Who sings that mullet rock song anyway? That horrible refrain has been going through my head for a few days now. Hubby is coming home from Indonesia in six days! Unbelievable!
And I have to say I am SOOO happy not to be there to assist, I mean, DO the final pack out. Sounds like everything went without a hitch.
HOWEVER
Getting the stupid dog out of that country will be a test of endurance, MacGuyver skills and sheer brute strength. Hubby found a vet. Yes! In a 'we hate dogs province of Indonesia'. He found the vet two months ago, got pet expediters all set up in Singapore and Jakarta and was *relaxing* and patting himself on the back for his saviness and good fortune.
The first sign of trouble was about a month ago when the vet gave stupid dog a million shots and then told him not to bathe stupid dog for about a week to make sure the shots took effect. WHAAA?? Listen to me people, you bathe dogs who run around in potentially bird flu infected soils in 80+
degree temperatures with 200% humidity. You bathe dogs who frolick on the beach and chase crabs. Yes, dear reader, you misread that sentence; I said the dog chases crabs, he doesn't have crabs. That we know of. Yet.
The vet's advice sounded as ominous as my local OB telling me the pills he gave me where for undisclosed 'hormones' to keep everything in place. Yikes. Threw those right out with the spoiled milk. In retrospect, probably should have consumed them and maybe wouldn't have had any problems with the pregnancy on the way out of the country.
Then, the vet lost the shot record for stupid dog. Then denied having lost the shot record. Now, my husband will NOT loose a peice of paper. He may have to put me, his wife's, name in his Microsoft Outlook contacts database, but he will not loose a piece of paper. The man is ORGANIZED. The man reads 'How to Use Outlook to Organize Your Life' books. For fun. He is an engineer and everything has its place. Especially since I, the artsy wife, am not around shoving papers into drawers and pretty little baskets for the aesthetics. Fashion before function I always say!
Anyhoo, then the call comes from the Jakarta expediters that more and entirely different paperwork needs to be filled out because Jakarta has declared itself a 'Rabies free city.' Give me a break,...
THEN, the Jakarta expediters call again and tell him the vet filled out one peice of paperwork correctly stating that the end destination of stupid dog is the U.S. of A., but the other peice says the end destination is Jakarta! And no one seems to be able to change it for fear of jail time!
I'm sorry, tell me again why we are paying these people a couple hundred clams to 'expedite' the dog?
I told hubby not to even TELL me about any problems with the shipment. I wish I had a photo my Father In Law sent when we moved back from the Philippines of cargo tumbling off this freighter in the middle of a storm in the ocean. It's just stuff anyway,...
I'm sure that the party tonight for hubby's going away made up for the stress. Since it is Ramadan, CRS will celebrate Iftar and his leaving all together. The meal that breaks the fast is called 'Iftar' and is consumed when the Imam says so, after blasting an extremely loud airhorn and proclaiming to everyone in the 2 mile radius who can't help but hear him over the blown out loud speakers, which is when the sun sets.
CRS local staff sacrificed a goat in the morning for the feast. Should be really yummy!
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Thursday, October 04, 2007
One More Thing to Keep Parents Up At Night
Remember those creepy kids at the back of the bus sniffing aerosol cans in the paper bag when you went to school? Well, kids today seem to be keeping up with technology and have found a new way to mess with themselves. Be aware and remember that it is never to early to talk to your kids about drugs, and how to take care of their bodies! And with obesity rates at the levelsl they are in the US, this includes EVERYTHING they put in their bodies. This is my biggest battle as a parent, I think; making my children understand that their bodies need care and maintenance and they need to respect themselves both inside and out. Being healthy is a whole lot cooler than not.
Off my soapbox, here is an eye opening Email I received and another article that reiterates the danger of this scare:
Latest Drug in Middle School - Dusting
First, I'm going to tell you a little about me and my family. My name is Jeff. I am a Police Officer for a city which is known nationwide for it's crime rate. We have a lot of gangs and drugs. At one point we were # 2 in the nation in homicides per capita. I also have a police K-9 named Thor. He was certified in drugs and general duty. He retired at 3 years old because he was shot in the line of duty. He lives with us now and I still train with him because he likes it. I always liked the fact that there was no way to bring drugs into my house. Thor wouldn't allow it. He would tell on you. The reason I say this is so you understand that I know about drugs. I have taught in schools about drugs. My wife asks all our kids at least once a week if they used any drugs. Makes them promise they won't. I like building computers occasionally and started building a new one in February 2005. I also was working on some of my older computers. They were full of dust so on one of my trips to the computer store I bought a 3 pack of DUST OFF. Dust Off is a can of compressed air to blow dust off a computer. A few weeks later when I went to use one of them. They were all used. I talked to my kids and my two sons both said they had used them on their computer and messing around with them. I yelled at them for wasting the 10 dollars I paid for them. On February 28 I went back to the computer store. They didn't have the 3 pack which I had bought on sale so I bought a single jumbo can of Dust Off. I went home and set it down beside my computer. On March 1st, I left for work at 10 PM. Just before midnight my wife went down and kissed Kyle goodnight. At 5:30 am the next morning Kathy went downstairs to wake Kyle up for school, before she left for work. He was propped up in bed with his legs crossed and his head leaning over. She called to him a few times to get up. He didn't move. He would sometimes tease her like this and pretend he fell back