamas watched out for their little ones. They scooted them under their arms and wrapped them on their backs. It was delightful. These little guy is clearly not a teenager yet – he still doesn’t mind holding his mother’s hand in public.

And this son of a monkey stole my lollipop. Okay – he didn’t actually steal it – but he scared the monkey out of me and I threw it onto the ground so that he would stop coming toward me.  But be sure he knew exactly what he was doing. And it was a brown tootsie roll pop – my favorite. He seemed to enjoy it though.

So, if you need a monkey fix, Kathmandu might just be the place for you.

Save the Date…………

AWA

Holiday Mela

Sunday, November 15th
10:00am to 3:30p
at the
American Embassy School
New Delhi
Entrance fee: rs. 200
(children under 13 free)

Over 100 vendors
food court
used book sale
kids activity center

The Temples of Kathmandu – part 2…………

Yesterday, I wrote about the Pashupati Temple in Kathmandu. If you have nothing but time on your hands today, you can read that post here.

If you are new here, I’ll catch you up. Last weekend, my family went to visit Kathmandu in Nepal. We saw Mt. Everest from the comfort of an airplane seat and soaked in the markets. It was an amazing experience! Today, I am going to continue to share our trip with you and today’s post will be about more of the temples we saw.

I have gotten a lot of positive feedback (thanks guys) from my last few posts and what I really want to say is – if you can ever go to Kathmandu – go. Go. GO. Go! Kathmandu really surprised me. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. And it hit me right in the soul. I have really had a hard time explaining why. It is a magical place. Really and truly magical.

There was such beauty in the tangible manifestation of prayer – the fact that something lingers even after the prayer has been answered or denied. Stunning. It is also humbling to see just how many worries are out there in the world. We are certainly not alone in our request for help and guidance. We all need it sometimes. I wonder how many of the flags represent prayers that have long gone out of consideration. Worries that are no longer worrisome.

It helps to put our concerns into perspective about what to really focus on. I know that if I had to put a permanent mark on the world for all of the prayers I have offered, there would have been far fewer of them. That truly helps define what really deserves our energy. I felt so lucky to currently just have global prayers like health for the world and peace for the world and nothing really immediately personal. I always pray for people who are alone in the world and anyone who is struggling in any way – so I included them. But my own heartache is simply being away from home – that can absolutely feel overwhelming at times – but going to Nepal was perspective changing. The sadness of being away from family and dear friends is lessened ever-so-slightly (and effectively) by the experiences my immediate family is sharing together. We only wish our friends and family were here with us.

The second temple we visited was the Bouddhanath Stupa. It is a Buddhist Temple. And it was the first place I had ever seen prayer flags and the prayer wheels. If you want to get a 360 degree view of the stupa, click here.

There does not seem to be a clear understanding of who built this stupa and several different versions of its beginnings are offered. They are all very different and not seemingly connected. So, I won’t try to turn this into a history lesson.

The walkway around the stupa forms a circle. Number One Hubby and I agreed that the “town” surrounding the temple felt very European. Of course the walkway is lined with merchants selling trekking gear and souvenirs.

There are four sets of eyes on the temple. One set facing each direction. It is my understanding that they represent the fact that we are always being watched over for protection and that they watch for assurances that we are doing our best. They are the eyes of wisdom and compassion. Kind of brings new meaning to the mother’s claim that she has eyes in the back of her head.

This prayer wheel stood from floor to ceiling. It was massive. And there was a bell on it that rang every time it made a complete rotation. It was humbling to stand before it. Really, what kind of prayer calls for a wheel this big? I cannot imagine how heavy a heart must be with angst to call upon this wheel.

Then we went to the Swayambhunath Temple. It is also known as the monkey temple. There are monkeys everywhere! Both Buddhists and Hindus worship here.

This is the world peace pond that greets you when you enter the site.

When you come from a country that is just over 200 years old, it is amazing to see structures that have
lasted through so many generations. This temple is believed to have been created in the 5th century.

There are prayer flags strewn all throughout the temples in Kathmandu. They are magnificent.

The Tibetan name for this temple means Sublime Trees because it sits on the mountain side and is surrounding by a great number of different trees. The tree below is my favorite – it is a broken tree in the middle of such splendor and still it stands out with its own beauty. Maybe there is hope for me yet.

This temple is believed to be the most sacred of Buddhist pilgrimage sites. There is a stupa on the site and various shrines and temples. A Tibetan monastery, museum, and a library are more recent additions to the compound. Much of the symbolism at the site comes from the Vajrayana tradition of Newar Buddhism, but Buddhists of all schools find the site important. Many Hindus also revere the complex as well and come here to worship.

Swayambhunath, is among the oldest religious sites in Nepal. According to the Gopālarājavaṃśāvalī Swayambhunath was founded by the great-grandfather of King Mānadeva (464-505 CE), King Vṛsadeva, about the beginning of the 5th century CE. This seems to be confirmed by a damaged stone inscription found at the site, which indicates that King Mānadeva ordered work done in 640 CE.

The dome at the base represents the entire world. When a person awakes (represented by eyes of wisdom and compassion) from the bonds of the world, the person reaches the state a bit higher. The thirteen pinacles on the top of it symbolises that sensient beings have to go through the thirteen stages of enlightenment to reach Buddhahood.

On each of the four sides of the main stupa there are a pair of big eyes which represent Wisdom and Compassion. Above each pair of eyes is another eye, the third eye. Saying goes that when Buddha preaches, cosmic rays emanate from the third eye which acts as message to heavenly beings, so that those interested can come down to earth to listen to the Buddha. The hellish beings and beings below the human realm cannot come to earth to listen to the Buddha’s teaching, however, the cosmic ray relieves their suffering when Buddha preaches. (Thanks again Wikipedia)

Okay, this one is getting l.o.n.g. too. So, I’ll check out for now. I will just leave you with this view of Kathmandu from the temple.

The Temples of Kathmandu, Nepal………….

Kathmandu is truly the most spiritual place I have ever been. There is a tremendous mix of Hindu and Buddhist influences and we were told if you look hard enough you can even find one or two Christians and/or Muslims. There is an almost overwhelming focus on prayer and reverence and finding a connection with God. (Please don’t take this to mean it is an “in your face” experience – it is really a peaceful and calming experience. No one comes out of the wood work and actually talks to you about God. You are really left to feel what you feel. No questions asked – no pressure.) Really, I guess I should more accurately say a connection with the gods – the Hindu faith has over 1 million gods. But of course we take our own experiences wherever we go and end up translating more than just the language and the currency into our own terms – so, for me personally, God it is.

There were prayer wheels and prayer flags everywhere. I guess I have never really experienced a physical manifestation of prayer. I am not Catholic so I have never used a rosary. But there is certainly something extremely comforting and connected about doing something while you pray. Spinning the prayer wheel makes praying feel more active. Seeing the flags makes it appear permanent. Prayer becomes more than just a whisper that often seems to disappear into thin air, remaining most alive in our hearts. Faith tells us our prayers are heard, but where do they go? The flags let them dance forever as active hopes and dreams. It’s more than just going through the motions.

The town is filled with temples of all sizes and shapes. I have mostly seen churches, mosques, and temples that are defined in a finite space. The temples in Kathmandu cover a wide birth of land and seem to go on forever – up stairs, then down  stairs, and then around corners. They are not contained within walls or confined under roofs. They are open air arenas where you can literally feel the connection to the surrounding natural and spiritual worlds.

Of course, the fact that Kathmandu sits at the base of the Himalayan Mountains automatically makes the spiritual areas feel more majestic and more a part of nature. The structures are certainly man-made but they are God-inspired. And I did not feel smothered by Hinduism or Buddhism, but rather just a part of the beauty of trying to reach out to whatever god you know. Trying to find peace on earth in the human realm.

Here is a little bit about one of the temples we visited:

Pashupati

Pashupatinath Temple is the oldest Hindu temple in Kathmandu – it is the largest Hindu temple in honor of Lord Shiva. Pashupati was established in the 5th century and the priests who perform ceremonies here are largely Brahmins from South India. It is not known for certain when Pashupatinath Temple was founded. But according to Nepal Mahatmaya and Himvatkhanda, one day Lord Shiva grew tired of his palace atop Mt. Kailash and so went in search of a place where he could escape to. He discovered Kathmandu Valley and, without telling anyone, he ran away from his palace and came to live in the Valley. He gained great fame there as Pashupati, Lord of the Animals, before the other gods discovered his hiding place and came to fetch him. He disguised himself as a majestic deer and would not help the other gods when they asked for his help. When Shiva did not yield to their pleas, they planned to use force. God Vishnu grabbed him by his horns and they shattered into pieces. Vishnu established a temple and used the broken horns to form a linga on the bank of the Bagmati River. As time went by, the temple was buried and forgotten. Then a cow was known to have secretly sprinkled her milk over the mound. Apparently, when the cow herders dug around the spot, they found the lost lingas and again built a temple in reverence. (Thanks Wikipedia)

I am one of those people that changes the nature channel when the lion is about to eat the rabbit. I completely understand that it is the way nature works. I don’t take up arms against the lion. I just don’t want to see it. So, I am really glad that I did not understand that this temple has a crematorium along the banks of the Bagmati River. I would have avoided it at all costs. I would have not wanted to explain it to my children. I know that death is a part of life. I get it. But our kids have been largely unaffected by death so far in their lives and I want them to enjoy that for as long as they can. It will come full force in their lives soon enough. And it will surely hit them hard when it comes. So I have been an ostrich with my head in the sand – patiently delaying the inevitable. Basking in the glory of life.

But it was amazing. Really amazing. There were bodies being cremated. There was no wailing. No fanfare really. It was just a process. Part of life. Hindus, of course, believe in reincarnation. So ultimately there is no reason to be sad about the discarded body – the empty vessel. The soul has moved on to a new being. And, practically speaking, cremation has tremendous benefits in a world where there won’t always be room to bury the dead. I want to be cremated mostly because I don’t want to get eaten by bugs. So it was fascinating to see the whole process in action. It was remarkably calming.

When a someone in a family dies, the family members of the deceased must spend 11 days in the temple mourning. The temple is right next to the river. They wear white and stay together without touching anyone else, even each other – there is no physical contact – and, I believe, talking only to each other. This exemplifies the importance of family in Asian cultures. Can you imagine completely stopping your world for 11 days? I mean leaving your house – not driving your car – not going to the grocery store  – not answering the phone – doing nothing but mourning. I am not saying that Westerners are unaffected by the loss of a family member or loved one – of course we are very affected – but we certainly do not give ourselves permission let life screech to a complete standstill. It’s fascinating.

My children were remarkably aware and accepting of what was happening. They were not overwhelmed by it. They were not scared by it. They just watched the burning mounds with respect and distant curiosity.

On the other side of the river, life was continuing on in full force. Tourists snapped pictures, children played in the river, Holy men gave blessings, and women washed laundry. It was a beautiful example of the full circle of things. Life imitating life.

There were literally hundreds of monuments beyond the river. Wear comfortable shoes if you come here. There is a lot of walking. But it is really a tremendous place. As I mentioned before, the Hindus have over a 1 million gods and this park is a tribute to many of them.You could see monument after monument after monument in a never ending testament to the devotion of the Hindu believers. The mini temples were often guarded by cement dog or lion statues and there was an sense of tranquility in the air.

You are not allowed to enter the main temple if you are not Hindu. In fact most foreigners are shown this site from only one side of the river. However, we were taken around to the entrance of the main temple. We were not invited in of course, but it was lovely to see it closer up.

This is another view of remarkable architecture that you can see from the park.

This is getting to be m.u.c.h longer than I thought it would be, so I will continue tomorrow. “See” you then..

Souvenirs……………..

Shopping in Kathmandu was fun too. There are all sorts of fun trinkets to bring home. Here are some of the options:

These puppets had four faces. Two of the faces were Lord Ganesha on one side and Lord Shiva on another side – I cannot remember who the other two faces were. Very, very cool.

More puppets. Fun, Fun.

These lions are posed out side many of the temples. They have dragonish heads and protect the temples. I bought a small brass set of these to bring home with us. It can’t hurt to have these babies watchin’ out for us.

What do you want to be for Halloween? Have not decided yet. Pick one – these masks were amazing.

I cannot remember what this is called – someone help me out please – but it a Buddhist symbol and it represents peace. (thank you readers – it is a varja or a dorje)

This was funny – I have a few of these motorcycle statues in our home in the U.S. because, at one point, number one Hubby owned a motorcycle. I prefer this smaller, unrideable version to the real thing. It made me laugh that it was on sale at a temple.  If I had brought a larger suitcase this baby would have come back to India with us for sure. Beneath the motorcycle in the picture, you can see singing bowls and prayer wheels. They are remarkable.

This is the full life version of a prayer wheel, but many mini versions were on sale too.

Now, that’s a good question

I’ve been asked by quite a few people if I am going to homeschool my children in India – ha ha, that’s pretty funny – and NO! There is a perfectly wonderful American School in India and they will go there.

So, what was the good question? What will I do with my handmade stationery business? I don’t know exactly – now I sound like a politician – but seriously, I don’t know. But  I am taking as many orders as I can handle before I leave. You can see some designs at www.areasontowrite.com and, of course, you can call/email me if you want to see something that isn’t on the site. So, if you think you would like to order something, please just let me know!

a dear friend knows you well, and loves you anyway…

Last night I got to spend time with my college friends and it was a gift beyond measure. Each one of them has touched my life in ways they can never fully realize. Last night was no exception – even in our crazy, over-scheduled lives, they each made coming to Mrs. S’s a priority and some came pretty far to be there. Some are in the midst of their own crazy adventures – this thing called life can keep us all busy. Spending time with them was fabulous. We laughed until our sides hurt, we dreamed up potential for my family’s new apartment (and laughed about that too), we looked up people on facebook (not always a good idea when wine is involved), we ate way too much delicious Indian food, and we shared wonderful memories.

Last night I tested their friendship by thinking I had locked my keys in my car and not realizing it until 11pm. You will understand one of the reasons I love them so much when I tell you that they ALL sat with me until 12:30am when AAA arrived and unlocked my door. Seriously, no one left. I felt horrible and so grateful all at the same time. And no one seemed too ticked off when at 12:30am, I realized that I had actually left my keys in the house in my coat pocket. Apparently I wore a coat inside. And apparently, I put my keys in my pocket so I would know exactly where to find them when I left. Oops. (I owe my mother-in-law a big thank you on that one too, as I kept her and John up way passed their bedtime.)

No one was more surprised (and embarrassed) than moi. But really, what a gift that extra time with them truly was. Mrs. S had us laughing so hard we were literally in tears, baby M was cooing and smiling, and I soaked in every moment of it. I will miss them all tremendously when I am in India. I will miss seeing them several times a year. A few of them are planning a visit and I am crossing my fingers that it will actually happen. But, in the meantime, I know that when I come back, I can jump right back in and not miss a beat. Thank you ladies.

Thank you for your patience, your humor, your friendship, your ability to laugh at yourselves (ourselves), and your time. Last night was wonderful because of all of you and our time together is a memory I will pack in my heart and keep with me.

Top Ten Reasons I Miss Mr. W

10. Sleeping alone stinks

9. We had a snake in the driveway yesterday – a black one – but a snake nonetheless

8. He doesn’t mind killing the bugs in our house – probably the snake wouldn’t either but it’s not getting in

7. Our son had a big school project due this past week that involved a lot of reading – our son is not a big fan of reading, especially for a school project

6. The toilet over-flowed today

5. Sleeping alone stinks

4. If he was working here, we wouldn’t need to move there

3. We had back-to-back swim meets at 7am in Maryland

2. I am not as much fun for the kids as he is at the end of the day

1. Did I mention that sleeping alone stinks?

Parameters

I’m just saying – be careful what you ask for!

My husband used to work from home – all the time. And there were some super nice things about that. Sometimes we would sneak out for lunch or take a walk or just sit in the kitchen and talk. But – you know what is coming next – he was here ALL the time. And, frankly he wasn’t that busy at work. So, my time was his time. Sometimes I felt like I had two shadows. And I did not get a lot done.

He started working from home about the same time our house was being renovated and our youngest child went to kindergarten – yep all three kids out of the house all day for the first time EVER. Welcome home hubby. This was also a really busy time for my card business – A Reason To Write.

Free time – what free time? The free time I had been so looking forward to was first filled with the sounds of hammers and then by the sound of his keyboard. Because, even though we fixed up a nice office for him in the basement, he preferred to plop down at the eat-up area in our kitchen. You got it – smack down in the middle of all the activity – and when the kids weren’t home – my inactivity.

So, I actually said to him – you know, this isn’t working out that great for you to be home all the time – maybe you could find a job that took you out of the house a couple days a week. I didn’t want to completely get rid of him but a little down time was sounding pretty good. So he comes home and announces he has an opportunity to work in India. And when his answer to “is that a new street in our neighborhood?” was “no”, I took a long, slow, deep breath.

I should have clarified, by saying to get out of the house a couple days a week, I did not mean India. I meant around the corner, down the street, you know – commuting distance. So much for the best laid plans of mice and wives. That did not work out the way I planned. So now I have decided that parameters are the way to go. When you ask for something – be very specific!

Proud to be an American – very proud

Normally, I try to be funny and, I have to admit, I can sometimes be a smarty pants (who me). But not today. Today is serious. It’s almost Veterans Day.

We should all take a moment and be thankful for our freedoms. In fact, it’s a holiday, so take the whole day and just be thankful. No complaining about this great country – no matter who you voted for or why you voted for them. In fact, don’t talk about politics for the whole day.  We are all in this together.

Take a second to remember that it is true, our freedoms were not free. Many people sacrificed for us – with their lives. Not just a little inconvenience – but their lives. They missed seeing their children grow up, they missed that last kiss from their husband or wife, they missed hearing how proud their parents must have been of them, they missed meeting their grandchildren – they missed everything. And, those who fortunately survived their service – well they were willing to sacrifice everything. Lucky for us.

Those of you who know my dad know that he is just one of my favorite people in the world. He taught me a valuable lesson when I was in about 6th grade. He was in the Air Force and we lived in Germany. One day I was visiting him at his office and we went out for lunch.

As we were walking, the National Anthem starting playing. It is a lovely little tradition at military bases that usually happens at noon. And it means everything stops. Oh, those were the days. Even cars. Everything stopped. People even take off their hats and put their hand over their heart. Beautiful! And, when I was out with my dad that day, this young kid in uniform decided that on that day he did not need to stop. Poor guy. He did it in front of my dad. Ooops.

Now, my dad is full of social grace, so this kid was lucky. My dad was a gentleman about it – but he made it clear. Crystal clear. You stop for the National Anthem – period. That had an impact on me – I thought, pay attention, this is very important.

From that day on, whenever I hear the National Anthem, I feel it in my bones. Really, I tingle. I get teary-eyed every single time. I am so proud to be an American.

Give yourself a gift today and click on this link. Nobody, and I mean nobody sings the National Anthem like Whitney Houston. She almost brings me to my knees. You can tell she feels it too – she smiles and she feels it in her bones. You can just tell. So, stop what you are doing and listen http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qciWEufZ2xA&feature=related – and take off your hat and put your hand over your heart.

And don’t forget to thank a veteran.

Thank you dad, thank you Joe, thank you grandpa Connors, and thank you grandpa Keresman! Thank you to everyone who has ever worn a uniform, loved someone in uniform, or God forbid, lost someone in uniform. God Bless.

Who’s on first

Mr. W. has this thing about putting too much of our info “out there” but I would like to talk about our kids every now and then. And, although it worked out quite well for Microsoft, I simply cannot imagine referring to my children as child v.1, child v.2, and child v.3. So, I am now going to begin using their nicknames.

Bear is our son – our oldest child. He got this name because he wakes up grumpy. His hair is also really bushy when he does not brush it. But mostly he is really grumpy in the morning. Just ask him, he is sure to growl at you. Of course, when he was really little, I called him my Pookey Bear – yep, from Garfield. But somehow he managed to outgrow that a little too quickly.

Flower is our middle child and, if you know her, that about explains it.

Angel is our youngest. Mr. W was going to call her cricket until I explained that you cannot give one daughter a nickname like Flower and then call the other one a bug. There is not enough therapy in the world to reverse the trauma from that one. So Angel it is.

As for me, I am going to stick with me. I’d like to keep it simple – I have a hard enough time keeping track of nicknames, actual names, and pets. I do what I can.

There it is – now you will know who I am talking about.

If you give a mouse a cookie – it’s been that kind of day

Every now and then, they all get along….

This afternoon, we did not have a lot to do. That is unusual for us. We are a busy group. So it was a treat. But I wasn’t going to let the kids off that easy. They had to clean out the car. Plain and simple. Or it was going to turn into a science experience gone awry. I could imagine Child Protective Services potentially knocking on the door, with some news reporter at the ready to capture it all. And the neighbors standing, watching, shaking their heads. “She seemed so nice, even baked us Christmas cookies,” they would mumble. Yes, it really was that bad – the car is a mess.

So out to the car they went – to clean it. It started off really good – they didn’t even complain too much. But then, well – have you ever read the “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” books? If so, picture that. If you haven’t, imagine a mouse starting off wanting cookie and ending up in a tree house by way of a carnival. Still not clear? Let me explain.

The kids left the house with the sincere intention of cleaning out the car. They even got a trash bag and opened the car doors. Some of the car crapola even made it into the trash bag. But distraction set in and they quickly forgot what they were supposed to be doing. They played a little basketball. They climbed a tree. They chased the cat. They did remember to bring in the groceries – forgot to put them away – but brought them in. What can I say, they are not exactly over-achievers in the chore department. Then they started raking leaves.

Don’t be too impressed. They wanted to rake the leaves into piles so that they could jump in them. And jump they did. They covered themselves in leaves, they threw leaves in the air, and, oh, how they laughed. They even asked me to take some pictures. That never happens. When they were done, the leaves were pretty much still scattered all over the place and the car doors were still open.

While they were outside it got dark and the temperature dropped fast. So they came in for hot chocolate. Spilled it all over the counter. But drank every drop (at least those that had not mysteriously fallen out of the cup.)

They had a lot of fun squirting whip cream into each other’s mouth – thank you hubby for teaching them that neat little trick. Then they took a shower and put on their footie pajamas.

Let the games begin. Yep, they started sliding down the stairs. More laughing. I was trying not to listen too closely – better not to know too much about some things. You can claim innocence later when Child Protective Services actually shows up. But really, I was laughing harder than anyone. The neighbors shut their blinds – excellent – no witnesses to the chaos.

On to the Halloween candy – and right before bed time, too. Yippee! No better way to follow a whip cream shot than by shoving 20 pieces of sugar down your yapper right before it’s time to try and fall asleep – and all on a school night. Brilliant. They spent the next 45 minutes stretched out on the kitchen floor making up jokes about the candy.

Bear: What is the sun’s favorite candy?
Flower: A starburst.
Angel: Oh, can I eat it?
More laughing.

The jokes were horrible so I won’t make you crazy by repeating them all.

Bottomline:
Today was a gift. They never made it back to the car – I, however, did remember to close the doors and put the still  messy car back in the garage. What the heck, it will just get dirty again tomorrow.

Disclaimer: Hubby did not like the the reference to CPS – he asked me to take it out and marriage is about compromise – so I am leaving it in (remember, I am moving to India so I get a little latitude in all of the  other departments, especially my own blog content) – but I will tell you that he wants you to know I was trying to be funny (and he thinks I failed miserably in that section – the rest of it was funny just not that part) and that CPS has never been to our house and no children or animals were harmed in the writing of this post.

And the winner is…. Well, me

I am new to this bloggin’ thang and I know many of you are too. So when I got my first blogging award today, I was so surprised. No time to even write a speech. But luckily, it’s all done via internet, so no worries about what designer I have to convince to let me borrow a dress – I don’t even need to figure out what museum to rob for jewelry to wear – no tripping on the red carpet – whew.

Apparently it works like this. Other bloggers find your blog and, if they like it, they can award you something. So today, sassymamasays.blogspot.com awarded me the “Holy Crap, You’re Moving to India” award. Look, I did not say they were official awards – but I am taking it! A total stranger found my blog, read it, laughed a little, and took the time to create an award just for me. Aw shucks!

Thank you Sassy Mama!

Oh, the drama of it all…

I adore my children. I think they are great, most of the time. And just when I get a little cocky – one of them puts me in my place. Can you say “humble pie”?

Enter Bear.

With hubby gone so much, there is a lot to do around the house. And I feel like I am doing most – okay, all – of it. So tonight I enlisted the help of my son. I asked him to clean the cat litter. Now, this partly my fault, he should have been asked to do it more. At 11, he should be used to doing it. But it’s not that big of a deal. And honestly, I have been doing a good job of cleaning it every day. It’s not that bad. Or so I thought. Silly me.

Bear went downstairs to clean it out – minus a Hazmat suit and chemical warfare mask, which he apparently thought were essential. Bear immediately comes upstairs in tears looking for a big bowl – one of our throw-up bowls. I know. Give me a break. I am quite sure no one set off tear gas in our basement. If I am not careful, he is going to steal my academy award right out from under me.

Now Bear has had several emergency rooms visits because of some pretty significant respiratory issues – several that were quite scary. I always go with him. I will not leave his side. I become Mama Bear incarnate. Watch out! So, I am glad he knows I am compassionate when he is sick. I understand why he might feel this sudden turn of events might win him a little sympathy. Again, GIVE ME A BREAK.

Tell me you are having a hard time breathing and my world stops. All focus is on you. Got it. No question. And my world does not start spinning again until I know you are okay. You can get away with not cleaning out the litter box on those days.

Tell me, with tears in your eyes, that changing the cat litter is going to make you throw up – and I will have you do it everyday from now on – until you are 18. Seriously.

