Cutlers in India

We Had a Baby!

2010-12-09T19:39:00.005+05:30

Which means that the diapers might put us in the poor house.

So we are reducing ourselves to shameless commercialism for a freebie, and providing free advertising to Shutterfly for 50 free Christmas cards. You just might be one of the lucky folks who gets one of these free cards. Lucky you! If you don't get one, send us your address. We just might be looking for you and can't find you . . .

So the Shutterfly folks want me to promote three of their products. Since I've never actually ordered anything from them before, I can't vouch for anything personally. But I did check out my sister-in-law's photo books of her little family and thought they were pretty awesome. And creating the above Christmas card was pretty painless, once everyone could agree on the photos and text (though if you're decision-challenged like me, you might have trouble choosing from their gazillion different designs). I think I might make a wall calendar next year for my extended family to see family photos all year and remember family birthdays and anniversaries.

There.

More Free Advertising

2010-12-08T08:18:00.001+05:30

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a freebie and I get $25 for this . . .

O Mod Tannenbaum Christmas

Personalize your Christmas cards at Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-25T20:58:00.004+05:30

So it's been a few years since we did a Christmas letter. Thus far, we have only sent a Christmas letter when we have a new baby to introduce. Christmas is here, but still no babies or Christmas cards in the mail from us. But if we had sent out a Christmas letter, this is what it would have said . . .

2009 was our first complete year living in the United States of America. We've been here so long that my passport expired six months ago and I didn't even notice! Public school and constant running water aren't so bad after all, but we miss our friends in Delhi and hope to get back there for a visit very soon.

We've been to 5 funerals in the past year, for both friends and family. Rich's mother passed away last year on December 14th after a long battle with breast cancer. We miss her more that we can say, but are grateful for the knowledge that we will see her again someday. Rich's grandfather, his mother's father, passed away a few weeks ago on December 9th. We were so blessed to have been able to spend some time with him before his death and connect with all the relatives we did at the funeral.

Rich has become quite the orator this year, with all the heartfelt church and funeral talks he's given. I think if we were members of a church with a paid clergy, he could be making some good money as a preacher. Instead, he has pounded a lot of nails renovating an attic, designing and building a giant deck and a rebuilding a fence. Though he's not quite finished with any of these projects (but almost!), he's let off a lot of steam, and had the lucky chance to work alongside his boys, relatives and willing friends. He flew the coop at Freescale a few months ago, and is now working for a tiny startup with big plans, some of which are top secret. . . .

Our boys showed up in "Friends in the News" in The Friend magazine in December along with other primary children of the New Delhi 1st Branch. Check it out!

Russell (6) lost his two front teeth, but Santa is hard at work growing him some new ones. Nearly all of his six-odd lost teeth have popped out while wrestling with his brothers. He loves to do jobs without Mom even asking, and playing make-believe with his little brother Graham. The magical world of reading has opened up for him this year, and it's so fun to see him delight in his new-found abilities. Lately he begs to jog to school over riding his bike. When I consent, I end up huffing and puffing alongside him because he's so fast!

Graham (4) enjoys ordering his mother around and waiting until the last minute to run to the potty. He's been going to Boy School (a co-op preschool) this year with four other wild and crazy boys, and has learned much. Our boy who used to insist his name was Graham Masala has now morphed into Super G, thanks to an awesome cape Aunt Nelee made for him. He's started riding his bike alongside his jogging family to school. His bike-riding pace just about exactly matches my slow jogging/walking pace. He has a twinkly grin and a happy giggle that can melt even the coldest heart.

Isaac (9) got glasses this year, which seems to be cool these days. He has built several things with a micro-controller, including some lights on a submarine model for school and an RFID device to make our Christmas tree light up when you walk by. He loves helping Daddy with all things technical, helping me cook things, and is a master at cheering me up when I need it. He loves the new deck and spends hours swinging on the swing, often with his nose in a Hardy Boys or Magic Treehouse book.

I have spent the year dabbling in food storage, music teaching, gardening, PTA, family history, sewing, Gospel Doctrine, blogging and exercising. I'm sporadic and unfinished with most projects, but they give me an excuse to avoid dishes and laundry. I've decided my approach to life makes me a Renaissance woman, which sounds much more romantic than a domestic engineer.

We celebrated our tenth anniversary last week. It's been a great ten years, full of all sorts of surprises, tragedies and delights. Yet all of these things—the good, the bad, and the ugly—have somehow worked together for our good. We are thankful for a loving Heavenly Father who knows our every need and leads us every day. May your year be filled with hope, family and good, growing things. We love and miss ya'll.

Love,

The Cutlers

Split Personality

2009-11-06T18:14:00.001+05:30

I have a confession. I've been blogging somewhere else.

I'm Mindy and Merinda. Part of me wishes I still lived in India, but now I live in America. And I blog here and here.

Goodbye Corporate America

2009-10-19T08:19:00.001+05:30

Some things just don't make sense . . .

Quitting a high-paying (albeit boring) corporate job you are good at, before they get a chance to lay you off and give you a severance package.
Buying a new iPhone and a new (used) car just before leaving said high-paying corporate job.
Starting a new job with a huge cut in salary at a tiny startup software company before actually leaving the first job.
Loving your new job at said startup, even though most of your co-workers work with the lights off (one of them has a really long goatee and calls his tattooed self "Cookie"), and your office sits behind a gas station and looks like a cheap motel.
Loving your new office space even though it's missing carpet, came with a mysterious kid-sized jacket hung on the wall, and only had furniture when you bought it at IKEA and put it together yourself.
Working for said software company even though your ultimate goal is to do hardware, and not for iPhones, but in telemedicine.

Some things just feel right and feel happy, okay? Especially when you are newly thirty-five years old, charmed, charming, and gorgeous.

Rich officially quit his job at Freescale Semiconductor after working there for 9.5 years--the only job since he got out of college. He stuck around until Monday to lay off seven of the guys on his team, and now works for InMotion Software, which has about 8 employees. The owner of this company is working with Rich to help him get his telemedicine ideas off the ground. In exchange, Rich is helping him do some work with iPhone apps and hardware.

And in the end, we got the severance package and health insurance for a while. Amazing how many blessings are showered on us so often.

So wahoo! We've cut the apron strings and are now masters of our own destiny. And speaking of destiny, this opportunity with InMotion came through a temple prep class we taught at church, and the deal was sealed the week of a stake fast for rain and employment. Divine destiny, I'd say.

Happy Birthday, Rich! I didn't really like actually being rich anyway . . . I'd much rather have the man himself, and have him happy at work.

Me Estoy Desmayando

2009-10-15T05:04:00.004+05:30

That's my Spanish word-of-the-day. Desmayarse=to faint.

I came home from a great, short trip to Utah with Graham. It was just nippy enough there to be cozy, the leaves are flaming reds and oranges, and there's lots of wonderful family and friends, a new baby named William, and temples all over.

When I came home today to a spotless house, I almost fainted with joy. Rich hung the mirror in our bedroom, folded and put away all the whites I'd washed before I left, and finished a big chunk of the deck. All while nursing Isaac who had a 24-hour flu. He's the greatest.

But I wasn't home for long before I started feeling crappy. Hot and sticky. Grumpy. Like I was going to faint. Why in the world people chose to settle in hot places, I never can understand. I also likely felt this way because I had been up since 4 am to catch our flight home. So I took a nap while the boys played outside (never good sleeping), and woke up sweating like crazy. I finally went downstairs and looked at the thermostat. 83 degrees and the heater was on! I remembered then that Rich had said it got cold enough over the weekend that he had to turn the heat on. And had not turned it off, apparently. Amazingly enough, five minutes later, with cool air blowing on me and the temp at only 2 degrees cooler (81!), life looks much better in Austin.

But I still sorta want to move back to Utah. Sorta.

The Death of a Delusion

2009-10-06T18:13:00.002+05:30

Rich bought this car today. We are now a two-car family again. And I'm in mourning.

Yeah, it will be dreamy to have a car to myself, and not have to negotiate daily about who gets the car. But this luxury means the death of a dream/delusion.

You see, when we had one car, we were different. We were making a statement that the American Dream does not need to include two gas guzzling cars. We were hippies and nonconformists (or so we thought). We have bikes, and we can pedal our way all over the place. Never mind that this is Texas suburbia, which isn't all that bike-friendly. We find our own safe (circuitous) ways to get places. In theory, I can get everywhere I need to go on my bike--school, library, grocery store (never actually tried it . . .), doctor, dentist, church, Sonic (fast food carries less guilt when you burn calories to get there!).

Not to mention, the buff body of my true love, who was riding 22 miles round trip to work a few times each week. I love the concept of getting exercise outside without having to schedule it into my day or get a babysitter while I do it. Being a one-car family meant that not only did we save the money that second car would cost, but also the money we might spend on a gym membership, since we get our exercise by actually using our energy to get places. I love it that when we go out the door to go somewhere, Graham heads for the bike first, not the car.

Pride you say? Well yeah, I guess you could call it that. And lack of discipline. Both are vices.

So after much discussion over some recent life-changes (more on this later), I gave into the idea that this car is pretty much a necessity. Though only two families in our branch in India even owned a car, we need two. Though I can get most everywhere I need to go on my bike, a car in the driveway "just in case" is wise. We can serve better and carpool better this way. We can stop the marital discord that negotiating over the car can cause. We can stop relying on friends and family to bail us out when our one-car world is too small. Rich can be more successful at work with a car to get him there. We might actually guzzle less gas because I won't be dropping Rich off at work or picking him up on rainy days or late days. The disappointingly pragmatic list goes on . . .