asleep. He was never easy to get up. She went in and shook his arm. He fell over. He was pale white and had the straw from the Dust Off can coming out of his mouth. He had the new can of Dust Off in his hands. Kyle was dead. I am a police officer and I had never heard of this. My wife is a nurse and she had never heard of this. We later found out from the coroner, after the autopsy, that only the propellant from the can of Dust off was in his system. No other drugs. Kyle had died between midnight and 1 AM. I found out that using Dust Off is being done mostly by kids ages 9 through 15. They even have a name for it. It's called dusting. A take off from the Dust Off name. It gives them a slight high for about 10 seconds. It makes them dizzy. A boy who lives down the street from us showed Kyle how to do this about a month before. Kyle showed his best friend. Told him it was cool and it couldn't hurt you. It's just compressed air. It can't hurt you. His best friend said so. Kyle was wrong. It's not just compressed air. It also contains a propellant called R2. It's a refrigerant like what is used in your refrigerator. It is a heavy gas. Heavier than air. When you inhale it, it fills your lungs and keeps the good air, with oxygen, out That's why you feel dizzy, buzzed. It decreases the oxygen to your brain, to your heart. Kyle was right. It can't hurt you. IT KILLS YOU. The horrible part about this is there is no warning. There is no level that kills you. It's not cumulative or an overdose; it can just go randomly, terribly wrong. Roll the dice and if your number comes up you die. IT'S NOT AN OVERDOSE . It's Russian Roulette. You don't die later. Or not feel good and say I've had too much. You usually die as you're breathing it in. If not you die within 2 seconds of finishing "the hit." That 's why the straw was still in Kyle's mouth when he died. Why his eyes were still open. The experts want to call this huffing. The kids don't believe its huffing. As adults we tend to lump many things together. But it doesn't fit here. And that's why its more accepted. There is no chemical reaction, no strong odor. It doesn't follow the huffing signals. Kyle complained a few days before he died of his tongue hurting. It probably did. The propellant causes frostbite. If I had only known. It's easy to say hey, it's my life and I'll do what I want. But it isn't. Others are always affected. This has forever changed our family's life. I have a hole in my heart and soul that can never be fixed. The pain is so immense I can't describe it. There's nowhere to run from it. I cry all the time and I don't ever cry. I do what I'm supposed to do but I don't really care. My kids are messed up. One won't talk about it. The other will only sleep in our room at night. And my wife, I can't even describe how bad she is taking this. I thought we were safe because of Thor. I thought we were safe because we knew about drugs and talked to our kids about them. After Kyle died another story came out. A probation Officer went to the school system next to ours to speak with a student. While there he found a student using Dust Off in the bathroom. This student told him about another student who also had some in his locker. This is a rather affluent school system. They will tell you they don't have a drug problem there. They don't even have a dare or plus program there. So rather than tell everyone about this "new" way of getting high they found, they hid it. The probation officer told the media after Kyle's death and they, the school, then admitted to it. I know that if they would have told the media and I had heard, it wouldn't have been in my house. We need to get this out of our homes and school computer labs. Using Dust Off isn't new and some "professionals" do know about it. It just isn't talked about much, except by the kids. They all seem to know about it. April 2nd was 1 month since Kyle died. April 5th would have been his 15th birthday. And every weekday I catch myself sitting on the living room couch at 2:30 in the afternoon and waiting to see him get off the bus. I know Kyle is in heaven but I can't help but wonder if I died and went to Hell. This Officer is asking for everyone who receives this email to forward it to everyone in their address book, even Law Enforcement Officers. ~ Jeff Williams, East Cleveland police officer
Off my soapbox, here is an eye opening Email I received and another article that reiterates the danger of this scare:
Latest Drug in Middle School - Dusting
First, I'm going to tell you a little about me and my family. My name is Jeff. I am a Police Officer for a city which is known nationwide for it's crime rate. We have a lot of gangs and drugs. At one point we were # 2 in the nation in homicides per capita. I also have a police K-9 named Thor. He was certified in drugs and general duty. He retired at 3 years old because he was shot in the line of duty. He lives with us now and I still train with him because he likes it. I always liked the fact that there was no way to bring drugs into my house. Thor wouldn't allow it. He would tell on you. The reason I say this is so you understand that I know about drugs. I have taught in schools about drugs. My wife asks all our kids at least once a week if they used any drugs. Makes them promise they won't. I like building computers occasionally and started building a new one in February 2005. I also was working on some of my older computers. They were full of dust so on one of my trips to the computer store I bought a 3 pack of DUST OFF. Dust Off is a can of compressed air to blow dust off a computer. A few weeks later when I went to use one of them. They were all used. I talked to my kids and my two sons both said they had used them on their computer and messing around with them. I yelled at them for wasting the 10 dollars I paid for them. On February 28 I went back to the computer store. They didn't have the 3 pack which I had bought on sale so I bought a single jumbo can of Dust Off. I went home and set it down beside my computer. On March 1st, I left for work at 10 PM. Just before midnight my wife went down and kissed Kyle goodnight. At 5:30 am the next morning Kathy went downstairs to wake Kyle up for school, before she left for work. He was propped up in bed with his legs crossed and his head leaning