And, no, I am not going to tell him that there is a nice little man in India who is going to change the litter for him. He can sweat this one out.

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong…

Remember that fun little diddy from Sesame Street? I liked it because it was always easy to figure out what was wrong in the picture.

Welcome to our new home. This is our kitchen. Remember, sometimes, what you don’t see is as important as what you do see. In this case, even more important. Look closely.

Oh yeah, no stove, no oven, no fridge. I am looking at the kitchen, right? Yep, there are cabinets but no toilet – it must be the kitchen. And, there is a fan for a cooktop. What? How does that work? I don’t even see a lantern that I could rub and make dinner suddenly, magically appear – or a phone to call for take out.

Now I have been promised that I will not have a lot of housework to do -

no laundry,
no cleaning,
and apparently, not-so-much on the cooking either.
But I am a fan of eating – so I am curious. I’ll let you know how this one works out.

The Facebook Phenomena – Won’t you be my neighbor…

Not so long ago, I ran into a former  roommate when I was out walking. FYI – when I say “former roommate” that is a hint to you that it did not end well. Hush – don’t tell.

Seeing her was qutie a surprise – partly because I have not seen her in a really long time – remember it didn’t end so well – and partly because, if she is walking near my neighborhood, that must mean – wait for it – she LIVES near my neighborhood. Oh good.

I was out with a couple of my friends (yes, I do have a few left) when I saw her. They were very impressed with how happy she was to see me – you could see the “note to self” look on their faces. Priceless.

It was actually nice to see her – I am not great at holding grudges – and she had a new little baby – and she looked good. Plus, I’m really not sure I could even tell you exactly why we have not spoken in forever. Clearly she remembered – maybe it was something I did -Hmmm. Nope, I still cannot remember.

Anywho – so, I said, “Oh my gosh, hi, it’s me – me.”

To which she said, “yeah, I know who you are.” Which made me feel good in a way – because we lived together for pete’s sake and if she didn’t remember me – she might need to seek medical attention for the early stages of alzheimers. And, then, she pretty much just kept walking.

Translation – if SHE is walking near my house, that must mean she LIVES near my house. Oh good.

Well, I recently joined the Facebook Revolution and saw her name there. So, just for giggles, I added her as a friend. She accepted. (Now don’t going logging onto my Facebook page to try to figure out who I am talking about – you won’t be able to. It does not say by her picture – uh oh, you caught me, I am the one who was walking by HER neighborhood.)

So what is the etiquette here? Do I send her a note  or wait for her to make the first move? Maybe she knows I am moving to India and thinks it’s safe to be my friend now. Maybe she wants to throw me a bon voyage party. Oh good.

Update – she wrote me today – maybe she doesn’t actually remember either – maybe Alzheimers is setting in – or maybe she just doesn’t care anymore – but it was good to hear from her. She was very sweet in her email. We’re still neighbors  – and who knows  – maybe we’ll become friends again. I mean, how mad can I make her from the other side of the planet. And yes – that was a rhetorical question.

Cat lovers of the world unite…I am sure you know where this going…

Let me introduce you to Queso. Sadly, she cannot go to India with us. She is a sweetheart and this really stinks – we are going to miss her. But she is diabetic – woah, that sounds complicated you say? Well, it is a little, but she requires no treatment. We found her to be insulin resistant -so she cannot take insulin. (do you like how I ’splained that so clearly?) And, I wouldn’t recommend trying to get her back on it – she had seizures – it wasn’t good. Her biggest requirement is a constant full bowl of water and her litter to be cleaned out everyday – because after all, if you are constantly drinking water – well you know what happens next.

If she were a blogger, this would be her profile…

Hometown – none, I was a homeless kitty rescued by Mr. W

Favorite meal – did you say food – count me in – whatever is on sale is just fine  – and I cannot really have snacks (remember I am diabetic)

Lineage – I think my mother might have a been a tramp (my real mother – not my human mum), I don’t know my father – I was homeless after all

Tail - not so much – I am without one – but don’t worry, I was born without it, remember there was a disclaimer in an earlier post that no animals were harmed in the writing of this post – I can vouch for that

Claws – not so much in the front (I still have the back) – that wasn’t supposed to happen – so shhhh!

Indoor or Outdoor – definitely indoor but I love to sit in an open window

Health – well, minus diabetes, very healthy – all of my shots are up-to-date

Weight – that’s a little personal, but shall we say I am fluffy? Okay – if you must know, I weigh 11 pounds. I will admit I am a little short for my weight.

Purr ability – off the charts

Snuggability – off the charts

Kid Friendly – I live here don’t I – I love me some chilrens.

Cat/Dog Friendly - yeah baby – I have got it goin’ on

IQ - well, I don’t have a pedigree (think about that one – it was funny) but I am smart enough to love my family very much

Facebook login – I don’t have a page yet – my mom thinks I am little young – but if this plea doesn’t work out I might have to explore my options

Ability to return home to my owners when they get back – Absolutely, but they will also completely understand if you fall in love with me and cannot bear to return me to them

Warning – I can pass gas with the best of them – but if you have a man/boy in the house, you have experienced this little marvel of science already.

My mom might have a friend who is willing to take me in and she is talking to her this weekend.

But, just in case that is a “not so much” she didn’t want to leave finding me a home to the last minute – so if you haven’t hit “back” yet to get the heck off this page before your kids walk into the room, please let my mom know if you think I can live with you – either temporarily or permanently.

Carlos Mencia and my new BFF

Earlier this year, hubby got tickets for Carlos Mencia’s show at Constitution Hall – one of our absolute favorite comedians. Then, he got offered a job in India. Dummy. He missed the show. He should have negotiated that in his contract – yeah I know the job is a great one – but I have these tickets for November. Plane ticket back to the USA please. He thinks that might have been a deal breaker. He mumbled something about priorities and a paycheck. Whatever.

So, I went with my friends. Hey, I love him dearly, but I have my limits. There was no way I was going to miss it too. No reason for us both to suffer the injustices of employment.

Enter Jen, Pat, and Ann.

It’s Friday night – we are ready to go – we hop in the car and wow, it looked like everyone in Northern Virginia pretty much had the same idea – go into DC at the same time as us. Brilliant. It turns out there was some big summit in DC – lots of dignitaries – blah blah blah. Something about rolling road closures. Oh good. Translation. TRAFFIC and lots of it. It took us an hour and a half to get there. Don’t they know we have places to go and comedians to laugh at? But we are moms – we planned ahead and left really early. Whew. And, we got a great parking spot. Seinfeld would have been so proud. We had time for a quick dinner. Two policemen sat near our table so we had to behave ourselves. Dang. Off to the show.

By way of history, these ladies (and their husbands) had come with us to see Ron White. Hubby had not been outsourced yet. We ordered those tickets too and didn’t get the best of seats. Let’s just say we did not feel like V-I-Ps but V-I-who’s? Can you say nosebleed -  and forget Kleenex, they would not be strong enough – we’re talking emergency room-worthy nosebleeds – grab the beach towel. Augh. Our seats were horrible. So, on the way in, Ann says, “I brought my binoculars.” Smartass.

Okay, here’s a little secret – shhh – I temporarily misplaced the tickets. Yikes. No problem – they put replacements at will call. Thank you Ticketmaster – In we go. It’s all good.

However, because I did not have our tickets, I didn’t know where our seats were. I couldn’t defend their potential greatness. Anywho, we go in and turn right. Thank you God. Left would have been toward the back of the theater. To the right, there were only about 10 rows – we’re talking front of the theater – this is looking good. We were in about the 6th row back from the stage. Hubby’s status just got moved up to Number One Hubby. Ann wouldn’t need those binoculars. Ha and whew!

Two of us decided to hit the head before the show started. We saw Brad Williams and I took a picture with him. Delightful.

Then off we go to find the bathroom. There is a line for – you guessed it – Carlos Mencia himself. This puts me over the excitement edge. Holy crap – he is right there. In line we go. Then the very nice line monitor cuts off the line about 5 people ahead of us – I know, they have to start the show. I get it – but we are SO close. Think.

Okay, so I plead with the guy. My husband’s in India – he can’t be here, can we PLEASE stay in line. I am still not clear on what that really has to do with making hundreds of people wait for us to meet Carlos Mencia when they couldn’t – but he seemed to get it -very lucky us – and he actually let us stay in line – yahoo! Several people come up after us – also begging but also offering  him money (sorry dude – I didn’t even think of that). He said no to them all. He felt bad about it – you could tell. So, I chimed in and I backed him up -“he has had to turn so many people away, really, he has a tough job,” I said to all of them. Hey, I do what I can. This would be the one time of the night that Number One Hubby would have been glad he was not there.

Deep breath. Now it’s our turn. Twenty-five dollars please. What? Dang, I begged to be here – Carlos is right there. We are the last ones in line. My quick-thinking friend paid the guy. We smiled with him and took a very fun picture. Then I told him I was going to put him on my blog. He nodded very politely – you can tell he has manners -but the look on his face said, “Oh yeah – listen up people, there’s another stay at home mom here with a blog and she is going to put little ole me on it – Aw shucks. Look lady, I am the comedian – and remember honey, you paid to see me – who’s laughing now?”

So, I tell him, “No really, I’ve only been blogging for one week and I have over 500 hits (thank you people).” He was walking away – but he actually stopped, turned around, and said, “that’s actually pretty good.” That’s what I’m talkin’ bout. Validation.

“I know,” I said. “Seriously,” I added. “And you are going to be on it.” You can be sure he is counting his blessings now. He’ll be paying me for a picture soon. Only I wouldn’t charge him $25 – he inspires me. I thought he felt the same about me – clearly, not so much.

Oh yeah, we still have to go to the bathroom. Quick. Talk about if you give a mouse a cookie – we got way off track. So we are laughing at our sassy selves and probably being quite annoying. Funny, after all, is in the laugh of the beholder. This woman in the bathroom is laughing at us, too. She clearly has a wonderful sense of humor. “No really, Carlos is going to be on my blog. Hey, do YOU want to be on my blog?” Sure, crazy lady.

We take a picture – she has a great smile and she seems like she’s a lot of fun. I mean, really, she thinks we’re funny – how could I not love her? I ask for her name – it’s Robbin (I like to give credit where credit is due – I asked “y” or “i”). “Two” b’s she said – after Baskin Robbins. Honestly, that is what she said. You are kidding me – that is hysterical. She said it was either that or Holly Hobby. You’re killing me. Apparently her mom loves ice cream. And, actually loves it enough to name her child after it. And, no, she did not charge me to be in a picture with her.

Back to our fabulous seats – thanks again Number One Hubby. And we laughed so hard our faces hurt. The show was amazing – and, nope, I won’t repeat any of the jokes. Buy a ticket.

We drove home laughing all the way. Ha Ha Ha. Thank you Carlos! You are a damn riot! Number One Hubby was right to be disappointed he could not be there.

I can only imagine the what the performers had to say after the show…

Carlos: “Okay, who was the most whacked out fan you ran into.”
DJ Goldenchyld: “It’s all good bro – if anyone came too close I blasted ‘em with my tunes. Too loud for them to get too close.”
Juan Villareal: “Fans? I didn’t go anywhere near those people, the place was crawling with cops. I can’t make bond with only $12.”
Brad Williams: “I had this 500-pound fat chick trying to flirt with me. She likes my yard duck impression.”
Carlos Mencia: “This crazy white woman was promisin’ to blog me.  Woo hoo lucky me, lucky me – dee dee dee!”

And Robbin, God only knows what she told her friends – but she is sure to be famous soon. Hi Robbin – my new BFF.

If Carlos Mencia is coming to a town near you – treat yourself – get tickets and give yourself plenty of time to get there!

Facebook – you might be addicted if…

Cereal has been served for dinner more than three nights in a row in your house – and you find nothing wrong with that – that cereal is fortified – with vitamins – thank you very much.

Oh yeah, the kids – you forgot you had them – hopefully they found the cereal.

Your pets haven’t eaten period.

You are so proud that a famous person has friended you. Note to self – they are just trying to become more famous. You are called a fan not a friend.

You have joined more than 5 groups full of people that you could possibly, potentially know, maybe – I know, really they actually lived in the same state as you at one point, for at least 5 minutes. (thanks Brain Teaser).

You have taken the IQ challenge and believe that your IQ really is 140. Oh honey, maybe not so much.

Halloween candy has become a legitimate snack because it doesn’t take you away from the computer that long.

Your butt is getting flatter from sitting, sitting, sitting at the computer. Maybe that’s from eating the Halloween candy – when the two are mixed together, it’s hard to tell which came first – the candy or the Facebook.

You leave Facebook running in the background pretty much all the time – you never know when someone you barely know might want to chat.

You have missed your favorite tv show more than once and forgot to Tivo it. Duh. Technology allows us to be addicted to more than one electronic device at a time – let’s use that to our advantage people.

The kid who sat behind you in math class in 7th grade knows more about your life than your own parents. After all, he knew you when too.

You are willing to spend 5 hours scanning in old photos that you hated of yourself just so you can share them with, well, pretty much everyone in the world. If they involve the prom, childbirth, or a college fraternity party – seek immediate help.

You compete to have the most friends.

The “Wall” no longer makes you  think of Pink Floyd.

You laugh when you see that someone has actually typed out the whole word “Facebook” – it’s FB, newbie.

You actually update your status on a regular basis.

You don’t ignore anyone -except, maybe, your parents.

You have your notifications sent to your crackberry.

You know how to kidnap someone, share a christmas elf, give flair, and IM and can do it while eating a piece of Halloween candy. You are good.

You have engaged in a virtual pillow fight and really spent time picking out the pillow you liked best. It’s good to have options but please, please tell me that you do know you aren’t really going to be allowed to sleep on it.

You know how to make a smiley face – an actual smiley face not just a bunch of symbols that kind of, sort of resemble a smiley face.

Communication in your house is accomplished mainly via Facebook’s IM feature – it’s all done within the same house – different computers – but different computers located in the same house. No need to see actual faces – you are a jedi master in the smiley face/emoticon realm. And yes, you can make a ticked off face too. You are a master. Yoda would be very proud – let the face be with you.

You have lost track of night and day. An hour lost here or there is not really a big deal. Trust me on this one. But an entire day – yeah, that’s a problem.

You have friends you have not actually ever met.

You laughed at any of the above. And, please don’t ask me how I know any of this. I am not a scientist but I can play one on Facebook.

Have no fear – there is hope. There is a 12-step program just for you.

When did you first learn you were an addict? Do tell – misery so loves company.

Jed Clampet would be so proud…

Are you ready for this one?

I just found out that our washing machine is going to be on our porch. Let me see if I can guess what you are asking yourself – yes it is covered. But nope, it’s not a screened-in-porch (Why would they do that? Mosquitoes are a huge problem in India – no need for screens. What a relief, I feel better already.) Nope, no dryer hookup either. Just a washer. And apparently a really long string.

So not only will I have a washing machine on the front porch, I will also have laundry hanging out on lines. I am sure to be the envy of the neighborhood. Holy smokes. Bow chink a now now. I have nothing else to say about it – I think this news flash pretty much speaks for itself.

Update – Number One Hubby tells me that the washer might not have to be on the porch – it might actually fit in the bathroom. I have just one question – it is a bathtub/washer combination or do I get to now bathe on the porch? Yikes.

12-step program for Facebook addicts – yes, there is hope…

Note – this will be funnier if you read You Might Be Addicted first.

Twelve step program for recovery from your Facebook addiction…

12. Stand up – do this slowly, if you have been sitting too long (hence the name addict) the blood could rush to your head from your butt. You will be totally disoriented – your brain might want to start thinking again – give this one some time.

11. Turn the computer off

10. Step away from the computer

9. Step away from the computer again – I know it’s tempting.

8. Do not turn the computer back on – in fact, unplug it.

7. Feed your children/pet/yourself – something besides Halloween candy or cereal.

6. Pick up the phone and actually talk to a real person – or better yet, leave the house and actually have lunch with a real person. (And no, eating a sandwich while talking to the mailman so your computer has time to reboot does not count!) You can start off slow on this one – just walk into the other room and talk to a family member – face-to-face.

5. Call your parents – they have been worried about you.

4. Hand write a list of people that you want to actually buy gifts for this season (typing it on the computer will suck you right back in) – gifts you can wrap -not gifts that have to be sent via Facebook.

3. Have a real pillow fight with your own family – no more pillow fights with “friends” you have not seen in 20 years.

2. Whoah – Do not sit back down. Have I lost you already? Step away from the computer.

1. Ask your friends (not the kid from 7th grade math – but your real friends) to set up an intervention – but do not, I repeat, do not conduct it via a Facebook chat or by posting it on someone’s wall. And, please, whatever you do, do not hand out fake drinks that you made on Facebook – some of your friends might be battling more than one addiction…

Good luck

We all get by with a little help from our friends – please free to add any suggestions you might have…

Things are looking up…

I just found out that there is a city in India called Hyderabad. AKA – the City of Pearls. Now we are talking. I don’t know what I have been so worried about. What could be wrong with a country that has a city named after pearls. And I was a Chi Omega – our stone is a pearl  – this was meant to be.

Please don’t bring me down by reminding me of the Yellow Brick Road – it looked so shiny and bright – but really not so much – there was that whole crazy wizard at the end and the flying monkeys. That didn’t go so well. Yeah, I know, we’re not in Kansas any more. But Dorothy took care of the witch so I shouldn’t need the ruby slippers – but pearls. Hmmm. That’s another story.

No, I did not learn everything I needed to know in Kindergarten…

Some things take a little longer to figure out.

I am one of those people who always has a suggestion. I know it can be annoying but I am really just trying to be helpful. I am sad that I am going to miss so many chances to share my best trade secrets with you by merely slipping them into casual conversation. So, I am going list some of my favorites for you here – you can read over them when you really miss me – it will remind you that I can be annoying. (Please don’t say “no need to be reminded”. You’ll break my heart.) But do feel free to share your own tidbits – I’ll take them with me. Then I can be annoying in India, too.

409 will get nearly any stain out of clothes – dirt, grass, ketchup, grease, oil. Really, it will. Hello baseball pants. It’s better than bleach for whites. Really, it is. It will keep the underarms of your white t-shirts white. I don’t know how it works on silk or wool – some things are better left to the dry cleaning gods.

Even if you don’t have a baby – buy diaper wipes – the generic brand is just fine. They are great to keep in the car and the bathroom. Do not flush them down the toilet. You really don’t want to know how I gained that little pearl of wisdom. They are also great for blowing a nose that is raw from being too runny (just make sure they are unscented or you won’t miss me at all.)

Ketchup does not have to be kept in the fridge – think about it. The next time you are at McD’s or any other fast food restaurant, look for the ice under the ketchup – there isn’t any. They would not risk a law suit – it can be served room temperature – and it is so much better that way! Say it isn’t so – if you don’t believe me, read the bottle – it does not say “refrigerate after opening.” (Note to babysitters – please quit putting my ketchup in the fridge.)

Cut brownies with a plastic knife. You won’t believe it – they don’t rip. You’ll be singing my praises so loudly I will hear you in India.

Salt or baking soda can get pet and kid pee (and its smell) out of your carpet. Just pour a ton of it on there and let it soak over night – then scoop up as much as you can and vacuum up the rest. You’ll need to clean your vacuum filter after this. Bear has a hazmat suit you can borrow.

Celery lasts forever in the fridge if you wrap it in aluminum foil.

Cut pizza with scissors – and the crust off of sandwiches. Buy stainless steel scissors and you can throw them in the dishwasher.

Throw toothbrushes in the dishwasher when someone is sick. It kills the germs.

Don’t buy tupperware – your old sour cream, margarine, and cream cheese containers work great. If you are someone who won’t be able to remember what’s in there  – write it on the outside of the container with a sharpie. And if you forget to eat it – wah lah – you have a science fair project. Plus you are really recycling. Go green baby.

Throw sponges in the dishwasher every day – they won’t smell spongy.

Clip newborns fingernails when they are asleep – seriously, it is so much easier!

Cook a bunch of ground hamburger at once (buy the big pack at Costco and cook it all at once) – then drain it, separate it, and freeze it in sandwich bags. When you are ready for tacos or spaghetti, you are half-way done. Half the time, half the mess.

When you are cooking ready-made biscuits, rolls, or cookies in the oven, lower the temperature by 25 degrees – they may take a tad longer to cook but they won’t be gooey inside.

Taking dinner to someone who is sick or who just had a baby is a tremendous gift – but not if you take it in a bunch of dishes that have to be returned. The sleep-deprived can barely remember to brush their teeth (and they can’t find their toothbrushes because they left them in the dishwasher), much less remember which casserole dish came from whom (thank you English degree). Forget presentation – they won’t care how pretty the salad looks. Throw everything in plastic ziploc bags or old sour cream containers and give them the gift of sanity mixed in with a little time. Throw in some paper plates and plastic forks – no dishes tonight!

I have a friend who told me once how to clean out under the stairs in her garage. But I refuse to pass this little nugget along – I don’t have time to clean out under the stairs in my garage – I don’t even care about cleaning out any part of my garage – enter at your own risk. She also tells me the time in exact minutes – enough said.

Don’t forget to share your favorite hints from Heloise.

I have a rep to protect…

You might not have guessed it by the high quality of my blog – but I am a one-woman show. That’s right, I market, publish, design, research, write, edit, and plagiarize (that is a joke) all by my lonesome. FYI – I was an English major – and my parents paid a lot of money for that degree. No, they did not actually “buy” my degree – but it was expensive for me to earn it. And, now that I am mostly a stay-at-home mom, they are not seeing a big return on their investment. SHHH!!! So, if you could just go ahead and help me out by letting me know if you see a typo, yeah, that’d be great.

Now, please don’t take that as poetic license to rip apart my content – you own a “back” and “delete” button for that. Remember, these are the cheap seats – this blog is free. Please don’t shoot the messenger. And, extra spaces, not so much. But, if I misspell something – ya gotta help a sista out. (Yes, I do realize that most of that last sentence was misspelled – I was going for effect or is that affect, I can’t remember.)

Gracias!

WHaT’S NeXT……………….

Honestly, they have a smiley face icon for everything. And, I hope this one comes through. It is a smiley face on a rug with a turban in front of the Taj Mahal. Seriously, was that necessary?

For every cloud, there is a silver lining…

from juniper images

Apparently I have given some of you the wrong impression. I have gotten quite a few comments about how unexcited I am for our new adventure. I blog to differ. Just in case you don’t know me, I am a smarty pants. Most of this is sarcasm. Oh sure, and there is a bridge for sale in Brooklyn. I know. But seriously, I have found the silver lining around some of the clouds that I thought were pretty dark and I wanted to share them with you…

For example…

Cloud:
I have had to pretty much give up my handmade card business – A Reason To Write - pretty hard to do craft shows on weekends with 3 kids playing two sports and a husband out of the country.

Silver Lining:
But now I have started blogging and am LOVING it – I have not put pen to paper in a long, long time – this is definitely a silver lining. My parents might actually see some return on their investment in my college education after all. Maybe I’ll go for my masters – yeah, probably not. No need to get carried away.

Cloud:
I am that mom that will cook chicken nuggets, mac n cheese, and pasta for every meal. Life is short and I don’t have the energy to fight over food. And, just to spice it up a little – sometimes I will throw in a happy meal. I aim to please.

Silver Lining:
Now, I have decided to expose my children and their tastebuds to new adventures too – just in case they don’t exactly cater to the spoiled conservative American 11/9/7-year-old palate in India. My kids have now tried lasagna, stroganoff, apricot chicken, and homemade cheeseburgers. And, the best part, therapy will not be needed at a later date – these new flavors did not cause any traumas. They survived. I did take it slow -  I have not exactly delved in to the vegetable world – but give me time. (As a bonus, I learned how to spell stroganoff.)

Cloud:
I joined Facebook and I think I might have run out of friends to add. At least I have not discovered any new ones lately.

Silver Lining:
Hey, wait just one minute, I am moving to a country with a billion people. I can out-friend my American friends in no time. Oh the possibilities. Surely, somewhere in a country with a billion people I can find a few new friends. Easy now – remember there are some rhetorical statements here. No comments necessary on this one.

Cloud:
About a week after hubby left, my entire computer system crashed. Remember, I own a stationery company and make everything myself – oh yeah, and I use the computer every now and then (translation – ALL THE TIME) to do it- AUGH! Cloud – big cloud. At the time, it felt like a full-blown nuclear explosion cloud.

Silver Lining:
But now, I have laptop that I can take with me every where I go – even to India. And, I updated a lot of my software – apparently a lot happens in the software world in seven years. Apparently, they fixed all the things that had been frustrating me – who knew? Big Fat Silver Lining.

Cloud:
I am going to miss my friends terribly.

Silver Lining:
But, now I am making plans for lunch, dinner, and shopping with most of them. I am seeing them more than I probably would have normally. I have even reconnected some people who weren’t my biggest fans.

Cloud:
No Target and Costco or even Walmart.

Silver Lining:
No Target and Costco or even Walmart. Think about packing up a house full of junk from Target, Walmart, and Costco and you realize you don’t need a lot of junk from Target, Costco, and Walmart.

Cloud:
I am not a big fan of 6th grade math and I have had to spend a lot of time with 6th grade math because Number One Hubby AND his mathematical mind/accounting degree are out of the country.

Silver Lining:
Bear and I have gotten to spend some time together figuring out 6th grade math and he still has a good grade in it (Mr. Beasley would be so proud). Whew. Thank God we are moving before Bear moves on to 7th grade math. I will not be downsized just yet – outsourced, yes, downsized, not so much.

tick tick tick – DING

Did you see that little number over there on the left? Blog stats – it just changed to 1,000. That means 1,000 times someone checked in to see what I was writing – that is very cool! Thank you for caring! And, believe me, I have tried to see if I can boost the number by logging in and out of the site. WordPress must have a stealth detector – it knows it’s me everytime and does not increase my stats when I log in. So thank you for following my journey – McDonalds better watch out – I am creeping up on their schmancy fancy  “over 1 billion served”. How do you like me now??? By tomorrow, I am sure to be able to say “over 1,000 served”.