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. We live in (suburban) America now, so after almost 1.5 years living here again, we should probably act like we're part of it. Will I continue to ride my bicycle as many places and leave that minivan in the driveway? We'll see. I hope so.

Can you hear me singing that Queen song?

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like!

Who Makes Sure You Get All the Way to Heaven?

2009-09-04T23:17:00.001+05:30

Graham: "Who makes sure you get all the way to heaven?"

Me: "I don't know. Maybe the angels?"

Graham: "No, who really does it. You know. You always know every-fing."

Me: "When did I start knowing everything?"

Graham: "Today you know everything."

At this point I wonder if he's thinking about Poojah who died 366 days ago. (And I forgot to call yesterday on the super-important ritual anniversary day.)

Me: "Do you remember Poojah?"

Graham: "Yes. Poojah died. . . . What's Poojah's front name?"

Me: "Poojah."

Graham: "What's Poojah's back name?"

Me: "Sunderaj."

Graham: "No, her back name is Cutler. Poojah Cutler."

Me: "Maybe her back name should be Cutler, because she feels like part of our family."

Graham: "Yes. That's right. Margaret Cutler and Poojah Cutler."

Gurney Reunion, June 2009

2009-07-29T08:44:00.002+05:30

Good times as always, in Utah. Mom and Dad's new house in Lehi is gorgeous--right on the Jordan River with a walking trail and swimming pool across the street, not to mention the daring and contemporary decorating. It was fun to see all my crazy siblings and their cool spouses and for cousins to bond (Russell and Polly had an especially good time dressing up silly together). And as an added bonus, we got to see Aunt Kimmy and Uncle Scott who are growing a baby boy, and Grandma Funk who retains her spunk and "vision" despite her advancing years and near-blindness. Our Pulsipher cousins also came for a visit from Idaho for a day--so wonderful for all of us (minus Dave) to re-connect with our near-siblings. It's times like these I wonder why we don't move to Utah. But we like Texas too.

Just This Morning

2009-07-15T03:48:00.001+05:30

IMG_6412, originally uploaded by merindarich.

While I was dragging myself and the kids out of the house to ride our bikes to the library, Mom woke up in Utah feeling breathless. After a shower and a trip to the store, Dad measured her pulse at 120. They rushed her to the hospital thinking she was having a heart attack. It's not a heart attack, they say, but four clots in her lungs. Clots that if they'd been in a larger artery could have taken her from this world.

As I was scrolling through my contacts on my cell phone to call Dad again today to see how Mom is doing, I scrolled past Claudia's number. I still can't delete her number after almost seven months. Losing two mothers in one year would just be more than I could handle. Life is too fragile and I live too far away from my mother. And all I can do for now is useless things like blog and do dishes and plan vacations and wait. It's a cold, hard world.

Scout Day Camp & Butterflies

2009-07-12T06:32:00.003+05:30

We skipped swim team practice one morning to watch a butterfly emerge from his chrysalis and fly away.

Amazing.

Isaac went to Cub Scout Day Camp for a week and I got to join him for one day. Hot, hot, hot!

Nathan, Joseph, Isaac, Kaleb & Keaton

Isaac made it to the top of the climbing wall the next day when he tried again!

"Lord of the Flies" came to mind as I was snapping this one . . .

Kaleb & Isaac have been friends since they were little guys.

Soaking Up Summer

2009-06-30T13:06:00.004+05:30

Summer is here in full swing! This is our first summer break in America since pre-India we didn't have kids in school. During-India, we spent a big chunk of summer break in America and other countries living out of suitcases. The lazy days that come with summer at home are a welcome change of pace.

We had another fun party in our new backyard saying goodbye to some old friends Jeff and Catherine (moving to Dallas) along with other old friends: Cheri, Courtney, & Camea.

I am mostly surviving the record-high three-digit temps and the 3-year-old tantrums that ensue almost daily, along with the ongoing potty-training (gotta love those candids taken by the kids . . . painfully real!).

Graham: "I want the biggest plate in the WORLD all full of spaghetti, no ALL full of spaghetti. With the biggest spoon in the WORLD. Hmph."

School ended. A giant thanks to Mrs. Mask who loved my boy Isaac in all of his brilliance and opinions (doesn't she look a little excited for summer?).

Isaac has grown so much in confidence and ability this year.

And to Mrs. Caudle who gave Russell the structure and nurturing he needed to blossom academically and socially this year, whilst having a baby too! (sorry, no photo of her at this point).

We went with the Howards for their temple ordinances. We taught Tiffanie and Brian in our temple prep class, and felt so blessed to be a part of this happy time in their lives.

Rich got to watch their baby Lily while they received their endowments, and we were in Salt Lake when they were sealed to each other and to their two children a few weeks later. They are a amazing.

We did a music celebration at the Sagebrook Health Care Center.

Isaac dressed up as three different characters so he could play more songs.

Russell brought his usual energy to his playing and dancing. . . .

. . . check him out doing a big Bangalore jump with his scarf on the left side of this photo!
And that's all for now, folks!

That's My Kid!

2009-06-04T17:38:00.002+05:30

In the last month I've entered the realm of being an American "soccer mom," and I must say I'm exhausted. We are doing swim team for two hours every single weekday--one hour for Isaac, 45 minutes for Russell--while Graham and I watch in the heat with all the other moms. Meets start at 6 am EVERY Saturday and end around 1 pm. The swim team pretty much owns us, and I'm ashamed to say I mostly signed up because everyone else was doing it. Though I often make it a point to do the opposite of the status quo, this time I caved. We do usually ride bikes to the pool instead of the mini van, and I do my very best to not get too competitive about the whole thing, but I can't escape the fact that I have become the soccer mom. We've eaten our quota of hot dog dinners on-the-run for the next century. My house stays cleaner because we're never in it. I sit around with all the other moms and discuss sales at the store and how we get our kids to do work. I now understand why the soccer mom stereotype includes SUV's, Clorox wipes, fast food, and junk food snacks.

But don't you just love how happy Isaac looks in these photos? No photos of Russell yet (I'll have to nudge the photographer when Russell swims in the next meet), but they are both doing really well. They wanted to do swim team so they could earn the ribbons, and they have earned some. But they seem to be getting what the coach calls the "intrinsic motivation" to do their personal best apart from any competitive inclinations. Russell, who hasn't had many swim lessons in his short life, struggled a bit at first. There were tears and pleas to quit, but we stuck with it. Our friend Cheri gave Russell one private lesson on Monday, and in two days he improved so much that one of the coaches told us she thinks he's ready to move up to the next group. Even more exciting is seeing how happy he is knowing he's improved, and how much he enjoys working hard every day to get better.

My boys. Turning out all right, I guess, DESPITE all of my failings. Tender mercies.

Nostalgic for Indian Food & Friends

2009-06-02T18:42:00.011+05:30

The Sunderaj Family at Lakshmi's baptism: Vanita (adopted), Poojah, Margaret, Lakshmi, Shiva, Sunderaj

Yesterday the missionaries came over and I made Indian food for dinner to give them something to write home about--murgh makhani (butter chicken), aloo gobi (potato cauliflower curry), yellow daal (lentils), garlic naan bread, cucumber raitha, and basmati rice. Graham, Rich and I were happy. Russell said, "I don't like this naan. I like the kind of naan we used to have in India." I think he meant chapatis, and I'd love to make them like Margaret & Poojah did, but I'm not there yet. It took me the better part of the day to cook it all, but I enjoyed the luxury of having the time to do it, remembering some of my favorite people--the Sunderaj family--along the way. I appreciate them now a little more now that I'm doing all this on my own.

The weather report for Delhi today says 102 degrees and "blowing dust." Some things I just won't ever miss!

On Lying in Bed and Naming Things

2009-05-29T19:50:00.000+05:30

Good news: I didn't die. I've regained the use of my hands and legs and gotten back to work. It's been ages since I've laid in bed all day and read a book . . . I read The Book Thief, and loved it. It had the same quality as The Invisible Wall with all its hopefulness in a small community during a war, but was better written, with lovable, colorful characters and the intriguing narrator--Death. "I am haunted by humans," Death says. Ooh. He's haunted by us because despite it all, so many of us never give up hope, and we cling to each other's stories to borrow hope that may be lacking in our own stories.

My inspired visiting teacher diagnosed my illness: Fifth Disease. It's a childhood disease nicknamed "Slapped Cheek Syndrome" that can almost go unnoticed in children except for the tell-tale rash on the face. In adults it makes you feel like you have arthritis and a whole-body allergic reaction. Bingo. Graham had it first (I realize now in retrospect) and it's been going around the neighborhood.

Why is it that I feel so much better having a name and general description for my sickness? I guess I'm like that with most things. Just tell me what I'm up against, and I can make myself ready for the task. Give me a problem with no name or end in sight, and I fall apart. I guess giving something a name feels good because it implies that another person in the world shares the experience of whatever it is with you. I imagine Adam and Eve felt much better once they gave names to all the beautiful things around them in the Garden of Eden, so they could talk about them together. I also imagine one of the first orders of business when they were cast out of the Garden was naming the weeds. Once they had names, maybe they didn't seem so daunting.

And speaking of weeds . . . we have a lot of them. And dirty laundry, cluttered spaces, and a party to prepare for tomorrow at our house. So I better stop blogging and get to work. Too bad you can't get Fifth Disease twice. I'd take more Tylenol and enjoy my book more next time around.