over. She called to him a few times to get up. He didn't move. He would sometimes tease her like this and pretend he fell back asleep. He was never easy to get up. She went in and shook his arm. He fell over. He was pale white and had the straw from the Dust Off can coming out of his mouth. He had the new can of Dust Off in his hands. Kyle was dead. I am a police officer and I had never heard of this. My wife is a nurse and she had never heard of this. We later found out from the coroner, after the autopsy, that only the propellant from the can of Dust off was in his system. No other drugs. Kyle had died between midnight and 1 AM. I found out that using Dust Off is being done mostly by kids ages 9 through 15. They even have a name for it. It's called dusting. A take off from the Dust Off name. It gives them a slight high for about 10 seconds. It makes them dizzy. A boy who lives down the street from us showed Kyle how to do this about a month before. Kyle showed his best friend. Told him it was cool and it couldn't hurt you. It's just compressed air. It can't hurt you. His best friend said so. Kyle was wrong. It's not just compressed air. It also contains a propellant called R2. It's a refrigerant like what is used in your refrigerator. It is a heavy gas. Heavier than air. When you inhale it, it fills your lungs and keeps the good air, with oxygen, out That's why you feel dizzy, buzzed. It decreases the oxygen to your brain, to your heart. Kyle was right. It can't hurt you. IT KILLS YOU. The horrible part about this is there is no warning. There is no level that kills you. It's not cumulative or an overdose; it can just go randomly, terribly wrong. Roll the dice and if your number comes up you die. IT'S NOT AN OVERDOSE . It's Russian Roulette. You don't die later. Or not feel good and say I've had too much. You usually die as you're breathing it in. If not you die within 2 seconds of finishing "the hit." That 's why the straw was still in Kyle's mouth when he died. Why his eyes were still open. The experts want to call this huffing. The kids don't believe its huffing. As adults we tend to lump many things together. But it doesn't fit here. And that's why its more accepted. There is no chemical reaction, no strong odor. It doesn't follow the huffing signals. Kyle complained a few days before he died of his tongue hurting. It probably did. The propellant causes frostbite. If I had only known. It's easy to say hey, it's my life and I'll do what I want. But it isn't. Others are always affected. This has forever changed our family's life. I have a hole in my heart and soul that can never be fixed. The pain is so immense I can't describe it. There's nowhere to run from it. I cry all the time and I don't ever cry. I do what I'm supposed to do but I don't really care. My kids are messed up. One won't talk about it. The other will only sleep in our room at night. And my wife, I can't even describe how bad she is taking this. I thought we were safe because of Thor. I thought we were safe because we knew about drugs and talked to our kids about them. After Kyle died another story came out. A probation Officer went to the school system next to ours to speak with a student. While there he found a student using Dust Off in the bathroom. This student told him about another student who also had some in his locker. This is a rather affluent school system. They will tell you they don't have a drug problem there. They don't even have a dare or plus program there. So rather than tell everyone about this "new" way of getting high they found, they hid it. The probation officer told the media after Kyle's death and they, the school, then admitted to it. I know that if they would have told the media and I had heard, it wouldn't have been in my house. We need to get this out of our homes and school computer labs. Using Dust Off isn't new and some "professionals" do know about it. It just isn't talked about much, except by the kids. They all seem to know about it. April 2nd was 1 month since Kyle died. April 5th would have been his 15th birthday. And every weekday I catch myself sitting on the living room couch at 2:30 in the afternoon and waiting to see him get off the bus. I know Kyle is in heaven but I can't help but wonder if I died and went to Hell. This Officer is asking for everyone who receives this email to forward it to everyone in their address book, even Law Enforcement Officers. ~ Jeff Williams, East Cleveland police officer
Friday, September 28, 2007
Deer In Headlights
I've felt this way since my third child, my third boy was two years old. Slow language development led to testing and all sorts of programs that really didn't help. He got muscle massage even though the speech pathologists told me they thought his muscle tone was fine. Two states federally funded programs and none of the insurance we've had - there have been three different companies - have covered any sort of developmental testing or services, even if prescribed by a doctor. Now he is in kindergarten and we are getting tested next week, but I am frustrated, devastated and heart broken that I can't move quicker and get him what he needs. He has a hard time, okay IMPOSSIBLE time with letter recognition, associating sounds to letters or writing. He is left handed. He is shy and KNOWS he speaks with difficulty so he is not happy making sounds with me or anyone to figure out what something might say. His kindergarten teacher has completely angered me by her flippant discussion of him with me.I don't know what he needs, but I know he needs something! I have found this site and this has been the closest thing to being helpful. Argh!
Just needed to vent. Anyone else have any ideas? stories? There is nothing more hurtful than something wrong with your child. It kills a part of you.
Just needed to vent. Anyone else have any ideas? stories? There is nothing more hurtful than something wrong with your child. It kills a part of you.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Accolades to CRS
This is a picture taken at dinner the other night with my husband (tall white guy in the middle) and two officials from the Badan Rehabilitasi dan Rekonstrucksi (BRR) NAD-Nias in Aceh Province, Sumatra, Indonesia. Hubby was honored for his "many contributions toward the reconstruction of Aceh and Nias."