Hugs and kisses to you all. Maybe I will give out a prize from India when I hit 10,000 served. Hmmmmm.

NoISok

NoISok

If you went to high school in the mid- to late 80’s you might recall this clever little catch phrase. If not, I’ll break it down for you – No is Okay. It was meant to give high schoolers the permission to say no to whatever pressure peers were laying on them. Drugs, Sex, Smoking, Cussing, Skipping School, Studying too much (okay, maybe it did not exactly give you permission to say no to studying – that was parental pressure, a whole different story, but hey, I am entitled to my own interpretation).

Certainly, I spent some time in those meetings (yes, my picture is even the yearbook front and center – I might have even been an officer, gulp) and I chanted No is Okay with the best of them – oh yes, I signed the contract…

I, state your name, will follow the straight and narrow path and be a good little high schooler who does not party, does not smoke, and aspires to be the President one day so that I can bring about world peace. And I will do it while helping old ladies across the street, babysitting for free, organizing canned food drives, and studying for my Calculus exam (which I most certainly get an A on, by the way)…

Put your cigarette out, your drink down, and Sign in Blood here. XXXXXX

Only, I spent more time saying “no” to NoIsOk than I spent helping old ladies across the street. I was by no means a horrible kid (SHHHH – remember, my parents/husband and maybe, one day, my children read this blog) – but I was busy enough that I did not exactly accomplish world peace or necessarily an A in Calculus.

Where am I going with this, you ask? What could this possibly have to do with moving to India, you say?

Well, I realized today that, in fact, No really is OKAY. Very recently, I have been daunted by some pending invitation orders, which appear to be in direct conflict with moving me and my family to the other side of the planet – in 5 weeks. Holy smokes. Translation – not enough hours in the day.

And, yes, I do realize that I could have said no in the first place. But, I honestly thought I could do it and they are orders from very good customers and really nice people. And I so much wanted to make their holiday invitations – I love making invitations – it’s super, super fun. Unless you are moving to India – then it is simply STRESSFUL. And I don’t care if “stressed” backwards spells desserts – stress by any other name is still STRESS, even if it is covered in chocolate and dripping with whip cream. Then it’s just stress that will also make you fat.

So, I took a deep breath and I emailed all of my customers with pending invitation orders and explained that I am overwhelmed, because I am moving to the other side of the planet – in 5 weeks, and I just simply cannot create invites for them. They were all so understanding and supportive and it made me feel horrible. And, frankly, a little sad. But it also made me feel better. Much, much better.

Enter – deep cleansing breath.

So, over-busy people of the world UNITE. It is okay to say no every now and then. In fact, maybe this is the solution to world peace – less stress. Gotta go – Obama needs to know that NoIsOK. Maybe there is a cabinet position in it for me – the Secretary of NoIsOK – I’d even be willing to sign the contract – the position will be located in …. India? Okay, he might say “no” to that.

Precisely, my dear…

Bear is black and white. Very practical and logical. Enter Mr. Spock. Me – not so much. Enter everyone else all mixed together.

So, we were in the car not so long ago and he asks me what time it is. And, it goes a little something like this…

juniper images

Bear: What time is it?

Mom: 9:30
Bear: but the clock says 9:28
Mom: Well, honey that’s the same thing
Bear: I don’t get it
Mom: Well, 9:28 and 9:30 are about the same time -
sometimes people round off the time
Bear: I still don’t get it
Mom: Wait a minute, if you can see the clock, why are you asking me what time it is? And, FYI, now it really is 9:30.

Clearly, Bear is from Mars and Mom is from Venus. And, no, I did not bother explaining that the clock probably really isn’t set to the exact time anyway – can you imagine the fallout from that one?

Her job is to hug…

There is a woman in India whose life’s work it is to hug people – that is it – that is what she does. Simply to hug. Wow. And it is estimated that she has hugged over 30 million people in 30 years. Seriously – Wow. Her name is Mata Amritanandamayi Math and, thankfully, they call her Amma.

She doesn’t ask for a thing for a hug – and yet, people donate money to her causes willingly. She is said to have donated over 23 million dollars to tsunami relief, one million dollars to Hurricane Katrina relief, and funds so that over 100,000 homes could be built. Dang! (source Wikipedia)

I love hugs too – but, if Mr. W has just mowed the lawn and comes in all sweaty looking for affection – not so much. And I love him – a lot. But ick. But not that Amma, she just hugs, anyone, everyone. God love her!

Once a press reporter asked Amma how was it possible for her to embrace each and every one in the same loving way, even if they were diseased or unpleasant. Amma replied, “ When a bee hovers over a garden of varied flowers, what it beholds is not the difference between the flowers, but the honey within them. Similarly Amma sees the same Supreme Self in each and every one.”  (This was quoted from www.Amma.org.)

That is really a beautiful thing. And it would never happen in America. We might have come far enough to elect a black President  – but we are not likely to celebrate someone who just walks around hugging complete strangers. Lock her up – she’s a nut – doesn’t she know I just ironed this shirt – would be our battle cry. She would not stand a chance.

I am looking forward to living in a country that puts a “hugger” on an equal playing field with celebrities. She is famous and people flock to her. This fascinates me and I hope to meet hug her very soon.

(P.S. Thanks Mary P. for enlightening me!)

Skype, Skype, baby…

Do you know about this service – first of all – it’s free – yippee – and second of all, it basically lets you talk via the computer with anyone else with a computer (think conference call) – yep, no matter where they are. Even in India. And, if both parties have a camera on their computer (and are willing to turn it on), you can see who you are talking to (think video conference call). It’s very cool. And it is why I can still remember what number one hubby looks like.

Anywho, you can subscribe to the service (did I mention, it’s free) at www.skype.com. If you decide to sign up, please let me know your contacts login – we can keep up!

On another note – I added a subscription link to my blog – it’s on the top of the column on the left-hand side (it’s under the heading “subscribe to this blog” – yes, I am very clever). If you click on the link and enter your email address – you will get an email when I add a post. You will have to confirm your subscription in your email – it’s easy, schmeasy to do. And, that way, you won’t miss a thing!

Sugarplum fairies danced in my head…

This weekend Flower and Angel danced in the Nutcracker. It was called “Nutcracker in a Nutshell – All Jazzed Up.” If you ever get a chance to see this version – do – it’s shorter – it’s sassier (translation – not too heavy on the ballet) – it’s a win all around.

Flower was a Hip Hopper (I told you, it’s not your grandmother’s Nutcracker)

and a Mirliton (ribbon dancer – don’t worry, I had to look it up when they announced her part – you’re not alone on this one).

Angel was a Bon Bon and a Chinese (some things are still recognizable).

And of course, they were great – and blah blah blah. I will not bore you with every little detail of their performance – I have the DVD if you insist on seeing just how great they were. However, …

My girls are similar in a lot of ways. But, this weekend I was privy to another one of their differences.

Apparently at the end of each performance, all of the dancers line up at the bottom of the stage to sign autographs. And, many of the people there knew just what they were doing. (Something about tradition – after every show – shhhhh, don’t tell the newbies) Clearly, I did not know about this little “after show” arrangement. DANG! Bear and I just sort of sat in our seats as the crowds dispersed and wondered what in the heck Angel was still doing up on stage. Angel was standing near the row of dancers in the front who were signing autographs – she stood there very patiently waiting for someone, anyone to ask her to sign their program.

Bueller, Bueller.

Not realizing what was happening, I hurried her to get moving.

Now, it’s not that I don’t love the Nutcracker and it’s certainly not that I did not love absolutely every second of them being on stage – I did! But, I also sat in the parking lot for hours with a very bored Bear while they practiced every Saturday afternoon for the past 3 months and then I sat through the 4+ hour dress rehearsal. I even arrived an hour and a half early for both performances to make sure I had great seats with my general admission ticket (those of you who know me can stopped laughing now).

And then I sat through performance number one – knowing full well that performance number two was on the horizon. I clapped until my hands hurt – I took a million pictures – my heart swelled with pride – and when it was done, well, I was sort of ready to go home. We’re doing this all again tomorrow, right? Let’s go.

Angel cried. OMG she cried. “No one even got the chance to get my autograph.” Huh? Really? Sweetie, you were the best Bon Bon ever on this planet and a great Chinese dancer, but, honey, most people want to get autographs from Clara and the Nutcracker and the Snow Fairy – you know, the leads – aka, the stars of the show.

“No, mommy, they would have wanted mine too if I had just been there long enough.” Okay then.

Forget the 529 for college savings – it’s all going to the therapy fund as of now.

She cried again going to bed. A lot. I felt terrible and a little amazed by her insistence that the world had been cheated. Note to self – cancel self-esteem classes. Instead, sign Angel up as the instructor.

Now, Flower, she came down right after the performance and did not even try to sign autographs. She didn’t see the point. She did not want to get or give any signatures on her program – thank you very much. It was very fun – but I am done here and there is a Burger King cheeseburger with my name on it somewhere close by. Let’s go. That’s my girl!

Lucky for me, Sunday’s performance was attended by grandparents. Now, I know why they are called “grand”. I shared my little story with them and they stepped up to the plate stage! When the show was over, Flower and Angel came down to thank them for coming and they, with pen in hand, asked for their autographs. They both complied with big smiles on their faces. It was kind of magical. Definitely worth the price of admission and the hour and a half wait in line and the practices on Saturday and learning how to put their hair in an “official” Nutcracker-worthy bun and, and, and …..

Afterwards, Flower went to change. Apparently she felt sufficiently famous.

Angel – well, she marched her little Bon Bon self right back up on that stage – and wouldn’t you know it, two people (without any prodding from me whatsoever) asked her for her autograph. Little ole Angel with her little ole Bon Bon part. No more tears were shed. By her or me.

On the way to DMV…

Several years ago, not too terribly long after I quit working (translation – still worked my butt off but quit receiving a paycheck for said work) and shortly after Sept. 11th, I lost my drivers license. If there ever was a time to not lose your drivers license, I can assure you this was pretty much it.

juniper images

I am guessing that it is likely a universal truth that at every DMV you need two forms of identification to replace your drivers license – and at least one should have your picture and the President’s signature notarized in triplicate – thank you very much. Let’s see – I lost my id with a picture (that’s why went to the DMV) – and I used to have a badge for work, but I turned in my employment badge with a picture – yep – when I quit receiving a paycheck. So, up to the line I go. I had my social security card, which I knew would not count, and my birth certificate, which even if it had a picture, it would not have been a recent one. And, apparently foot prints don’t count either. Who knew?

The clerk, as I will politely refer to him, was not impressed with the baby stroller and my tale of woe. But he was willing to help – or so he pretended. “Let’s see ma’am, maybe you have a pay statement with your social security number in addition to your birth certificate.” Yeah – not so much – remember I quit getting paid for my work. “How about a tax return?” Yeah – also not so much – my husband’s pay information is on that – remember – I don’t get paid anymore. And not for nothing – those are not documents that I normally just happen to have on me. If you need a Cheerio or a goldfish cracker – I can help you with that.

“Oh, I see.” I confused this pause with empathy. He quickly corrected my misinterpretation by saying, “well, ma’am (which made me feel old – great – this just keeps getting better) why did you quit work in the first place? You know those kids aren’t going to appreciate it anyway. You would have been better off staying at work. And, you know, we have to be very careful THESE days. You never know who is plotting what.”

Okay, I know stereotyping is bad – but look if you know me, you know I don’t exactly fit the profile of a terr*rist.  Seriously, if I was a terr*rist, I would not be in the DMV line in the mall with a baby and a stroller. I would have my underlings make me any id I wanted and I would have gladly denied myself the two hours of sheer pleasure I got that day.

I turned around and looked at the sign behind me. It still said DMV – but apparently our DMV now provided career and parental counseling. Well, isn’t this my lucky day?

My former working self would have demanded to speak to the manager. I would have explained that this is no way for me to be treated. I would have been furious – and, of course, if I had still been working, I probably would not have been insulted in the first place. But, I needed a drivers license and I could tell he was considering giving me one. Bastard. He was cracking. And I left with drivers license in hand.

Fast forward to this week at the bus. Flower had left her viola at home. She realized it at the last minute at the bus stop. She got on the bus and then she had the bus driver stop – she actually got off the bus with tears in her eyes and pleaded with me to bring her instrument to school. I did. (Usually I would say “too bad” but they were practicing on a different day that week than they normally did.)

That afternoon, she got off the bus and ran up and hugged me – really hard. And said, “Mommy, thank you so much for bringing my viola to school.” Huge smile on her face – and then mine. First of all, it melts my heart when my kids say Mommy. And, then she thanked me totally unprompted. Take that, Mr. DMV clerk – and to hell with a paycheck – there are some things money really cannot buy.

Now I lay me down to sleep….

Many nights, I will be honest, not every night, but many nights I say a prayer before I go to sleep. It’s always silently and it’s always while I am laying down with my eyes closed. And it usually while I am trying to get warm.

Somewhere along the way, I must have been taught that prayer time was really meant to be a time to be thankful.  I remember when I was younger (even up until high school, and probably even college), I would thank God for all the animals I ever owned. I could still recite you the list. I won’t bore you with it – but I could.

Even the goldfish that I won at the fair – who sadly did not live to see his first birthday – was included in that list for decades. You probably know that game that you play by tossing the ping pong ball into the field of glass bowls – if yours landed in a bowl with a fish – wah lah – you have a new pet. It is the stuff that Dr. Suess books are made of  – one fish, two fish. Anyway, I named mine Fred. And, I thanked God for him for many, many years.

Now, when I pray, I am not so worried about the pets. But I do pray for anyone traveling, anyone alone, anyone scared, anyone ill, and anyone who is not with us anymore. It is a weird combination of things. But it is my little mix of concerns for the world. A reminder to myself that I am not the only one with issues and that, really, my issues ain’t so bad.

This mantra of mine started when my husband started traveling more for work. I am not a big fan of flying (yeah – good thing I am moving to India) but I am even less of a fan of Number One Hubby flying. So when he started flying pretty frequently, I started praying more.

I am not Catholic – so I am not sure why I felt guilty about praying just for him – but it felt selfish. So, I started including anyone who was traveling – not just my hubby. Then my father-in-law got cancer and I started including anyone who was sick, not just my father-in-law. You can see my neurosis at work.

So, this Thanksgiving my night-time prayer will once again include many well wishes for those with concerns in this world and an extra thanks for all of my blessings.

Yesterday, my clever little Bear came home and showed me something he learned at school. He held up a glass with slurpee in it and said, “is this glass half-full or half-empty.” Bear, my dear, it is very much half-full – and it tastes yummy too – see how lucky I am.

I am off to count my blessings and to say a prayer that you have many blessings too. Happy Turkey Day – gobble gobble.

I hardly know what to say…

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. And today I am most thankful that number one hubby is here safe and sound on American soil. We enjoyed Cirque De Soleil last night with a new appreciation for the safety of the good old USA. It was a nice distraction – we enjoyed a very slow dinner without watching the news. We disappeared in to the laughter of the crowds. It was magical and it took us completely away from our worries.

Right now our children are blissfully unaware of what happened yesterday in India. We are enjoying cooking with them and are looking forward to having our family here to hold hands and say a Thanksgiving blessing before dinner. We are especially grateful that number one hubby’s brother will be joining us after serving in Iraq for 15 long months. We are more appreciative of that service now than ever.

We are thankful for your prayers and well wishes. And, we are going to enjoy the luxury of putting the madness of yesterday to the side to bask in the best America has to offer – family, too much food, football, and the peace and quiet of our little street.

Surely, we have decisions to make – but thankfully, they can wait until tomorrow.

if it walks like an ostrich, talks like an ostrich…

And sticks her head in the sand like an ostrich – Yep, I am going to keep my head in the sand for one more day. So this post has absolutely nothing to do with India.

Rock on Angel…

Yes, that is a picture of Angel with the brand new pink ELECTRIC guitar my mother-in-law just gave her for her birthday. They went out for Chinese food and then shopping together to pick out her present. I can hear the collective sigh from all of you weighing heavy in the air. What was she thinking? And yes, there was even momentary talk of including an amplifier but Bear figured out the guitar took batteries – no amplifier needed.

But please, no pity here.

Our house has a basement – she can play it there. Seriously though, she LOVES it. She has already written at least 6 songs. They are all about Pooh Bear and the lyrics – well, they’re pretty much the same. (I get it – he is really cute. But she found 6 different ways to say it.) Tracy Chapman need not worry. No grammies will be stolen away this year.

Last night, after Thanksgiving dinner, the kids all performed a concert of sorts. Our little twin nieces banged on handmade tambourines, Flower played her recorder and her viola, Bear and our nephew banged the top of a plastic laundry basket (hey, a drum by any other name would sound as loud), and Angel rocked on with her pink electric guitar. And we all sang jingle bells together. It was a beautiful thing. So thank you Oma and Angel – Rock On!

Dan Quayle watch out…

Recent world events have given me reason to consider stop writing this blog. But it’s been a lot of fun and I am not ready to throw in the pen just yet. So, you will begin to notice that there will be some things misspelled or spelled in strange ways. Forgive me. And Dan Quayle – watch out. I am going to put that whole potato”e” controversy to shame!

And names will never be accurate. Locations are likely to be misleading.

In future posts, you’ll see what I mean – and I have corrected my naivete in some earlier posts. I get to put my creativity to use in a whole new way. Poetic license just got a whole new meaning. I hope you will continue to enjoy following my blog – and if you have questions, just ask! /me

One potato, two potatoes, three potatoes, four…

Remember when decisions were that easy? When you had to make choices, you just had to know how many pieces of bubble gum someone wished. And “olly olly oxen free” meant everyone was safe. It was that simple. We’re done playing, it’s getting dark, time for dinner – olly olly oxen free. And if that didn’t work, there was the famous 8 ball – it knew everything. (And, the best part was, if you didn’t like the answer – just shake it again.)

Okay – I just went on Wikipedia to make sure I was spelling Olly Olly Oxen Free right and found this out…

The exact origin of the phrase is unknown, but etymologists suspect it is a childish corruption of the German “Alle, alle auch sind frei!”, (literally, “Everyone, everyone also is free!”), which is purported to have been a cruel joke often played upon Holocaust victims by their jailers. At any particular time, a prisoner might be released, immediately upon which the phrase would be shouted. Any other prisoners who also left would be killed further down the road by Nazi soldiers.

Again, I just don’t know what to say.

Back to my dilemma. Number One Hubby and I have had a few discussions. We didn’t make any real progress. I am more aware of geography, politics, religion, and conflict than I ever imagined I would be. I am actually reading the newspaper now. I learned how to share the evil of the world with my sweet children without scaring the beejesus out of them. And I still do not know what to do.

P.S. and, yes, I tried the 8 ball – it just keeps getting stuck on an edge – no help whatsoever.

A Message from the Director….

When all the recent excitement in India began, I immediately started logging on every day to the American Embassy School website – hoping for guidance, looking for an enhanced security plan, and really just stumbling in the dark for security assurances. Well, their website was under construction – perfect! But I kept checking and today I found this message from the Director…

Dear Parents and Colleagues,

Recently I had the privilege of hearing former British Prime Minister, Tony Blair speak on the condition of the world.  He emphasized that the battle against terr*rism cannot be won with better security alone; that more important is the teaching of tolerance through an education that values cultural diversity.  This is why our mission of  “enabling responsible global citizens” is so important.  Someone once said that the last person to know why humans kill one another died a long time ago, leaving us without an answer.  AES exists to prepare young people to create a better world.  Each day we see that possibility here at school and in our community.  These children, being educated with children from around the world, truly represent hope for a better tomorrow.  Perhaps they will learn the “language of sleep.”

When They Sleep ~ by Rolf Jacobsen

All people are children when they sleep.
There’s no war in them then.
They open their hands and breathe
in that quiet rhythm heaven has given them.

They pucker their lips like small children
and open  their hands halfway,
soldiers and statesmen, servants and masters.
The stars stand guard
and a haze veils the sky,
a few hours when  no one will do anybody harm.

If only we could speak to one another then
when our hearts are half-open flowers.
Words like golden bees
would drift in.
—- God, teach me the language of sleep.

Thank you for your continued support through these troubling times. It is a privilege to serve this wonderful community.

Sincerely,
Bob Hetzel
Director

Note from me -  There was another b*mbing today in India – on a train – so far, 3 people are dead and about 30 injured – if you are interested in more details – follow this link. Number One Hubby is not in India this week. This b*mbing occurred far to the west of Delhi on the other side of Bangladesh. It does not appear related to the events in Mumbai. Apparently, these terr*rists were not sleeping. It’s really too bad – a little nap would do us all some good.

No more -ER………….

I am going to distract myself from making quite possibly the biggest decision I have ever made and vent a little.

You all know someone pERfect like the lady I ran into on Monday – they are pERfect, their husbands are pERfect, their kids are pERfect, their house is pERfect, their life is pERfect, even the plaque in their teeth is pERfect (oh nevermind – they don’t get plaque) and they make us craziER than anyone else. I have a “friend” like this. And I had the good fortune to see her earlier this week. Oh lucky, lucky me. That will remind me not to stray too far from home again.

She honestly told me how much bettER her kids were than mine at, well, simply evERything. She did not exactly say it – she is a mastER at trying to be subtle while bragging, but I am very good at reading between the lines – thank you vERy much. And, I know when you say that it’s too bad my daughter did not receive the Nobel Prize for litERature at the young age of 9 (oh honey, she still has plenty of time), but you must be off to buy a new outfit for your own child’s cERemony – I get it – I am pERfectly insulted.

And, FYI, I happen to think my own kids are pretty great – it’s my job -  so hER sitting next to me and telling me that hER kids were bettER at evERything on the planet than my frumpy little ragdolls – well it might be a little tough to keep my new year’s resolution of not hating the people who drive me pERfectly insane. And it made it even hardER to keep my good sense about me and not push hER down and take hER lunch money to give to some poor child who was less pERfect but hungriER than her own lovely offspring.  ERRRRRRRRRR is right!

And, don’t worry, she is not from my neighborhood. She doesn’t have time to read my blog – well, between the MENSA classes for her two-year-old and the upcoming space flight for her other little blob of pERfection and hER own vERy important job of telling absolutely evERyone how wondERful her children are, she simply does not have time for my silly little blog. Oh, believe you me, the world would stop spinning if she stopped talking about hER own children long enough to actually read about someone else’s kids – yeah – it is not going to happen. No one will be able to figure out who she is. (And no detective, she is not one of my Facebook friends.)

So anyway, I was watching Oprah not too long ago and Oprah was talking with women who have read Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth. These were woman who actually chose this book to read because they realize they are far from pERfect and they wanted to find ways to bettER themselves. I liked them already.

And, there was a woman who read the book and decided to stop trying to be any more “ER” than anyone else. She was not going to try to be prettiER, richER, skinniER, smartER or anything else more than anyone. She lost some weight because she stopped obsessing about what she looked like compared to other people, she enjoyed spending time more with her kids because she wasn’t worried about how they compared to other kids, and, in general, life just got easiER.

So I am going to try it – I am not going to be more ER than anyone else. Well, except maybe nicER than my sweet, misguided friend mentioned above. Dang, have I lost my focus already? ERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cool Rider……..

Grease was a great movie – but Grease 2 now that is a classic. Michelle Pfieffer probably does not brag about playing Stephanie Zinone but she was great and I love, love, loved the song “Cool Rider”. We even played it at our last birthday party. Cooooool Rider, cool, cool, cool, rider…………………..

Number One Hubby used to own a motorcycle. It was pretty cool – as far as motorcycles go. And I know he would admit that I did not give him a hard time about owning, or for that matter, riding it. He actually spent more time working on it than riding it. He’s a smart guy – he took the whole thing apart – sent parts out to be chromed, painted, and jazzed up in one way or another. Then, by his lonesome, put the whole thing back together. Amazing. Very impressive.

Oh yeah – there was the one little issue with the brakes – but he got that fixed. Apparently, he didn’t quite put those together exactly right. Details.

I even rode on it ONCE (before he took it apart). However, I am not a big fan of my kids parents both being on a motorcycle at the same time. Call me boring – but it’s just not worth it. So you can imagine how I feel about moving to India right at this moment.

Still no decisions…

More reason I miss Mr. W………….

6th grade math.
(Yes, this is a repeat, but not because I am lazy, but because it’s not getting any easier.)

Mr. W lets me sleep in.
(I had completely forgotten about this one – but it is a big one.)

Number One Hubby let me sleep in while he was home for Thanksgiving. And, while I slept all nestled in my bed, he and the kids decorated the house for Christmas and hug the stockings by the chimney with (out) care. He is good like that. That is why you might see mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe.

On the other mornings that he would let me sleep in, Mr. W would make the lunches for school, get the kids breakfast and then take them to the bus stop. Have you been to a bus stop in the morning lately? Baby, it’s cold outside. Today I learned that 2 degrees Celsius equals about 36 degrees Fahrenheit. (I also learned how to spell Celsius and Fahrenheit.)

Maybe I am not so big on spelling either.

Have a mentioned that I am not a morning person?

Our dishwasher has this unique (translation…..unnecessary) feature that allows you to actually turn it off. Not just have it not running – but truly turn it off – like a light. Mr. W feels that it saves on our electricity bill to turn off the power (what about the over 100 recessed lights you had installed, honey – oh, I forgot, that’s different -never mind). So, every time I filled the dishwasher (no, he didn’t do that – he didn’t want me to miss him too much) I would have to wait for the dishwasher to “initiate” before I could start it. It was annoying. Now, I miss that part of my day and I think of him every time I run the dishwasher.