Dengue Doom Remembered

2009-05-26T00:58:00.003+05:30

Just in time for another holiday (last time it was Diwali, now it's Memorial Day), I seem to be suffering from a strange illness, that to me feels creepily like the final symptoms of the dengue fever I contracted almost three years ago. "Can you have a dengue relapse?" my mother asked. "It seems you have a bacterial infection, but I can't identify what it is, and maybe an unrelated allergic reaction on top of that" said the weekend, not-very-helpful doctor when we skipped church to see if I was going to die. Swollen, red, itchy skin. Pain in my joints--hands, wrists, shoulders, neck, knees. Tired.

Am I making this up? Even worse than being sick in my book, is being indefinably so. Like when I tore the growth plate on my pelvis as a teenager dancing in the Miss Sandy pageant (I was not a competitor, just part of the scenery, I assure you). I collapsed to the floor of the stage and my parents had to be called out of the audience and I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Very embarrassing. After a round of testing, they told me there was nothing wrong with me, and I should go home. I tried to stand up and hyperventilated from the pain. I think it was after that they realized I actually did have something wrong with me and we all felt much better.

But whatever is wrong with me, this weekend has given me a clearer view of what getting old must feel like. Crappy. Barely able to walk down stairs, or open the medicine bottle, get out of a chair without wincing, or pick up a baby. At least I don't have a fever this time and am conscious of the days passing. And Tylenol seems to help. I'm just hoping that being in your 30s is not old enough to contract arthritis. And if it is, I'm hoping I contract something terminal too, since waking up this way for the next 50 or 60 years doesn't sound like a bowl of cherries.

Remembering Paula

2009-05-25T20:00:00.003+05:30

I knew Paula for a small slice of her life, what turned out to be the final slice. She passed away October 19, 2007 while we were in India. I wish I had known her sooner. But though we walked together on this earth for a brief few years, her affect on my life will be eternal.

Written October 20, 2007

I think I first met Paula when she came to my house for a homemaking project we were doing with some ladies from church. I think we were making bath salts. She was so excited about what we were doing, and stayed late making her creations just right and chatting with all the women there. I remember her raving about the refreshments I’d served and scribbling down the recipes on scraps of paper she pulled from her purse.

I remember walking out with her to the driveway that day and her exclaiming about how beautiful my overgrown garden was. She loved the purple Wandering Jew pIant that grew like a weed and I couldn’t get rid of. I broke off a piece and told her to plant it in her garden and watch it grow like a weed for her. She did, and many months later I remember her showing me the results with delight. I felt a little cheated at that point, like I’d missed the joy of Wandering Jew, while all along Paula had been relishing it. Then I felt grateful to Paula for helping me appreciate and see the beauty in what was already there in my life. Paula always helped me see more beauty and nobility in the simple things of my life, in the world around me.

Thus began a short but meaningful relationship between us. I was assigned to be Paula’s visiting teacher with Rebecca. Rebecca and Paula were both animal lovers and Paula once brought out her pet tarantula spider for Rebecca to hold. Yikes! Paula loved all animals and treated them with such respect and reverence, like they were truly her friends. We had a pet duck while we lived in Leander named Martha. When we went on vacation, we couldn’t figure out who would be willing to babysit our needy duck. When we asked Paula, she was more than willing to do it. We left Martha with Paula several times, and she loved her like a grandchild. She took pictures of Martha and delighted in her splashing in the water or eating lettuce. I remember her showing us one of the photos she took, saying, “Look, she’s smiling!” We couldn’t see it, but I think Paula definitely could. She loved all living things, truly appreciating and empathizing with all of God’s creations.

Paula always made me feel like I was making her day by visiting her or giving her a ride, but it was she who brightened my day. Paula was nearly old enough to be my mother, and I felt like I could always talk to her that way, or perhaps even more comfortably because I knew she wouldn’t pass judgment or try to solve my problems for me. She would just listen. I had plenty of friends in Leander my own age with toddler and preschool children like mine, but I loved spending time with Paula, perhaps because she was so unlike me. So much older, so much wiser, so open and loving and forgiving. She had perspective, and as she would tell me stories about herself as a young mother and wife, the mistakes and successes she had, I learned so much about what matters and what doesn’t.

Once she asked me to come over and help her go through her clothes and clean out her closet. I got a babysitter for my kids and spent a wonderful afternoon with Paula seeing the many facets of her life kaleidoscope before me in her clothes. Every dress, every blouse had a story. This one Ted had bought her, so she could never get rid of it. This one she had bought from the Goodwill and had intended to make over into something different. This one she had worn to a special government event when Ted was a judge. This one she had worn to work. Some were flamboyant, some were practical. We tried clothes on, and she gave me a few that I oohed and aahed over. She didn’t get rid of too many clothes that day, but I got to know more about this woman I loved and admired and we spent a beautiful afternoon together sharing pieces of ourselves, rediscovering ourselves.

I loved Paula’s hair—gorgeous curly blonde hair. I have naturally curly hair too, but I could never get mine to look like that. Once I remember asking her how she made it look the way it did. She said with a laugh that she just never washed it! Bingo. I tried washing mine less often too, and it did a similar trick, but never quite the quirky curliness that Paula had.

I loved Paula’s purse. There were always all sorts of things in her purse, and she was constantly searching for her glasses or fishing out a scrap of paper or an old receipt to jot down a new idea, a recipe, or a quote she had heard. She was always interested in everything and everybody, always eager to learn something new and improve herself.

She had so many talents. I still have a beautiful beaded bookmark she made me, and I remember many beautiful items all over her house she had crafted herself. I watched her several times whip up a meat-and-potatoes dinner for her family, including the athletic, hungry Daniel, in no time. She could make houseplants grow like nobody I’d ever seen, I think perhaps because she talked to them! She was generous almost to a fault and was always willing to give of herself to everyone.

She was fiercely loyal to her children, and I always admired how she treated them like adults. She listened to everything they said and responded to them in a thoughtful, respectful manner. When I brought my three preschool and toddler boys to her house, she was always so attentive to them, always careful to keep them safe, and always willing to listen to and delight in their endless questions and stories. She was reflective about her children and mine, taking time to think about and articulate their special gifts and do what she could to help develop them.

Paula had the faith of a child, the heart of a child. She believed in God without a doubt and had a calm assurance about her when she faced trials because she knew that God was with her and would make it all okay in the end. She could see the small miracles in her life. When she prayed for something, she fully believed she would receive an answer, and then she would notice the answer come and share how in God’s own merciful way and time her prayer had been answered. We all pray for things, but how many of us take the time to wait for and notice the answers? She had her share of troubles and heartaches in her family and with her mortal body, maybe even more than her fair share, but she held on with all of her might to her eternal family. I love and admire her for that.

The last time I saw Paula was this summer when I came back to visit Leander. We had a girls’ night out at the local Mexican restaurant and we stayed up into the wee hours of the morning in the parking lot talking. Paula was excited about her new job as a pharmacist and talked with pride about Daniel’s scholarship, Echo’s passage into adulthood with a boyfriend and a job, Jackson’s hard work at school, and Ted’s success at work. She was eager to hear about my adventures away from Leander and I felt so embraced in her love and support after my long absence.

Paula had a great dry sense of humor that would sometimes catch me off guard. But she also had a nobility about her too, a sense of propriety that I think in part came from her generation that knew better how to respect people and do the right thing, not the selfish thing like my generation does so well. She sacrificed much for her family and much for her faith in God. May she be blessed and remembered for all that she was, for all that she did, for all that she felt, for all that she loved. I love you, Paula. I miss you.

Structure in the Chaos

2009-05-22T09:44:00.013+05:30

Recently I heard an amazing woman named Nancy Messege-Downing speak at our church women's conference. She had this poem handwritten in sweeping strokes on a giant paper at the front. After talking about how tangible blessings we enjoy sporadically (car, job, education, money, etc.) pale in comparison to eternal blessings which anyone can enjoy anywhere, anytime (ordinances, covenants, prayer, etc.), she turned to the poem. She analyzed its meter, diction and understatement to show how finding or creating a mathematical structure to the ups and downs in our lives can bring peace:

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Let me give Nancy's theory a try. The mathematical structure of my day today:

1 Conference talk

2 prayers

1 breakfast served

2 lunches made

1 load of laundry put away

3 potty accidents on the carpet cleaned up

3 books read aloud

4 phone calls

1 conversation with a favorite friend

1 mopped floor

1 room dusted

1 bed made

2 music classes taught

3 conversations with music moms

27 composer bucks paid out

1 canner transferred to another ward

1 pot of daal cooked

1 mile biked

1 flat tire

1 mile walked

1 PTA meeting

1 inherited fat folder: "PTA Newletter Editor"

3 conversations with new friends

17 frozen blueberries

1 conversation with Rich

3 snuggle-cuddles with 3 boys in bed

3 prayers

"Focus on the moment. And most moments are delightful, aren't they?"
Nancy Messege-Downing

The Cult of Done

2009-05-20T21:18:00.005+05:30

Rich is trying to convert me to a new way of life: the Cult of Done (whose founder is actually one of Isaac's heroes--the Make Magazine guy Bre Pettis). Here's the manifesto:

1. There are three states of being. Not knowing, action and completion.
2. Accept that everything is a draft. It helps to get it done.
3. There is no editing stage.
4. Pretending you know what you're doing is almost the same as knowing what you are doing, so just accept that you know what you're doing even if you don't and do it.
5. Banish procrastination. If you wait more than a week to get an idea done, abandon it.
6. The point of being done is not to finish but to get other things done.
7. Once you're done you can throw it away.
8. Laugh at perfection. It's boring and keeps you from being done.
9. People without dirty hands are wrong. Doing something makes you right.
10. Failure counts as done. So do mistakes.
11. Destruction is a variant of done.
12. If you have an idea and publish it on the internet, that counts as a ghost of done.
13. Done is the engine of more.