Remember, three years ago on December 26, 2004 a 9.1 magnitude earthquake and resulting tsunami, with a wave reportedly 30 meters high brought incredible devastation to the Indonesian province of Nangroe Aceh Darussalem (Aceh) on the island of Sumatra. 800 km of coastline was affected. In some villages, 80 – 90% of the people lost their lives.
Statistics:
150,000 houses damaged or destroyed
More than 2100 schools severely damaged or destroyed (approximately 50% of the schools in the area)
3000 km of roads deemed impassable
120 arterial bridges destroyed
All major seaports destroyed or severely damaged
Eight hospitals and 114 health clinics damaged or destroyed
64,000 hectares of agricultural land and 15,000 hectares of aquaculture severely damaged or destroyed
175,000 people killed or missing
600,000 left homeless
A few pictures of the aftermath, thanks to BRR, the UN and various humanitarian organizations:
CRS, under hubby's guidance, has built approximately 800 houses in the past year, and that doesn't include all the other infrastructure that CRS has done, including reinforcing and generally 'cleaning up' the local Catholic Church that had bullet holes or broken glass in every window after thirty years of civil war and then an earthquake that cracked walls and did even more damage.
But, it's the houses that mean so much.
Here is a temporary house in the background and a new house in the foreground. So, most people have either lived in barracks or temporary shelter since the tsunami if they lost a house.
One of the ceremonies the boys and I attended with hubby and the rest of the CRS gang. The village got together in a community building and the local Imam opened the meeting with a prayer. We all sat on the floor. Women and children on one side; men on the other. The nice thing about many of the ceremonies CRS did was that many times a woman widow was the first recipient of the keys to a new house. That is touching in such a male dominated country; to see the village come together and understand that they need to take care of each other.
Here is one of the ribbon cutting ceremonies Rob attended. This is the first recipient of the houses in this particular village. She lost her husband in the tsunami. Afterwards, there is usually food and festivities. Hubby has almost gotten a taste for that banana tree soup!
It's been very rewarding to see people go from feeling like this picture: (thanks to UN for this picture, I don't personally know these people, this was taken right after the tsunami)
To this picture: These are girls we lived down the street from. It makes it all worth it!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Random Thoughts for Monday
So you learn something new every day, eh?
Today while filling up the beast at the Costco gas station, I was chatting with the attendant and he told me what my problem is with that damn Suburban - when I fill it up at Costco filling stations I have to physically hold the gas lever up so it fills. If I put it on that perch thing so it self fills allowing me to hang out in the car for the half a day or so it takes to fill that huge tank, it inevetibly shuts off too early and I leave with only a half or 3/4 tank of gas. Grrr. The less stops I have to make to fill that bugger up, the better, what with screaming kids and no free time in my life.
The attendant told me that the fill rate for the Costco gas stations is very fast, so what is in fact happening is that the gas is splashing back and causing the pump to switch off. If I put it on the lowest self fill level, I'll probably be fine. And you know what? It worked! After five years of cussing that thing out, I know how to fill it! Yowza!
Two phrases I never thought I'd say to my children:
"Kyle, don't skitch your Grandmother!" Said to child wearing healeys as he grabs Grandma's arm to coast across the parking lot to breakfast.
And,.,..
"Jared, where is your girdle?" Yes, never thought I'd be asking my 10 year old boy where his girdle was. It's actually for football - you put hip and butts pads in it, which is really hilarious to me, because as I explained to him when he asked what I thought a girdle was, I told him it did the absolute opposite for girls when they wear them - we wear them to unpad our hips and butts.
Newest Fixation
Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Yes, stupid, I know, to actually try one, what with my addiction to Eggnog Lattes. Oh so yummy. I really stopped for the B because it was soooo cold outside that we didn't get to play at the school playground for long, and I needed gas, which takes half a day to fill the Suburban tank, so I thought, why not get her a dum dum sucker to pass the time? Which of course means going to a drive through coffee shop and then why not try the new Pumpkin Spice Latte? Then me and my Catholic girl guilt I tip the gal a whole dollar for the free sucker. But boy is B happy to have a sucker for breakfast!
More Evidence of Poor Parenting Skills
So I was doing my Kindergartner's VIP poster for school, which meant drumming up pictures of him to paste on the paper. I ran into these:
This was taken from the backseat of my friend's car - yes those are my kids on the 'bechek' which is a motorcycle with a side car that people in Indonesia use for taxis. I am safely ensconced in a big NGO vehicle, but no, my kids are hanging out without seatbelts, helmets or other protection as we head back from the pool, which was our 'PE' for homeschooling.
This is Muslim, the bechek driver. My friends Michelle and EB gave me his number so I could text him when I needed him. Much better than wandering down to the main street with kids, haggling over prices when I needed a ride somewhere. Amazing that I ever got him on time as I speak no Indonesian and he doesn't speak English. I used him to go to work meetings too, which was rather hilarious, but hopefully made my customers feel like my software company was giving them a good price if my company didn't believe I needed an actual vehicle to do business! Nothing like supporting the local economy, eh? Although I was never adventurous enough to take the local bus, like my other crazy 6 foot blonde friend EB was.
