Choices and Changes

This year, I had a very difficult choice to make!  It seems I could have a REAL Christmas tree, OR I could have my husband; but I wasn't going to be allowed to have both.

Eddy and I had a very strained and awkward conversation where he made it quite clear that if I brought a real tree into the house this year, he was going to spend the holidays and probably the whole of next year in a corner of the basement just so he could be sure to avoid stepping on dried pine needles.  He said he would be removing himself from all involvement.

So..... I made a list.  Pros and Cons.  A real Christmas tree has been a tradition for me my whole adult life!  I love the smell, the look, and the very idea of a real tree in my living room.  And I love the traditional activity of going out as a family (these days, as a couple) to pick one out.  On the other hand, I've kind of gotten use to having my husband around, too.  It's nice in the evenings, to sit together in the living room, candles and tree lit, Christmas music softly playing, soaking up the ambiance of the season and sharing bits and pieces about our day and our lives.  Plus, he's handy for lots of little chores, like chopping wood and building fires, helping clean up after dinner, feeding the dog....  I guess I'd miss him if he wasn't around.

I decided to keep the husband and replace the real tree with an artificial one.  So, the search began.  Having been out of work for almost two years now, I only had pennies in my pocket to purchase an artificial tree.  I started by going around to all the thrift stores and second-hand shops.  No luck.

Then I started checking on Craig's List.  Finally, yesterday morning, I saw a listing for a tree that was described as never-been-used-still-in-the-box for only $40.  Sounded good to me.  I called the guy up, made an appointment to come get the tree, got in my car and drove way out east of New Haven to pick it up.

The box had been opened, but I believed Grant was probably right when he said the tree had never been used because the tree stand was still wrapped in plastic and the tree was too well packed to have been removed and replaced.  As Grant was loading the box into the car for me, I asked him, "So....why does someone buy a tree and then not use it?"  He said, "I have no idea.  You'd have to ask my mother.  She recently passed away and we found five Christmas trees still in their boxes!" 

Got the tree home, lugged it into the house and began the task of unpacking and assembling it.  As I reached the bottom of the box, I saw fluffs of pink and white and brown.  At about the same time, I noticed a faint "stench" in the air.  I pulled out the top of the tree and discovered a large mouse nest of several rooms built among the branches.  Turns out, there was even a basement in some of the smaller branches still in the box.  UGH!!!  Little mouse turds all over the bottom of the box.  Large chunks of "tree" missing where the carpenter mouse had nibbled away the leaves and used them to build his walls.  I went to the kitchen and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves.  Then, with my face scrunched up into a protective grimace, I began picking the mouse nest out of the tree.

Once I got the nest out, I saw the damage wasn't really that bad.  I put the tree together and, with Kenny G tooting Christmas carols in the background, put on the lights and decorations.  Now that it's all said and done, I'm pretty happy with the tree.  When Eddy came home, he stood in front of the tree and said, "Now....THAT'S a Christmas tree!"

I've noticed that I seem to have a difficult time with change.  Especially when it comes to letting go of things I've always had, whether or not they are things of value.  But once change is forced upon me, I usually do just fine, and often times end up happier than I was before!



mantel decorations



my new Christmas wreath





cherubs on the mantel





the wisemen cometh





display on front hall table



A full and happy life......

Some days I am more aware than others of how blessed I am.  Today was a great day and I feel so content with my life.  I recently made friends with two very interesting ladies; one is Mahnin, a Burmese refugee who owns a small Burmese restaurant downtown and the other is Pimpa, an immigrant from Thailand. 

A few days ago I was at Mahnin's restaurant for lunch with my daughter.  As we were finishing lunch, my daughter remembered that she had left her keys at her house just a few blocks away so she went back to get them.  While she was gone, Mahnin, finding herself with a short break from cooking, came over to my table to say hi.  Pimpa said to her, "Oh!  You should see her daughter!  She very beautiful!!"
Mahnin:  "Well, she herself is very beautiful."
Pimpa:  "Yes.  But her daughter much more beautiful!!"