Now this cult is clearly for the engineer-sy type (e.g. Isaac & Rich), working on projects that have to do with microchips and such. But applying it to the homemaker-mommy type that I am has its flaws. Think running a half-empty dishwasher, cleaning the bathroom for the 100th time with Clorox wipes instead of a good scrub, declaring your child potty-trained when really he's not.

But in the spirit of Done, I am hereby starting to blog more in small spurts. I've set the timer, which is about to go off in 6 minutes. So I'll just come up with a photo and call it done.

The photo is my herb garden I planted a few weeks ago. It's so wrong on so many levels (plants too close, edging looks sloppy, gotta call the cable company to get rid of all those cables on the wall, etc. etc.). But I'm happy to say that I planted all of those plants the day after I bought them, and didn't obsess over where to put them or feel too guilty for spending a little extra money for plants I didn't start from seed (horrors).

And now I'm done.

Running in the Rain

2009-04-22T08:52:00.004+05:30

On Saturday we woke up at 5 am to drive to Brenham for the Blue Bell Fun Run. Why did we do this? To hang out with Grandpa, Aunt Katie, Uncle Dave, and Cousin Ellie on her 2nd birthday, of course!
And then, of course, there was the all-you-can-eat Blue Bell Ice Cream after the race!
The first race was the Kid's 1-Mile Run. Isaac and Russell were all set to go, and they bravely walked through the pouring rain to the starting line as thunder and lightning struck in the distance. Russell had the bad luck of standing in a fire ant pile at the starting line, and burst into tears at the starting bell as they attacked him! We brushed them off and he bravely set off running with Rich by his side to catch up to Isaac (who had waited for him). They finished together at 11:01. So proud of my boys who are best friends that stick together and work hard.
I set a New Year's Resolution to train for a 5K, and slowly and sporadically I have gotten to a point where I can at least jog that distance VERY slowly. So while the kids bundled up in the car with Grandpa, Rich & Ellie as the rain pelted outside, Katie, Dave and I decided to go ahead and face that race.

And we finished it! I jogged the whole time with squishy sneakers, making mental notes at several points of where I could run for cover if it started to hail. At a few points the visibility was so bad that I wasn't quite sure how much farther I had to go. But I just kept on plodding along and finally crossed that finish line. I came in 276th place, but I finished and had a blast running in the rain! Wahoo!

Next Year in Jerusalem!

2009-04-08T07:37:00.007+05:30

For FHE this week we decided to do a traditional Seder dinner for Passover to help the kids learn more about their heritage as children of Israel. I pretended all day to be a Jewish mother bustling around getting things ready for the feast: setting the table, buying the unleavened matzah bread, cooking a real little whole chicken (a stretch for this semi-vegetarian girl!) for the matzo ball soup, and trying to figure out adaptations for the symbolic foods that our kids might actually taste.

Isaac with the two candles the mother lights at the beginning of the Seder, the "wine" (apple juice), and just below that the matzah (unleavened) bread covered with a napkin.

Russell and Elijah's cup of "wine"
(we used apple juice because I wasn't so sure all of the kids would drink grape juice)

I'm not sure if I got the plate set up just right, but here's what it should have:
1. A shank bone (we used a bone we picked up in Kashmir that was probably a goat bone)
2. Charoset--this is supposed to be chopped up nuts, fruits and spices. I mixed peanut butter, almond butter, applesauce, cinnamon and sugar. The kids loved it.
3. Bitter Herbs--I mixed wasabi paste with some plain yogurt since I didn't have horseradish
4. Green Vegetable--I used cucumbers instead of parsley so I was sure the kids would eat it
5. Boiled Egg

We did not do everything strictly as we might if we were Jewish, but we did our best. We used a modified version of BYU professor Victor Ludlow's Passover Seder script. We summarized some of it and used some pictures as we told about Moses and the children of Israel in Egypt, their deliverance, the Last Supper, and the appearance of Elijah in the latter days. Here's a good article from our Church magazine on how the Passover symbols apply to our own LDS religious beliefs. I got the recipes for the matzo ball soup and the (sinfully) DELICIOUS matzo almond bark dessert from Family Fun. I realized as I studied more about the Seder that more than anything it is designed for children, so it should be fun and include songs, laughter, good food and cozy family togetherness. We taught the kids the "Dayenu" song's chorus and we sang it after Rich recited all the things God had done for the children of Israel. Here's a YouTube video with the song and some images that show the Christian connections.

Everybody loved the matzo ball soup. A fair amount of silliness, but they were attentive the whole time. Isaac stole the matzo for the afikomen and bartered with Dad for the delicious matzo almond bark for dessert. Russell said, "I want to do this when I grow up too."

When Are We Going to Let it Go?

2009-04-03T19:41:00.002+05:30

Okay, I know you've all been thinking it (all two of you). I have been too. When am I going to be able to let go of the fact that I lived in India, and just get on with my life? When am I going to let go of this blog and write more stuff in my new, kinda dull blog/life?

Which leads me to my next question: Am I only able to write blogs worth reading when I live in a crazy, amazing place? Or is the place and the life I live now crazy and amazing and I'm missing it somehow because I can't let go of crazy-amazing India?

Maybe I'll let go of it on the one-year anniversary of our return to America--July 4th. I've got more stuff to tell about for future's sake before I let go, so I better get busy.

A mental list put down:

Copenhagen trip--our favorite, but somehow we never blogged it!
Pushkar Camel Fair with Dawn, Pulsipher Kids
Jodhpur for a co-worker's wedding with Rich
Christmas Trip to USA
Trip to Rome
Trip to New Zealand to visit parents, met Rich on the way back in Bangkok
Packed up stuff and said goodbye to everyone in Delhi
Trip to Scotland with Brandon
A Tribute to Poojah

And stuff to record after returning from India:

Kim & Scott's Wedding
Hurricane Ike
Isaac's baptism
Brandon visits Austin for Thanksgiving
A visit from Pulsipher cousins in November

So I guess whether anyone's reading or not, the blog will live on at least until July 4th. Any great ideas for a new blog that doesn't bore me and you?

Callings & Connections

2009-03-23T16:45:00.002+05:30

Since we've been back to America, we've been busy in the Church. I don't know why we're surprised by this, but we've been more busy with callings and assignments that we expected. In India we were crazy-busy teaching Seminary, Young Women, Primary, Institute, Priesthood, English, piano, visiting members, counseling with members, attending baptisms, teaching with the missionaries, and Rich was leading the branch. We did all of that because there weren't many other people who had the time and resources to do those things. We had a car, we spoke English, we didn't have to work on Sunday. Not many in our branch had such luxuries. Now Rich is a high councilman, and I've got four callings/assignments: stake food storage specialist, ward emergency preparedness specialist, temple preparation teacher (with Rich--my favorite one), and more recently Young Women Camp level leader.

The YW camp one almost sent me over the edge. "There's so many other people who could do this," I ranted to Rich, "Why do they have to pick me?" I don't mind being busy at church. I think I actually usually enjoy it. Yet in India the work I was doing was in the trenches, the foundational, anchored-in-the-basics-of-the-gospel stuff. I almost always felt like I was building the kingdom in everything I did. Now as I collect money for berry orders, hassle people to get their reports in to me, send emails about preparedness that few people read, and plan preparedness activities that few people attend, it doesn't feel so meaty. I'm not saying the stuff I'm doing now is not important. I know that it is in its own way. But I miss doing all the teaching I was doing in India, teaching the scriptures and gospel principles and leadership principles that were fresh and new to people. Here in America where we often take the Gospel for granted, Church sometimes feels more like a chore than a saving force in our lives.

Yet the saving force remains, sometimes to save little old me. After I did all that complaining about the YW camp calling, I went to the first activity--a sleepover with the youth camp leaders on Valentine's Day weekend--a little grudgingly. There I found an instant friend--Diana N. who lived in Bangalore, India for a summer with her kids while her husband was there working. She traveled all over without her husband, because she couldn't stand not to. We stayed up almost all night talking about everything from food to travel to feeding the poor to the growth of the church to the people we knew in common. Diana is working on a children's book with a woman she met in India that tells the stories of child-pioneers in the Church in developing nations. She could talk to me about India in ways that others cannot because she has seen it, smelled it, tasted it, traveled it, vomited it. Yet she was endlessly hopeful in her outlook.

That night I was reminded that the Lord knows what I need and will save me through the stuff he sends me to do and the people I meet along the way, even if I'm not saving the world every day. And now he's blessed me with another meaty assignment--teaching the temple prep class with Rich. I love teaching with the man I love best, and it's thrilling to participate with some wonderful people on their road to the temple. I'll stop complaining, I guess.

Indian Cooking Class, Part 1: Dals & Chicken

2009-02-26T08:27:00.005+05:30

My friend Susan asked me to do an Indian cooking class at her monthly cooking class in November. Dawn P. & Mark P. came to help, and we had a great time sharing what we love. I was so happy to have a motivation to figure out how to cook some of the foods I love. Here's the first part of the handout I gave the class . . .

Mostly North Indian cuisine discovered in New Delhi 2006-2008

Benefits of Indian Cooking
Simple & fresh ingredients (once you have the spices)
Same basic procedure for many dishes
Vegetarian options
Many shelf-stable ingredients
Freezes & reheats well
Delicious!

