Another week goes by........

Well, it's been a rather brutal week for me.  (I'm going with the 4th line definition in the online dictionary for brutal, which is "taxing, demanding, or exhausting.")

 My trip out to Pierre Payen to visit Clean Water for Haiti went well.  Chris (the director) was not there, but it was a pleasure to meet his wife and daughter.  His wife, Lesley, was very knowledgeable about all things related to bio-sand water filters and explained the project and the filters in a way that was understandable to me.  I was very impressed with the work site and am excited about the possibility of bringing this project to Jeremie.

a mold used to make the bio-sand filters



a bio-sand filter can filter a 5-gallon bucket of water in 45 minutes

Although I was willing to take the risk of driving out to Pierre Payen without a spare tire, I was not going to take the same chance driving all the way to Les Cayes.  So, after returning to the city Tuesday evening, my friend Alix (who was loaning me his car) and I went to the tire shop and got a new tire put on the spare rim.

that's Alix in the orange shirt



putting the tire on the rim

 The trip out to Cayes was mercifully uneventful.  The main reason for making this trip was to meet a young girl who is looking for a family to adopt her.  I thought she lived right in Cayes, but turns out, she lives in the countryside in a small town called Maniche.  We drove out into the countryside over a very rough and bumpy road, asking pedestrians of all shapes and sizes if this was the road into Maniche.  Each one affirmed this, pointing vaguely in the direction ahead of us saying, "You've almost arrived."  We finally arrived at a sad looking, colorless little town.  I say colorless because it seemed to be made completely out of cement and stone; no grass to be seen anywhere, houses crumbling along both sides of the streets, a dusty film settled on everything in sight.



the road to Maniche



town of Maniche

town of Maniche

We pulled up in front of one of the crumbling houses and were greeted by Sandrine, her brother Bob, and their mother.  They were excited to have visitors and ushered us into the house, where I took pictures and asked Sandrine a few questions about her life and her interests.

main room of house where they sleep, eat, and generally just hang out



front room shot from a different angle

 
We stayed about 15 minutes, then climbed up into the vehicle to head back to Cayes.  But before leaving, I decided I'd better use the restroom.  I asked where I might be able to do this.  Sandrine took me to a small, dark, empty room off the main room of the house, pointed to a corner and suggested I squat and pee onto the dirt floor.  I couldn't bring myself to pee in their house this way so went out back instead and tried to hide behind a banana tree where I pulled down my jeans and worked as quickly as possible.

We spent two nights in Les Cayes and stayed with some friends of mine while there.  It was good to reconnect with Touloute and his wife as I hadn't seen them for almost four years.  Their son, Luvio, has turned into a carbon-copy of his father, something he seems to not be very happy about!

When it became known that we were in Cayes to meet with and take pictures of a young girl who needs a family, a mother brought her six-year-old daughter to me.  She explained that the little girl's father had died in the earthquake and she now was unable to raise and care for her child alone as she had no economic resources.  She dreams of a better life for her daughter and asked me if I could also try and find a family to adopt her.  What else could I do but take her picture and information and tell her I'd do my best.

Since returning to Port-au-Prince, I've pretty much been holed up in my room, watching the days crawl by while I wait to go home. 

Which I will be doing this afternoon!

P.S.  I almost made it through this entire trip without any stomach distress.  Until yesterday, when I ate a bowl of boullion made with goat's head that seems to be doing quite a number on me.  My stomach has been gurggling and bubbling all night long! 




Broken things, Sweet things, and Promising things (my first five days in Haiti)

I've been stuck in a hotel in Petionville for five days.  Things have not been working out for me at all on this trip.  No surprises there!

They began to go wrong on day 1 when the vehicle I had made arrangements to use broke down on its way up the mountain to Fermath.  It was about 11:00 at night and we had to leave it sitting by the side of the road while we hitched a ride with a young man who told me the only reason he stopped was because our license plate said "919".  He has had a series of bizarre and life-directing experiences related to this number so he always takes notice when it pops up.  Thank you Claude Martin!

Anyway..... up the mountain we went.  We spent the night in a beautiful, and extremely elaborate, home.  This house belongs to the sister and brother-in-law of Guerdine, the lawyer I am using for the Rickerd's adoption.  They were kind enough to offer it to us at no charge.  I'd had a long and dirty day so I was relieved to finally be able to drop my bones into bed.

Imagine my unhappiness when a loud thumping on the door woke me up at 5:15 a.m.  (translation: middle of the night since it was still darker than tar outside and I had only been asleep a mere handful of hours.)  Our hosts were getting ready to head downtown to work and since they lived in such a remote area, our only option for getting back to our car that day was to leave with them. 

After filling the radiator with an entire BUCKET of water and dinking around with the car for over an hour, we were finally able, by jerks and stops, to work our way down the mountain into town.  Where the car finally gave up the ghost and stopped for the final time.  (Again, we were left stranded, trying to work out how to get to our destination.) 