(Side note:  she's right, of course   but I didn't think it needed to be said out loud!)

After which Mahnin went off on some long tangent in Thai and when she was finished, Pimpa kindly translated for me.

Pimpa:  "She said you beautiful; but if you wear little makeup, you much more beautiful.  You face very plain.  You need wear some eye make-up and blush."

(Again..... not necessary to voice this out loud.)

I felt they were trying to be friendly and complimentary, so I smiled and thanked them.  In fact, I got so carried away, I ended up inviting them over for lunch on Tuesday.  Which is today.  Which takes me back to why I feel so happy.

I love to cook.  Mahnin is an excellent cook and as I've mentioned, she owns and operates a restaurant.  She makes the most amazingly delicious noodle dishes, rice dishes, and soups.  She is from Burma but lived for 10 years in Thailand so her restaurant serves food from both of those countries.  I wanted to cook something she would enjoy but it was a bit tricky since almost everything I thought of making, she can make way better than I.

I finally decided on spicy sweet potato soup (my niece's Greek boyfriend once declared this soup "amazing" and said it was the best thing he had ever put in his mouth), teriyaki salmon, spicy peanut noodle salad, and coconut creme brulee (my son's all time favorite dessert.)  Although some things, like the dressing for the salad and the dessert, I made yesterday, I still had to get started early this morning so that everything would be ready by noon, their expected time of arrival.

I marinated the salmon, julienned the carrots and daikon for the salad, pan fried the tofu, boiled the soba noodles, made the sweet potato soup, set the table, lit candles throughout the house....  Then, 15 minutes before noon, my phone rang.  It was Pimpa calling to say her husband had locked himself out of his car and she had to run out to Glenbrook area to pick him up and take him home.  They were going to be late....

table all set and awaiting guests

Actually, this turned out fine because it gave me time to sit and relax a bit before they showed up.  Which they finally did at about 1:00.

Pimpa

Mahnin

Mahnin and Pimpa

Pimpa and Mahnin made all the appropriate comments about the food and ate until they were about to burst.  Afterwards, we sat in the living room and ate dessert.  Pimpa shared an amazing story with me about how an article I'd written about Mahnin's restaurant for an online magazine, caused an old boyfriend she hadn't heard from in over 25 years to track her down.  They have reconnected as friends and she says it's all because of me!  We talked about Thailand and Burma, and life in Fort Wayne.  We talked about husbands and children and traveling to other countries.  We talked about work and school and cooking.  We shared stories and recipes.  (Made much more interesting by the fact that Mahnin's English is very limited.)  We had such a nice time!

After they left, I sat in my living room with Ally (our dog) and Fritz (our cat) and just enjoyed my cozy home and the positive energy I felt lingering in the room.  Having just celebrated Thanksgiving, I'm reminded of how thankful I am for all of my blessings: family, friends, food, my warm house in winter and my cool house in summer, the amazing country I live in, mountains, oceans, farmland, lakes, forests, books, music, pistachios, squirrels, argyle socks, hot bubble baths, diversity, ideas, freedom and the standard of living I've been able to enjoy during my lifetime.  May I never forget!!!





Fritz enjoying the fire

 

Remembering my friend......

Mark trying out a fried scorpion during a trip to China

I'm a pretty ordinary person.  I live an ordinary life and do ordinary things.  In spite of my boring claim to all things ordinary, there have been a few people in my life who believe me to be extraordinary in some regard.  Because their opinion of me is, for one reason or another, distorted, I'm careful not to say or do anything that might cause them to see me for the ordinary person I really am.  It's a great feeling to know that someone sees something in you worthy of admiration.

My friend and teacher, Mark, was one of those people.  I'm not sure why, but he thought I was a much better person than I really am.  He made me feel good about myself.  Today I received the sad news that he passed away.  And suddenly, with one less person thinking I'm special, I'm back to feeling ordinary.....