At Least Someone Is Getting Something Done Cuz It Ain't Me:
Hubby wrote that CRS is turning over 200 more houses today in two villages that were wrecked by the tsunami. That's such great news! Makes me feel not so bad about not getting my laundry done. When you get married, two become one, right Father Ken? So I can slack off today because my much better half is being so productive. Off to sip on that latte now,....
Today while filling up the beast at the Costco gas station, I was chatting with the attendant and he told me what my problem is with that damn Suburban - when I fill it up at Costco filling stations I have to physically hold the gas lever up so it fills. If I put it on that perch thing so it self fills allowing me to hang out in the car for the half a day or so it takes to fill that huge tank, it inevetibly shuts off too early and I leave with only a half or 3/4 tank of gas. Grrr. The less stops I have to make to fill that bugger up, the better, what with screaming kids and no free time in my life.
The attendant told me that the fill rate for the Costco gas stations is very fast, so what is in fact happening is that the gas is splashing back and causing the pump to switch off. If I put it on the lowest self fill level, I'll probably be fine. And you know what? It worked! After five years of cussing that thing out, I know how to fill it! Yowza!
Two phrases I never thought I'd say to my children:
"Kyle, don't skitch your Grandmother!" Said to child wearing healeys as he grabs Grandma's arm to coast across the parking lot to breakfast.
And,.,..
"Jared, where is your girdle?" Yes, never thought I'd be asking my 10 year old boy where his girdle was. It's actually for football - you put hip and butts pads in it, which is really hilarious to me, because as I explained to him when he asked what I thought a girdle was, I told him it did the absolute opposite for girls when they wear them - we wear them to unpad our hips and butts.
Newest Fixation
Pumpkin Spice Lattes. Yes, stupid, I know, to actually try one, what with my addiction to Eggnog Lattes. Oh so yummy. I really stopped for the B because it was soooo cold outside that we didn't get to play at the school playground for long, and I needed gas, which takes half a day to fill the Suburban tank, so I thought, why not get her a dum dum sucker to pass the time? Which of course means going to a drive through coffee shop and then why not try the new Pumpkin Spice Latte? Then me and my Catholic girl guilt I tip the gal a whole dollar for the free sucker. But boy is B happy to have a sucker for breakfast!
More Evidence of Poor Parenting Skills
So I was doing my Kindergartner's VIP poster for school, which meant drumming up pictures of him to paste on the paper. I ran into these:
This was taken from the backseat of my friend's car - yes those are my kids on the 'bechek' which is a motorcycle with a side car that people in Indonesia use for taxis. I am safely ensconced in a big NGO vehicle, but no, my kids are hanging out without seatbelts, helmets or other protection as we head back from the pool, which was our 'PE' for homeschooling.
This is Muslim, the bechek driver. My friends Michelle and EB gave me his number so I could text him when I needed him. Much better than wandering down to the main street with kids, haggling over prices when I needed a ride somewhere. Amazing that I ever got him on time as I speak no Indonesian and he doesn't speak English. I used him to go to work meetings too, which was rather hilarious, but hopefully made my customers feel like my software company was giving them a good price if my company didn't believe I needed an actual vehicle to do business! Nothing like supporting the local economy, eh? Although I was never adventurous enough to take the local bus, like my other crazy 6 foot blonde friend EB was.
At Least Someone Is Getting Something Done Cuz It Ain't Me:
Hubby wrote that CRS is turning over 200 more houses today in two villages that were wrecked by the tsunami. That's such great news! Makes me feel not so bad about not getting my laundry done. When you get married, two become one, right Father Ken? So I can slack off today because my much better half is being so productive. Off to sip on that latte now,....
Saturday, September 22, 2007
There Is No Place Like Home
5th Grader is fine, no broken bones. Hit a growth plate in his elbow. Of course, it took six hours, X rays and my awesome awesome doctor and nurse who we've used for the last eight years as we shimmy in and out of Washington to find this all out. My secret 'hurrah' that he couldn't play football anymore this year has been shattered. So, tomorrow I still have to attend the school picnic, get 2nd grader to baseball and attend 5th grader's football game all at the same time with two little hangers' on in tow. Ack.
BUT,.. it is better than hubby's living conditions at the moment. It seems that God does know what is best and even He gets annoyed with my whining, so He sent me home in June. Could have been a little less dramatic, what with the 'I think I'm having a miscarriage in the middle of an Indonesian mall in a city I don't know all alone with my four kids, what the hell do I do now." (I'll write up the story this weekend, time heels all wounds and after it all, it is rather hilarious and unbelievable.) Okay, okay, perhaps not fate, maybe I'm looking at the silver lining of all my travails, my 'grace' as I would call it.
Anyway, after my little brood and I left Banda Aceh, they started having power outages ALL DAY LONG since they were upgrading the power grid. All summer. For six hours a day. We don't own a generator. Which means I would have had no lights (house is pretty dark, no windows in the main living area), no water (pump runs off of electricity) and open windows allowing all of God's creatures great and small to enter my pristine living space. Ha. I don't think so.
Then, when hubby returned to Banda after his home leave, he found that the well we used for our water had run dry due to lack of rain fall and no one NO ONE can figure out how to get the city water (is there such a thing there?) to work. The man is an engineer and he employs other engineers and various and sundry intelligent people. The man signs his name to detailed plans promising that bridges won't fall and houses won't tumble. Egads.