I bought 2 white t-shirts and 1 off-white t-shirt yesterday. Mr. W would laugh at that. More white shirts? He would laugh. I miss sharing the tiny details of the day with him that never quite make it into our phone conversations.

He does know I bought Christmas dishes. He also knows I did not need Christmas dishes. But he does not care because he knows I really love Christmas dishes – even if we might not use them for the next two years. He is probably laughing at me for that too. Or maybe I should say laughing with me. (And, yes they are also white.)

My prayer list has gotten so long that it’s hard to remember it all. And now I find it necessary to pray every night.

Sleeping alone still stinks.
(Also a repeat – but a self-explanatory repeat, I believe.)

And the stockings were hung…..

This year, when I think of the gifts I want to give my kids, I don’t think of what I can wrap and put under the tree. I think of confidence…laughter (not to be confused with happiness, they have to find that for themselves)…integrity…love… security…determination. Gifts I can wrap around their hearts – gifts that can seep into their personalities. Gifts that can help them understand their potential (not realize their potential, but understand that they have it, – again, realizing it is up to them) – gifts that will shape who they are going to become.

I am realizing that as they get older, I have a chance to mature and focus.

That is their gift to me – perspective.

This year, it’s going to be hard for us to give them tangible (translation – material) gifts. Which is a gift in and of itself. So, Number One Hubby and I decided to give them the gift of family, amazement, memories, and laughter. It is a gift we are re-gifting – a gift our families have given to us.

We took them to see Cirque De Soleil.

We went to dinner first and just simply caught up with each other. It was lovely. We had lots of time – no rushing. Then off to the circus. We were dazzled, amused, amazed, and very much entertained. We laughed the whole way home as we recounted our favorite parts and marveled at how the artists managed to do any of what they did – right before our eyes.

The circus was fabulous and we would highly, highly recommend it. But that wasn’t the gift. It was the time together. The memories and the laughter. We created wonderful memories that I know will last at least a lifetime. Maybe memories that will even last thru generations, I can hear them now…….remember when we all went to the circus…. and then, prayerfully, later to their own children, when I was your age………………………..Now those are gifts worth giving.

As I sit watching…..

As I sit watching……they swim….

Some people think that we are crazy for participating in year-round swimming. (No, we aren’t the get up at 4:30am and practice before school kind of crazy – but we swim year-round in addition to soccer, basketball, dance – and, oh yeah, this little thing called school.) I can see why they think we are insane – it’s one more thing that we add to a list of many other things to do. But it’s one more thing we love!

Swimming is fabulous for a million different reasons and we loved it before we ever heard of Michael Phelps. Yes, my friend, we were country when country wasn’t cool. (Although, I have to admit, Mr. Phelps does make us love it even more.)

I love swimming because just about anyone can do it! When we go to practice, we see all kinds of people swimming in the exercise (aka lap) lanes. There is a man that I swear weighs 600 pounds – at least – and he swims ( yep, “swims”, not floats) for a solid hour. He is not fast – but let me just say, he is faster than I would be – and a lot faster than the bench is that I sit on as I watch him swim. There are women that just might be older than 100 (not really, but close). There are little babies splashing around. It is a universal sport. And, yes, it is a sport. And, a sport, that if you learn how to do it, just might save your life one day – how can you argue with that?

I have no delusion that my kids will be going to college on swimming scholarships – frankly, that is not the point for us. I hope that they love swimming enough to continue doing it at some level for the rest of their lives.

I love the team aspect of swimming. Being on a team with kids of all ages is a wonderful experience. There are relays and practices with kids of all abilities and ages. You can cheer for your teammates and swim with them. But you also swim in races against them. This is a unique aspect of swimming – you are teammates and competitors. You can be happy for your opponent and inspired by them to do better.  The team part of it is what keeps Bear most interested in swimming. He loves the relays. And if he earns himself a spot on a relay team – all is right with the world.

Swimming is also the only sport in which all three of my children can be on the same team and participate in the same meets and practices. Swimming is great like that. Their practices are at nearly the same time and are at the same place. It’s a 3-fer! Bonus.

Next, swimming is a black and white sport. The coach does not have to like you for you to swim or for you to qualify for a meet. No one has to pass you the ball in order for you to score. This is a beautiful thing. It is about you and the wall – and how fast you can get yourself to that wall. Even if you are the slowest, most awkward swimmer on the team, you can realize your own improvement in a measured way. If your time drops, you have gotten better – wah lah!!!!!!! Be proud, be very proud.

And it is about rules and procedures – a gentleman’s game if you will – you wait in the water until everyone is done swimming – no matter how long you have to wait – you wait. You shake hands at the end of your heat. You have to swim the strokes technically correct or your times don’t count – except freestyle – even I might be able to squeak that one out without disqualifying. But nothing is given – it is all earned. What a concept.

If you improve your time – excellent. If you keep your time consistent – very good for you (for that can be hard to do). If you add a lot of time – well, reality bites – you have to sort that one out for yourself. The how and the why of it and if it really matters to you at all. No hand holding here.

And if you want to get better – guess what YOU have to do – work harder. No one can do it for you – not even your mom – no matter how much she wants to. Awesome.  (And a note to parents, myself included, the kids are submerged in water with a cap over their ears. They can’t hear us screaming at them cheering for them. And for those of you who whistle – stop it. No seriously, I mean it. Stop it.)

And, of course, it is great exercise. Swim for an hour – you are tired. Benadryl beware – you are about to be knocked out of contention as the number one sleep aid for tired parents who need their kids to sleep  just a little.

Another fabulous thing is that swimming is a two-year sport. You are in it for the long haul. Swimmers swim in age groups – 8 and under, 9-10, 11-12, 13-14, and then finally 15-18 (yes, that must become a real test of commitment). You get a year at the top of the age bracket – and then – humble pie – a year at the bottom. It is not sprint – but a marathon. Stick with it and you’ll be very, very glad you did.

Let’s not forget that it is also wonderful cross training for any other sport. And it is a low impact sport – not too many injuries. Bonus. Bonus.

So, call me crazy – but I am off to the pool – and yes, in the winter, it is an indoor pool. Outdoor anything in the winter is a deal breaker for this taxi driver/ cheerleader they call mom.

Note: If you live near Washington, D.C. and have any interest in trying year-round swimming, the Potomac Marlins are great. You can check them out at www.potomacmarlins.com. Tell them I sent you!

We interrupt this blog for an important bulletin…..

For a number of reasons, the kids and I will now be leaving for India right around February 1.

The pen is not always mightier…….

NASA, knowing that astronauts would need to write in space, spent millions of dollars inventing a pen that would write in zero gravity. And invent it they did.

Russia – well, they used a pencil.

I have not verified this story because I am not even sure how I could. I know NASA does not have a blog marked “Oops” or a top ten list of things they learned not to do while spending tax payer money. It ain’t gonna happen.

But, I also have not even tried to verify it because I want it to be true. It is a great story of lessons learned – and forget Aesop’s fables – we can learn so many lessons right in the here and now – and all without even trying to convince ourselves that a fox would actually want grapes in the first place – with all due respect Mr. Aesop – that one was a stretch.

I can even imagine the planning sessions where the scientists were all taking notes in pencil and writing on the chalk board. I am quite sure someone even suggested that the answer must be right there in front of them. It can’t be that hard. Really, I can hear them saying it. Scratching their head with the end of the pencils. Sharpening them while thinking of new ideas. Erasing the ideas that did not work so well. They might have even said – well, that didn’t work, back to the drawing board. I wonder if they drew and colored space ships with their kids at the end of the day – with crayons. Hmmmmm. Maybe little Johnny is on to something.

And I do not see this at all as a criticism of Americans – I think it highlights our strengths. We are a smart, determined, well-resourced group that can solve just about anything. But I think sometimes we need to remember we don’t have to invent a new pen when a pencil will do.

Note: It turns out that regular pencils proved to be dangerous in space because they could catch on fire (details) and that the space pens (after the initial investment of a lot of money to invent them) were actually cheaper to purchase than the mechanical pencils NASA was using instead of regular pencils. Whatever – that is not the point. (get it – not the point?? I crack myself up – really – that was a good one.)

My tummy hurts……………

That is what Bear said to me this morning.

And, just by the way and fyi, this is the morning that I am going to get all of my Christmas shopping done. Yep – all of it. I even have a list and coupons.

If you are a parent or ever had a parent, you might already know that these are words that most parents dread – really all parents dread these words whether they are working for a pay check or just working for the love of the job – especially on a school day – and even more so on a school day right before Christmas.

Now, Flower had her appendix out at 7 – it was an emergency – it was scary. So, I tend not to ignore tummy aches. They make me an intsy bit NERVOUS. Beyond my family’s history with tummy aches – there’s the whole throwing up thing – which isn’t so bad for the person who is just doing the hand holding – but then it has to be cleaned up – I know – GROSS! And the other option really isn’t any better.

But – TODAY – honey, really? How bad does it hurt? I dunno.

Bear crawled in bed with me – now, I have to say that was nice. He let me rub his back and his tummy and he actually snuggled – isn’t he good to me! Don’t forget he is a 6th grader so these moments are rare – and I will take them absolutely any way I can get them – even if he has to suffer a little.

We tried all the tricks – go to the bathroom – a glass of water – go to the bathroom – take some medicine – go back to the bathroom. Then he asked if he could turn on the t.v. – progress. He feels well enough to hold his head up to watch t.v. This could be okay.

Yep – then he asked if he could take a shower – he felt well enough to walk. Yippee. (Totally unrelated – It was funny that while he was in the shower he asked me if he should wash his hair. Kids ask the funniest questions – well, let’s see – it’s already wet, the shampoo is right there, you could have washed it in the time you asked if you should wash it – I’d go with yes, go ahead and wash your hair.) Then he was able to get dressed and he asked for breakfast – watch out school bus, here we come.

He never had a fever and never got sick. He just woke up on the wrong side of feeling good. But a shower, a bagel, and a couple little trips to the bathroom made everything better. He knows my cell number – I will never be more than 10 minutes away from his school – he can call me anytime and he knows that. So, later spater – I am off to play Santa.

And, one more by the way, it’s raining like crazy today – this should be fun.

belated boo……..

This blog is late – I do know that Halloween was well over a month ago, and I am just now posting about it. Sorry ’bout that – but I was not yet blogging at Halloween-time and these pictures are too fun to not share. And there is no way on God’s green earth that I will remember to share these at the appropriate time next year. Especially since I will be blogging from God’s brown earth in India where I am not even sure they celebrate Halloween.

I have also decided that blogging might be my new scrapbooking (I am too far behind on that to even dream about catching up – but blogging starts now – well, okay maybe a month before now – but I am already caught up – and I don’t want to not scrapbook blog these. I wouldn’t put all your boo’s in one basket – but lucky you. )

Anyboo -

This is Flower at Halloween.  A headless Flower nonetheless.

She made her own costume.

This is Bear on Halloween. He just got glasses. He is in 6th grade and is confident enough to turn his new eyes into a complete costume. Nerd bear. He also made his own costume. (and I want to add that he also has contacts – he did not have to wear his glasses on Halloween.)

This is Angel the hip hop dancer on Halloween. She also made her own costume by putting on a hat and acting like a lunatic. Not too much of a stretch really.

These were the best costumes my kids have ever had. They cost me a total of about $7.35. (And, don’t be surprised if I tell you that includes the bottle of wine I bought for myself. I made my own costume too – I went as the mother who got to stay home and pass out – I mean pass out candy – because she had three very generous parents shower her with temporary single-parent sympathy.)

Just so you know, I am never spending money on Halloween costumes again. (As for the wine, well it’s a consumable – it must be replaced. I am pretty sure that there is some diwine law of the universal that will confirm this.)

Oh yes, you know what happened next…..

Yep, I went to book club last night because Bear felt fine. All day long – he felt just fine. And I don’t get out much – so off I went. Thank you very much!

He made it through the whole day of school. No issues at all. He felt fine when he got home. He ate tacos for dinner with a nice big glass of milk. Yummy. (Note to self – I might need to rethink that meal selection whenever someone says they have a tummy ache. Hugs and Kisses honeybun. Sorry for that.)

I was there about an hour, eating very yummy scalloped potatoes and even better green beans and I got the call from my mother-in-law.

Bear just threw up. Twice.
I think he wants his mother. Now.
In fact, my mother-in-law wanted Bear’s mother home.
And now would be good for her too. Right Now.

Exit stage left.

So I sent number one hubby an email saying that I anticipated a long night – Bear was sick. Very sick. And I will call him in the morning when WE wake up. So, HE called us at 7am. Yeah. Thanks. Brilliant. I think I might have hung up on him. Ooops.

Bear feels better – well, Bear is very tired and his tummy muscles are sore. They got quite the work out last night. But he feels well enough to eat goldfish crackers and drink apple juice. He did not ask for tacos for breakfast. Shocking. He also feels well enough to play absolutely every Wii game we own – which isn’t many – but he is trying them all out.

As for me, well, I have a busy day ahead of me. I need to reschedule my MothER of the Year ceremony. Lots of details to coordinate.

Things I learned today……

If you miss the white elephant gift exchange at your book club because your son is throwing up and you have to leave early, your friends will not pick the best gift for you out of sympathy. They will take it as an opportunity to get rid of share the gift that nobody wanted with you. Even if they pretend they are really sad when you leave early and promise to take care of you and your white elephant needs. At least I didn’t get my own gift back. Whew. (thanks Jill)

You could get a pretty nice set of ornaments though. And your daughter will steal them to put on the kids tree. There is no justice in this world sometimes.

Michele makes delicious Christmas candy and I can apparently eat an entire bag in one sitting all by my lonesome. Some things are better left unshared. Yum!

When my son is sick, he likes to be waited on hand and foot.

I do not miss being a waitress. Not even a little.

You should never open a bottle of Sprite that your seven-year-old hands you. No matter how cute her smile is. Never ever.

Sprite is sticky when it dries.

There are a lot of great writers out there in the world of blog.

I would like to visit Japan.

Envelopes with silver foil on the inside don’t feed through the printer so well  – at least not my printer – and I just happen to know my way around printing envelopes. And it did not matter how many different ways I tried it. Really.

My printer has a printer cartridge latch – I did not know that – now I do – and it must be shut. I am going to have to devote some time to figuring out what this is, where it is, and how to close it. I might be breaking up with my printer.

I am glad I did not try to make my Christmas cards this year. I can barely handle printing the envelopes. You’ll see.

Costco only gave me half the envelopes I ordered – even including the ones I totally demolished. That kind of stinks.

I really miss the people who are not on my list this year. I was very sad to delete the addresses for my Grandmother and my Great Aunt. RIP.

They both passed away before Christmas last year – but apparently I did not have it in me to delete them from the list just yet. I was not super close to either one of them but I miss the possibility of getting to know them better. My grandmother was very funny and I miss that  sense of humor of hers. A lot. She was funny, sometimes cranky, and always old. It’s a great combination (especially if you don’t live too close).

A lot of my friends moved this year.

I send out way too many Christmas cards.

My family really likes staying at home in our pjs on a very cold and very windy day with nothing to do but being waited on hand and foot.

Apparently my children have no problem whatsoever sitting in front of the tv for several hours – hours upon hours – that is, as long as food and drink are brought to them at regular intervals and placed directly in line with their peripheral vision – within reaching distance.

My cats do not like to go outside on very cold and very windy days. They are purrfectly intelligent little furballs.

The cats use the litter box more when they don’t go outside. Oh goody.

A nap would have been nice today. It did not happen.

I am no where near done with my Christmas shopping, but I do have a good handle on it.

My son’s stomach still hurts. Do you think it had anything to do with the chips and dip I let him have for dinner? Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. Hmmmmmm.

I think I really am going to have to reschedule that MothER of the Year ceremony. Bummer.

The Scarlet “T”………

UPDATE: After hearing much discussion from my neighbors about the letters they have gotten re: their trash not being appropriately located – well, I jumped to assumptions on this one – it turns out that the person who was on my property is not on the HOA board and is apparently not employed by the HOA board either. (That might lead to another blog about why he was here, but probably not.) So, I apologize for making assumptions and I pledge to better place my trash can – I cannot promise anything on the Halloween decorations though. I do my best.  Really, I do. I am sure to get a scarlet letter of one sort or the other but it will not be an A (ever) and it apparently won’t be a T either.

You know I am always trying to look at the bright side – so I will say this – our HOA is attentive – they read my blog after all – they may not be fans – but they read it – at least once.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens………

Ever since I starting writing this blog, I have begun reading blogs. Some people find me and lead me to theirs – which is tres cool. And, sometimes I stumble onto a blog. I am not sure how the great universe of blog finding works and I wish I had all day to read, read, read. But, alas, life is busy with facebook and all, so I have to limit myself.

But I wanted to share some of the blogs I am following with you. Many of these blogs are written by adults for adults and it turns out if you use some bad (or at least interesting) words every now and then, you generate more traffic. So for my Sandy Duncan readers (translation – anyone who might be easily offended), put your seat belts on – some of the titles and their content might surprise you. (And, nope, I don’t agree with everything they say.)

My blogging BFF is Lola at Sassy Mama Says. She leaves me (a lot of) comments, so how can I not love her. And she is true to her name – SASSY! In fact, she is the recipient of my first ever blog award. Which is only fair, because she gave me my first and only (sniff sniff) award. Lola gets the “I refuse to drink the Kool-Aid award.” She promises not to run it over with her jeep. We’ll just have to wait and see if she can really keep that promise.

Next is Loco. He is a black American living in Japan teaching English. His blogs are long – but there is always a point. He has had a rough life and sometimes he comes across as pretty angry. But he is definitely worth reading. Especially as an American who is about to travel to distant lands. Since he is in Japan and is learning a lot, he gets the “ah, grasshopper” award.

There are several Americans living in Delhi who write blogs. Mrs. Smith is one of them. She home schools her 7 kids – who, by the way, provide her with a lot of material. She inspires me because she can find the time to write. I have no (legitimate) excuses! She does not write as frequently as she used to, but her blogs make me very excited for our new adventure.

BadAssGeek gets my vote for a great blog title. It’s pretty BadAss. And he starts every post with “in which”. So, in Which I like his blog name, here is his award.

There are some other blogs I really like too. I don’t know them well enough to award them yet, but I am definitely a fan.

Miss Disgrace – a young single parent with a great way of writing things

Black Hockey Jesus – As far as I can tell, he is neither black nor is he Jesus and his blog is really titled “Wind in Your Vagina” which is a quote from his 4-year-old daughter – it’s not meant to be vulgar (at least that’s the impression I get) – although I am sure his title attracts more traffic. If the title offends you, you should probably also know that he uses his imagination a lot – so if you are a literal reader – enter with care.

There are a few other blogs I check in on but they aren’t too busy posting  a lot – so when they start sharing more, I will tell you how to get a looksy at those too.

But for now, these are a few of my favorites things. And, no, I do not like it when the dog bites or the bee stings.

I THiNK My PRiNTeR JuST GeSTuReD uNKiNDLy aT Me…………

If you read my post “things I learned today”, you know that my printer and I have been having some problems. In fact, right now we are barely speaking. Well, I am speaking – begging, pleading, offering high quality card stock – all to no avail.
The printer is just sitting there.
Very smugly. Not printing.

I sent several jobs to my printer today and it just decided all by itself not to print them. It did not even send me a little error message letting me know of this boycott. No smiling faces telling me to take a hike. No ding suggesting I should check out my screen to find out what is happening. Apparently, my printer is on strike and is much too rude to tell me so. Hmph.

All the jams are unjammed, all the latches are latched, and all the plugs are plugged – both into the wall AND into my laptop – what else could be wrong?

It turns out that my printer is hungry and needs ink. Duh. And, for just the cost of one cup of coffee a day (which I don’t drink), I should be able to feed my printer. Yes, Sally Struthers is channeling my printer. And it’s not that adorable little united nations ink cartridge that has all the colors mixed nicely into one box that my printer needs (you know the one, the inexpensive kind that is already in my closet) – oh no, it’s the separate cyan AND magenta individual cartridges kind of ink (I must not print much involving yellow because that cartridge is still half full). FYI, Cyan and Magenta are really blue and pink – seriously, do even our printers have to be pretentious? It’s not even a laser. Hmph again.

This means a trip to Costco – it’s the week before Christmas and all through the town, everyone and their brother are probably at Costco. And I am still in my pjs all snuggly warm right now. And there is supposed to be some sort of wintery mix outside involving (possibly) ice. No, my printer and I are clearly not destined to become BFFs. It will be lucky if we are even still living together at the end of the day.

I just sent another job to the printer – now full of some of the fanciest ink on the planet – caviar ink if you will – and it made some noises and then N.O.T.H.I.N.G. Augh. Now it is just being mean. I don’t have to stand for that, right?

So I sat down. And I deleted the printer from my control panel and reinstalled it – turned it off and turned it on. Wah lah – success. I am printing once again. I am sure that we can print and make up.

Update – this morning I turned on my printer and it spit out all the pages I had been trying to print yesterday – whatever.

The scarlet T revisited………….

UPDATE: After hearing much discussion from my neighbors about the letters they have gotten re: their trash not being appropriately located – well, I jumped to assumptions on this one – it turns out that the person who was on my property is not on the HOA board and is apparently not employed by the HOA board either. (That might lead to another blog about why he was here, but probably not.) So, I apologize for making assumptions and I pledge to better place my trash can – I cannot promise anything on the Halloween decorations though. I do my best.  Really, I do. I am sure to get a scarlet letter of one sort or the other but it will not be an A (ever) and it apparently won’t be a T either.

You know I am always trying to look at the bright side – so I will say this – our HOA is attentive – they read my blog after all – they may not be fans – but they read it – at least once.

THe HoW aND Pi oF iT………….

My son wants to solve pi.

Now we are talking. Finally some 6th grade homework I can get my fork around. Really??

That’s really too bad. It really, really is too bad. But, I think I’ve got it.

Realization number 1.
Not that kind of pie. Pi. No “e” – huh? No pecans, no whip cream? Huh, huh? Can we at least work on this after dinner – a little homework dessert if you will?

Realization number 2.
Bear and I do not think alike in the realm of math. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Not even a 3.14 little bit.

We got through the left brain/right brain communication conflict and I think I might actually understand what he means. It turns out that pi is an irrational number. No kidding. I’d say it’s irrational – wanting to be used to solve math equations – the nerve. And apparently even thinking about it can cause irrational behavior.

Realization number 3.
Being irrational has little to do with the way pi behaves (or Bear for that matter) and much more to do with the fact that pi has an infinite string of numbers following the decimal. Pi represents the relationship between the diameter and circumference of a circle. Huh? I am not clear on why you would ever need to know that, but okay. (Please don’t correct me if I got that wrong – it will send my mind in to an immediate meltdown and I still have to work on math with my first grader. She wants to learn multiplication. I have explained zero and one, but she is interested in all the other numbers. Good Heavens.)

So anypi, Bear wants to solve it. Pi is often more simply represented as 3.14 for those of us who don’t have any more toes than that to count on and because it makes it easier to actually use in calculations. See Bear, there is a reason they rounded it off. And by “they” I mean mathematicians, the romans, possibly Einstein himself – someone who knew of what they spoke. Not me – I did not make it up just to make you crazy. Promise. ( I have pictures of you as a baby – no need for pi.)

Realization number 4.
I could care less what the relationship between the circumference and diameter of a circle is. Unless you are talking about a circle in the shape of a cookie. Yummy. Or perhaps a circle in the shape of diamond earrings. Pretty. But I guess if you really must know one or the other, you can use my new friend pi to figure it out.

And finally.
By solving pi, Bear means he wants to keep dividing the circumference of any circle by the diameter of that same circle – and carry that division problem out until it actually ends. That relationship is supposed to equal pi no matter what circle you use – apparently even an oreo would work. He wants to find out what the very last number at the end of the string of numbers in pi is. Scientist have used mega computers to carry that out 1,000 places. And poor Bear is left with his mega (non) computer called mom. Seriously, this isn’t going to end well. And if you buy into the whole irrational number theory – it is never going to end. Oh goody.

Now I am off to the kitchen. I just remembered that pies come in the shape of a circle. This still might work out okay. Endless pie wouldn’t be so bad. Yeah, yeah, we just went through this pi does not equal pie. DANG it!

WHaT iS YouR FaVoRiTe CoLoR…………..

My kids ask me this question at least once a week – usually because they are trying to draw a picture of me in a shirt that I would never (and I mean ever) wear  – but they want it to be in my favorite color – that’s so it looks just exactly like me. The pink curly hair and the very skinny legs don’t really resemble me very much either – but they are sure the shirt in my favorite color will be a dead give away. I love these pictures – they are funny and endearing. Plus, I get to have skinny legs and curly hair. I’ll take it!

juniper images

The problem is – I don’t have a favorite color – or at least not just one favorite color – but it’s too complicated to explain to them that if I pick just one and only one favorite color – then I miss out on all the others. That’s a  whole lot of missing out. And, is it really enough to just say red when, at that moment, I might really be thinking barn red without any trace of purple whatsoever or bright, bright cherry red with a big fat hint of purple – like the cherry juice that stains your fingers. I am not so sure it is.

I have learned that you have to be careful how specific you are – for being too specific could literally mean hours searching for exactly the right shade through a box of  a thousand broken crayons with missing labels. And, alas, this is a task even my oldest child does not feel he can do himself. My children understand that all blues are not created equal. This is a gift that I would like to think I have given them – a little touch of creativity passed down. But when you are called in for the all out search and rescue for the missing color – you can quickly find yourself on the not so much fun side of things.