Mark was my music history professor.  I was terrified my first day in his class because I'd heard from other students that he was a miserable SOB and his class was very hard.  But I found this not to be true.  Mark brought humor and wit to his classroom; his knowledge of his field was extensive and his enthusiasm for his subject was infectious.  He was one of the best professors I've ever had; he sparked my curiosity about many things, leading me to pursue different courses of study outside the classroom, and he inspired me musically leading me to branch out into areas, such as recorder and harpsichord, that I previously had had no interest in.  He was the only one of my professors to attend my senior recital who wasn't required, as a member of my jury, to be there.

He was my professor for only two years, but he was my friend for almost 20!  Besides music, Mark and I shared a love of travel and a passion for food.  I loved sharing conversations with him about Indian vegetarian cuisine, or Moroccan cuisine (his personal favorite).  He had a wicked wit and a delightfully sarcastic sense of humor that I loved!  I never had a conversation with him or an email from him that didn't make me laugh (or at least chuckle!)

I relied on Mark for all sorts of information because it seemed there was almost nothing he didn't know something about!  When I wanted to know which was the best recording of early Italian madrigals, I called Mark.  When I wanted to know how to make preserved lemons, I asked Mark.  When I wondered if it was true that the Buddha's last words to his disciples were, "Work out your own salvation with diligence," I asked Mark.  He was a treasure trove of information, both useful and useless; a true "Modern Major General" in every sense of the word!

Mark introduced me to authors I'd never read, music I'd never heard, ideas I'd never thought of, food I'd never tasted.  But the thing I'm going to miss most with his passing is having someone to sound my philosophical ideas off of.  He was quite opinionated, but at the same time, open to discussion.  He stimulated me towards new ways of thinking and introduced ideas that were new to me. 

I am going to miss him in a million different ways!

A matter of conscience......

I like to tell myself that if I were rich, nobody but my closest friends would know.  You wouldn't be able to tell I was rich by the clothes I wore, or the car I drove, or the house I lived in.  I like to think that none of these things would change much at all.  I already have all the clothes I need; my car does a fine job of getting me from here to there (which is really the only function of a car); and my house has served me just fine for over 10 years (although.... I might consider adding on a garage!)

I like to tell myself that if I were rich, the only thing that would change would be the lives people around me in need.  I would be able to help Dadou get his teeth attended to so he didn't have to suffer with tooth pain every day; I would help Mahnin pay off the debt she owes so that she could run her business and feed her family without having to work 7 days a week just to keep her nose above water; I would pay the bail to get Eli out of prison so this young, falsely accused 14-year old wouldn't have to set in a Haitian prison with adult men who abuse him daily; I would help fund my sister's school for under-privileged, high-achieving young people so it wouldn't have to close its doors; I would send money for food down to the retirement home in Marfranc so its elderly residents wouldn't have to go to bed with the pang of hunger gnawing at their insides; I would pay school tuition for several of my young friends in Haiti so they could get an education instead of wander the streets during the day.  And there are lots of other things I would do too...... but what's the point in listing them all here? 

I may not be "rich" but I certainly have more than I need and can at least do one or two small things.  I'm going to make a conscious effort to be aware of what I can do for others.  Maybe, if I can't give money, I can give time? 

Yes, I think I need to be about the business of helping my fellow human-beings whenever I can......

Something I feel good about........



Maya sleeping in her birth-mother's arms

 Last week was Maya's birthday.  Birthdays are always a big deal to the children celebrating them, but Maya's birthday has special meaning for me as well.  Should I be granted the opportunity to lay on my death-bed and reflect back over my life before dying, I will smile with satisfaction when I remember Maya.  I haven't done too many things in my life that I'm completely satisfied with, but bringing Maya home to her family has certainly been one of them.

I first met Maya in Haiti, shortly after her birth in 2006.  Her mother was already struggling to raise four children.  The entire family was living in a one-room straw and mortar hut about the size of a small bedroom.  Some days they would go without eating, on other days they might have boiled breadfruit or a basket of mangoes.  The children were often sick.  I had gotten involved in their lives to the extent that I was able to arrange a sponsor who paid for the children's schooling and had helped numerous times with food needs and housing.  Maya's mother had been implanted with some sort of medication in her upper arm that was supposed to prevent pregnancy for four years; but less than two years later......she found herself pregnant.  She showed up on my porch one afternoon with her arms full of baby and her eyes full of tears and asked me if I could find a family to raise her little girl as she just didn't see how she was going to be able to provide for even the most basic of lives for her.