They dug another well, still no water. Not that this water is anything to write home about. It smells. It especially smells after it's been sitting in the one hot water heater we have in the house while we cavort in some gorgeous "for the next ten days I'll pretend I don't actually live where I do" R&R destination some where on the earth. Definitely makes you brush your teeth with bottled water.
So, now he has a truck come and fill up the 'mandis', or tiled basins in his bathroom and the kitchen for use in cleaning and showering. He's been taking a cup of life shower now for a few months. He's found that if you start with a slow trickle on top of your head, your body heat warms the water so when it reaches your actually body it isn't quite so damn shocking. Ack.
Then, I get a call to say hello from CRS's fearless leader in Banda, since he is home in the US for his home leave. He has TYPHOID and is having trouble kicking it. Ack. Don't forget that Rob contracted malaria right before he came home for leave.
And to top it all off, Ramadan is in full swing. Nothing wrong with Ramadan, but for the loudspeakers at every mosque that kick in at 2am and go on for the rest of the morning for all in the city to hear. I can attest that a pillow over the head and the rattling air conditioner can't cut out the noise of the Imam. At least there hadn't been the howling dogs like in Cairo.
Only two more weeks and our little adventure will close. Welcom home, hubby!
BUT,.. it is better than hubby's living conditions at the moment. It seems that God does know what is best and even He gets annoyed with my whining, so He sent me home in June. Could have been a little less dramatic, what with the 'I think I'm having a miscarriage in the middle of an Indonesian mall in a city I don't know all alone with my four kids, what the hell do I do now." (I'll write up the story this weekend, time heels all wounds and after it all, it is rather hilarious and unbelievable.) Okay, okay, perhaps not fate, maybe I'm looking at the silver lining of all my travails, my 'grace' as I would call it.
Anyway, after my little brood and I left Banda Aceh, they started having power outages ALL DAY LONG since they were upgrading the power grid. All summer. For six hours a day. We don't own a generator. Which means I would have had no lights (house is pretty dark, no windows in the main living area), no water (pump runs off of electricity) and open windows allowing all of God's creatures great and small to enter my pristine living space. Ha. I don't think so.
Then, when hubby returned to Banda after his home leave, he found that the well we used for our water had run dry due to lack of rain fall and no one NO ONE can figure out how to get the city water (is there such a thing there?) to work. The man is an engineer and he employs other engineers and various and sundry intelligent people. The man signs his name to detailed plans promising that bridges won't fall and houses won't tumble. Egads.
They dug another well, still no water. Not that this water is anything to write home about. It smells. It especially smells after it's been sitting in the one hot water heater we have in the house while we cavort in some gorgeous "for the next ten days I'll pretend I don't actually live where I do" R&R destination some where on the earth. Definitely makes you brush your teeth with bottled water.
So, now he has a truck come and fill up the 'mandis', or tiled basins in his bathroom and the kitchen for use in cleaning and showering. He's been taking a cup of life shower now for a few months. He's found that if you start with a slow trickle on top of your head, your body heat warms the water so when it reaches your actually body it isn't quite so damn shocking. Ack.
Then, I get a call to say hello from CRS's fearless leader in Banda, since he is home in the US for his home leave. He has TYPHOID and is having trouble kicking it. Ack. Don't forget that Rob contracted malaria right before he came home for leave.
And to top it all off, Ramadan is in full swing. Nothing wrong with Ramadan, but for the loudspeakers at every mosque that kick in at 2am and go on for the rest of the morning for all in the city to hear. I can attest that a pillow over the head and the rattling air conditioner can't cut out the noise of the Imam. At least there hadn't been the howling dogs like in Cairo.
Only two more weeks and our little adventure will close. Welcom home, hubby!
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Perfect American Family
Oh, you know how it is. We all want people to think our families are like this:
When in reality, we are all like this:
I've had two Mondays in a row this week. Here is how my second Monday this week went:
Up since 2am because of that 3rd trimester-no-room-in-the-bladder-so-I-have-to-pee-every-15-minutes syndrome, showering at 5am to get in two hours of work before the hoodlums are excommunicated from their sheets. Pack the lunches, feed four kids, change one poopy diaper, get three in respectable school uniforms and out the door to get to school a comfortable five minutes early, all in thirty minutes, even after dealing with crabby husband's phone call from deepest, darkest Sumatra.
Why is it that when I have a bad day, he has an even worse one? Aren't we supposed to balance each other out like yin and yang? Last time he left me : ) in Idaho to go to California my bad day consisted of the usual kids-will-make-me-loose-my-mind. He on the other hand had a worker knock out a gas pipe and had to evacuate a mile radius of the City of Riverside. This time he had two sets of lawyers to deal with in one day, one discussing his civil/criminal case he's been named in and the other the firing of a contractor who threatened to light one of his engineers on fire. Oh and then also entertain auditors. Show off.