Enough about the car already.   You don't need a play by play.  (BTW - please don't think us negligent about the bucket of water thing.... we had put water in the radiator earlier that day)  In a nutshell, the cylinder head was cracked and the car had to be towed.  My well-laid plans for a vehicle and place to stay had been foiled.  Without a vehicle, it was not going to be possilbe to continue staying at the house in the mountains.  I ended up having to rent a hotel room in town (an expense I simply did not come prepared to pay for.)

I was hoping to avoid paying for several days in a hotel by heading out to Jeremie, where I would be able to at least find a free bed.  But the planes are completely full and I haven't been able to find a seat for any of the days I have available for travel.

So..... I have been stuck here at the Paradis Hotel (yeah, right!) since Thursday, making only one excursion.  Yesterday, I was able to meet Lucienne, a delightfully sweet young lady who is hoping to find a family to love her.  She is one of seven children whose mother died shortly after giving birth to her youngest sister approximately two and a half years ago.  Her father has abandoned the children to various relatives and aquaintances.  Lucienne is currently living with her aunt (sister of her mother) who is already struggling to feed her own family. 

Lucienne Isidor

Eddy's sisters have started a school in their neighborhood and since the earthquake, it has been meeting in a tent.  Carline and Martine have big hearts for the children of Haiti and even though their own living situation is difficult, they make daily sacrifices to school and feed children who otherwise would not be able to go to school.  They've accepted Lucienne into their program and it was through them that I first heard her story.  When I arrive home, I will begin looking for a family for her.  If you or someone you know is interested in making this sweet young girl a part of your family, contact me!!

tent school



Lucienne's classroom

Just moments ago, I was able to secure a vehicle for the day (only problem, it doesn't have a spare tire.  Which, actually, is quite a serious consideration!)  I'm headed out to the countryside to visit Clean Water for Haiti.  This is a wonderful program that supplies sand-water filters to the people of Haiti.   Haiti's water problem was already quite serious, but the cholera outbreak has added a new sense of urgency to the situation.  I'm hoping Mustard Seed might be able to get involved by bringing a sand-water filter project to the Jeremie area.  Keep your fingers crossed that we don't get a flat on our way going to or coming from the countryside!!!

(Time is short, otherwise I'd tell you about my near-death experience traveling down the mountainside in a monsoon, with zero visibility and cars being carried away by a raging torrent of water left and right!)

Growing Old(er)

I didn't think I'd mind growing older, and for a while, I didn't.  I was prepared for the crow's feet around the eyes, the little laugh lines around the mouth, the age-spots on the hands, the grey in the hair.....  As these things began to gently change my appearance, I embraced them.  I felt they gave me a touch of dignity, an air of maturity that encouraged respect and maybe even admiration for a life well lived.

What I had not considered, and what horrifies me, are some of the other signs of aging: the hairs that suddenly one day decide to grow on one's chin, neck, and even cheeks; the flabby, loose skin under the upper arms; the tiny skin flaps that can appear in various places; the sagging, drooping skin around one's neck; the moles; the embarrassing noises one's stomach starts to make as it digests even the simplest of foods.......  Of course, I knew that lots of old women had these things; but I just assumed they'd been born that way.  I didn't quite realize that one could become hideous over time.  Oh!  the injustice!

And these are just the things that I can mention without totally embarrassing the reader.  There are more.  Many, many more!  (I haven't even touched on the aches and pains and loss of physical ability!)  If you are older, you know what I'm talking about.  And if you are younger, then I don't want to scare you lest you stop enjoying the pleasures of youth in anticipation of the horrors of old-age.

As we age, however, nature gifts us with some tools to help deal with these changes.  For example, our close-up eyesight dims, making it difficult to see the extent of the hideous damage to our faces; our memory comes and goes so that often times we don't even remember if we ought to be embarrassed; and we seem to care less and less about our physical appearance than we did when we were younger.  These things are all blessings!

And we do become wiser.  Which is a mixed blessing.  Because now we are able to analyze with clarity the stupid and impetuous behavior of our youth; the decisions born of ignorance and emotion.  If only old-age came with a giant eraser, there are so many things I would erase out of my past.  Thank god I am wiser now and will no longer be engaging in such embarrassing behavior. 

I am only at the beginning of this final journey.  With any luck, it will be a long journey and by the time I reach my destination, I hope to arrive with the aged wisdom of a buddha, even if I must end up looking like a withered turnip.

The Kanom Krok pan

So, after spending the evening with Pimpa the other night, I felt convinced that I needed to try kanom krok.  The first step was to obtain a kanom krok pan.  I got on the Internet and did a search for kanom krok pans and found one for $17 plus $5 shipping and handling.  They also had lime paste (an ingredient in kanom krok), so I ordered a small container of that for $2 as well.  Three short days later, my kanom krok pan arrived!

I was so excited!  I tore open the box and pulled out my pan, lid, and lime paste. 