Maya and her mom enjoying time together.

Through miracle, coincidence, or the grace of God, I found a young couple in Minnesota who desperately wanted to adopt her.    Thus began the most stressful and emotionally draining two and a half years of my life!  Just when it seemed that Maya's adoption would never be completed..... miracles began falling like dominoes, and we were able to bring Maya home.

Now, a little over one year later, Maya is thriving and happy in her "new" family.  Each day she brings new joy to her parents, who love her more than they ever thought possible.  She's strong, healthy, bright, funny, musical, creative, and a delight in every way.  When I think of where she came from and where she is; the life she would have had compared to the life she is living; I swell with pride.

Maya's birth family loves her very much and continually ask me for news of her.  Each new picture or story that I share with them helps to fill the gap of missing her and they thank God for her new life.  How thankful I am to have been a part of Maya's story! 

Maya and me in Jeremie, Haiti

Why I would fire my music history professor

Last night, on my way home from pottery class, I heard this amazing orchestral piece on the radio. The first thing I heard upon starting up my car was an unfamiliar piano piece that sounded like Chopin. I'm always so pleased with myself when I can correctly identify the composer of an unfamiliar piece just by hearing a few bars of music and, of course, I readily credit my amazing music history professor for this. This definitely was Chopin.


But then..... much to my surprise, the orchestra came in. What???!!! An orchestra? Chopin never wrote anything for orchestra! I must be mistaken. Completely baffled, I continued listening all through the first movement. When the second movement came along, I was convinced I was hearing hints of Chopin nocturnes. Whoever wrote this piano concerto must have been inspired by Chopin.  By the third movement, I was incredulous at the audacity of this Chopin copycat because now, it seemed a Mazurka was blaring out of my car speakers!

Although I had reached my destination by the beginning of the third movement, I stayed in my car until the end of the piece. I had to know who the composer was! At the end of the piece, the announcer said, "that was Chopin's piano concerto no. 2 played by........."

I was stunned! Although I would never presume to call myself a pianist, I do "play at" the piano and Chopin is one of my favorite composers for that instrument. I had NO IDEA he had composed not one, but  apparently TWO piano concertos. This embarrassing and grievous gap in my musical knowledge must be the fault of my music history professor, who never shared this information with me!

For Shame!!!

Lost and Found

Eddy and I are back from our 11 day trip to the west coast.  What a great time we had!  Oceans, mountains, Redwood forests, miles and miles of scenic highway, delicious food, and some much needed time together....

A couple of days ago, I left Eddy sleeping in the hotel room and went to sit in the lobby.  While there, I drank a cup of coffee, read the newspaper, and visited briefly with a friend who was checking out.  When I went back to the room, Eddy was just waking up.  We spent some time watching the drama of the Chilean miners unfold and then decided to head out and search for some breakfast.

It was only then that I realized I had left my purse sitting on the floor next to my chair in the hotel lobby.  I raced over in a panic.  Of course, it was no longer where I had left it.  I rushed up to the counter and asked if anyone had turned in a purse, hoping against hope....  The clerk said yes, a purse had been turned in and asked me to identify it. 

When I got back to the hotel room, I looked inside and there was all my "stuff," including my credit cards and over $300 in cash.  Not a thing was missing.  How thankful I am for honest people!  And how thankful I am that I left my purse laying around in this country instead of some others I've been in!!

If I had forgotten my purse in Haiti, I may have recovered it but the money would most certainly be gone.  It would have been found by one of two types of people; the first would be a criminally minded thug who would pocket the money without a second thought.  The second would be a god-fearing Christian who would take one look at the money and throw their hands up in the air, praising God.  "Mezami!  Bon Dye bon!  Gade yon Bon Dye mwen sevi.  Ou we sa li fe pou pitit li?  Mesi Bon Dye!"  (Oh my gosh!  God is good!!  What a great God I serve.  Look what He has done for his child!  Thanks be to God!!")