I also don’t want to confuse them by locking into just one color – if I pick a lovely shade of red today, does that forever rule out any hue of  brown. Ever? Boo and Hiss. And, yes, I can hear you now, “who has brown as a favorite color?” Well, sometimes I do – when you wear a color and get compliments, it can easily become your favorite color. And with retro being cool again – a brown shirt really sets off my pink curly hair.

Number on hubby has it all figured out – he looks over the top of his newspaper and says simply – black.

I ❤ CHeR

Yes, I heart Cher! That’s right – I said it – and I mean it! I really, really do!

I was at an electronics store yesterday with 500 of my shopping best friends. Lucky me.

While shopping for others, I decided a gift for me wouldn’t be so bad. It’s really not even a gift – I do need some kind of something to carry passports, snacks, a camera, a cell phone, a laptop, and a good book in on the plane. The Hello Kitty diaper bag I have been using might not cut it. So, I picked out a new computer bag for myself  and was trying to figure out if my laptop will fit in it – it’s got a little bit of a larger monitor than most because I used to deal a lot more with graphics than words.

Now it’s more words than graphics. Anybag, the new bag’s tag claimed that my laptop was too large and would not fit. No way, no how. But I am more optimistic than that – so I asked the clerk if I could return the bag if my laptop did not fit. He was quite possibly the most unhelpful check out clerk on the planet. Well, to be fair, maybe not the least helpful,  (unfortunately, there is a lot of competition out there this year for that precious title), but certainly (one of ) the least ambitious.

Here is a little tidbit on the customer service side of things – “I dunno” is not an answer unless you are younger than 8. “Let me find out” – now that is an answer worth spewing. And redirecting me to the website – Hello, my (un)friendly friend, I am physically standing right in front of you sans an actual computer in my hands – if I had it, I wouldn’t need to ask the question because I would just put it in the bag and see for myself if it fit.  See how that works? And we are standing pretty darn close to about 30 other employees. Someone (else) here has to know something. Really, please rethink that, k?

So I asked again if I could return the bag if the laptop did, in fact, not fit. According to him, it won’t fit. At least that is “what the math tells him”. What is it with the math this week? Is everyone a math professor now? And, fyi, I did not ask if it would fit – I asked if I could return it if it did not fit.  See the difference? I am optimistic remember – glass very half full – computer bag not over full. See?

Ta dah and wah lah – it fits! Math Smath. No offense Pathogoras. But sometimes eyeballing it works just as well as a ruler. Bear would be so confused. SHHHH.

What does that have to do with Cher. Nothing really.

Except that, while at the store, I walked by the CDs. I don’t really own any CDs. I mostly listen to talk radio – the Sports Junkies and news radio. But, I thought that possibly some of the music I really like might not exactly be available in India – especially since the last time I really updated my musical tastes, I was still in college. I gave up Donny Osmond many, many moons ago – but the other artists I like are still older than me. Let’s just say they  have been around a (very long) while.

Oh goody, more gifts for me. I bought the three CDs that I do not want to live in India without. The best of Cher, the best of Jimmy Buffet, and the best of Tracy Chapman. I already own the best of Alabama because my wedding song is on it. And as a bonus, the best of Cher cd has a little Sonny sunshine on it – Sonny and Cher singing “I got you babe”. Life is good.

So, musically speaking, I am ready for India. Bring it.

And just in case you heart Cher too – here is if I could turn back time courtesy of the almight You Tube.

THe GReaT CiRCLe……

This post has nothing to do with pi – whew – but the great circle we call life.

It is an intricate circle and it is amazing how we are all so connected within it.

I just got an email telling me that the husband of a friend of mine from high school is receiving a new heart.

Wow.

The email was
excited
and
hopeful
and
prayerful.
It was lovely.

And it ended with this….

While this is a glorious
occasion for us,
it is sad
for some family
somewhere here in the southeast
who we’ll never know.
This family has lost a loved one.
Let’s all remember them, too.

Circle
complete.

ToRN BeTWeeN TWo DauGHTeRs……………

If you have more than one child, more than one parent, more than one boss, more than one friend, more than one sibling, more than one pet, more than one plant, more than one pair of earrings – let’s just say that, if you are breathing, there has to have been at least one time in your life when you felt torn about who to choose.

Especially as a parent, this kind of choice can rip you apart. It’s super – duper – extraordinarily tough. Friday, I had just such a choice. Yippee Skippee.

Flower had colonial day at school (a big deal where all the kids/teachers/parents don colonial garb and have an old-fashioned day). Angel woke up not feeling 100 percent. Number one hubby is not even on the continent – yeah,  that equals a big fat no help there.

Here is the gist of the initial conversation:

Flower: are you coming
Angel: are you staying
Me: …………….
Number One Hubby (via phone with honest-to-goodness sympathy):
sometimes you just can’t get a break, can you?
What are going to do?
Me: …………………

I realize that some situations just will not solve themselves.

First things first – it all started at 6:45am – I need to have myself dressed all colonial-like and all my chilrins in the school by 8am to help set up. There is a lot to do in 75 minutes. The clock starts ……… now – I am off to assess the situation and make adult-like, parental decisions. It’s also way too early for this kind of thoughtful action.

Angel had no fever – but a pretty hacky cough. You know the kind that you simply cannot fake. She also went to bed later than normal the night before- so throw some really tired grumpiness into that mix. Just what the mix needed. Great. She got glass of water, some cough medicine, a blanket, another blanket, and the tv turned on – her pick this time.

Bear had a typed assignment due – you guessed it – the same day as colonial day. Okay – he is in 6th grade – his projects are all supposed to be typed – but he has not been given a typing class. Guess who needed to type it? Let’s say it together now – Moi? I know he could do it himself – but it would take him longer to type one paragraph than it would for him to solve pi. Ain’t gonna happen. And really, not necessary. He wrote it in time for me to type it up the night before, but I went to bed early – being exhausted and all.

Next, Flower’s lunch needed to be authentic for colonial day. So, she was hoping for banana bread – something I could have also done the night before – but remember, I was exhausted – went to bed early – brilliant. That was proving to be a really good decision. So, I needed to make banana bread. And wrap everything in paper towels tied with ribbons. Apparently aluminum foil, juice boxes, saran wrap, and individually wrapped snacks are fairly recent inventions. Really, is that true? Those poor women. How did they manage without uncrustables? Spreading that peanut butter all the way the to the edge of the bread is exhausting work.

Number one hubby likes to talk to the kids on Skype on the computer every morning. They love it too. This particular morning my computer was celebrating colonial day too. Apparently, there were no microphones in the days of colonial. He could not hear a thing. Crap. The colonists probably just yelled to each other really loudly from across the colony. But the better half of my colony is now in India – yelling was not going to work. And I did not have enough string, empty cans, or (any) time to make an old-fashioned tin can telephone.

Meanwhile, Flower, Angel, and Bear are asking me what I am going to do – over and over and over and over and over again. Did you get that? They KEPT asking. Thanks guys, that was really helpful. Bear was coming up with some really good – completely impossible solutions. Which was very sweet of him – since he normally could give a rat’s arse what Angel is doing. Thanks honey, hugs and kisses.

What would you do? Flower was in tears because she wants to me to be at colonial day. I know there will be days when she doesn’t want me anywhere near her – so I certainly do not want to miss out on this little – I love my mommy – moment.

Angel was in tears because she wanted to stay home – with me. But,Angel had no fever and had stopped coughing – well at least for the most part.

I figured I was going to be at the school. If Angel needed me, I would be right there.

Colonial Day was great. Lots of fun! I am glad that I could participate. Very glad. Even if I did have to wear this. (I look pregnant in the picture – I can assure you that is not the case – the apron was really long and I had to wear it really high up. The poofs are in just the right place. This is what we do for our kids.)

Angel survived another day in first grade. Well, it turned out to be just half a day. The guilt got the best of me – immediately after the parent volunteering part of colonial day was over, I went to Angel’s class and brought her home. Her teacher said she seemed fine  – she did not say it but I could tell she was surprised I was there. I did not have it in me to explain that I was the one who was not fine. I was torn between two daughters and I did not want either daughter to feel less important than the other. So, I wanted to take her home and let her feel the mommy love – even if she was no longer sick.

RiTeS oF PaSSaGe………….

Our neighborhood has quite a few wonderful traditions – a fourth of July pool party that is pure insanity, Memorial Day cookouts, Easter Egg hunts, Halloween parades on spooky paths, and Santa comes riding thru the hood on a big honkin’ sleigh fire truck every December.

My kids love these little rituals. They bring everyone together – in the rain, in the snow, in the burning hot – neighbors come out in droves.  Most of the time we can’t wait to get there. Sometimes, it’s like going to the grocery store – even if you don’t necessarily feel like going, you go. Even if you don’t necessarily celebrate that particular holiday, you show up. It’s just part of what you do. And, we are always so glad we have been.

This year Bear was invited to ride on the fire truck with Santa. This was a big deal for him. He was more excited than he will ever admit. But I am his mother – I know how he feels about it. It is quite a rite of passage to go from the little kid receiving the reindeer food and the candy cane to becoming the big kid handing them out. Plus, you get to ride inside the big honkin’ fire truck. Seriously, it’s pretty cool.

I am glad he got to be up close and personal with Santa this year. He knows that this is not the real Santa. I have always told my kids that the Santas at the mall and on fire trucks are just helping the big guy out. He is much too busy to ride around on trucks and sit at the mall all day. But rest assured that all of these Santas have a direct link to the Jolly ole Saint Nick himself and they are taking names – so yes, you’d better watch out.  And as for me, I just happen to have Santa’s phone number – that is a whole mommy arsenal in the war against bad behavior.

But this year is a sad year for me because Bear is in a world of disbelief over the big jolly guy.  He is pretty sure he thinks that no one is the real Santa. He is no longer convinced. Believe you me, I am working hard to continue the lies I have perpetrated over, well, his whole life. This is because I know there is more to Santa than a red suit and a bowl full of jelly. It’s the magic that I don’t want him to let go of just yet. Not until he can get his heart around how wonderful it is to play Santa.

And, thankfully, he is a kind little bear. He has not shattered the hopes and dreams of his sisters. He has not said a word to them. Maybe he knows better – but I prefer to think that he is not absolutely, completely sure of his conviction just yet.

The other day, Bear happened upon some (hidden) stuffed animals that the kids had seen in the store and asked for. As many parents have said before me, I told them they should ask Santa for the ridiculously overstuffed and very large animals. Because there is no way in H-E-double toothpicks that I am buying them. He knew that his sisters would be going into that room, so he hid them. And he hid them pretty well. The reason that Bear stumbled upon these little surprises is because number one hubby sent the kids to that exact room to get out the Christmas decorations – I know, I know, he is going to lose that number one status quicker than the grinch stole Christmas – I immediately went downstairs to hand them out. To convince them they weren’t meant to be a surprise from Santa. Oh no, not from Santa.

Sigh. Another lie. These are surprises that Dad asked me to get for you I said to them with a completely straight face. He wanted to give them to you so you would think of him while he is gone. And, yes, we’ll figure out a way to get them to India and, yes, I will figure out what else Santa is going to surprise you with. Thanks dear.

So, I have a few tricks up my sleeve to convince Bear not to be so unconvinced just yet. I will let you know how it goes.

Number one hubby arrived this morning from India. So you may not read too much of me over the next fews days – you might – but you might not. We’ll see. But just in case, Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!

FReQueNTLy aSKeD QueSTiONs…………

There have been a lot of questions about our move to India – the first one I always get is – Where did you say? (then they stop whatever they are doing and turn to look me right in the face) – Excuse me, did you say India? That is, in fact, what I said. And don’t worry, I had the same reaction.  Hmmmmmm.

Here are some of the questions I have gotten so far, and the answers I have given:

Q: Lately, the most popular question has become – isn’t that where the terr*rist attacks were?
A: Sort of. Okay, yes. That is where one of the (many) terr*rists attacks has occurred in the world. These particular attacks were in Mumbai along the coast. We are moving to Delhi. In the north and land-locked. And, by all accounts our neighborhood is a pretty good one. We are pretty close to the American Embassy and the kids’ school.

Q: Are you going to live in a mansion with 20 servants who brush your teeth for you?
A: Not exactly. We chose a nice neighborhood pretty close to the kids’ school. We don’t have much square footage – but we live near a lovely park with lots of grass. And I will be brushing my own teeth.

Q: Yes, I said school. No need to ask if I am homeschooling my kids in India.
A: Although it does create a chuckle – the answer to that is – not even on a bet. I completely respect those parents who chose to do that. But I am fully aware of my limitations and this one might just be at the very top of the list of  things I cannot and should not do.

Q: Do they speak English?
A: Yes, Hindi and English. Obviously, there are different levels of abilities in speaking English – but I should be able to communicate without too much trouble.

Q: Isn’t it really hot and dusty there? Like, really hot and really dusty?
A: Yes and yes. Like, Very hot. And Very dusty.

Q: How close is India to Pakist*n? I can see where they are going with this one. Got it.
A: Pretty close. At lot closer than the U.S. And I know why they are asking this – India and Pakist*an are not BFFs. Not even close. Also, Delhi is not too extremely far from Kashmir. (If you are not aware of the danger in Kashmir – think of Disneyland and then think of exactly the opposite of that – fireworks are still included to light up the night sky – but they come from ammunition – not Mickey Mouse.) But I have no plans to take my children any where near either one of those places. I think there are some pictures on the internet I can peruse with them. And that is not to say that there aren’t some pretty good reasons for visiting both of those places, but I happen to  have a low level danger-tolerance threshold.

Q: What is the time difference?
A: 10 and a half hours – they are ahead of us. Nope, I don’t know why 1/2 hour is included. But it is.

Q: Do animals really roam the streets.
A: Yep. There are a lot of stray dogs and there are monkeys and cows – even the occasional elephant – and we’ll see what else.

Q: How long is the flight?
A: It takes about a day to get there – about 18 hours of flying time and the rest is layovers and waiting. And, yes, I hate to fly.

Q: What are we doing with our cats.
A: Two are coming with. One is visiting (very generous) friends for four months.

Q: Will I have to cover my head?
A: No, Delhi is a modern democracy and has a heavy Western influence. Most people wear long pants and long sleeves all year round. I will find out for sure, but I think that is partly an attempt to avoid malaria. They have quite a few mosquitoes there. I do plan to buy at least one sari though and I very much hope to be invited to an India wedding while we are there.

Q: Will I drive?
A: No, we will not drive ourselves. Apparently this can be a dangerous undertaking. Remember my low threshold for danger? Number one hubby doesn’t even like to sit in the front seat. It is going to be very different.

Q: Will you have room for visitors?
A: Yes, and we would welcome you to come.

Q: What are you doing with your (newly renovated) home?
A: Keeping it. It won’t fit in the boxes. Dang.

Q: Do they have McDonalds?
A: Yes. Unfortunately. And Pizza Hut and Dominoes and TGIFridays and a bunch of other stuff. McDonalds does not serve beef – but they have a potato burger. We’ll see about that. Number one hubby thinks their ketchup is delicious.

I have had a lot of questions too – especially now that I am in action mode. If you think of something youwould like to know – pass it along and I will share or, if I don’t know, find out the answer.

YeS, ViRGiNia, THeRe iS a SaNTa CLauS………………..

Or at least there might be and that is good enough for me.
Bear is thoroughly confused. Yippeee.
Angel and Flower have no doubts whatsoever. Santa is the best.

Very long story short, Santa normally comes to our house on the night of the 23rd. This year, I explained to my kids that asking him to come early was just too much and we weren’t going to do that again.

Let the reindeer games begin.

On Dec. 24th, we went to my mother-in-law’s house for our Christmas celebration with number one hubby’s family. While we were gone – and in the middle of the day full of bright sunlight – Jolly ole St. Nick snuck into our house and filled our stockings and stuffed our tree with slippers and put a few presents under the tree. What? How did that happen? You should have seen the look on Bear’s face when we walked in the door and we saw the very full stockings. Total confusion.

It did not hurt that one of Bear’s gifts was one I refused to buy. Totally unnecessary, expensive, and no way to get it to India. Sorry, not this year. Don’t even bother asking Santa – it’s not going to happen. Hee hee. My nose was redder than Rudolph’s.

We have not talked about it – that would not be wise – he can out question me and I don’t want to slip up with my normal over-explaining things. It’s better left as confusion.

Flower and Angel were not a bit confused – they just knew Santa would never let them down. Apparently he outranks parents and can come whenever he wants. Okay.

So, as my children get older – I am thinking about the lies I have told them. The ones that were easy to maintain and the ones that were, well, not so much.

If you have young kids, think very carefully about what you tell them. You may have to perpetuate those stories/traditions for a very long time. Just as my kids are getting old enough to not believe, I am getting smart enough to make them believe forever. Minus, of course, the one child who is kind of sort of unconvinced – but is now, at least, very confused. Some of the things I know I have learned from very kind moms with older children who have shared their Santa lessons with me. Some I have learned the old-fashioned way – by falling flat on my lies.

Remember to always have Santa use a different kind of wrapping paper for his presents. Santa can write right on the paper in big fat magic marker – no tags needed – thank you Santa. Make sure the wrapping paper is hidden at least as well as the presents. Black trash bags were invented for throwing away Christmas trash.

Speaking of presents, make sure that anyone who spends anytime at all in your house knows the off-limits areas for hidden gifts.

Think about whether you want your kids to believe that everything is made in the toy shop. Sure, some of the harder to find gifts might be made there – but you only have to be asked once why Santa puts everything in boxes just like the toy store. Yep, only once. My kids know full well that Santa cannot possibly make everything for everyone. He has to shop too. (If you decide to dazzle your kids with a little toy shop magic, make sure you take things out of the boxes before Santa wraps them.)

Be careful what traditions Santa starts. One year, my kids were loving stuffed animals and so Santa very generously gave each of them two. I have it on very good authority that Santa was very tired and was way too out of steam to wrap those little critters, so he stuffed them in the tree. They looked really fabulous stuffed in the tree and there was definitely shock and awe of the magical Christmas kind when the kids discovered them. But, now every year, the big question is – what will Santa stuff in the tree. You can see why that might be a problem – every year!

If your child breaks something in March and you tell them to ask Santa for it in December. Believe me, they will remember to ask. Yes, this is one of the lessons I learned the hard way.

Think long and hard, before telling your kids that the Santa at the mall is the real Santa. They all look very different and forget it if you need to go to more than one mall in the same day – try ‘splainin that to a very logical child. This little bit of truthfulness will reward you with the gift of time and health. Those lines are dreadfully long and every other kid in them has a (very) runny nose – and their mothers think they are adorable. They are not always so adorable. You also won’t have to make yourself crazy finding the perfect outfit.

Let Santa give them something you would never in a million years give them. This makes them very, very confused.

The bottom line in all of this is that the shorter, less involved your answers are the better. Too much information is, well, too much information. And it is bound to lead to more questions.

As for me, I still believe in Santa.

PaRT B……………………

Don’t worry – if you are just reading this blog for the first time, there is no Part A. Just Part B. You didn’t miss a thing – I know, big heavy sigh of relief. Whew.

My children will do what I ask them (okay usually). I try really hard not to brag about my kids in this blog – because I know it’s annoying, but they are part of my every day, so you get to hear about them – a lot – I know, a  lot. They are smart kids – at least smart enough to do chores. But, for some very unclear reason,  they never take their chores to Part B.

Part A: Empty the trash.
Part B: Replace the trash bags.

Part A: Take the trash to the curb.
Part B: And the recycling (but only on Tuesdays).
Part B of Part B: after the trashmen empty the trash containers – take them back to the side of the house – and push them all the way up against the wall.

Part A: Empty the dishwasher – including the silverware.
Part B: Fill it up (with all those dirty dishes right beside you in the sink).

Part A: Help bring in the groceries.
Part B: No – not eat them – but help put them away.

Part A: Stop yelling, fighting, and screaming at your brother/sister. If you are frustrated ask me for help. I was on the debate team – I can intervene. Plus I have parent power that actually works. Okay, usually.
Part B: This does not mean standing at the furthest corner of the house from wherever I am and screaming for my help at the top of your lungs. This means walking calmly to wherever I am – unless I am on the phone or in the bathroom – then give me a minute – and ask me in person for help without yelling at me. I will understand you better if you talk slowly and calmly from within the same zip code.

Part A: Take these clean clothes (that I have turned right-side out, washed, dried, separated, hung, and folded) to your room.
Part B: Put them away. Neatly. Where they belong. Not in the corner of your closet.

Part A: Clean out the car – don’t worry, the driver’s area is clean – it’s the rest of it that is a disaster – you know, the places where you sit and eat and change clothes and have trash fights.
Part B: Dump the trash in the trash can, put the coats/shoes in the (appropriate closet), and put the rest of the c-r-a-p away in the appropriate c-r-a-p repository – and, yes, sometimes that is the trash can. Leaving it all on the floor right by the garage door does not a complete cleaning make – it just gives your aging mother one more place to trip and break her hip. And, trust, me that would take chores to a whole new level of annoying – you don’t want that to happen.

Part A: Start your homework.
Part B: Finish it. Yes, all of it.

Anyway, they may never learn the art of Part B – I guess that is what I am here for. At least they know this one…

Part A: I love you
Part B: That’s it – no strings attached. Always. No matter what. No. Part. B.

DePaRTuRe DaTe………..

clipart.com

We will be
heading to
Delhi, India
on Monday,
Jan. 26th.

Roger that.

DiD YoU SaY SHoTs???????????

Yeah, I am not a big fan of the shots. And I only like fun surprises – so, here is what you need to think about if you are planning to visit us in India – make a few doctors appointments. (And remember, I am not a medical professional – nor do I play one on this blog – check with a real doctor to see what s/he recommends.)

clipart.com

You will want to at least consider…

Hepatitis A
(a two-part series – oh goody a shot with a sequel)
Hepatitis B
Polio
(a three-part series – even better)
Rabies (this might come in parts as well)
Flu (you should get this one anyway)
Tetnus
Typhoid (can be an oral vaccine)
Chicken Pox

There is a lot of controversy over whether people who “live in” rather than “visit” India should take malaria pills. If you are just visiting – you probably will want to take them. Our doctor recommends it – the school does not. The concern is the potential for depression and nightmares with long term use. Couple that with some kids nearing their teenage years and this could be really fun!

So, anyshot – I have either gotten all of these or am scheduled to get them in the very near future.

On the absolutely nothing to do with India side of vaccines – but by the way, there is now a vaccine for shingles. If you have ever had the chicken pox, you are a potential candidate for shingles. Number one hubby has had shingles – not so much fun if you want to know the truth. So, I highly recommend this vaccine – especially for your parents, shingles generally hits people later in life.

Schmesolutions……………

Yep, the ball is about to drop and I am once again without a list of things resolved. Well, there is plenty worth resolving – but I always fall short on the following through side of things. So this year I am going to make it simple.

I will try (very hard) to be a better person. There is a lot of room for improvement for me in all things regarding being a better person. So, I am going to do my best to be

Healthier
A better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, neighbor
More spiritual
More thoughtful
Funnier
Nicer
A better recycler
More understanding and forgiving
More generous
More gracious
More appreciative
A better writer
A better listener

My list has offers me quite a few opportunities to “get it right” – which will also give me a chance to mask some of my certain shortcomings. That way, I can do better in at least a few resolution arenas and not look back a year from now and say “dang, not even one?” I am sure to see some improvement somewhere. At least I know moving to India is sure to make me more appreciative of the United States – I am off to a good start.

I am also going to try to give up caffeine. Again. For the 4th or 5th time in my life. I am not starting this one right away. I have to pace myself. SHHHH! My head hurts already.

Happy New Year!

YoU DeCiDe…………

I have this little polling option on my blog hoster. So I thought I would try it.

Not to sway your decision – but please keep in mind that this current dotty one is a work in progress. I am teaching myself CSS and have to learn a few more things to “fix” the design. So if you are leaning towards to dots – think potential.

Let me know what you think.

TWeNTy-FiVe DaYs and CouNTiNG….

Yikes, that’s right. Twenty-five days and counting. My furry children (minus Queso who has found a wonderful temporary home) leave on Sunday for India. It’s a little weird that my furry children will get to see India before my non-furry children, but so it goes.

We saw Slum-dog Millionaire this week. It has a very creative story-line but it is definitely not a advertisement for tourism, much less for taking up residence, in India. But it did pique my sight-seeing interest. It’s really not that different than any story about any child surviving in a slum would be. There are some parts that are very hard to watch. But, we have our own neglects in the United States – India appears to be no different. And because there are (a lot) more people, there are (a lot) more poor people.

I have also read Beneath a Marble Sky by John Shors, which is an amazing tale about the era in which the Taj Mahal was built. It’s a magically written historical fiction that could paint a picture of the Taj Mahal and its history that even a blind man could imagine and see. Even if you are not moving to India, you can appreciate the intricate relationships of families and parents and siblings. It is a love story of action and impatience and imagination – it is the love story not just of a husband and his wife, but of a father and a daughter, a sister and her brothers, a princess and her best friend.

My book club was fortunate enough to be able to talk with John Shors. He was so gracious with his time and insights and he shared with us that this book took five years to write. You can tell. There is not one single moment in it that lets you drift away from the plot. There are graphic instances that are dealt with precisely – no violence for violence’s sake. It’s fabulous! If you have time, read it.

So, anytaj, we spent some time with friends this week who will probably not see for quite some time. It was great and Monday begins the great paperwork battle of my life. Coordinating utilities, medical info, and school records-  verifying our vaccines are, in fact, all done (please God, let them be done), – packing, unpacking, and repacking – and who knows what else. There is a lot to do with only twenty-five days and counting – backwards to the 26th. Yikes.

Karma is Haunting Me – Wrinkle One………..