Okay, back to me and my horrible, very bad day. Woops, they are paving the road outside the subdivision, so that means a pilot car and one lane of traffic. My 15 minute commute turns into 45 minutes and we are late for school. Get out of car at parking lot and realize Kindergartner has left both his backpack and lunch at home. Promise to navigate pilot car and warm asphalt a second time to deliver both before lunch. First, however, have to navigate Walmart to shop for hot lunch food items I have agreed to cook for tomorrow's Kindergarten lunch before taking B to the toddler gym class. Get home just in time to stick melting ice cream (I AM pregnant after all, had to get my fix!) to freezer after hanging out in car for 20 minutes waiting for *$&(%*& pilot car, grab a yogurt to feed to baby in car (don't recommend it), kid lunch and backpack. Peel back to school parking lot just to be told that I need to turn in my picture forms for the school pictures RIGHT NOW. Forgot about the school pictures. Fill out three forms in record time, do a little dance that they accept credit cards since I just realized I had run out of checks, spend way too much money and make it to toddler class late. Get B home for a nap, do another couple hours of work, feel the onset of a migraine. Navigate traffic one more time to get kids, do homework, force them in baths with actual soap involved. Then, decide no, I'll not only make lunch for 17 five year olds tomorrow, I will also, at the same time, make a mock Thanksgiving dinner to eat tonight. You've heard of binge eaters? I'm a binge cooker. Anyway, dinner was great, and kids finally went to bed just in time for headache to blossom into full on migraine just in time for another night of too uncomfortable to sleep.
Today, taking in 5th grader for suspected broken elbow from football practice last night. Will my fun never end?!?! But, migraine is gone!!
When in reality, we are all like this:
I've had two Mondays in a row this week. Here is how my second Monday this week went:
Up since 2am because of that 3rd trimester-no-room-in-the-bladder-so-I-have-to-pee-every-15-minutes syndrome, showering at 5am to get in two hours of work before the hoodlums are excommunicated from their sheets. Pack the lunches, feed four kids, change one poopy diaper, get three in respectable school uniforms and out the door to get to school a comfortable five minutes early, all in thirty minutes, even after dealing with crabby husband's phone call from deepest, darkest Sumatra.
Why is it that when I have a bad day, he has an even worse one? Aren't we supposed to balance each other out like yin and yang? Last time he left me : ) in Idaho to go to California my bad day consisted of the usual kids-will-make-me-loose-my-mind. He on the other hand had a worker knock out a gas pipe and had to evacuate a mile radius of the City of Riverside. This time he had two sets of lawyers to deal with in one day, one discussing his civil/criminal case he's been named in and the other the firing of a contractor who threatened to light one of his engineers on fire. Oh and then also entertain auditors. Show off.
Okay, back to me and my horrible, very bad day. Woops, they are paving the road outside the subdivision, so that means a pilot car and one lane of traffic. My 15 minute commute turns into 45 minutes and we are late for school. Get out of car at parking lot and realize Kindergartner has left both his backpack and lunch at home. Promise to navigate pilot car and warm asphalt a second time to deliver both before lunch. First, however, have to navigate Walmart to shop for hot lunch food items I have agreed to cook for tomorrow's Kindergarten lunch before taking B to the toddler gym class. Get home just in time to stick melting ice cream (I AM pregnant after all, had to get my fix!) to freezer after hanging out in car for 20 minutes waiting for *$&(%*& pilot car, grab a yogurt to feed to baby in car (don't recommend it), kid lunch and backpack. Peel back to school parking lot just to be told that I need to turn in my picture forms for the school pictures RIGHT NOW. Forgot about the school pictures. Fill out three forms in record time, do a little dance that they accept credit cards since I just realized I had run out of checks, spend way too much money and make it to toddler class late. Get B home for a nap, do another couple hours of work, feel the onset of a migraine. Navigate traffic one more time to get kids, do homework, force them in baths with actual soap involved. Then, decide no, I'll not only make lunch for 17 five year olds tomorrow, I will also, at the same time, make a mock Thanksgiving dinner to eat tonight. You've heard of binge eaters? I'm a binge cooker. Anyway, dinner was great, and kids finally went to bed just in time for headache to blossom into full on migraine just in time for another night of too uncomfortable to sleep.
Today, taking in 5th grader for suspected broken elbow from football practice last night. Will my fun never end?!?! But, migraine is gone!!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Rams Football Major JV
Jared No. 2 Richardson
He's out there somewhere, trust me,..
Getting the dressing down after the game,...
Looks scarey, eh?
Fall Baseball '07
Zach's uniform. he thinks he plays for the Capitols because that's what his shirt says.
Up at bat! He's excited because he was number 5 the last time he played.
Dugout. This is not the dugout where Cheddar the rabid mascot mouse was found. I have been instructed to bring 'mouse capturing equipment' to the next game. Whatever that is,...
Running to base!
Speedy gonzalez!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Preggo in the Park
After the boys had their hour sweatin' under their bike helmets on the SK8TR KDZ park, we headed over to the playground so Sabrina had something fun to do besides push her baby in the stroller and eat all the snacks. I'm 26 weeks preggo here. I seem to have a beer gut baby in there. So sad. We won't mention I've already gained 33 pounds. Woops.
The billy goat's gruff hill. She of course wanted to climb the rock wall.
Yay! I still could fit down the slide! Amazing!
The billy goat's gruff hill. She of course wanted to climb the rock wall.
Yay! I still could fit down the slide! Amazing!