While it's less likely that a lost item will be found and returned in Haiti, there still seems to be a bigger generosity of spirit in Haiti.  Here in the States, the more someone has, the less likely s/he is to share with others.  Or, if he shares, it will only be a small percentage of his wealth and will in no way affect his standard of living.  But in Haiti, someone living with little to nothing will gladly share whatever he has with any friend or stranger.  It's baffling!

So, what makes us so different?  Is it a difference born of culture or genetics?  Or maybe, is it that folks in desperate situations see things differently?

Not Good News

Yesterday, I got the news I've been waiting almost four years to hear; an answer from the Gates Foundation about our grant proposal.  It was a "no."

I wasn't too surprised, since nothing financially ever seems to work out for me or my family.  But, it was the end of a dream (sometimes, you can't help dreaming......)

Now, I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do next.  I had kind of put my life on hold while I waited to see what would happen with the grant.  In addition to helping thousands of young people in Haiti, the grant would have provided me with a job I love.  We Americans certainly have a lot of "rights," but a guarantee for a job we love, isn't one of them!  And it looks like I'll be back to office work or burger flipping!

I'm sitting on our deck overlooking the Pacific ocean, listening to the waves crash onto the shore.  As soon as Eddy wakes up, we are leaving Oregon and heading to Napa Valley.  So what am I whining about?  This has been a great vacation so far.  We spent a wonderful couple of days in Seattle with good friends, Mary and Jeremy.  Their baby, Gavin, is a delight!  In addition to making friends with Gavin, we sure ate some good food; Indian, Korean, Chinese, and Vietnamese.

I'm not really in much of a blogging mood.... but it has been so long since my last post, I just wanted to put a little something down.  More later.....

Another day goes by.......

Today, I accidentally bought $100 worth of halal-butchered goat.  Here's how it happened....

I had been wanting for months to visit this halal grocery store on Hobson and today I found myself in the neighborhood with time to kill.  So, I wandered in.  I was the only customer and the owner arrived at the same time as I, so we walked in together.  (awkward!)

The store was small and I wandered down the only aisle, looking at the packaged dal and spices but not really finding anything I needed that I didn't already have.  I didn't feel comfortable leaving so quickly without buying anything, so I asked the owner, "do you carry goat?"

"Yes.  Come, I'll show you," he said to me and so I followed him into a back room.  My whole family enjoys goat and it is difficult to find in Fort Wayne so I thought, great!  If he sells goat, I'll buy a couple of pounds and make that for dinner tonight.  I followed him back through a narrow hallway and then into a small room with a stainless steel sink and a stainless steel butchering table equipped with a saw.  He opened a back closet and invited me in.  The room was filled with a large chest-type cooler.  He opened the cooler and I saw three goats, stacked one on top of the other.  He grabbed the top one by its hind legs and with a grunt and a flourish, flopped it onto the butchering table.

The poor, skinless goat lay there with its eyes glazed over and its tongue dangling out the side of its mouth.  For a moment, I stood there dumb-looking as the goat before me and couldn't think of a single thing to say.  But the owner was obviously waiting for some sort of comment from me so I asked, "do I have to buy the whole thing?  Or can I just take part of it?"

"What you say?"  he asked.

"Well, I mean will you cut it up for me?"

"Oh!  Sure!  Sure!"

So, that's how it happened.  I stood there watching him as he sawed off the poor creature's head and then rolled it onto its back and sliced it straight down the middle.  By then, I had regained some of my wits about me and told him my freezer only had room for half the goat.  He asked me how I wanted it cut and I said in 1 to 2 inch pieces. 

As he sliced up my goat, he told me the story of how he arrived in Fort Wayne from Pakistan, by way of New York and then Van Wert, Ohio.  He had been living in New York and working as a limo driver until 9/11.  After 9/11, life became very difficult for Muslims living in New York and he moved with his wife and children to Van Wert were he purchased a gas station.  For six months he tried to make a go of it with the gas station, but month after month he found himself deeper in the red.  Turns out, his gas station had three underground tanks, all of which had leaks.  The previous owner had not disclosed this information and he was losing money into the ground with each passing day.