A blogging friend of mine Lola blogged about her dog “helping” her sled down a hill and right onto a stick which ripped her pants – her very favorite pants. The ones that she has never been able to find another pair of. You can read her story here. She’s fine – so now her readers are left to enjoy a pretty funny rendition of events. Her dog and her butt survived but her beloved blue jeans did not. So in her comments section, I suggested that maybe she needed a furry pair of jeans to replace her ripped jeans. She is sassy – she knows I was kidding. But, I am afraid the Cosmos were left completely unaware.

So the Cosmos and Karma joined together to conspire against me. I am sure it is because I made a little joke about a friend’s dog – there is no other reason on this planet that Wrinkle Number One in our plan to move to India makes any sense at all. So, I am adding “being nicer to the animals of others” to my new years resolutions list. In fact, I am moving “being healthier” to the number two spot. PETA watch out – I am going to out-love you on all things animal.

It went a little something like this…..

Hold on one minute – I am going to get myself a glass of wine to relax as I re-learn to breath. I would invite you to grab a cup of whatever it is you fancy. This is a long one.

Okay, now I am set and I am pretty sure I am breathing again – panting maybe – I put my wine in a water bowl just in case -  I told you PETA watch out.

Number One Hubby left tonight for Delhi on a United Airlines flight. Yes, write that down – the airline not to use when flying your cats to India. United Airlines. Number One Hubby was taking two of our furry children with him. We arrived at the airport well outside of the requisite 2-hour time allowance to check in, kiss the furry ones goodbye, hug Dad – twice, and tearfully wave goodbye until we meet again in three weeks. Thank God we are timely folks because we spent well over an hour at the ticket counter. Can you guess what part of this did not happen?

And the winner loser is – the cats are not on the plane. I wish I could completely explain to you all of the pieces of the puzzle that did not fall into place but I am not absolutely clear on all of this myself. And, do not ask the first counter attendant, the second counter attendant, the counter attendant standing by watching,  the supervisor (who is not a supervisor, but a manager – so sorry), or the actual supervisor who only makes ghost appearances via the telephone (think of the banker in Deal or No Deal – only minus the shadow and minus the million dollar potential – but annoying all the same). None of them can explain it either. Some of them did not even try.

We have had these pet reservations for weeks. Oh yes, United allowed us to book these pet reservations thru Dubai and on to Delhi. We called this very morning to confirm our said pet reservations and were given the okay – your pets are booked – two thumbs up. We have the right crates (well minus the holes on all four sides – that was easily fixed), we had the right bowls, the right paperwork, we thought we had done everything, well, right. WRONG.

First, there was a lot of discussion about whether the cats would be considered cargo or freight or baggage and whole lot of other stuff whispered that we were not (supposed to be) privy to. So, I won’t go into how nerve-racking that was for my three little children who were standing there listening to whether or not their cats would actually be allowed on the plane or if they would be strapped to a wing. Hey, they have fur coats, don’t they? I completely lost my sense of humor at this point.

The first problem is that this airline does not interline pets. WTH? Interline – English please. We are still in America right? Interlining pets apparently does not mean putting little skates on them and letting them figure it out on their own – that would have been funny. Welcome back sense of humor – but, oh no, not so fast. Interlining means that they do not transfer pets from one airline to another. Okay. So, number one hubby can go pick up the cats from United in Dubai and hand carry them over to the connecting flight for Delhi. Right? Oh silly you. That’s what I thought too. Nope.

Dubai does not accept live animals. Then why were we allowed to book live animals on a flight that goes to Delhi – oh yeah, via Dubai? Good question – still no answer to that one. Why were we allowed to confirm live animals on a flight that goes to Delhi – via Dubai -  just this morning? Oh, you little pink panther you – another good question. No answer to that one either. Why do United regulations specify that each passenger can check two live pets with their ticket that goes to Delhi – say it with me – via Dubai? Oh you are really good – a criminal justice degree is certainly in your future.

Just as a side note – there was another couple standing right beside us with pet problems. Seems prevalent with United – at least tonight. And there was a United Representative going out of her way to help them. GASP. And I am not kidding when I say this – I really am not – she got written up for her (very helpful) actions. She helped the passengers – who were pleading with her for help – make their crates compliant. The couple had flown on United just a week before and several times before that with the very same crates that had passed inspection every single time. But tonight – well, they must have made fun of a friend’s dog too. Or they got caught in my wrath. So sorry.

But did you read that? She got written up for helping passengers follow United Airlines guidelines. Yes, my dear, something is very wrong with that. And now future passengers who are foolish enough to book their pets on United probably won’t be helped by her either. She is surely not going to want to lose her job in customer service just because she helps people get their furry family members on the same plane.

But, back to us and hold on a second, we thought we had progress. Ticket agent number one printed stickers for the cats. He was pulling them off the printer when the phone rang. And then he ripped them up. Huh? That’s what we said.

Circles – we danced all night in circles – no answers – not even one. Number One Hubby was actually on the phone with United Airlines in Delhi and they approved the cats – they had every intention of accepting the cats and were very willing to stand by that decision – if they could just be given the opportunity to do so. And still, somehow, the cats are still at home with me. The Delhi employee asked to speak with the United employees on our end. One spoke with him. Okay. Now what – she was looking for a supervisor. And, alas, we only  had a manager who would not even answer our request to speak to him.

So the supervisor who is actually not a supervisor but a manager (I am so glad she could clear something up) was very happy to spell her first and last name for us – repeatedly – would not even come back to the counter until she thought we were gone. The first counter attendant became Houdini and disappeared completely – he could feel our pain but could apparently no longer bear to share it with us. But we fooled that manager/supervisor – we were still there – because we had a representative from United Airlines in Delhi – her sister station – asking why they wouldn’t put the cats on the plane. She would not speak to them. She had gotten an answer from another invisible banker-boss in Chicago. Oh, that makes perfect sense because no part of our journey involves Chicago. So, I could see why she would not speak to the person from Delhi – where the cats were (supposed to be) going. Nor would she even look at us. Except to spell her name for us – again. She was helping someone else now. But sweetheart, you aren’t done with us yet. You should really read my blog on Part B.

Okay – I have one (more) question. Was she (not) helping someone else get their pets on the plane? These pets are a part of our family. Period. We have children – we are not crazy pet people – I am not really going to out-love PETA. But I am standing in front of you with real children who love their animals very much and my furry children who are frankly scared out of their minds. Help me. Find a solution that works. Do not walk away as if you have no responsibility to resolve this. You work for United Airlines. Your little uniform and the whole standing behind the counter thing has completely given you away. You may call yourself a manager rather than a supervisor – but the front-line employees called you because they did not know what to do. Your banker-boss was in another building. Honestly. Do something.

I am not kidding when I say that none of the CUSTOMER SERVICE representatives we dealt with offered any solutions. They only told us what could not be done. We could not put our cats on that plane. Fine. Let’s work with that. Is there another plane we can put them on? Can we reschedule to not go through Dubai? Can you talk to India about this – WE have them on the phone for you. No need to even exhaust yourself dialing the phone. How about a little understanding? Compassion? Alternative thinking?

If I had to pick a worst moment of the night it would be when the first counter attendant tried to finally explain something to us. He actually said to us in front of our three young children that the reason they were trying to be so careful is that his computer has a note right here that says that animals arriving in Delhi might be destroyed. And he, in fact, has known this to actually happen. Yes, he did say that out loud. Angel knows what destroyed means – she’s only seven, so she doubted herself and asked me repeatedly what destroyed means, with very big tears in her eyes. I finally (thought fast) and explained they were talking about the paperwork.  Guess who I won’t be nominating for employee of the year.

Here is the best part of the story. It seems that United in Delhi is very confused and a representative from United (and I believe he is actually a manager and a supervisor who admits to being both) plans to meet Number One Hubby when his plane lands in Delhi. But he won’t get to meet our cats, so this might fall under the “too little, too late, there are no actual cats with me” category.

I am so thankful that we had this little dry run. Honestly, I do not know what we might have done if we were all leaving at this time. Maybe Karma is not exactly conspiring against me but just showing me the ropes.

So, we kiss number one hubby goodbye, because he is now in serious threat of missing his flight, and we took the cats back to the car.  The cats thanked us by pooping and passing gas all the way home. The kids were in stitches.  I heard every elementary school bathroom joke on the planet. As if the night had not been entertaining enough.

There are implications that reach well beyond the tremendous stress that all of us experienced tonight. Changing our flights means changing a lot of things – the day the utilities are switched, the day the kids leave school, the day the kids start school, the day my husband flies home to help us, the stress level of our next trip has already quadrupled, all of the travel arrangements need to be rearranged – you see there is a ripple effect.

The kids are now in bed with cats curled up beside them. There are five (temporarily) happy hearts right now in this house. My heart is (barely) beating – but that is about it. Because in three weeks we have to try this all again and there will not be an exit plan. Five people are getting on a plane – there will be no one left to take the cats home – home is now in Delhi and those cats have to come with. So we have decided to vote with our wallets and are switching to American Airlines.

Notes – I reread this when I woke up this morning and then again just now. I wanted to make sure I did not exaggarate what happened out of frustration. I did not – in fact, I was quite gracious in my depiction of events. Yes, it was that bad. And I want to be clear that Number One Hubby and I did not yell – we did not make a scene – we were certainly frustrated but we were adults about it. Paying. Customer. Adults.

Wrinkle Number Two…………….

Oh wouldn’t it be nice if this story ended with my little tirade about how our pets did not make it to India. That would have been lovely. But, alas that was not the rest of the story.

Number One Hubby finally arrived in Delhi after a very long layover in Dubai. It turns out that Delhi has a lot of fog and that can make planes and flight schedules get delayed – very delayed. He landed in Delhi about 7 hours later than he had planned. No one is upset about this at all. Weather is weather and we are thankful that the airlines played it safe. It just means that Number One Hubby traveled for about 36 hours straight and is most likely very, very T-I-R-E-D.

However. Number One Hubby landed in Delhi minus his luggage. Now that I take issue with. Here is why.

First, the luggage was a gift from my parents for Christmas. It’s brand spankin’ new. And I technically have not even gotten to use it yet. It’s like getting a big double scoop of your favorite ice cream, just to turn too quickly and watch it (ever so slowly) splat on the (very dirty) ground.

Also, the luggage was mostly filled with my clothes. My new clothes. My understanding is that in India the women wear mostly long pants and their skirts all cover their knees. A quick looksie at my closet told me – it is time for a change. So, I went at the end of the summer season and bought some (really, really fun and cute) things to wear in India. Many of them still have the tags on them.

So, I have not gotten to use the suitcase and I have not gotten to wear my new clothes.

Additionally, the school has a two-inch rule. The kids cannot wear anything that is more than two inches above their knees. (By the way, I love this rule.) So, since it is cold here, I packed all of the kids shorts that met the standard into my (brand new) suitcase. Yes, when I say ALL of them, I really mean ALL of them.

And finally, number one hubby bought a brand new electric razor while he was home. It was a good one – it promises to do all the things the ones that came before it simply could not do. I think it is supposed to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you use it. I think it might even close the toilet lid. It’s shiny and bright and purdy. It has never been used. It might not ever get used. Well at least not by us.

Number One Hubby does not have the claim ticket. There is no telling if the claim ticket ever made its way into Number One Hubby’s possession. There was a lot going on at the counter when he was checking in. (You can read about Wrinkle Number One here.) But he does not have it now. Now would be a (very) good time to have it.

This is not looking too good.

I am off to remind myself that this will all make a very funny story one day. I can hear myself laughing now. Or maybe that is crying – I am really not sure anymore.

P.S. Yes, I get the irony in all of this – that maybe it is better that the cats were not actually on this flight. I am just crossing my paws that they make it onto the next one and actually arrive in Delhi with us. Karma Shmarma.

Or the exact opposite of that…………..

Orvis rocks. They really, really do. United Airlines – get out a pen and paper and take notes. I’ll wait. Really, you’ll want to take notes on this. It is an example of how customer service is done better than it has to be. Not really, really badly – not barely enough  – not even just enough – but actually better than it has to be.

For Christmas, my parents got Number One Hubby a very nice watch  from Orvis that was advertised to keep time in two different locations – a dual time zone watch as it were. It was brown – yahoo – it was large – yahoo. It was great. However, my hubby is a gadget guy – so about two seconds after opening the watch, he starting figuring out how to set both times – here and Delhi.

Well, it turns out that Orvis made a mistake. The watch will not actually keep times in two different locations. So, they included a very nice note that said they made a mistake and that this watch could absolutely be returned. Okay. It happens.

Off we go to the Orvis Store. For those of you have never been to an Orvis store, it is very much like an Eddie Bauer store with maybe a little Talbots mixed in for the ladies. Lots of outdoors stuff. And cool watches and pretty sweaters.

So, we walk in and I get in line. The salesperson actually apologized to me for not being able to help me right away. He had someone else waiting and it should not take long. Okay. Really, I am very sorry. Seriously, it’s okay. We can certainly wait our turn.

He never spelled his name for me (you can see what this is important here). He just hurried to be helpful so he could return and be helpful again. Wait just a minute. Let me say thank you now. Really it was impressive.

So, it turns out they happily accepted the return. And because it was a gift, they gave us a store credit. With 25% added on. Seriously, I am not kidding.

We looked in the store and saw some things we liked, but nothing we had to have immediately. Well, okay, I saw two sweaters – they were on sale and that gets me EVERY TIME – but they were the wrong size. So on-line shopping here we come.

Number One Hubby found a watch he really liked – and lo and behold – the sweaters were available on-line too. Alas, they were not on sale. Bummer.

So, I did an on-line chat with the Orvis rep on-line. He was also very helpful, polite, and professional. Really, these people are good. He could not honor the sales price on-line, but the store could order everything for me at the sales price.

Yep, that is the sound of me tripping over myself to get to the phone. Calling Orvis. Another very polite and helpful salesperson answers the phone. Yes, they can do that. Oh, but no, they cannot do it over the phone. I must come into the store.

Hmmmmm. I am moving to India – I now have to figure out how to get my cats to India and my luggage to Delhi – oh yeah my kids are coming too – it’s raining – I don’t really have the time/energy to go back to the store. So I order the items online.

But I am disappointed by this, so  after I place my order, I write to Orvis and tell them that I wish they could have honored the sales price on-line. I tell them that I won’t bore them with how busy I am because everyone is so busy and that is why on-line shopping has been invented and embraced. So it’s a bummer that I would have had to travel to get the discount. It’s just that I simply do not know where I would squeeze in the time right now to get back to the store. I did not ask for anything. I just wanted to let them know. Maybe they could think about it for the next time.

Within a few hours, I get a note back saying that my shipping costs on my order will immediately be reimbursed. That was nice. I thanked them. Then I got another message from customer service saying they were so glad they could help me.

Door open. So, I reply, yes, that was indeed nice. But the shipping costs were incurred by me because of a mistake by them. And the savings on the sweaters would have been $40. The shipping costs were $14. But, I did appreciate their responsiveness and it was a very nice customer service gesture. Thank you again. You can be sure Orvis is on my list of places to continue shopping.

United, is your pencil sharpened? Do you have a piece of paper at the ready? They wrote me back again. Customer Service is apparently very important to Orvis. They are sorry for the trouble. Really, they are. They are going to reimburse me $40 for the difference in the sales price of the sweaters.

I just want to add here that I did mention in my letter that we will be out of the country soon and for a while. They know I am a customer who will be out of the country for quite some time. This makes this even more impressive.

Stop the presses. I did not ask for anything at any point. I just outlined my experience for them. They stretched their customer service arms way out and wrapped them around me like a big we-appreciate-you hug snuggled in a whisper soft plum colored sweater that can tell you the time in two places at once. AHHHH.

They have a fan for life! I bet if I asked them really nicely, they could get my cats to India for me, complete with a baggage claim ticket.

So, get your credit card out and go shopping. www.Orvis.com. Number One Hubby got the dual time zone watch. I particularly like the whisper soft sweater. I got it in green and plum and now I am getting it in bone. Yippee for me. Clinton and Stacey would never approve of the multiples. But I roll like that.

Thank you Orvis! I will continue to sing your praises.

One more note – I just went back and looked at the emails from Orvis today. They had 5 different wonderful people working to help me – and the left hand always seemed to know what the right hand was doing. Amazing. I do not want to forget the two very polite store employees. I might just apply for a job when we return.

Clearance Sale at A Reason To Write…

Most of you know that my family is moving to Delhi, India in a few weeks.
So, A Reason To Write has slowed way down. I was not able to participate in craft shows this past fall season. But I do have quite a bit of inventory left. So I am having a clearance sale.

All packages of 4 (adorable) handmade cards will be $4 each.
That’s right – half price. I also have quite a few embellishments that I just never got around to using. So I will be putting those out – perfect for card making/ scrapbooking – as well. They will be sold at the wholesale price I paid for them – which means a big fat 50% off retail.

I also have some gently used rubber stamps and other supplies that will be out at rock bottom prices.

So, if you have time and interest – please stop by on
Friday, Jan.16th
5pm – 9pm.

If you know where I live, no need to rsvp.
If you do not know where I live or have forgotten,
please feel free to email me at areasontowrite (at) cox (dot) net  -
this is a clever way of writing emails so that spammers don’t discover your email address – you type it just like you would say it out loud with the”@” and “.” symbols – I will send you directions.

Please feel free to bring a friend! If you work for Orvis, you will get an additional 25% off.

Is that a crystal in your pocket………..

This guy is flippin’ great!

Who is, you say?

Flip Orley is, I say.

You haven’t met – oh, please, let me introduce you  – Flip Orley meet my blog world.

Blog world – Flip Orley.

Flip is a hypnotist-slash-comedian. He is a damn riot. Number One Hubby and I try to see him whenever we can.

I can see the eyes rolling now – oh goody, another hypnotist. That is like saying he is a ventriloquist (no I did not know how to spell that), right. This is where I will blog to differ. Yes, he is a hypnotist – but he is not a meanie bobeanie hypnotist. No one is told that bad things are going to happen to their favorite body parts or that an elephant just sat on their head. But he is very entertaining. And the things people say – oh, he really should write a book. Did you hear that Flip? Write a flippin’ book.

Anyflip, he also sells relaxation cds. And I am such a fan that I bought one – oops, I accidentally broke it – so I bought another one. Yes, I am twice the fan I used to be. And I used to listen to it when I was having a hard time falling asleep. I usually don’t have a hard time falling asleep so I have not used the cd in a while and, well, I forgot about it – until last night.

I was exhausted – really, truly exhausted. The kind of exhausted where you can barely walk because your shoulders are way ahead of your feet and your head is just so, so heavy. And you are willing to leave on every single light in the house and the front door open (even if you weren’t raised in a barn) because you just don’t have the energy to save energy. So I got in bed, snuggled up to myself and my cat who is mysteriously still in the U.S., and closed my eyes. All by themselves, they popped wide open and, seriously, I was no longer sleepy – oh, yes, still exhausted, but no longer sleepy. What the?

I had just read one of Flip’s comments on Facebook, which reminded me about his cd. I got it, I turned it on, I listened, and, oh boy, did I relax. Holy sleep, Batman. Last night was the best night of sleep I have had since number one hubby left for India. I was sleeping so well, that when my alarm went off this morning, I refused to believe it was true that morning could be so cruel and wake me up from this wondrous respite of zzzzzzzzzzz’s. Cold cruel world. I call NO FAIR.

It may seem unnerving that a total stranger can, in the dark of night, slip into your room and hypnotize you. (It helps if you leave the front door open and all the lights on.) But, trust you me – it is pure heaven. He starts with your toes and works his way up until you are asleep. It is magic. Disney watch out – Mickey’s got nothing on this guy. Anyway, he does not sneak in little suggestions like you mailing him a check or buying 25 tickets to his next show. It is all about you – a very relaxed and asleep you. If you try it, you will thank me – okay, well, maybe you should thank Flip – but please remember I introduced you!

So if you ever have trouble sleeping, give my new hypnotic BFF a listen.

He also has a stop smoking cd – I don’t smoke so I don’t need that one. But he does have a weight loss cd and since my fat jeans are now my skinny jeans – I am giving that one a listen too.

Just in case you are wondering………..

Queso has a place to go for the next four months. Thank you Chris and family! This makes me very happy – even more sad – and very, very thankful. If I ever re-open the doors to A Reason To Write – you will have free cards for life. Queso Peso – I am going to really, really miss you. Maybe you can start a blog so I can keep up with what you are doing. I know, I know, it’s hard to type with paws. Sigh.

This arrived yesterday. I heart Orvis. Yes, that was (extremely) fast. They are serious about this whole keeping the customer happy thing. They mean it.

United Airlines has not responded to my email. I do not heart United Airlines. One suitcase has arrived in Delhi. That’s great – except – wait for it – number one hubby left the U.S. with two suitcases. I was no math major but I am still pretty sure that one plus zero does NOT equal two or me.

United Airlines in Delhi would like to meet with Number One Hubby. They are very concerned about our experience. (Remember they tried to help us – it was their sister station in the U.S. that was more than unhelpful.) I am sincerely impressed with their concern.

Our passports arrived today with our Visas. It looks like Delhi (India) will allow live humans into the country.

My children discovered that my laptop has a camera. This was because I waited to take a picture of my new sweater until after they got home from school. That was (not) a brilliant move.

Left to their own devices, my children are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves – without killing each other and without the assistance of electronics. Ripley’s might actually believe it – or not – so I took a picture. Please notice nothing is plugged in and everyone is alive.

This is what my cats think of their future trip to India. I am exploring the possibility of them riding under the seat with us on the plane. I wonder, do they make kitty diapers? They must. If not, maybe I can invent them.

I have been spoiled by my blogging friends who are both funny and write well. Not all blog writers are creative equally. Some are really bad. And they have books published. This bothers me on a number of levels. Someone is making them think they are good, so now they are going to continue writing. I have not figured out what to write a book about (details) or how to get this unwritten masterpiece published. More details. But I really, really want to. Isn’t that enough? Maybe I should be encouraged. If she can do it…….   And, nope, I won’t tell you who they/she are/is because she has gotten enough attention already. I will give you a hint – she is not on my blogroll and she is not nice. So even if someone kindly sprinkles magic writing dust on her and she suddenly gets all Shakesperian on me she still will not appear on my blogroll. That’s how I choose to impose my own little poetic justice.

Apparently my -ER friend does have time to read my blog after all. Well, let me be fair, her two-year-old most likely read it to her while she was baking 500 dozen homemade (decorated by hand) sugar cookies for the school bake sale. And, yes, she will buy them all back – she is generous like that. Anybake, she called me yesterday. Holy moly you say – oh, have no fear. None whatsoever. She thought it was hysterical – who is she, she asked? Oh yes she did. She asked who it was. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that she is (nearly) famous. She knew it wasn’t her because she HATES people like that. That really makes me laugh. A lot of people have asked me how I think of things to write about. Oh the heavens rain ideas upon me all the time. It really isn’t hard – with friends like this, who needs life experience. I can write vicariously through the insanity of others. Thank you writing gods! And, please keep it coming.

When commas move………………

Angel asked me why it is always “comma and Angel”.  She asked this when she saw me signing Christmas-slash-holiday-slash-Hanukkah-slash-Happy Tuesday cards with our names – Number One Hubby, Me, Bear, Flower, and Angel. Comma and Angel. She is right – that is how it always goes. I am not really sure why. I don’t have an answer for her – my parenting gods did not send a creative thought to my brain – so I just looked at her and said, “Honey, that’s just the way I write it – in order.” But, I am no dummy, I am going to put money in her Freud-slash-college savings account just in case she needs further explanation later in life.

Growing up, my family has had a lot of changes in commas and sometimes I was behind the “comma and” too. She is right, it’s not always the most glamorous spot. So, today when we went to get hair cuts and I signed the kids in, I called Angel over. Watch this. I wrote – Angel, Flower comma and Bear. She laughed. Oh, yes, she remembered and she smiled for at least an hour. She got to go first – and they had to wait their turn – behind her. Sweet comma justice.

Then I got home and read an email from our neighborhood swim team that one of our swim team family members has very unexpectedly passed away. She was 17 and she had a wonderful shy smile that was really lovely and warm and kind. Her gentle presence will be so missed. She is already missed. She would look at you under her eyelashes – not in coy clever way – but in an unassuming soft-hearted way – a more comfortable in the background way. We do not know the family well. But I cannot imagine – I am sure as you read this your heart is racing and prayers are forming. You might even be crying – I am. A loss like this runs so deep and true and is felt by everyone who hears its story. You cannot walk away from it unaffected. It’s impossible. Don’t even try.

Their comma has moved. Their family of four is now a family of three. Their new, unanticipated emptiness must feel so heavy – and so unnecessary. So hard to believe. So unfair. Unspeakable really. Just so very unreasonable. So many questions that will never find answers. I realize I am just a bystander – barely a shadow in their tremendous new void. Their own pain must be suffocating, unbearable – it is certainly unthinkable. Horrible. Very hard to get your heart around. I am writing about it because I am waiting to figure out what else to do. As I said, I do not know them well but I have a huge want to do something, to help, to change it. Yeah, I know, tragically there is no way for that to happen. It will not – it simply cannot change. Damn. Because we do not know them well, it is not appropriate for me to insert myself into their lives now, even with the best of intentions. So I am simply left with prayers for her family. Prayers that might not ever find answers. It does not seem like much to offer. They are left with so much less.

I am going to explain to Angel that she is, in fact, very lucky that her comma is right where we left it. Unmoved.

Interview with a Vampire (or me me)……..

Okay, I am not really a vampire – but an interview with me just did not sound as interesting. In the blog world, there is this thing called a me me – it’s a little chance for readers to get to know more (than they ever wanted to know) about the blog author – that’s me, yes, me. Miss Grace got interviewed and now I get to play along. She asks the questions, and I answer.  Bear with me – this might require some thought – stand back in case my brain explodes from actual use, I cannot be held accountable for the splatter. What? If Walmart does not have to corral their shopping carts, why should I? Anymeme, here it goes.