Where to Buy Indian Foods in Austin
Teji's‎ Grocery & Restaurant
1205 Round Rock Ave, Round Rock, TX‎ - (512) 244-3351‎

Gandhi Bazaar (+Curry in a Hurry)
2121 Suite 113 Parmer Lane
Austin 78727
Phone: (512) 837-9701

Ambica Foods in Texas
3203 S. IH35, Suite 580
Round Rock, TX 78664

Basic Spices
jeera (cumin, seed & powder)
dhania (coriander)
haldi (turmeric)
chili powder
curry powder

coriander leaves (cilantro)
mint leaves
ginger paste
garlic paste
mustard seeds (black)*
cardamom (green & black)*
cinnamon sticks
fenugreek*
curry leaves*
garam masala*
chicken masala*

Basic Ingredients

Grains:
wheat flour (finely ground)
rice (long-grain—basmati)
besan (chickpea flour)
sooji (Cream of Wheat)

Proteins:
chicken
paneer (fresh cheese)*
lentils—yellow, black* (daal)
garbanzo beans (chhole)
pinto beans (rajma)
black-eyed peas (rajma)

Basic Flavorings:
lemon juice
plain yogurt
vegetable oil
green chiles (small)* or serrano chiles
ghee (clarified butter)*

Vegetables:
tomatoes
cucumber
potatoes (aloo)
cauliflower (gobi)
onion
okra (bhindi)
spinach (palak)
sweet bell peppers (capsicum)
green peas (muttor)
green beans
eggplant
green onions

Helpful Equipment:
sharp knife
large, heavy skillet/wok
heavy pot
mortar & pestle
food processor/blender
pressure cooker

* Usually only available at Indian grocery

_________________________________________________________________
Dal Makhani
(Dal cooked in butter)
Definitely my favorite dal. Anything with cream and butter has to be delicious!

1 cup black urad dal (whole black lentils, or any other lentil)
1/4 cup kidney beans (rajma)
2-4 tablespoons butter/oil/ghee
1 c. onion, chopped
1 tablespoon ginger-garlic paste
2 medium tomatoes, chopped
1 teaspoon cumin powder (jeera)
½ t. chili powder
(3/4 cup tomato puree)
1-2 t. salt

1 teaspoon garam masala powder
½ - ¾ cup fresh cream
Fresh coriander leaves (cilantro)

Soak the dal and rajma overnight. Add enough water to cover and pressure cook or boil till the lentils are soft. If pressure cooking, this should take 20-30 minutes. If boiling, it should take around 2 hours. Split lentils will take less time. Set dal aside.

Melt the butter in a pan, add onions and sauté till they turn pink. Add the ginger-garlic paste. Sauté till golden brown. Add finely chopped tomatoes and cook till pulpy. Add the cumin powder and chili powder; sauté for 1-2 minutes. (Add the tomato puree.) Sauté for another 2-3 minutes.

Add the cooked dals into this masala (mixture). Salt to taste. Add the garam masala powder. Cover and cook over a low flame for about 35 minutes. Add water as needed to maintain a thick, soupy consistency.

Add the fresh cream and garnish with fresh coriander before serving.

Serve with rice or rotis (chapattis).

_________________________________________________________________
Everyday Yellow Dal

Serves 4

1 cup yellow split peas, soaked in cold water for 1 hour
1 large tomato, cut into 8 wedges
1-4 T. canola oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 medium red onion, finely chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)
3 large garlic cloves, minced or pressed (or 1 T. garlic paste)
1-2 t. ginger-garlic paste
1 teaspoon coriander powder
3/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne (I used 1/4, thought it was plenty, although I may be a wuss.)
1/4 cup minced cilantro leaves (I abhor cilantro, and always replace it with flat-leaf parsley.)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter (optional)
1/2 teaspoon salt

Drain the soaked dal (split peas) and place in a large saucepan. Add the tomato and 3 cups of water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to a simmer, cover and cook until peas are tender, about 1 hour. Pick out any tomato skins and whisk dal to emulsify it. Keep warm over very low heat.

Heat the oil in a medium skillet over high heat. When the oil begins to smoke, add the cumin seeds, covering the pan with a lid or splatter screen. After the seeds have stopped sputtering, add the onion and sauté over medium heat. About 3 minutes later, add the garlic and sauté until most of the onion has turned dark brown, about 10 minutes altogether. Add the coriander, turmeric and cayenne, stir and pour mixture over the dal. Add the cilantro, (butter) and salt to the dal and simmer for another 5 minutes. Serve hot. Tastes better as leftovers!

_________________________________________________________________
Chhole (Garbanzo Beans)
from Sarita
Sarita was our cook/housekeeper during our first six months. When I asked her if she knew how to cook, she said no. But when I asked her to cook what she would cook at home for her family, she and her husband cooked some pretty amazing dishes. Here's one of them. This is the dish I referred to in this blog entry.

1 c. dried garbanzo beans, or 1 can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained
2 c. water
1 cinnamon stick
1 black cardamom pod, crushed
1 onion, chopped or grated
2 tomatoes, grated or chopped finely
1 t. chhole masala (or curry powder)
½ t. turmeric powder
1 t. garam masala
chopped cilantro (garnish)

1. Cook beans in water in pressure cooker or on stove until tender. (Skip this step if you are using canned beans.)
2. Heat oil in pan, add cinnamon stick & cardamom; cook until popping.
3. Add onion and cook until golden brown.
4. Add tomato, masala, turmeric. Cook a minute or two.
5. Add cooked beans and heat through.
6. Remove from heat and add garam masala and chopped cilantro.

_________________________________________________________________
Black-Eyed Peas in a Spicy Goan Curry
Serves 4 to 6

1 cup dried black-eyed peas or two 15-ounce cans, drained
2 tablespoons, canola oil
1 small yellow onion, minced (about 1 cup)
1 teaspoon coriander powder
1 t. ginger-garlic paste
1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1/4 cup minced tomato (1 small tomato)
2 cups (or 1 cup if using canned peas) hot water
1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste if using canned peas
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 cup canned coconut milk
2 tablespoons minced cilantro leaves
1 tablespoon lemon juice

If using dried black-eyed peas, rinse and soak them in enough water to cover for 6 to 8 hours. Drain.

In a large saucepan, heat the oil over medium-low heat and saute the onion until it turns dark brown, about 8 minutes. Add the coriander, garlic, ginger, turmeric, cayenne and cumin, and stir for 2 minutes. Add the tomato and stir over low heat until it disintegrates.

Add the peas and mix well. Pour in the hot water, if using, add the salt and sugar, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low, cover, and simmer until the peas are cooked through, about 30 minutes. If using canned peas, simmer for only 10 min. Stir in the coconut milk and simmer uncovered for another 8 to 10 minutes. Add the cilantro and lemon juice. Serve hot.

_________________________________________________________________
Chicken Curry
from Sister Monica Beesa
Sister Beesa, the district president's wife, who worked as a cook at the time for an American family, came to our mutual class one week to teach us how to make this delicious dish.

2 lbs. chicken
4 medium sized onions, chopped
5 medium tomatoes, chopped
4 T. oil (or more)
1-2 cinnamon sticks
1 bay leaf
2-3 cardamom (small, green, elichi)
2 t. ginger-garlic paste
1 ½ chili powder
1 t. curry powder
1 t. chicken masala
2 t. coriander powder
1-2 t. turmeric
Coriander leaves (cilantro)
Salt to taste

1. Heat oil in pan, add bay leaf, cinnamon stick, cardamon and onion and fry until brown.
2. Put in ginger-garlic paste, tomatoes, chili powder, curry powder, chicken masala, and salt to taste. Let it cook for 5 minutes.
3. Add the chicken. Fry continuously for 8 minutes and add 2 cups water.
4. Cook the chicken until no longer pink and add coriander leaves as a garnish. Serve over rice or with chapattis/naan.

_________________________________________________________________
Chicken Biryani
from Vattikuti Ramarao
While we were moving back into our house in the USA, we had a surprise visit from Vattikuti who had come to Dallas for some training. We unpacked enough dishes and spices for him to cook us up something yummy. I took lots of notes so I could re-create it. Yum! I only wish Lalitha, his wife, had been there to add her two cents to it. My favorite part about watching him cook was that he just put in whatever we had, and didn't bother about it when we didn't have some of the things he asked for.

3-4 T. oil
1 t. jeera seed
½ t. mustard seed
2 onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 inch ginger, chopped
2 small green chilies, halved lengthwise
2 chopped tomatoes
2 bay leaves

Spice Mix:
1 t. turmeric
1 t. jeera powder
1 t. coriander powder
1 t. garam masala powder
1 t. chicken masala

1 lb. chicken or potatoes
4 t. ginger-garlic paste
2 ½ c. basmati/Jasmine rice (washed twice)
6 c. water
2 t. salt
½ c. cilantro
½ c. frozen peas
1 t. ginger-garlic paste

1. Saute jeera seed & mustard seed in hot oil until it starts to pop. Add chopped onion and cook a few minutes.
2. Add garlic, ginger and green chilies. Cook on medium-high for several minutes. Add tomatoes & bay leaves; keep cooking until almost like a paste.
3. Meanwhile, mix together the powdered spices and set aside.
4. Add chicken. Stir. Add 4 t. ginger-garlic paste and spice mix (masala). Add rice and sauté while you get water. Add water and salt; cover and cook on high for 5 minutes.
5. Add cilantro, peas, and ginger-garlic paste. Reduce heat and cook 5-10 min.

_________________________________________________________________
BUTTER CHICKEN (CHICKEN MAKHANI)
As a young women's leader at church, I would ask all the girls what their favorite food is. They would invariably say Butter Chicken. Yum.