After six months, he called a friend of his, who lived in Fort Wayne and told him that life had beaten him up and he was going to have to cut his loses and head back to New York.  His friend insisted that he come to Fort Wayne instead; promising him a house and money to start a business.  So... here he is three years later, running his little store.  He has been able to pay his friend back for both the house and the business and life is good once again.

As he finished cutting up my goat, he decided to make me a gift of the liver and testicles.  My mother raised me to be polite, so I thanked him enthusiastically.  (Note to self - must google +recipes +goat +testicles)

After leaving the Halal grocery store, I decided to have lunch at the Asian Restaurant.  (Yes, that's really the name!)  This is a little whole-in-the-wall restaurant on State Street owned and operated by an immigrant from Burma.  I was the only customer.  My host explained that his waitress had not come in today so he would be waiting on me and cooking for me.  The menu has Thai, Burmese, Indian, Japanese, and Chinese dishes.  I asked him to recommend something spicy and delicious and he suggested I order the Thai salad.  So I did and it was, indeed, spicy and delicious!

My host brought me a mug of Burmese tea which he told me goes well with the Thai salad.  The tea was incredible!  It was a lot like Indian Chai but different enough to make me feel like I was trying something new. 

After lunch, I drove to my friend Rebekah's house.  Rebekah is an amazing woman.  Her oldest daughter (now nine years old) was born blind.  A few years later, her second child was born with spina bifida.  A third child was born healthy.   A couple of years ago, Rebekah and her husband began the adoption process for a blind toddler from Haiti.  And just last week, Rebekah returned home from China with her newly adopted blind daughter, Angelina. 

Angelina is nine years old and is an amazing child!  She speaks fluent Mandarin, English, and French.  She reads braille in all three languages.  She's funny, friendly, and delightful.  I had a great time making friends with her and when it came time for me to leave, she grabbed my arm and begged me to stay!

After arriving home, I began cooking my goat.  I was pounding spices at the kitchen counter when a rukus outside drew my attention to the window.  By the time I had grabbed my camera, most of my guests had flown away, but here's what I was able to capture....

Now, with my goat gently simmering on the stovetop and the aroma wafting enticingly through the air,  I think I'll go pour myself a glass of wine and wait for dinner.

What did you do today?

A Tale of Two Kitchens....

Recently, I was a guest in two very different kitchens.  The first was a sterile, shiny kitchen strikingly devoid of anything not attached to a wall, floor, or counter; a kitchen so obsessively clean that not even a fingerprint would dare stick around.  It sits on the twentieth-something floor of a condo in Miami and is meticulously maintained by my friend, Marilyn (previously known as "my sister's friend, Marilyn")  It looks like this.

The second kitchen had no counter space at all.  All the chopping and mixing was done in bowls on the floor; which was covered in ash from the charcoal fires burning in their metal stands.  There was no sink (water was carried in in old plastic bottles) and a refrigerator would have been a waste of space as there was no electricity to run it.  This kitchen was in the upper room of a ramshakled cement building in the remote town of Jeremie, Haiti and is used by my friend Madam Fritz.  It looks like this.

Both kitchens are amazing in their separate ways.  Marilyn is an organizational freak!  I wouldn't be surprised if some day, she comes up with a better system for organizing the names and numbers in a phone book.  She's also a neat-nick.  Everything has its place and she isn't emotionally attached to "stuff" so when she's done with it or no longer needs it, it gets pitched.  She is The Fen Shui Queen!!!  I spent several minutes looking around her kitchen for the trash can.  I looked under the sink (an obvious and common storage place) and in large pull-out drawers; I wandered around looking behind and beside the counter, the fridge, the stove....  I finally had to ask her if she even had one!  She went to the laundry room and came out with a small basket, explaining that she doesn't like it cluttering up her kitchen so she keeps it hidden in a back corner of the laundry room. 

As proof of her organizational skills, I offer these pictures of her kitchen drawers and refrigerator...