1.  What’s your favorite non-blog website/place to waste time on the internet.

I am sadly a facebook addict. It has been very fun to connect with friends from long ago – I have even met a future friend from India. Now that is cool. I also read skim the Times of India. And I cannot tear myself away from the craft sites where I have wholesale accounts. It appears I have more than one dark addiction demon in my computer life. (Really though, the blog sites are my faves.)

And I cannot, will not forget about Skype. That is how the kids and I talk to number one hubby – for free – everyday. It is a little piece of communication addiction that I embrace.

2.  What material thing/place (not a person) do you think you’ll miss the most when you’re in India?

Hmmm. Since you said not a person, you left open the door for other creatures. I am going to say my little cat Queso. She sits with me at the computer almost every minute that I am here and gives me scratchy cat kisses. She also purrs really loud. It’s going to be hard to top that. But the place would be my neighborhood and my newly renovated house. I love them both and it is very hard to tear myself away from home. I will also miss my double oven. Apparently my new oven is a large toaster oven that actually sits on the counter.

I am also a horrible creature of habit. So, I will very much miss my very comfortable routines.

3.  What everyday thing do you wish you could eliminate from your life forever?

This one is easy. Laundry. And the cat litter. And dishes. Okay – I will just say chores in general. This elimination might actually occur in India. If I can put the control freak in me aside and let others (literally) do my dirty work. Oh yeah, and I would not mind throwing mean or manipulating people out with the trash. No time for that. Maybe they could be recycled. Hey, I guess that could happen in India too – I understand they believe in reincarnation.

4.  Describe the first date you ever went on (in your life).

It was with Donnie. We went with his parents to Godfather’s Pizza. They sat way across the restaurant (with a direct view of us). And we sat at our own booth. It was very uneventful. We went on this date while he was on a break from his long-time girlfriend. They got back together – they honestly probably got married. At least they should have.

My best date was when hubby beat me home from work and made dinner. He locked me out because he was not done ironing the table cloth yet. (He has never done it since – and I really wouldn’t want him to – it would ruin the memory of him frantically ironing my grandmother’s tablecloth while I am banging on the door to get in.) I don’t remember everything he made but I remember being so mad that he locked me out of my own house. Then I felt horrible. It was really great.

5.  If you had to have one song playing constantly on a loop in the background for the rest of your life, which one would be the least likely to make you want to kill yourself?

I have a hard time making choices – it’s easier to say what I don’t want than what I do want. (You should see me at the Cheesecake Factory with its 500-page menu – all the possibilities – I almost end up in a straight jacket every time.) I would not want the hookie pokie (although we did play it and dance to it at our wedding) or the macarena (I never learned out to do it). But I have learned from my parenting experience that any song played over and over is not a good thing. Repetition is the fastest way to ruin a love of musical things – be it Barney or Beethoven.  It would have to be something without words – but definitely not No More Words. Maybe it would be a cd of Queso purring. Or the theme song to St. Elmo’s Fire. My younger brother learned to play that on the piano for me because I loved the song so  much.

Okay now you have me thinking – it might be Picture by Kidd Rock and Sheryl Crow – I love the way they are both thinking about what they have given up and how sad they are not to be together – but I hate the way they refuse to admit it – then they finally do in the end. It reminds me to (try to) not take number one hubby for granted. Even if he locks me out of the house.

Your turn – Wanna play? Post a comment here saying so (you can still comment here if you don’t want questions). Include your email address if it’s not built into your commenting settings. I’ll send you some questions. Answer them on your blog, and pass it on.

Expiration Dates and Calendars……..

We are now at the point in our adventure that some dairy products will be around longer in the United States than my family will be.

The other day, I went to the store to buy heavy whipping cream and saw that it expired on February 12th, 2009. That gave me pause. I am not sure why. But I paused. Hmmm. This has a longer USA shelf life than I do. Interesting.

Recently, I received an email from the new school with dates for my calendar. Not expiration dates – but welcome to our school dates – come join in the fun dates. Begin your new adventure dates. February has been oddly blank on my calendar for some time. My calendar is usually jammed packed and over-stuffed with lots of dates and times and things to remember. The going ons of life. February has been unfairly caught in the transition. It had a few birthdays penciled in, but that was it. No more. I now have 6 dates on my February calendar. A meeting at the school for Bear to set his schedule. A play at the school. A PTA meeting and a Middle School parents meeting. A date for a choral concert called Voices for Hospice. I have to say that is exciting – the kids’ new school is holding a concert to raise money for children with cancer. I have to say I am excited that we get to be a part of that. The life lessons are already beginning with this adventure.

And, finally, the Middle School dance. Hmmmm.

This also gave me pause. Bear is in elementary school now. But that plane ride across the ocean will transport him right into Middle School. I wonder if he will want to go to this dance. He has never been to one before. This is going to be interesting.

Bless her little heart………….

Angel and Flower got gift certificates to get their ears pierced for Christmas. I thought this was brilliant. Even if I do say so myself – yes, it was my idea. I have sworn on a stack of earrings that they should not even bothering asking me to get their ears pierced until they were (at least) twelve – I believe you should have to wait for some things just for the sake of waiting. And, not for nothing, I had to wait until I was twelve. So, there you go, parenting logic at its finest.

But then number one hubby announced that we were moving to India and, well, Christmas presents became a little more challenging.

Think. Think. Think. Ear piercing. They have both said they wanted to do it. They are both very active in sports and this is a (very rare) time when they aren’t that active. In our little corner of the world, you cannot have any jewelry on when you are playing a contact sport. None. Not even if you just got your ears pierced and the holes will close up if you take them out. So timing is critical.

Earrings also don’t have to be packed, or shipped, or microchipped. You just put them in and off you go. Wah lah. And it was fabulous because they would feel like they were getting this gift much earlier than expected. Oh joy of joys. Except Flower had changed her mind and never told me that. So my 9 year old. No earrings. My 7 year old. Earrings – 5 years early. Oh well -life doesn’t always go according to my great plan.

So Angel, my mother-in-law, and I went to get Angel her earrings. The sales person was nice enough. Very bright pink eyeshadow. Bleached Blond Hair. Black lipstick. Black fingernails bitten to the quick. Kind of sort of grunge clothing. Way too many facial piercings. Let’s just say she is easy to remember. In Angel’s eyes, I am sure she looked like a rock star. She is not exactly what I expected for Angel’s first older girl crush. But, who am I to stand in the way of a 7-year-old and the rock star who gave her earrings?

Then later we go back to the store with Flower for her to use her gift certificate on everything but getting her ears pierced. It is amazing how much plastic c-r-a-p you can get for $40. The whole way there Angel is wondering if this rock star impostor is going to remember her. I told her how busy the girl was, how many people she must see every day, blah blah blah. But, I thought to myself, surely she has manners and will pretend to remember my little Angel. Then again – sometimes life lessons come at you fast and hard.

As Flower is shopping, Angel is pulling on my shirt – ask her, ask her, ask hhheeerrr. I don’t want to do this because I know the answer and I am not confident of the manners. There is something about an earring through the lip, another one through the tongue, and one more through the eyebrow combined with very bright pink eyeshadow and black lipstick that does not exactly say mint julep on the veranda. Move over Scarlet. I’m just sayin’ – if the shoe fits, you might just be wearing it.

So, I reluctantly say “my daughter was was wondering if you remember piercing her ears a few days ago.” I am standing behind Angel nodding my head – giving my best bobble head impersonation. Just say yes. Please just say yes. You’ll be amazed at just how quickly you can be done with us if you will just say it – YES.

Her:  Uh…Hmmmm
Me: more head nodding – this is a hint to say yes or you will end up on my blog
Her: I am not sure – you know, I see so many…
Me: Maybe the pink earrings are a giveaway. She was just sure you would remember the pink earrings. I am sure you remember, right? (more nodding)
Her: Uh, yeah, I guess so.
Me: giving her my best “come on, I know you can do it,  just say yes” look
Her: Okay yes.
Me: Thank you. You were right Angel, she absolutely remembers you.
Angel: Big Smile.

Saturday night found us all at the mall again. Bear was invited to a birthday party-slash-scavenger hunt – yep, at the mall. He had a great time and I realized that there is free entertainment out there in this troubled economy. I had forgotten all about this little adventure called The Mall. Maybe I haven’t been to the mall on a rainy Saturday night in a really, really long time – maybe it’s been since I got my drivers license and could broaden my horizons. But I have been missing out on some really interesting people watching. Holy teenager, Batman.

Yes, you do know what happened next – guess who comes walking down the mall walkway – Rock star impostor. Angel pulls on my coat.

Angel: Mom, it’s heeeeerrrrrrrrrrrr.

Me: (under my breath – dear God.) to Angel – Yes dear, it is in fact heeeeeerrrrrrrrr. How lucky is that?
Angel: I wonder if….
Me: Oh, honey, I am sure she would not recognize you out of the store
Angel: Oh yeah, you’re right, she’d have to see me in the chair, you know, the chair in the store. Remember in the chair where I got my ears pierced.
Me: I am sure she would recognize you there, but let’s not bother her when she’s not actually at work
Angel: I wonder if she is on her way to work, or on a break from work, or just shopping. Maybe she is here to get here ears pierced – again. Mom, what do you think she is doing?
Me: Breaking up with you sweetpea – want something to eat?

There’s no way…….

(Note: If you have been reading this blog or if you know me, you know that we are very close to our departure to India. So, this will quite possibly be my last post for about a week. I’ll miss you terribly – but I will be back soon.)

When number one hubby and I were making wedding plans, there were a few things I refused to budge on. The song we would dance to at our reception was near the top of the list. We really didn’t have a song connected to a special moment – but I had a song connected to everything about us.

I had heard the song in high school. I immediately knew that if I ever found someone that I felt that way about – bring on the wedding.

My last year in college, I signed up for a Film class – it intrigued me – and, as an English major in my senior year, I was looking forward to a class minus the 300+ page books. No reading – just watching films – sign me up! Written on the board was the theme for the class “Violence in Films”. Pardon me. What did you say? Yeah, that’s not going to be so great for me. Super. I immediately made a  mental note to drop the class. And to write a note to somebody – they really should list that information somewhere other than the syllabus. But I wasn’t going to write it to the teacher – she was a little scary. Fatigues. Crew cut. Muscle t-shirt. Yikes. So I stayed for the first class. Sat right down to listen.

Then I saw him sitting there. Blue sweats that did not match his blue sweatshirt that did not match his blue baseball hat so coyly cocked to the side. He was sunken in his chair. Feet in the aisle. Probably (more than) a little cocky. And, of course, sitting in the back row. I am more of a front row kind of girl. Hmmmmm.

I listened as the teacher called out the names on the roster. Will I be able to tell who he is? Yep, he raised his hand when his name was called. And it is one of those names that could have twenty-five variations of its original version. Dang. No help there. Later, I found out that he goes by his middle name. Well, that makes perfect sense. And he was an Accounting major taking an upper level English class. This could get interesting.

So, anyfilm, long story short, when people ask me why I am willing to move to India, I only have this to offer. He matched my song.

Pour yourself some sweet tea, kick up your boots,
and take a listen – There’s No Way…….

Tagged again……

There seems to be some trend going on with my friends with blogs: A questionaire pass on. Shaggie Maggie  passed this on to me – a list of questions to be answered with one word. So as no to offend my dear friend here goes: Disclaimer (I am not a “one word” kind of person, as my friends all know)

1. Where is your cell phone? unanswered
2. Where is your significant other? India
3. Your hair color? brown (mostly)
4. Your family? wonderfully complicated
5. Who you miss the most? grandfather
6. Your favorite thing? not big on things
7. Your dream last night? bizarre
8. Your dream/goal? peace on all levels
9. The room you’re in? office
10. Your hobby? writing
11. Your fear? sometimes writing
12. Where do you want to be in six years? Virginia
13. Where were you last night? home
14. What you’re not? hateful
15. One of your wish list items? peace
16. Where you grew up? Still in the process of doing that
17. The last thing you did? laundry
18. What are you wearing? pjs – we call them jammers
19. Your TV? mostly off
20. Your pet? 3 cats
21. Your computer? HP laptop
22. Your mood? thoughtful
23. Missing someone? yes
24. Your car? popcorn all over
25. Something you’re not wearing? makeup
26. Favorite store? Geoffrey Beene
27. Your Summer? can’t wait for it
28. Love someone? Many people
29. Your favorite color? right now brown
30. When is the last time you laughed? today
31. Last time you cried? about 2 hours ago

Passing is the thing to do with these – so Lola, Badass, Loco, and Miss Grace – Game on. Oh yes, and Kristen.

Brace yourself………

You are only a few days away from actually hearing about India – but in the meantime – here is what happened today.

I am in the process of finally admitting that we are leaving the country in 12 days. Yes, 12 days. Have I packed anything you ask – ummmmm. Translation – not so much. Well, that is until today.

Today I went on an errand spree. It was my own little game show – Six stores in 3 hours or less. Find as many things on sale as possible. Only buy what (you think) you might truly need. Don’t knock anyone over in my rush to rush. Get the best parking spot every time – because it is freezing here! I did it and I made it home in (just enough) time to be at the bus stop. Before the bus actually stopped there. Whew. After that, I managed to pack 3 boxes. At this rate, I might just be ready.

Anypack, while I was out, I went to several public restrooms. (Nope, I do not have a new career as a bathroom inspector – I just happen to drink a lot of diet dr. pepper – and, well, what goes in must come out.) Every single one of them had a stall I would not go in. Why you ask. Oh you know why. Because there are women out there who think it is okay to spray the seat and leave it that way. I guess it’s their own little game show. A sort of bathroom roullette. Take aim – or not. It’s like they were all trying to make a spirograph of the liquid persuasion. I completely understand why you don’t want to sit. However. Can you stop doing that? Seriously.

Give that fan a contract……………..

These are the people who I don’t think get paid enough.

My husband – not really – but just in case his boss reads my blog. You never know. There is always room for improvement.

Teachers – obvious.

Preschool teachers – even more obvious.

Preschool teachers who do not require their students to be potty trained. No brainer.

Janitors at schools. If you have ever stepped one foot in an elementary school cafeteria, this requires absolutely no explanation. None whatsoever.

Let’s just say all janitors. I am especially sympathetic after visiting several public restrooms recently.

Maids at my house – oh, that’s me. I am going to triple my own salary – hey I deserve a raise – let’s see 3 times zero is – I’ll have to ask my son the answer to that one – it involves math.

Policemen – obvious.

Firemen – obvious.

Nurses – they really are so helpful. And if they can give a shot without having to rake me off the ceiling – they deserve a bonus.

Office staff at the doctor’s office – if they can figure out the insurance payment procedures, they not only deserve a raise but also an honorary doctorate from Harvard.

Coaches – not professional coaches (like NFL and NBA coaches – they are just fine) and not psycho, screaming parent coaches – but you know, the ones (some are parents – some just love the game and want kids to love the game). They spend hours of their free time helping our children become more coordinated, knowledgeable, and sportsman-like athletes – giving you time to run to the grocery store unattended. Yeah, we could pay them more.

Trash collectors – seriously – would you want to do it? In the rain and in the snow and the cold and the hot. One weather day is worse than the next. Ick.

Stay at home moms. Wait, is nothing too much to get paid? Oh yeah, we get paid in peanut butter kisses and laundry and funny stories to blog about. But compensation that has tax implications would not be so bad. Alas, my fine unpaid friend – 3 times zero is still zero (Bear clued me in) – but the peanut butter kisses – they are free. No 1040 required.

Okay, working parents don’t paid enough for their parenting expertise either.

Bloggers – yep, that’s me, too – yep, we do it for the love of the write. Apparently some bloggers get paid – but I have not figured that one out yet. Give me time.

The tooth fairy and Santa Claus. If you have ever been “forgotten” by one of them, you know their jobs are critical. And Santas at the mall should get a little bit extra. Can you imagine doing that all day? Bah.Hum.Bug.

Crafters – hand-making anything and trying to sell it – now that is a job – either put those poor crafters out of their misery or double their pay immediately.

Facebookers – no wait, that’s just me trying to turn my hobby into a pay check. Sorry.

I think I’ll take a pass………

I received this email – and I am going to have to pass. But just in case you would like to help Mr. Ansu out I am publishing it for you. You might want to delete my answers to his letter before you send him a reply.

To: Me
From: Mr. Patrick Ansu.
Standard Chartered Bank (GH) Ltd.

Dear Friend,

I don’t recall ever meeting you kind sir. Not even on Facebook – so please kindly refrain from calling me friend. In fact, feel free to use my name. Hmmmm. You don’t actually know my name. I see. Then how did you, kind sir, kindly get my email address?

My name is Mr. Patrick Ansu, I am the regional manager  of Standard chartered Bank of Ghana Kumasi branch in the Ashanti region of  Ghana.

I am not entirely sure I care what your name is or where you work. It’s not that I don’t think it would be nice to meet you – I am sure you are very nice. It’s just that I happen to be a little distracted right now. And, I have just recently learned of India’s geographic location, you cannot possibly hope that I know where the bank of which you speak lives.

I got your contact when I was searching for an overseas partner to assist  me through banker’s seminar held recently.

Okay, thanks for clearing that up. I am surprisingly still not clear on this one – You got my contact how again?  I am pretty sure I was not a speaker-slash-attendee at that conference being mathematically challenged and all – so please remind me again how you got my contact.


I write you this proposal in good  faith, I am 45 years old married with three lovely kids.

I am so totally now convinced that you are completely honest. I’ll admit, at first, I was a little unsure. But yes, it was the three lovely kids that did it. If you had not insisted they were lovely, I might not have believed you. Nice touch.

I have packaged a financial transaction that will benefit you and I, as the  regional manager of the standard Chartered Bank it is my duty to send in a  financial report to my head office in the capital city Accra at the end of each  business year.

I don’t even know what any of that meant. However, I will tell you it’s “benefit you and me”. I know – details. Can you tell me if any of this is going to help me get my house packed and get us ready to go to India? If not, I really cannot be bothered right now.

On the course of the last two years 2007 business report, I discovered that  my branch in which I am the manager made three million two hundred and seventy  thousand united states dollars ($3,270,000.00) which my head office are not  aware of and will never be aware of. I have placed this funds in what we  call ESCROW CALL ACCOUNT with no beneficiary.

I think you meant “over” the course. And head office “is” not aware. And FYI, United States should be capitalized from now on. If you need an editor, I can help you there. And are you sure you are the manager? You mentioned it three times. So I am guessing you just might be the manager. Congratulations. And, yes, that is a lot of money. You should get your wife something really pretty.

As the branch manager of this  bank I cannot be directly connected to this money, so my aim of contacting you  is to assist me receive this money in your bank account and get 35% of the total  funds as commission.

Okay, so you are the manager. Thirty-five percent is indeed generous. You do realize that emails can be traced, right? I am just thinking that you are very clever, but you might not be fully aware of recent technological advances. It is (very) possible you could be connected to this transaction.

There are practically no risks involved, it will be  a bank-to-bank transfer,and all I need from you is to stand claim as the  original depositor of these funds who made the deposit with my branch so that my  head office can order the transfer to your designated bank account. If  you accept to work with me I will appreciate it very much.

Yeah, I really do not think any of that is going to happen. Even though you clearly have the authority to do this -being a manager and all. And, you have three lovely children. Your credentials are really approve reproach.

My private  phone number is +233242934237 call me if you think we can work together so that  we can go over the details.
Yeah, I am not feeling the love. So, don’t hold your breath, ‘kay.

Thank you  in advance and May God bless you and your family.

And may God Bless your family too – your wife and three lovely children. Hugs and Kisses – but sorry, no bank account info. Anybank, I have a question for you – do you look good in stripes? Do you like bread and water?

Yours  truly,
Mr.Patrick Ansu.

Not so truly yours. Me.

okay – just kidding…….

You knew I could not stay away that long. Something (that I thought was) funny happened and I just wanted to share.

So, we’re eating dinner and some how, some way we start talking about food. Flower asks about eggs.

Flower: You mean they take the eggs from their mother?
Me: Yes.
Flower: Isn’t that mean?
Me: Not really, a hen lays a ton of eggs.
Flower: But that is just mean. Really. Really. Mean. Don’t you think that is mean?
Bear: They’re different – they aren’t fertilized. (Apparently he is a mathematician and a scientist.)
Me: What he said. (and hoping, praying that no one asks what fertilized means.)
Me to Bear: Really?
Angel: Eggs are good. Can we have some for breakfast? (Very sympathetic, that one.)
Flower: But mom even if you had 20 kids, you would be sad if some one took even just one away?
Me: You do realize we are eating chicken for dinner, right?

Hugs and kisses!

Please do the needful……..

This is the sticky note that number one hubby gets on his desk sometimes. “Please do the needful.” It really means – do this or, usually, sign this. But the Indian people seem so polite that they almost make it sound poetic. Maybe it makes you want to be more helpful.

When I call India, I call through an operator. S/he is always so polite – “please be on the line, please hold the line”. Really, no wonder we sought out the Indian people for call centers!

So, I am looking forward to hearing all the different ways that English can be used. It makes me slow down and listen too – I need to do that. Accents can be heavy – and I am sure they will feel the same about mine. But I cannot wait to hear and maybe even adopt some of their expressions.

One other thing that was very fun to see was this…

If this is how they treat t-shirts, imagine how they treat people. These are my husband’s t-shirts – I am sorry, undershirts. They aren’t even t-shirts. And they are treated with such care. Yes, you are seeing this correctly – they are indeed wrapped in clear plastic, with clips and cardboard support. Believe you me, they do not look like that when I wash them! India, here we come!

My own personal post it note also says “please do the needful.” I am off to pack. Ta Ta for Now. And yes, Please hold the line.

Phoning in a Friend……………..

This week has been an interesting mix of excitement and sadness. I know there is a big adventure ahead of us – but I also know we are leaving a great deal behind. I moved quite a bit as a kid. As such, I didn’t really feel like I had much in the way of roots until I had lived here for quite some time.  It took me a very long while to put both feet down. I completely understand that moving was good and those experiences have helped me become who I am.

But…….

I am going to just miss being here. Getting older has turned me into a terrible creature of habit. I love my routines and what I know. Running into people I care about almost everywhere I go is a gift. I love being around the people here – even if they are driving me crazy – or I am doing the same for them. I have tremendous friends and a lot of family close by. I did not grow up with that. And I am going to miss it.

Blah blah blah

So, enough sap – thank you to everyone who has touched my life. You are extremely special to me and I cannot wait to get back to see you soon.

And, to the MANY of you who have cooked, cleaned, packed, listened, shopped, held my hand, gotten stamps, prayed, let Queso live with you, or offered to do any of the above for me – thank you. I hope that you will give me the chance to return the favor for you very soon.

Going Fishing…….

One of my dear friends wrote this for me – and I am at a loss for words at this crazy time in my life – so I share her words with you. She once wrote an article called a Matter of Miles – I always wanted to use that title. So, when I land in India I will borrow steal that title from her. I have never asked her if this is okay – but I know she won’t  mind – she always forgives my indiscretions. She takes me as I am and she is one of the many reasons I am finding it very hard to get out the door. But in the meantime, we are busy getting busy to get out the door. I will write again soon – hopefully with good news of cats and luggage. Until then, I am going fishing…..

My son really wants to go fishing. My husband, who is not a fisherman, agrees to take him. It is one of those fatherly duties. All week long, they prepare for the early morning outing.

“What should we pack?” asks my son, curious and excited.

“Um…two fishing poles, fishing line, and bait,” my husband answers, in a rather uncertain manner.

“Just two poles. I think we should take ten.”

“Ten is way too many. I don’t know much about fishing, but I think it is better to catch one or two great fish then to catch a school of scrawny fish. We should go for quality, not quantity.”

“But more is better, right?”

“Not always….”

More is not always better when it comes to many things that happen in life. For the most important things that happen to us, more is almost never the best option. This is never more true than with friendships. At different points in our lives, we “fish” with different goals and different results.

In preschool, it takes great bravery to even put out one line, and we hold our breath to see if anyone will bite. When a tiny counterpart takes the bite, she is our friend for life. (“Let’s hold hands all the time.”)

In elementary school, our pond grows. We may throw out three or four lines and get good fish with each attempt. (“Let’s have a sleepover this weekend.”)

In high school, we go for the scrawny fish. It is the more the merrier, quantity over quality. We put out as many lines as we can and reel in all that bite. (“Let’s have a party this weekend. We are so popular!”)

In college, we take many of those lines from high school out of the water. It is more about finding out, and fishing for, those who work best with us. Selection is the key here. If you catch something that doesn’t work, you throw it back in the water. Something about living on your own makes you want to find those you will support you and help nurture your spirit. (“Will you help me study for the test? I’ll meet you at the library.”)

In adulthood, in the real world, many things interfere with our ability to fish at all. Old lines that we may have kept in the water since high school start to weaken and may eventually break. Time to launch new lines is hard to find. Sometimes we take stock; we look at the lines that remain, those that have withstood the tumultuous weather or the dangers in the sea that have tried to severe them. We see what we have left, what has never left us, and what hangs on in good times and in bad times. Those fish were meant to be lifelong, and one thing is always true of these fish: they are never many. They are always few. These fish are as strong as the lines that hold them.

One of my fish heads for India this week. She is taking the daring swim across the ocean for the adventure of her life. I need to give her lots of line so that she can reach her destination. Her line has been a constant for me. It is the most dependable line I have, so I am not worried about it breaking. Watch out Atlantic Ocean. This line’s made of steel.

We’re not in Kansas anymore…….