The day was Saturday and I knew Pimpa would be working at Mahnin's, so I grabbed up the pan and headed down to the restaurant to share my excitement.  When I arrived, the restaurant was empty, except for Mahnin, Pimpa, and the cook.  I showed Pimpa my amazing treasure and there was a brief exchange of excited Thai as they admired my kanom krok pan.  I sat and smiled, thinking they were expressing awe and amazement at my cleverness and resourcefulness in obtaining this authentic cooking vessel.

Pimpa turned to me and asked, "How much you buy this pan?" 

"Seventeen dollars," I told her.

At this, there were shocked gasps all around.  Well, of course there would be!  I had accomplished an amazing thing!  But the gasps were immediately followed by giggles and laughter.

"She sell for $11 next door,"  Pimpa told me, pointing at the Asian market across the street.  "And how much you buy this lime paste?"

"Two dollars,"  I said, almost under my breath....

"She sell next door for seventy-nine cents!"

More giggles and laughter.  How was I supposed to know this? A farang in my own country!! Thank goodness I hadn't told them about the $5 shipping and handling fee. I'd look like a total sucker.

O.K. well... the important thing is, we  now have a kanom krok pan.  What are we going to do with it?  The ladies grabbed up my pan and headed off to the kitchen.  Since there were no customers in the restaurant, they were able to whip up a batch of kanom krok in no time. 

The first batch was made with basically nothing more than rice flour and coconut milk and turned out gummy and tasteless.  It went in the trash.  The next batch turned out a bit better, but there was quite a lot of arguing about whether or not to put sugar in the batter.  The Burmese cook did not want sugar as they are made without sugar in Burma, but Pimpa wanted sugar as they are made with sugar in Thailand.  I left them to argue it out and went to sit down at a table and wait.

Pimpa came out a few minutes later and said, "Oh!  I so mad I just want scratch her face up!!"  It was my turn to chuckle!  I guess they can be quite serious about their food.  (true confession number one.... so can I!)

As we sat around tasting the second batch, it occurred to someone that perhaps the market across the street carried not only the pans, but the treat itself as well.  Pimpa called over and sure enough, the owner told her a local Thai lady made them up in her kitchen and that they were available out of her refrigerator case.  $3 for a plate of 8 or so.  Less than 5 minutes later, we were all sitting around eating authentic kanom krok made by a real Thai cook.

I didn't let that deter me from coming home and trying the pan out myself.  The recipe in my Thai Street Food cookbook looked good, but there were some problems with it; it called for 2 T of salt in the batter and I thought that was WAY too much, it also didn't tell when to add several of the ingredients.  So, I got on the Internet again and did a search for recipes.

After reading six or seven different recipes, I came up with my own combination and gave it a try.  But before I could make my kanom krok, I had to season my new pan.  This took several hours as I had to heat it up, oil it, cool it down, repeat several times.  But my efforts paid off as my kanom krok did not stick to the pan and released beautifully!

Now, I don't like to sound arrogant, but I think I have every reason to be proud of my kanom krok! They turned out BETTER than any of the ones I tasted at Mahnin's. (True confession number 2 - since I've never been to Thailand, I have no idea what they are supposed to taste like. But I believe I nailed it!)

Today, I plan to make up another batch and take them down to the restaurant.  If they want to make fun of me for paying too much for a kanom krok pan, let them have their fun.  But the last laugh will be mine when they taste what I'm able to do with that pan!

The First Gathering

It's been one year since I started this blog.  In some ways, it seems like time has flown by, but on the other hand, it seems I've been blogging forever!  The year 2010 saw me headed to Haiti to bring aid to victims of the earthquake, traveling to Turkey to deliver an elderly man home to his family, making lots of new friends and reconnecting with old ones, following a life-long desire to work with clay, finally visiting the great state of California, and of course, cooking up a storm in the kitchen!  If you'd like to see a photo album of my year, you can click this link.

Last Sunday, I hosted the year's first gathering of friends in my home.  My new friend, Pimpa came over with her husband, Khambay, and another young friend from Thailand, Nam.  We had a wonderful time in the kitchen cooking together.  I made an Indian dish of stewed potatoes and split peas, Nam made a Thai dish called Lap, and Pimpa made a pot of Thai chicken coconut soup.


Nam, preparing vegetables for Lap



Pimpa, slicing chicken for Thai coconut soup



Pimpa and Nam busy in the kitchen






Nam, squeezing lime juice over the Lap





at the dinner table



After dinner, we sat in the living room and visited for hours.  Pimpa was quite taken with my coffee table book.  It's an oversized book on street food in Thailand (Thai Street Food) with beautiful pictures and intriguing recipes. 

The first recipe in the book is for a treat called kanom krok.  Pimpa got excited when she saw the picture and told me that whenever she goes back to Thailand, the first thing she wants to eat is kanom krok.  By the time they left, Pimpa had made me promise I would order her a copy of this book.

This past year has been tough with me looking for a job and changes being made at Eddy's work that affect us in unhappy ways.  But the joy that family, friends, and food bring into my life more than compensate for the hard times.  I am so blessed!!

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?