The second kitchen is amazing in its ability to even function as a kitchen at all despite the lack of running water, stove, counters, drawers and cupboards, or even a sink.  It's literally just a room with four walls and a floor.  Pots and pans, knives, a stool for sitting, a mortar and pestle all had to be brought in from their storage areas in the neighboring bedroom.  All the ingredients needed to cook lunch had to be purchased and carried in as there is no space or system for storing supplies for future use. 

In addition to her strict ideals on how to keep house, Marilyn also has some strong opinions about what should and should not be put in the body.  So, on the morning she fixed me breakfast, she opened her tidy refrigerator, withdrew several previously hard-boiled and shelled eggs, cut them in half, removed the yolks (which she tossed down the garbage disposal) and filled the cavities with prepared hummus.

Several days later, the cook(s) in the second kitchen also prepared a meal for me.  They butchered a couple of chickens, plucked the feathers, cut them up, pounded the spices, and left them to marinate in a large bowl.  There was no removal of undesirable food parts and throwing them away.  To the contrary, several things were left in the food pot that probably should have been tossed to the cat!

Marilyn artfully displayed her hummus stuffed eggs on rice crackers topped with yogurt and an olive.  She brewed a pot of coffee which she served with some sort of almond milk instead of cream.  Her breakfast was actually quite delicious and ready to consume in under thirty minutes!  (Martha Stewart could take a few pointers from Marilyn!)

Back in kitchen #2, after plucking, cutting, and marinating the chickens, they were stewed in a flavorful broth and served with boiled plantains.  If you include the time spent going to market to purchase the live chickens (and other ingredients) it took more than eight hours to prepare lunch.  But it was worth the wait!!

I'm looking forward to the day when I can visit both of these kitchens again!!!

Just call me "George Costanza"

So!  I am going to tell you how I've spent the last 15 months of my life....

Back in April of last year, Eddy and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a cruise to the Mediterranean.  While in Egypt, we purchased two papyruses from a shop in Cairo.  The papyruses were $150 a piece for a total of $300.  Our purchase was rolled up and sealed in a cardboard tube, which we packed in our luggage and didn't open until we got home.

After returning home, I opened the tube and found only one papyrus inside, and it was not one that we had purchased!  I began making phone calls.

First, I called Norwegian Cruise Lines (NCL) and they referred me to an agency which they said handled all these types of claims.  From there, I was put in contact with an agent named Sandra who began asking me endless questions; what date was the purchase made?  what was the name of the shop?  the address?  what was our tour bus number?  the name of our tour guide?  Every time I answered one question, she came up with another.  Questions such as the tour bus number and name of our tour guide were impossible to answer, even after months of trying to make contact with someone who should know.

I wrote emails, sent faxes, made phone calls.  Eventually, I stopped hearing from Sandra.  I'm sure at this point, they thought I would just give up and go away.  But the injustice of the situation infuriated me and  I couldn't let it go.  It was no longer about the money; it was about restitution! 

I lost sleep as I plotted my next course of action.  I let about  six months go by and then I started a flurry of letter writing activity again.  I wrote to NCL and explained why I would never again be sailing the seas on their gnarly ships.  I threatened to write letters to newspapers and leave bad reviews on public Internet sites.  I said I would be telling all my friends about my miserable experience with customer service.  I explained that it wasn't the money, it was the "principle" of the thing!  I made copies and sent identical letters by fax, U.S. mail, and email.  I sent letters to every name and address I could find at NCL.  Then, I sat back and waited...

A few days later, I received a phone call from someone at NCL who said it was his top priority to resolve this issue for me and he contacted Sandra and got her involved in my complaint once again.  This time, she made contact with someone in Egypt.  He said I would need to mail back the papyrus I had been mistakenly given and he would issue me a refund.  He asked for my bank account information and said he would be wiring a refund into my account.  I was a little bit leery about giving my bank information out to some guy in Egypt, but after contacting my bank and explaining the situation, they assured me it should be o.k.

I took my cardboard tube and headed to the post office.  I paid for a speedy delivery to an address in Cairo, Egypt and paid extra for insurance and proof of delivery.