Thanks for all of your prayers and good wishes – we have landed in Delhi – and, yes, the cats are here too. No one spelled their name for us and everyone was very helpful. YAHOO!

We have literally been traveling for more than 24 hours – so this will be short.

We arrived at 3am Delhi time so it is dark right now. Our drive was uneventful. Apparently you don’t have to stop at every red light – good to know. I am not clear how you decide which ones actually mean stop. But – luckily that is not my job.

My first (in the dark) thoughts are that it felt very much like going to a beach town as a college student on spring break. You know you have a place to stay – but which one will it actually be remains a mystery. Crossing fingers is your best bet. Hoping not the first ten you see – because – yikes. But it turns out we are in a gated community with several watch men in boxes. It will be a big change but we’re ready to experience India. But right now, we’re just ready for sleep.

Flower asked if she can have Fruity Pebbles in the morning – good luck with that.

The Butcher, the Baker, and the Candlestick Maker………

This was what it felt like today in our new house because there were a lot of men I have never met before coming in and out. They were all being helpful in one way or another. Some of them did not speak English – so I am not sure what they were doing. I took a shower while they were here and that was very weird. (No, not a shower in front of them – just while they were here – I was behind two locked doors.) One of them was delivering boxes, one was making (a very yummy) lunch, one was available to drive us somewhere or anywhere, and one was working on the plumbing. There were a couple of others and I honestly do not know why they were here – we might be the new animals at the zoo – I am just not sure.

Here is some of what we did today – we were mostly in the car – so I don’t have a lot of pictures. I promise to do better. You will want to see Delhi – it is a beautiful mix of calm in the middle of a lot of craziness.

We drove by the American Embassy. The Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. is fashioned after the American Embassy in Delhi. I like the embassy better. It has more personality. School was getting out when we went by. Kids from over 50 countries will go to school with my kids. That is exciting.

I thought I saw two women sweeping the side of the curb today. I was wrong. They were painting the curb with white paint – they were applying the paint with brooms – brooms that made me think of the witch in Snow White – spindly and bare. It was fascinating.

There are A LOT of people here and it is crowded. Driving is pure insanity. I am absolutely amazed that we did not see any accidents. There are lines in the road and they mean absolutely nothing. Our driver (softly) honked his horn several times and I am unclear why. But we did not get into any accidents.

I have no idea what this is. But it looked neat and caught our attention – so you get to see it too.

The buses are crazy crowded. And yet, most of the people on them were smiling.

There are also auto-rickshaws. They have motors in them so the driver does not have to pedal. If they are green and yellow it means they run on clean gas. Most of them are green and yellow.

I saw a lot of people sitting in the parks. Quite a few men were taking naps in the middle of the park. They just laid down on the grass and hit slumber land.

McDonalds delivers. They do not serve beef – but anything else they will bring to your door.

The New York Times costs $160 per month to be delivered every day. We will be reading it online.

I saw a little boy spit a lugee into his own hat and then laugh so hard he almost fell over. It was disgusting but he could not wait to show is friend how funny he was. He seemed very poor and smelled like urine. He wanted very much for Bear to share his new slingshot with him.

Most of the signs here are in English as well as Hindi. They are extending their metro system and some of the signs redirecting traffic almost look like graffiti. U.S. cities should take note – they are cool looking and it gives someone a chance at expression while helping drivers know where to go.

We did not see any cows or monkeys – but lots and lots of stray dogs.

The cats have not been in hiding at all since we got here. They are purrfectly comfortable right out in the open.

We went to the Khan market place. The stores are tiny but hold lots of things. We found quite a few American brands.

So polite…………

In America we don’t quite ask as nicely for people to pick up their pooches’ poop.

I am having a few computer problems that will hopefully be resolved today – so I can’t stay on-line too long. But, hopefully later today I will get some more of my pictures up. You will love the trees!

We are off to the school – the kids are excited! Yahoo!

For the love of trees………..

This is a park near our house called Lohdi Gardens. Holy moly – these trees are amazing. I am a lover of all things tree and I might just have found nirvana.

Baptism by Fire…………

Today we went to two more Indian markets – we had been to the more touristy market and the market frequented by ex-pats (someone living in a country that is not their own – that sounds like a great idea – sign us up).

But today, after we left the kids new school – which, by the by, seems fabulous – we jumped in with both feet. No rest for the weary – we are here to experience India. Bring it. It was a big slice of culture shock. And it was fascinating.

On the way to the market, we had a few beggars knocking on the window of the car. The driver locked the door – that was an ominous sound. Cla-clunk. If the driver thinks the door should be locked – well, hmmmmmmmmm. Begging is a tough subject and I will address it more in later posts – I am afraid it is not going anywhere and we will continue to experience it frequently. Right now, I will just say it is one of the hardest things I have seen – women with babies begging for help. Filthy children with hunger in their eyes. I am not sure if my words will be enough to bring the experience to you – but I will try – just not now. Later.

The first market was amazing. We had to walk through a metal detector to get in. It seemed as if the detector was completely unattended. Bear and I both set off the alarm. No one seemed to care. I know it was Bear’s shoes – we found out at the Frankfurt airport that his shoes have metal in the soles – I forgot to mention earlier in my blogs that he had his first pat down. He was not impressed. And I think mine must have been the cell phone I was carrying. Nonetheless, in we went unquestioned. But not unnoticed.

The entrance was extremely crowded. People on top of people crowded. That is one thing that everyone seems to say about India – that it is so very crowded. But I have not felt (over)crowded here yet – not until today. Customers stopped and turned their heads to take a look at us. The new animals at the zoo. Merchants swarmed around us. Offering to sell us everything from handbags to sunglasses to shoes to brightly colored ropes. (There were quite a few vendors selling ropes – why, I am not sure. But if you need a brightly colored rope – let me know – I know just where to get it.)

I had been told that we might be seen as “rock starish” because of being very light skinned. And the girls’ blond hair certainly adds to our mystique. The first market we went to was mostly a clothing market. I was ooing and ahing the fabrics and our hosts were soaking us in. They seemed drawn to us – I know they did not fall in love with us – but they imagined us with pockets full of money. And us eager to spend it.

Enter Number One Hubby.

Don’t forget he has been here since September – no longer a newbie. Some of the awe has worn away. We bought backpacks, aprons, and hangers. My dear sweet husband, who used to not like to return things to the store because he might have to actually talk to the clerk, haggled like a seasoned professional. Two aprons and 100 hangers – $2 – SOLD. To the lowest bidder. That would be us.

So, seriously, if you need a rope – not only do I know where to get it – but number one hubby can negotiate a great price for you – cheap.

I have to say it surprised me that he argued over $1. I was truly almost embarrassed. And, yes, I said so. But to no avail. I have more than a dollar in change jingling around in the bottom of my purse. Completely unused. But apparently, it is the game you play here. It is the art of compromise mixed in with a little bit of chess. Strategy has more to do with the negotiation than the actual price you are willing to pay. It is fascinating.

I have absolutely no doubt that I will learn to play this game too. I will probably even like it. But today – once I figured out the conversion of rupees to dollars and decided if that was a decent price – I was pretty much done with the math. Bag it.

One little boy eager for a sale wanted to guess what our country was. That is how he said it – what is your country. Holland? Oh no, not Holland. Which one then? I answered, the United States. Oh yes, I know that one. The U.S. He went off to excitedly tell a man who I am guessing was his father. That was all the welcome they needed. Easily 5 more men came rushing over. They stood very close and repeatedly offered their wares. It surprises me that I never felt in danger – just crowded. Very. Very. Crowded. I held my girls’ hands much tighter than normal – but that is just one of the gifts India is giving to me. I am keeping my children closer as much for safety as for want. They don’t argue over holding my hand here. I like that. A. Lot.

So here is my best description of how crowded it was. Imagine shopping on Black Friday with 1 billion of your best friends right after they announce an 85% off going out of business sale – and they just got in the hardest to find electronic game of the season. Then imagine doing that in a store the size of a small bus. Yes, the width of a bus. But not quite the length. Then imagine 100 of those stores in a box. There you go. Very crowded. Relatively calm. But very crowded.

Then we went to a market focused more on food items. There are plenty of American brands here. They are more expensive than they would be in the U.S. but as a creature of habit – I like the familiar and I am willing to spend (a little) more for it. And, yes, they had Diet Dr. Pepper. And, double yes, we bought some.

There in the food market, was the market I have been most curious about. The chicken booth. Wow. Flower put your seatbelt on. There really were live hens and skinned not-so-much-alive hens. The line was long. I found myself just staring. I did not have my camera – but don’t you worry – I am taking it next time. Holy hen, Batman. I think Flower might have more questions than just “why eggs are taken from their mother”. Like why does their mother live in that box and isn’t that one cold without its feather coat – and, oh yes, its head. Yikes. And, what are we having for dinner again?

The rest of the market was much like we had seen before. Lots of fabric – some household items – toiletries – fresh produce. Lots of nuts and dried beans. Some things are not labeled. I guess it’s like buying something very expensive -if you have to ask, it just might not be for you.

Anymarket – I feel like we had an adventure today. Number one hubby was concerned it might overwhelm us. I don’t think so. It gave us food for our bellies and food for thought. And, just like a baptism should – it will change the way we look at the world.

One Act…………….

One of my very favorite books is Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven. It reminds us that no thing, no act, and no one is insignificant. No interaction goes unattended. Even in sneezing you can get blessed. It really is so simple.

Maybe that is why it is so easy to forget. To take it all for granted. Or maybe it is what allows to interact with each other without expectation. To be kind just for the sake of being kind.

One question seems to repeat itself in my life right now. How did you get to India? The simple answer is – my husband works here. But that hardly tells the story.

Many years ago, my husband helped someone out. Someone who, at the time, really didn’t seem to have much to offer in the way of compensation. There seemed to be nothing to come from helping him out. Well, except, that kindness is its own reward. It just feels good. And my husband really did not have to do much – he just spoke up. There was no way he could have possibly known the implications of that one small act of kindness. It cost him absolutely nothing but has, in turn, given him back so much.

That person later helped him get a job. A job with a struggling company – a start up. It was a wonderful experience on a number of levels. Another reward in and of itself. And it was where my husband met his current boss. The boss who called him somewhat out of the blue and offered him this experience. This life in India.

And it all started with just one act. Of kindness.

Not weird, just different…………..

Before we left on this grand adventure, I had several fireside chats with my kids. One of them focused on different v. weird. I wanted them to not use the word weird – ever. Things are just going to be a little very different.

So, you what’s different, you ask. Besides everything, you mean?

Let’s see…………..

Queso is not here. Bummer. Big Bummer. I miss her scratchy cat kisses.

Milk has to be boiled and only lasts a few days. We used to go through about 6 gallons of milk a week – we are not doing that now. And, it does not taste weird – just different.

You absolutely cannot drink water out of the faucet – we brush our teeth with filtered or bottled water.

Fruits and vegetables have to be soaked in a cleaning solution for at least half an hour before you eat them. Even pineapples.

Electrical outlets have on/off switches. Yep, you have to turn on the outlet – then turn on whatever is plugged in.

My underwear got ironed yesterday. No I am not kidding. Yes, that is horrifying. It was especially funny to me because it was a pair with a hole in it. I am also laughing that my underwear is big enough to iron – okay, it’s not that funny.

The newspaper comes at 9pm at night.

Our doorbell rings like a bird chirping. They ring the doorbell when they drop off the paper. That is not weird – but a little unnecessary.

All of my friends and family are asleep when I am awake. That seems at least lonely and maybe a little weird.

I get a salad for lunch and dinner every day – and I do not have to make it! Raju puts corn in the salad sometimes. Bonus.

Yesterday we ordered McDonalds for lunch. It was delivered to our door. They do not sell hamburgers or nuggets but the chicken sandwich was quite yummy. They do sell a Mexican chicken wrap. That is not weird, but it is funny (at least to me).

Bear, Flower, and Angel have eaten something at every meal that they have never had before. They have (really) liked almost everything. The only thing they did not like was the refried beans. I can’t say I blame them – a little goes a long way.

Flower will take Spanish in school.

Bear has two elective classes – they are Odyssey of the Mind and Lego Robotics.

Angel will get to take an art class after school and a freestyle dance class. Flower is thinking about joining a rock climbing club and bollywood dance class.

Some men hold hands here. I don’t think they are gay – they are just holding hands.

You walk and drive on the opposite side of what we are used to. This is sometimes a problem when walking down the stairs. The school has arrows on the steps to help you remember. I think that is more for the adults than the kids.

There are men that ride around on bicycles selling things. They shout out what they are selling in a steady jumbled song. The first time I heard it, I thought someone was crying – now I just wish I knew what they were saying. They almost fall off their bike when they see my white-skinned self. It is pretty funny actually – I am quite sure they think I look weird. I don’t think their moms have had a chance to explain different yet.

The windows let in all the noise from outside. This is only a problem when fireworks go off in the middle of the night.

The toilet paper is not very soft. At all.

There is a lot more that is different – but I can’t use up all my material in one post. So, I’ll be back with more later. So life here is not weird, it’s just not what we are used to. See the difference?

Honey, I shrunk the appliances……….

If you have been following this blog for a while, you might remember my post about the kitchen without any appliances in it. Well, they are here now – although they look like they went through the Willie Wonka transporter machine and got shrunk just a wee little bit…………

this will hold 3 towels at a time – yep, no dryer

this isn’t too, too small – just not what I am used to

if you are having a hard time visualizing this – just look at your toaster oven – but this is the oven – not the toaster – bring on the bread

the stove – yes, it actually sits on top of the counter

Raju is our cook. He speaks English well and he seems to be a kind man. Plus he is one kick-arse cook. He likes the oven because he can see what’s in it. Some ovens are too big he assures me. It’s hard to see what’s in them. Okay – that certainly is one way of looking at it. In America, we solved that little problem by putting a light inside the oven. See it’s different here!

Oh yes, I did………..

All by my lonesome – I ventured out into India today. Oh yes, I did. I didn’t climb Mt. Everest or anything grand like that – I simply went back to the market – but I went alone. Yep, just me.

What’s that sound you hear? Oh, that’s just me patting myself on the back. Tap, Tap, Tap.

I got a few stares – okay – more than a few -  more like a lot of stares. But no one here is rude. At least it seems that way. Staring is perfectly acceptable here – and it isn’t that bothersome – because it is not accompanied by comments. Well, at least not any that I can hear or understand.

So, I went to by another drying rack (because we don’t have a dryer – have I mentioned that 500 times yet), two trash cans, a rolling pin, a cheese grater, and a slotted spoon. Are you wondering if I negotiated the price? Please. Baby steps. I did not.

Then into the florist. Two vases. No flowers – yet. No negotiating. Not yet. Besides the prices seemed reasonable enough.

On to the food market. I found one I really like. Lots of fruits and vegetables. Great English – that helps. No – still no negotiating. But I bought my items in the second food market I went in – so I did at least comparison shop. Here is what I got…

a watermelon – it is soaking cleaning solution
strawberries – soaking
apples – soaking
goldfish – funny enough, not soaking , even though water is where fish belong
sliced cheese
cashews
strawberry jelly
plum jelly – I can never find this in the U.S.
and fresh bing cherries the size of golf balls

The only mistake that (I know) I made was not asking the price of the cherries. I asked about everything else – so I guess I assumed they weren’t too expensive. Holy cherry batman. When I looked at my receipt later – $48 for a kilo of cherries. Yes, I agree – that is ridiculously expensive. I will enjoy them tremendously and then wait until I am back in the U.S. to get more. Ooops.

It was an interesting experience being in the market by myself. I was not distracted by watching out for my kids – so that was nice. I found a handmade paper store – which actually didn’t have much paper – but items made from paper. I was in a little bit of a hurry to be done before school gets out – so I will go back there.

Most of it went very smoothly. I felt unsure of what to do in the first store. There were items inside and outside. I paid for the outside items outside – it seemed to make sense until I went inside and the clerk inside said I should have paid for it all together. So, yes, I probably paid (way) too much outside. I’ll chalk it up to lessons learned and add that to the list of things to remember, along with asking the price of cherries.

But then, quite suddenly, there is a man beside me with my items. Apparently he is going to carry them to the car for me. Now, I come from an area where you sometimes ring up your own items, you often at least help bag your own groceries, then you carry them out to the car yourself, load your car yourself, push the cart back to the cart rack, and unload your groceries – you got it – by yourself.

So this was different – he is going to follow me to the car. Oh yeah, I did not drive here – I was driven. I am not sure where the car is and I am not sure how to tell this nice young man that I don’t exactly know where the car is. I call Kahn – our driver. His phone is on divert. Perfect. He calls me back. He’s by the airplane. Oh, that’s what he was talking about before. He’ll meet me by the airplane.  The one hanging in front of the store where he dropped me off. Yippee Skippee -  I remember where that is. We found him. But I did not know – do I tip this guy who carried my things. Kahn says no. So, I did not. The carrier of my things did not negotiate for a tip with me – so I am guessing that was the right decision.

Then at the food market – the clerk held on to all of my things for me. Then put them in a box. What I did not see was that he gave the box to another person – you guessed it – to carry for me. So, I stood there looking at him and he looked at me and then laughed and pointed behind me. Oh, got it – that’s my stuff and he is going to carry it for me. A little slow on the uptake – but I think I am figuring this whole thing out.

Today, before going to the market, I went to a meeting where I met about 6 really nice women from the American Women’s Association. So, I am thinking today was a success. I am going to get the kids from school and hope they feel the same way.

I am giving it an A plus…………..

Day one at school went well. Very well. In fact, I am giving it an A plus.

I sent my family a picture of the kids on their first day. What I forgot to mention was that – Angel is not actually crying because she did not want to go to school – she was crying because her brother (accidentally, I am told) hit her with the sleeve of his sweatshirt when he was putting it on. And, I just happen to be all about the picture – so red eyes or not – smile – I want a picture of the first day of school. I can either take it now – or at the school.  Bear said to Angel – just smile now please. That’s our new middle schooler.

Here is how it went.

Angel’s teacher is a mix of Mrs. Dowell and Mrs. Smiley. If you go to our school in the U.S. then you know that it simply does not get any better than that. Flower and I immediately thought of Mrs. Smiley – Angel thought of Mrs. Dowell – and she said that is because her new teacher smiles a lot – and, mom, Mrs. Dowell smiles a lot. There you go. Her new assistant teacher reminds her of Mrs. Peng – because they both have black hair.

Flower has a male teacher who is enthusiastic and kind. He assured me that he taught her all she will ever need to know about spelling on the first day. Okay then. If you read this post, then you will know just how funny it is that his name has the word “egg” in it. She made at least 7 new friends. She was smiling when I picked her up. When I walked her to class this morning, two girls yelled “hello Flower” from across campus.

The elementary school is in the throes of India Week. Tres cool. There are all sorts of demonstrations and crafts the kids can do. There isn’t as much school work as normal and there is a whole lot of entertainment. On Friday, the girls get to wear Indian clothes to school. We are going shopping for saris on Wednesday – and yes, have no fear, there will be pictures. It’s funny how life pushes you forward. Angel desperately wanted a sari but I was in no hurry to get one – we’ve got plenty of time. Maybe not.

Bear went in a little hesitantly but curious. There was a sign welcoming him to the school in the middle of the hallway. Welcome Bear to 6th grade. That was cool. The counselor pegged him dead on with his schedule. He is taking three classes that he would have never been able to take in 6th grade before – Odyssey of the Mind, Lego Robotics, and Sculpture. The counselor’s son is also a 6th grader – he and another boy met Bear and walked him to his first class. I asked him if they were nice. His reply – they are my friends now. Okay – life is indeed good.

Bear also asked to buy lunch today. This is my little bear who has eaten the same exact lunch everyday of his school life for the past 6 and a half years. He is growing already. And, today is pizza day.

So Bear, Flower, and Angel were all excited to go back today. That is a very good thing. Bear wanted to get to his locker. Flower walked right beside me. Angel – 20 steps ahead – yes, she is the youngest and yes, she can get there by herself – thank you very  much. Just ask her – but stand 20 steps behind when you do.

As for me, I went to a meeting and, as you know, to the market. Hubby went to work. It was my first day “on my own” too. And I did okay. I don’t like the fact that everyone else who I care about is asleep when I am awake. It makes it hard to talk to them. But we’ll figure out a routine on that soon enough.

More different…………..

This list is endless – so I will just continue it in bits and pieces…

If you are new to this blog -You might want to read this first.

The guards call me madam and salute us when we walk in the gate to our house. Completely unnecessary. And, frankly, a little funny. Especially since I don’t usually wear a military uniform or a tiara.

I do not answer the door. The very nice man who works here does. That’s nice. It’s usually not for me anyway.

They collect the cable bill by coming to your door and asking for payment. Cable is $12 per month.

The floors are made of marble. They are certainly pretty but not too cozy.

The phone in the house is not cordless. In fact, there are two phones and they both have different phone numbers.

The tv station we most often watch is in English and it has subtitles for all the shows – yes, in English.

Turning on the oven – okay, this is not an easy task. First you turn on the outlet. Yes, the outlet. Then you turn on the oven. Then you set the timer (it will not come on without the timer on.) Then you set the temperature. The temperature is in Celsius – I was not a math major. I was an English major and it is hard enough to spell Celsius much less convert Fahrenheit to it.

To turn off the oven – I have learned to just unplug it.

The microwave does not have a light inside of it or a popcorn preset button. What? That’s not weird or different – it’s pure insanity.

Each bathroom has its own water heater – and so does the kitchen. Put that green eyed monster away – they are (very) smallish.

There are not many people here who are overweight. In fact, most of them are pretty thin. A lot of them ride bikes – so it really makes perfect sense. I need to get a bike – but I would not ride it in the middle of the street. No one wears a bike helmet.

Electricity is not a given. The other day half of the house was without power. Some of the lights worked but not all – the same was true for the outlets. Okay. I asked Raju if we should call someone – nope, it will probably come back on. Probably? Yes, the freezer is connected to the line without power. Probably might not be good enough. It came back on.

There is always traffic. Cars, rickshaws, trucks, bicycles, motorcycles, cows, and pedestrians all share the same roads. You can never really drive very fast.

There is a group of young men who play cricket in the park in front of our house. I still do not understand cricket.

Old Habits Die Hard………..

Okay – is it ADHD or Alzheimers or just very simply jet lag – I really am not sure – but somewhere in the middle of that riddle you will find my ailing brain.

I went to the school today and had a meeting. Well, I thought it was just a parent coffee. It turns out that it was a technology seminar on dealing with middle schoolers and technology – well, mostly Facebook. Hmmmm. How close am I sitting to the door? The topic of blogs came up, too. I think my blog is calling. Maybe I should go now. I am a repeat offender. And, no, I did not introduce myself as the Facebooking, Blog-Everyday New Mom in Town. So shhhhh, don’t tell. Let’s just leave it between me, you, and oh yeah, the internet.

Seriously, though, it was interesting. Very interesting. About half of the 6th graders at the school have a facebook page. The school staff was very careful to not encourage or discourage – it is a parenting decision. But they did explain that this is quite simply the way of the world. And letting them try something new while they are still listening to what you have to say – well, that is something to consider. And, when they are a part of the working world, they will need to be able to network on a number of levels – personally  and technologically. Mostly though, Facebook is at least interactive, it is better than watching the idiot box we call t.v.

However, there are pitfalls. Many pitfalls. The main one being that whatever you post has a carbon footprint that will last for at least forever.

One of the moms did offer one tip – let them do it only on the weekends. This means it will not interfere with homework or other school activities. Note to self – weekends only. Good idea.

Bear has not asked to be on Facebook yet – he is still happy with his newly acquired email account – and I am of the parenting persuasion that if he isn’t asking, well I am just not telling. So, we’ll cross that teenage bridge when he brings us to it.

Then I did a couple of other quick things – met the Athletic Director – my kids are really, really missing their sports. Got some info. Then I went to the cafeteria – it turns out the cafeteria has a bakery. Oh, I did not know that. But, I do now.

Then off to the library. I am allowed to check out books at the library. So I got Five People You Meet in Heaven. I mentioned it here and would really like to re-read it.

Then it was time to go. So I go out the to picnic table by the library and earnestly start searching for my keys. Yes, I do mean my car keys. And, yes, I pulled out my wallet and my notebook and was very puzzled as to where I could have possibly left them. Say it with me – possibly the United States. Over there – across that big body of water called an ocean. Perhaps that is where my keys are. If you are new here it might be helpful to know that I don’t have a car – I have a driver. A lovely man named Kahn. He has the keys – yes, in the car. So what I really need is my cell phone – which has been in my hand the whole time. But honestly, it took me about – oh, I dunno – a full minute and a half to realize I might be completely losing my mind.

I am standing the middle of the campus of the very new school my kids are attending with books from the library and bread from the bakery – yes, many, many reminders that I am no longer on U.S. soil – and I cannot find my car keys because they just happen to be at my dad’s house in the United States. I wonder if this is what Ronald Reagan felt like.

You say Khyiat – I say Hyatt………..

In writing this blog, I want to share all of my feelings of being in India. Mostly, because I don’t want to forget them. The good, the bad, and the nervous. I want to remember everything I see, hear, and feel – maybe not everything I touch – but you get the idea. So, sometimes you might get the feeling that I am just talking to myself – very loudly, so that you can hear – but really just to myself. This could be one of those days.

Yesterday, I was at at new parents meeting and they told me about this great directory that lists all of the markets in Delhi. There are many, many markets and there are districts – like where to buy food, where to buy clothes. Yada Yada. So this directly is supposed to ’splain all that and apparently lists what time the different markets are open and what days they are closed. There is no Sunday here – yes, it’s on the calendar. But there is not a universal “closed” date or time. Some markets are open on Tuesday – some, not so much – some open at 11am – others, not so much. So you need to check