SERVES 6

MARINADE #1
* 1 3/4 pounds skinless, boneless chicken breast halves - cubed
* 1 tablespoon lemon juice
* 1 tablespoon chili powder
* salt to taste

MARINADE #2
* 1 cup yogurt
* salt to taste
* 2 tablespoons garlic paste
* 1/2 tablespoon garam masala
* 2 tablespoons melted butter
* 1 tablespoon chili powder
* 2 tablespoons ginger paste
* 2 tablespoons lemon juice
* 2 tablespoons olive oil

SAUCE
* 1 tablespoon butter
* 1 tablespoon garam masala
* 1 tablespoon ginger paste
* 1 tablespoon chopped garlic
* 1 tablespoon chopped green chile pepper
* 2 cups tomato puree
* 1 tablespoon chili powder
* salt to taste
* 1 cup water
* 1 tablespoon honey
* 1/2 teaspoon dried fenugreek leaves
* 1 cup heavy cream

DIRECTIONS

1. To Marinate: Place chicken in a nonporous glass dish or bowl with lemon juice, 1 tablespoon chili powder and salt. Toss to coat; cover dish and refrigerate to marinate for 1 hour.
2. Drain yogurt in a cloth for 15 to 20 minutes. Place in a medium bowl; mix in salt, garlic paste, garam masala, butter, chili powder, ginger paste, lemon juice and oil. Pour yogurt mixture over chicken, replace cover and refrigerate to marinate for another 3 to 4 hours.
3. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C).
4. Place chicken on skewers. Place skewers in a 9x13 inch baking dish and bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes, or until almost cooked through.
5. To Make Sauce: Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Stir in garam masala. When masala begins to crackle, mix in ginger paste, chopped garlic and green chile peppers. Saute until tender, then stir in tomato puree, chili powder, salt, garam masala and water. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring in honey and fenugreek.
6. Place chicken in sauce mixture. Continue cooking for another 5 minutes, or until chicken is no longer pink inside. Stir in fresh cream.

Another Reason We Miss India: Optimism

2009-02-08T18:33:00.004+05:30

Don't get us wrong. We love America. But there is a certain cynicism here that infuses so much of the media, people's conversations, and politics. In India, Rich loved going to work in a place where people were yet untouched by layoffs, were young and enthusiastic, and people will always tell you that anything can be done. Maybe it's because the country is so young, but I think it's more than that. Whether or not things work out as well as they expect, Indian people in general have an optimism that is refreshing and inspiring. And it can't ever hurt to sing a happy, catchy song and hope for the best! Obama, Obama!

Reason #34 Why Coming Back to America Was the Right Thing

2008-12-20T07:57:00.015+05:30

Claudia Arlene Key

March 2, 1950 - December 14, 2008

She passed away peacefully December 14, 2008. The mother of my husband, the grandmother of my children, the mother-in-law everyone should have. But we were able to be here. We were able to talk to her, to hold her hand, to wipe her face with cool cloths, to sing to her, to read to her, to kiss her goodnight. We were able to keep Grandpa's house loud and messy, and crack plenty of jokes in a feeble attempt to keep us from tumbling into the reality that our mother and Ross's dear sweetheart is no longer on this earth.

There have been many miracles. Breast cancer diagnosed in 1999, treated, and sent into remission for a time. She was able to be here while all four of her living children grew into adulthood and saw them all get married in the temple.
Six of her grandchildren were able to know their grandmother, read stories with her, work with her, cuddle with her, cook with her, and play with her.
And one beautiful granddaughter was born one day before her death and now bears half of her name--Lyndia--and reminds us all of the beauty of life.
Claudia lived four years of her busy, motherly life after the dreadful pronouncement that the cancer had returned and metastasized all over her body. She did everything the doctors ordered and bore the horrible effects of more chemotherapy treatments, radiation therapies, and gamma ray surgeries on her brain. Because of her stamina and faith, she lived much longer than science predicted. And she lived well.

I knew her nearly ten years, nine of which she lived with breast cancer, yet she didn't define herself by the disease nor speak of it much. I was her somewhat insecure daughter-in-law who longed to be a great wife but lacked many of the skills I needed; she accepted me with unconditional love, gently teaching me things I wanted to know and things I didn't know I needed to know until later.

Her house wasn't perfectly clean, but she knew how to make things grow. She didn't always fold her laundry right out of the dryer, but she knew how to make and fix any article of clothing. She knew how to cook everything from scratch and had every tool imaginable to do it with. She came to visit us in India. She prayed for us. She sewed cushion covers for our couch. She made amazing quilts for Isaac and Russell and a beautiful blessing outfit for Graham.
She studied the scriptures and the words of the prophets, and weaved them into so many casual conversations about life. She babied my lemon tree while we were in India better than I ever would have.
She taught me how to use the light of the sun to whiten my whites. She taught me how to magnify my callings by studying the handbook and relying on my priesthood leaders. She taught me how to cook fresh food from scratch, how to cook beans just right so they taste like a feast. She bought me clothes on sale that livened up my sloppy wardrobe, and thoughtful gifts for my kids that helped them grow and develop. She worked in the temple nearly every week, even when she didn't feel very well, up until a few weeks before her death. She taught me to slow down and enjoy the moment, to focus on my kids and read to them more.

On her last visit to our home in Austin, it was Halloween and she went trick-or-treating with the kids in the bicycle rickshaw. She made us lasagna and sewed the backing on our elephant quilt so we could hang it on the wall.

At Thanksgiving we joined them at Katie's house in Katy, and I knew something had changed when she left us on our own to make the feast without any direction from her. Yet even though she felt rotten, she put on the blue skirt I had brought her from India and put on her makeup to come to the table and eat our clumsy feast.
She tasted and complimented everything, and then she went back to bed to rest, but asked us to leave the door open so she could hear the children running by and playing. Later that night she came out to the living room to watch cheesy movies with us. She always wanted to be in the middle of all the action, involved in all the fun and joy of our lives.

A week later all of her children sat with her in a hospital room in Dallas and laughed together, despite the grim pronouncement that her liver was failing. When I visited with her, she told me she didn't even want to feel better anymore, but she still smiled. When she left the hospital to come home, she had Katie do her makeup and she sat on the couch and talked to everyone who had come to see her--her mother and father, her brother David and her sister Elizabeth and her husband Don. I cooked and cleaned like a maniac, terrified for what long road may lay ahead for everyone. We set up the Christmas tree and ate one last meal together.
On Sunday we partook of the sacrament together in the Spirit-filled living room with the deacons who had come. I wish I had spent more time by her side on that visit. As we left in a rush that Sunday to go back to Austin, I came into her room in my boots, blue ruffled skirt, and scarf to say goodbye, and she said, "That's a nice outfit!" She was always a fashion guru, always so kind and complimentary to me.

When we came back five days later, another piece of her was gone. She could still speak a little, but her look was vacant, her breathing labored, her face contorted in pain. It was painful to stay by her side now, but I longed to do it more this time. After coming to grips with the fact that she wasn't completely there anymore, it began to feel peaceful to sit by her side and listen to her breathing, remembering all she had taught me and all that she was and still is.

After partaking of the sacrament one last time in her home, on Sunday, December 14th at 10:23 pm, she peacefully breathed her last breath in her bedroom with Rich, Katie, Dad and I by her side. She no longer feels any pain, and I know she's working hard in the Spirit World and making up for lost time with her daughter Becky. Looking back, her last words to me were uttered the day before she died and were: "We need to get working on it." Thinking she was talking about the Christmas shopping, I rubbed her shoulder and said, "You don't need to worry about it. We will take care of it. It's your job to rest." Unwittingly, I suppose I committed to continue her work on the earth. A tall order that could take a lifetime and the help of some pretty amazing other Cutlers. I'm so blessed and happy to call myself one of them.

Ross had the brilliant idea of painting the coffin with our handprints. It was a beautiful and happy way to say goodbye after closing the coffin.

Her father, Daddy Dick

Her mother, Grandma Jane

The whole Cutler gang saying goodbye.

We love you and miss you dearly, Grandma!

Kashmir, Day 1: Srinagar & Dal Lake

2008-11-21T11:15:00.000+05:30

Kashmir. It was such a giant experience with so many great photos, that beginning the task has been daunting. But I'll begin it anyway. Thanks for the gentle reminder, Ange.

Why did we choose to go to Kashmir, you ask? Why go to a state where there are more military police than civilians? Many thought it was a bad idea. Many (my mother) didn't realize what a bad idea it was. My friend Renuka who used to live there as a child has not been back since the 80's because it is no longer safe and not the same as she remembers. The state is part of the never-ending border fight between India and Pakistan. Currently, India is in charge, but only because of the massive military presence there.

The reasons we went are many. We hadn't been "trekking" (hiking) in India yet, and we wanted to see some mountains and do some of that fancy "sahib-style" camping we had read about where you backpack to remote areas with guides and horses so you don't have to carry stuff and your kids on your back. When we contacted a friend of ours who owns a trekking company, Mr. Nazir Rah, he said the only place we could go at this time of year that wasn't too hot or rainy was Kashmir. "Is it safe to go there?" we asked. "Of course! Things are very safe these days. There are thousands of tourists there from all over the world there every day." We hoped he was right.

So after some deliberation, we eventually ended up booking the tickets and going. After packing up everything we own in Delhi and staying in a guest house for a few nights, we were ready for a vacation with some cooler weather and lots of relaxation. We flew to Srinagar in a tiny plane, and almost immediately ran into some friends from Delhi--some journalists with their daughter who was one of my Musikgarten students. That made us feel better about being there. The next thing we noticed didn't make us feel all that safe: all the military people with camouflage and machine guns guarding every doorway and street.