Finally, after another month of waiting, I received an email from Sandra saying they were wiring $24 into my account.  $24!  Are you kidding me???!!!

I got back on the phone and called Sandra.  I explained how my receipt clearly showed a charge of $300.  She told me that the agent in Egypt said there was an LE after the charge indicting that the amount was in Egyptian pounds and when converted, came to $48 U.S.  (There was no "LE" on the shop receipt that we had been given, but he was claiming there was one on the original charge slip.)  Furthermore, since I had only returned one papyrus, they were only issuing a refund for one papyrus.

At this point, my voice started to wobble and shake as I explained, for the umpteenth time, why I was only returning one.  Because I had only been given ONE!  And furthermore, I had paid $150 U.S. a piece for them.  Sandra asked that I send her the credit card statement showing the actual charge.

ARG!!  Eddy no longer remembered which card he had used and he doesn't keep his statements.  So... we began making phone calls, trying to track down a charge that had been made in Egypt over 15 months ago.

Finally, tonight he talked with someone at Bank of America who was able to see the charge on his account, and guess what?  It was only for $48!!!

Are you kidding me???!!!!!!  The stupid tourist shop made a mistake on the charge slip and undercharged us by over $250!!  (A side note here.... Eddy isn't very good about going over his statement each month so it would be quite easy to over or under charge him and he'd never know.)

So, it seems I've spent the last 15 months of my life and about $52 fighting for a refund of $48.  Oh, the madness!  And now, I find myself in the very embarrassing position of either dropping the whole thing or calling Sandra back up and admitting that the refund should really only be $48.

Or wait!  Here's an idea.  I think I'll ask that the shop use the item numbers on my receipt to track down and send me my original purchase and forget the refund.  Then, I can hang them on the wall and tell their story every time some unlucky soul wanders into my living room!!

Out with a BANG!

My life has been pretty full the past couple of weeks.  Last Wednesday I made a new friend, Melodee (that's her at the rear pottery wheel.)  She is a fun lady with an amazing story.  She has been battling cancer since she was 24 and her journey includes a total bone marrow transplant and several near-death experiences.  She's a potter at heart and has a studio set up in her basement which she is allowing Trina and I to use while we pursue our new-found passion.  It's funny how knowing that I'm going to have my hands in clay on Wednesday can make my whole week brighter!

Friday, I got to try out some of the pieces I made at my introduction to pottery class.  The Amazing Matta is in town and I had her over for dinner.  It was fun serving appetizers in my very own hand-made dishes!

I wanted the meal to be as special as she is.... a hard thing to do for such an amazing lady! I ended up making Moroccan pan-roasted seafood.   The dinner turned out really great and the next day, I enjoyed sitting out on the patio and eating the left-overs for lunch.

Saturday night, Eddy and I celebrated the 4th of July at David and Denise's place out in Kendalville.  They are new friends we made through Randy and Trina.  They have a gorgeous, secluded place on 30 plus acres with a pond nestled in their ginormous backyard.

David is a pretty interesting guy.  Almost everything on the property he has made out of someone else's throw-aways.  He recycles other people's junk!  I was really impressed with the really cool wallpaper he has covering the walls of his "man-cave" and even MORE impressed when he told me that it was nothing but torn up grocery bags slapped on with wallpaper paste.  He has little ponds and water running all over the property.  In a small pond bed next to the back deck, I heard a bullfrog croaking.  Took me a while, but I finally spotted him!

Eddy and I had a great time just chillin' around the pond with new friends and great food.  When it finally got dark, Randy and David began setting off fireworks.

I recently began writing articles for an online magazine called Examiner.com.  My articles are food related with a local focus.  I'm writing an article about a local Burmese restaurant owned and operated by a Burmese immigrant.  The place is just a little whole-in-the wall, but the food is fantastic!  I have an appointment with her in about an hour and she is going to give me an interview and let me watch her cook.  I'm really excited!!  I think it will be a great way to end my 48th year.  Tomorrow is the first day of my 49th!! BANG!!