SK8R KDZ
Fantabulous skate park in Lacey, Washington very close to where we used to live. (Yes, one of 50,000,000 houses we have occupied in our short lives.) Sure beats that drive way we paid to have cemented in Banda just to get about 12 feet of good board room, eh?
Kyle
Zach.
Jared defies gravity!
Kyle
Zach.
Jared defies gravity!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Keeping It In the Family
So my husband was out 'in the field' so to speak and stopped by one of the several villages he is in charge of rebuilding in Banda Aceh, Indonesia. One of several tasks of each of these NGOs who is over there constructing after the 2004 tsunami is to painstakingly go over beneficiary lists; see who really gets a brand spankin' new house and who is in it for the take.
Hubby had heard some strange things about this particular beneficiary and wanted to meet him personally to discuss the problem. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, and, well, the picture tells the rest of the story.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Max, Max, Max of the Jungle,...
Okay, so my mom the mad scrapper thought up the title. Here is what every Rescue Dog Mission in America prays you WON'T do with the newly adopted dog. Fall in love with it and move it to some crazy foreign country.
We got Max from Coastal German Shepherd Rescue in Southern California two weeks before I was due with the B, the fourth child. How deranged is that? Actually, I had done the research on finding a new dog (we had to get rid of our last German Shepherd right before Christmas and this of course broke the hearts of all the boys in the family, hubby most of all) so I agreed to go LOOK at the dogs. The boys loaded up the truck, I grabbed my purse and when I walked out and saw the water bowl and a gallon jug of water being loaded next to the dog kennel in the back of the pick up, I knew it was over. We would not be coming home without a dog. Never mind I was 36 weeks pregnant and had to drive two hours in a pick up truck to go see these doggies. Argh.
Well, that is what these rescues do so well - they really care about the dog and match them up best they can with the right person or family. Our contact knew right away that 'Bruno' would be going home with us, too. Coastal was awesome to work with, not crazy like some rescues where you have to send in neighbor references, photos of the house and write an essay about how much you love dogs. I was actually terrified to get out of the truck and have the staff see I was so pregnant, thinking they would not let us adopt a dog so close to a major milestone in our lives. Thankfully, they weren't crazy and we went home with that stupid dog.
Little did we know that four months later we would accept a position doing tsunami relief work in Sumatra, Indonesia. So, we did the necessary vet visits, lots of shots, chip installed in the doggie, crazy phone calls to every major airline and airport trying to figure out how the heck to get a German Shepherd to Banda Aceh. I think flying a cat to the moon would have been easier. In the end, after the kennel flopped off the airport cart and they had to drill even MORE airholes in the kennel 'just to be sure', we found pet expediters in both Singapore and Jakarta who made our lives easier and Max made his doggie way to Banda.
I think Max is the biggest dog many Acehnese people have ever seen. Little did we know when we moved there what a stigma a dog is to most very religious Muslims. Dogs, monkeys and pigs are seen as unclean in Islam. The truely devote Muslims in Aceh aren't allowed to touch Max. I had to find my live- in nanny from Medan. Although she is Muslim, she is used to the way of us 'unclean' Christian foreigners and doesn't touch Max, she doesn't freak out by cleaning his hair off the floor, feeding him or having him hang around. I had to give my housekeeper hazard pay. We can't host parties for hubby's local staff because many will refuse to enter a home where a dog has been unless it has been thouroughly cleaned both physically and by the Imam (Muslim 'priest'). Kind of an exorcism, I guess.
So, jogging with the dog on the local streets always draws quite a crowd. That or the fact that my husband said "(#$)&* it" and all 6'6" of him would dress in a tank top and jogging shorts (I on the other hand, had to wear long pants and long sleeve top. I bought a treadmill.) to go jogging with said large animal.
The most this dog will do is shed on you or lick you to death, but he certainly is a great deterrent from any unwelcome visitors trying to make their way into our gated yard.
While the family has been back in the U.S., hubby has been taking Max on lots of jungle walks to find tigers and wild boar, as well as walks on the beach. So far just a bunch of monkeys have been found. Max the city slicker dog has gotten over his fear of water and is finally rather enjoying his traipses in the great Sumatran jungle.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Brood Hen
Here is the totally cute little Shaker baby set Grandma Nonnie gave to Sabrina, our resident Brood Hen. I totally believe some traits are just inherent in people. In Sabrina's case she'll either be a pediatrician, school teacher or the old woman who lived in a shoe when she grows up. After having three boys in the house we were a little scarce on anything cute and maternal. Yes, Jared did request a toy BBQ when he was five and subsequently would serve his Grandma beer and a hotdog from it. Then he requested a baby doll for Christmas, but the dog chewed off the toes and fingers and then after seeing it tied by a rope on the back of a bicycle one sunny afternoon in Southern California, we discreetly laid the baby doll to rest.
So, Sabrina has had to manage with Mickey Mouse dressed in drag (in one of her dresses) and wrapping pizza menus up in paper napkins while in Banda Aceh. Now, she is in baby heaven and owns three baby dolls, too many stuffed animals to count, and this, the bada bing of the baby doll set. Thanks Nonnie!!!
"Nigh - nigh"
Thursday, August 30, 2007
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