We were met outside the airport by Mr. Rah's cousin-brother who spoke excellent English and took us to Dal Lake where our houseboat was. At the dock on Dal Lake there were dozens of shikara boats that take tourists to one of hundreds of houseboats lining the lake.
Apparently the British fell in love with Srinagar and wanted to buy land and build; when they were denied property, they built houseboats instead.
The shikara boats are amazing. All decked out with reclining seats and lots of cushions so you can lay out luxuriously while you glide through the water. Gorgeous.
Enjoying the calmness of it all.
Our strong and kind shikara driver was kind enough to let our boys try their hand at rowing. As Rich and I discovered later, steering one of these boats is no small feat!
As if the quiet ride lounging on cushions isn't luxurious enough, vendors stop by your boat every once in a while and offer you beautiful jewelry, scarves, leather, and snacks you can peruse at will, and they weren't nearly as pushy as the hawkers we have encountered in other tourist traps.
Along the lake there are shops selling scarves and clothing. It's like a little city with waterways and sometimes lots of traffic on the lake.
And a few houseboats reminding us of our home that awaits us in America . . .

Ahhh . . . No wonder Kashmir is legendary!

Kashmir, Day 2: Dal Lake & Mughal Gardens

2008-11-21T10:10:00.000+05:30

On this day we took a sunny tour of the Mughal Gardens in Srinagar with our guide Mr. Tazir Rah. We got sunburns and then spent the afternoon relaxing on our houseboat.

Isaac feeling totally comfortable strolling with our guide

Playing in the fountains in the Mughal Gardens

Posing for the standard photo with Indian tourists (I always wonder what they say to their families and friends when they show the photo . . . "Look! White people just like from the American TV show Friends!")
The spice market where we bought some saffron before our guide decided it wasn't safe to wander around this market anymore

The gorgeous misty mountains viewed from Dal Lake
Isaac lounging on the deck of the houseboat
Stocking up on snacks through the Dal Lake "home shopping network," starting to worry about what our kids are going to eat for four days in the mountains
Reading The Horse & His Boy with Isaac on the front porch of our houseboat

The boat traffic just below our houseboat

Kashmir, Day 3: First Small Trek

2008-11-21T08:30:00.006+05:30

Today we started actually trekking. We took a shikara ride from our houseboat to the shore where we met our guide from yesterday.
Then he took us to the travel agency across the street where our guide/cook whom we came to call Uncle-jee was busily packing stuff to take along. He was not a man of many words and very serious.
Our guide from yesterday waved goodbye, and we were off with two strangers (guide/cook Uncle-jee + driver) headed to the hills. Halfway there we stopped in a small village where the guide/cook bought some processed cheese slices and a couple of live chickens, much to our delight and surprise. The chickens traveled with us for two days before met their doom and ended up in our stomachs! We are truly city folks to be delighted by this very obvious form of food storage.
When we reached the trailhead, after some traffic and windy roads for several hours, we were met by three other men and two small packhorses.
While they were packing our stuff together to sling on the horses, Russell had his first big injury for the trip--he fell off a rock and landed on a broken plate lying on the ground. Thankfully, I'd carried along a big first aid kit I'd barely used in the three years since I bought it. I ended up using the kit many times on this trip, from treating sunburns to patching skinned knees to giving pain meds for the aches and pains of our guides.Ah, the many uses of a dupatta. I was very glad to have brought several lightweight scarves to protect my face and neck from the beating sun.
Our hike today was short but steep.
When we reached the beautiful clearing that was our destination, Uncle-jee made us a delicious lunch. Here's the guide/cook in his cook-tent with Graham and another guide Salaam keeping him company.
At this point we realized they had not brought any purified drinking water, but instead gave us glasses of water filled with "spring water" from the nearby spring. It looked clean enough, but I felt rather dubious about the whole thing. So Rich went back down to Sonamarg after our lunch on a horse and bought some water and sunscreen (Fair and Lovely Cream for Men!) to help us survive.

Oh, the views! Absolutely gorgeous. See the Thajiwas Glacier in the snow-covered mountains?
Would love to know what Graham thought of all this.
And where's Isaac? Let's hope he shows up in the next few days' pictures!

Kashmir, Day 4: Trekking to Sindh River

2008-11-21T06:00:00.000+05:30

In many ways I felt like I'd left Delhi and time warped back to my childhood of hiking in the Rocky Mountains with my family. Here's Isaac & Graham on a horse led by Mr. Salaam. It was a day of constant horse-changing (Graham: "I don't wanna ride the horse. I want you to carry me!").
But I should note here that hiking in the Himalayas is not exactly like hiking in the Rocky Mountains, though the mountains themselves look very similar. The first major difference is the green grass everywhere that looks like it's been freshly mowed that you can flop down in as if you were in your neighborhood park.

It HAS been freshly mowed--by the cows and sheep and goats that roam around everywhere. And fertilized by the presents they leave in that beautiful grass! The other major difference is that you are never alone.
No, all of those animals have gypsy owners who herd them through the mountains during the warmer months and live in crude stone and mud homes built into the mountains. They are quiet folk, but not shy. More than once I'd turn around and one of them (usually a child) would be a few feet away and I hadn't heard them approach. This can become quite uncomfortable when you are searching for a place to relieve yourself!
Isaac spent a good amount of time on this trip whittling a walking stick with a pocketknife. Serious work for a serious boy!
Who needs toys when you have sticks (a.k.a. light sabres) and rocks?
Graham spent a lot of time at this camp spot playing in the stream that ran a few feet in front of our tents. Our guide/cook took his cooking very seriously, which meant that we had a lot of downtime while he was cooking. Complete relaxation. Another major difference: we were backpacking with almost no work.
Enjoying a DELICIOUS meal in the cook tent with our guides Uncle-jee, Salaam & Ram.
Each meal started off with a yummy vegetable soup with plenty of oil/ghee in it, and then was followed by rice and a vegetable dish or two and a meat or chicken dish. Then something for dessert. At this meal it was green mangoes!
Even if you're not packing your own stuff and cooking for yourself, hiking in the Himalayas can be pretty exhausting!

Kashmir, Day 5: Trek to Nichnai Pass

2008-11-20T22:41:00.000+05:30

Sweet Salaam who insisted on carrying Graham on his shoulders, even when he was asleep. Doesn't he have gorgeous blue eyes?
On this day Russell imaginary world transformed him into a cowboy!
Sticks + rocks + water = hours of fun
Today we hiked through a more rocky terrain with lots of wildflowers.
Working on the mountain man beard!
Drinking boiled water with gatorade flavoring while Uncle-jee watches on (+ snow!)
Giddya-up cowboys!
A mama and baby horse!
Stopping to check out the view.
Our destination for the day.

Mr. Ram-jee. Doesn't this guy look like Sean Connery?
After hiking to the falls, we went back home for Uncle-jee the start cooking and for us to hang out with the gypsies and animals for the afternoon.

Kashmir, Days 6&7: Things Get Sticky

2008-11-19T22:50:00.001+05:30

As we were lounging around the morning of our last day in the mountains, Uncle-jee got a phone call from Mr. Rah telling us to get down the mountain as fast as we could. We weren't sure why at the time, but we bade farewell to our gypsy friends and headed off.
On the way down we met several soldiers in full camouflage down to feathers stuck all over their bodies.
At the base of the mountain we found Mr. Rah himself and his tiny car. On the trip up we had been in a large Land Cruiser, but now the political state of things made it impossible for Mr. Rah to hire that car and driver again. The government had shut down all the businesses, prohibited unnecessary traffic, and imposed a curfew. Apparently we had come home to the largest political disturbance in many years in Kashmir. The Indian government had granted some land to the Hindus for their annual pilgrimmage pit stops and the local Muslims were mad and had taken to the streets with their anger. Here is Mr. Rah looking worried as he talks to his brother Nazir in Delhi while driving us down the deserted streets back to Srinagar.
We had a few scary moments along the way--burning tires in the streets, young adults throwing rocks at our car . . .
We didn't take a lot of photos of these moments, for obvious reasons. But we made it back safely to our houseboat--the Royal Palace on Dal Lake. This time no shikara--they were also prohibited. The sweet houseboat guy Mr. Golam came himself to pick us up in a rowboat.
Then we had 24 hours locked down in our houseboat waiting until we could fly out the next day. Mr. Golam asked us what we'd like to eat, but then hastily added that he didn't have all that much food to offer since he hadn't been able to purchase food for a few days. We told him to make us whatever he had! Graham made a friend on the houseboat while hanging out . . .

We read a lot of books and played a lot of games. The first day I can remember in a long time in which we had absolutely nothing to do. It was very nice.

And after another tense ride to the airport the next day, driving past tanks, burning tires, military guys with machine guns pointed in our faces and lots of angry people . . .

We got to the airport and waited, relieved, for our flight back to Delhi.
Would we do it again? We've asked ourselves that question several times. Every time we consider it, Rich and I both look at each other and say together, "Yes!" Are we crazy? Probably. But Kashmir has an other-worldly beauty that was worth those tense moments at the end there. I wish everyone could go there and see what we mean. But hopefully ALL of these photos have given you a taste of it. Thanks for enduring the travelogue.

Now I'm reading Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie. A very interesting, subversive, hilarious novel that begins in Kashmir and moves to Agra and then Delhi. I'm not sure where it will take me next, but I love reading about places I've been to, written by authors who have a special gift for capturing the essence and the incomprehensible nature of India. I miss it.

Several nights ago Rich and I were talking about how living in America is different from living in Delhi. We came up with this (likely flawed) comparison together: Living in Delhi is like being manic depressive and living in America is like being on an antidepressant that evens out those extreme highs and lows. We can't say either of us know what being manic or taking an antidepressant feels like, but judging from what we've heard from others, when you take an anti-depressant you feel pretty good all the time, but you don't get the super-highs and super-lows that you get when you're in manic-ville. Some days I feel so happy to feel the even-ness of America. But other days I long for that life where we jumped wildly day to day from wanting to tear our hair out to barely being able to contain our wonder and awe at what we saw and experienced.

Faces

2008-11-17T08:34:00.000+05:30

Aditi Charan

Sarah Jordan & Her Mother

Elder & Sister Daniels, full of love, energy & kindness

Sister Vimla Mani with Graham

Ashley Barnes

Tamanna Bhatti, a woman with amazing talents and testimony

Prakash Boddu (or Dumbo, as my kids called him!)

Dominic (Savio)

Carolina Mani, a young woman of faith

Hannah Smith, a very brave girl

Theo

Sonam

Genesis John & Stephanie Mani

Sister Nora Daas

Selvi Stephen

Dolly & Aditi, both women of amazing commitment and love

Karen

Rambir, the most energetic guard I've ever met

Mali-jee (our gardener)

Driver Ramesh with the vacant grin on his face

SK Karmoka, our most faithful guard

Lakshmi the Sweeper & Margaret

Poojah, Margaret, Lakshmi, Shiva & Sunder Raj Family

Margaret

Poojah, who is living in a better place now
Shiva-jee (The Boss)

Amy Klassen, an inspiring and welcoming woman who is in Delhi to stay

President Katuka & Josh Katuka

Sister Katuka

President Praveen Beesa

Elder Bill Jackson

Mrs. Lemley, Isaac's KG Teacher

Diane Pritchett, our surrogate grandma in Delhi

Dave & Angela McIllece

Marcia Ward

Lesley McKay

Michelle Jordan, who understood better than anyone why having a driver sucks

Jung Seon, who made me feel like I was a good mom

Sister Glaris Binu who moved to Kerala

Jacob Binu

Nixon & Nisha John with Nisha's mother Sister Grace

Sisters Tamanna & Vandana Bhatti

The Delhi LDS Gals: Bobette, Me, Michelle, Kerali, Amy & Amber

Chase & Bryce Jordan

Elder & Sister Pulsipher and Sonia Sharma

Maria

Marcia Ward, a woman with superpowers

Alexis, Becky & Marcia

(Prakash) Boddu

Rebecca & Johnson John

Amy Paul & Her Mother

President Barnes & Sister Barnes (sorry, no photo!)

Sister Trija John

The Boys

Sister Winter & Sister Mickelson

Bro. Vaibhav

Ann, who embraced India better than anyone I know in less than a year

Isaac's Russian-American Friend Alayna

Isaac's 1st Grade Class with Mrs. Singh

Isaac's Preschool Teacher

Nikarika Singh, who loved learning

Ellie Joyce, who loved life

Thomas Joyce, who was Isaac's first and best friend

Bro. Charan, the wise and faithful father of Aditi

Bro. Bhatti, Rich's wise and interesting counselor

Joshua John

Twinkle Massey

Bro. Patras Family

Carolina & Her Mother Vimla Mani

Stephanie Mani (watch for this photo of her in The Friend)

Jyoti & Her Sister

Juni Tamanz

Prince (Rajkumar) & His Mother

Vivenly & Anamika Massey

Parul Massey

Selvi (Twinkle)

Amber & Ryan Flake

Kerali & Taryn Reynolds

Shelly Stoker, my shopping buddy

Sweet Rohit

Hukil Family: Roomana, Rohan, Sheila & Sonia

Driver Anil Kumar & Wife Ritu

Robinson Singh

Niharika & Bibiana Singh

Missionaries

Sumit & Komal Yadav

Sister Shoba

Then vs. Now

2008-11-14T11:14:00.002+05:30

I'm going through our calendar and I realized we visited 10 countries in less than 12 months. Sitting here in our cozy house in America doing laundry while Graham naps, I can't believe how much we packed into that year!

September 2007: Gandhi's Birthday in Dehradun

October: Dusshera Holiday in Amritsar

November: Thanksgiving at the Pushkar Camel Fair with Dawn, Pulsipher Kids & Zach

December: Jodhpur for a co-worker's wedding with Rich, Christmas Trip to USA

January 2008: Texas, Utah & Rome

February: New Zealand to visit parents, met Rich on the way back in Bangkok

April: Israel & Jordan (as part of Rich's business trip). Hong Kong on my own for Sonia & Bobby's temple sealing.

May: Packed up stuff and said goodbye to everyone in Delhi

June: Trekking Trip to Kashmir (Srinagar, Sonamarg, Nichnai)

July: Trip to Scotland with Brandon; Visit family in Dallas, Utah, Rexburg; Rich travels to Romania on business

August: Move into our house in Austin. Visit Rich's family in Dallas for Kim & Scott's Reception

September: Rich travels to Houston to help cleanup Hurricane Ike. Graham & I visit Janielle in New Braunfels. Lots of people come visit us for Isaac's baptism.

October: Visit Katie & Dave in Katy while Rich does more hurricane cleanup in Galveston. Visit Dallas for the BYU v. TCU game & a visit from Brandon.

November: Enjoyed a visit from Pulsipher cousins

Now we're just normal people driving around visiting relatives in Texas. And pretty happy at that. That world travel was nice, but it's nice to settle down a bit and to re-connect with the people who mean the most to us.

More fun travel to look forward to and plan for:

New Braunfels for Thanksgiving
Camping somewhere nearby over Thanksgiving Break
May, TX to see Grandma & Grandpa Key
Bentonville, Arkansas to visit Amy & her new baby

Just Gonna Do It

2008-09-24T18:43:00.002+05:30

Been ages since I've blogged . . . and the longer I wait, the more important this entry becomes. But since most of my avid readers (okay, all two of them) have already given up to me, I'm probably just talking to the bits and bytes out there on the information superhighway.

Some random recent thoughts and news:

That crazy trip to Kashmir is really helping me think about my two new callings: Ward Emergency Preparedness Specialist and Stake Food Storage Specialist.

Poison ivy itches.

I have too many clothes and can't find places for them.

We brought cigarette beetles back from India despite all our best efforts to wave a permanent goodbye to them. Wish I'd brought Margaret and Poojah instead.

And the not-so-random-giant-huge-maddening-horrific-tragic news that I think has really kept me from blogging:

Poojah died September 3rd. How do I write about that? A life snuffed out by "fever of the brain" for reasons I don't understand. I had no ability to do anything and still can do so little. I miss her. I didn't ever really tell her that I love her. She was so kind, so gentle, so calm, so contented, so constant. She cleaned our floors and washed our dishes every day. For a while she was the only one who could get Graham to take a nap. She'd play with him for hours in the kitchen or the toyroom. Graham misses her. One of her last wishes was to see Graham, and I wasn't even able to get through to have him talk to her on the phone. I ache for Margaret, for Lakshmi, for Sunderaj, for Shiva. Their hearts and their faith are so tender. I pray that they can weather this one.

And the gorgeous-exciting-news:

Isaac is getting baptized Saturday. He made a prayerful, thoughtful, deliberate decision to do this, and I'm so proud of him.

And my iphoto doesn't like me today, so this post is just gonna have to do. There. I did it.

Correction to the Target Entry

2008-08-21T04:18:00.002+05:30

Just goes to show the strange state of mind I'm in. The amount of money we paid for our new car is actually Margaret's salary for SIXTEEN years, not two! And that same amount could send a girl like Lakshmi to school for ONE-HUNDRED-ELEVEN years!! For a four-year high school, that would pay for TWENTY-EIGHT girls to complete high school. Now I feel really bad. Thanks, Rich, for pointing out our madness.

Simple Mind, Simple Pleasures

2008-08-17T11:53:00.006+05:30

Despite all of our house-hunting and dreaming in the last few weeks, we've decided that our old house on Armstrong is as close to our dream house as we're going to get for now.

Here's our patient and slightly annoyed/bored realtor with Isaac at the last house we looked at on Shipshaw River Drive.

Here's me after realizing that this house that we thought was "the one" needs a lot of work and isn't quite as spacious as we thought. "You sound resigned," my mom said.

The truth is that we love so many things about our house and can't let go of it just yet. And it's home! Frankly, when you've lived out of a suitcase for two months, any place you can call your own for the next long time feels pretty good. We slept there last night on air mattresses and plan to move in completely today. On Saturday Rich started working on fixing a leaky bathtub faucet and I pulled burr-weeds out of the garden. Nice for the moment to start work on our own house!

Our front door (white now and a mis-matched lock, but we can fix that!)

Here's our living room. See, isn't it pretty?

Before these things become commonplace, let me list a few things that give me such a thrill these days:

* Electricity! I made one phone call on Friday to get the electricity turned on , and on Monday I went to the house, flipped the switch on the air conditioner, and immediately heard the thing purr into action. I don't know why, but that was pure joy for me. So easy! Especially compared to the ordeals we had getting our air conditioners up and running in India. Funny how once the house became air-conditioned it felt much more reasonable to live there!

* Fresh fruits and vegetables and cooking on my own. Produce was plentiful and cheap in India, but we soaked everything in chlorine to avoid stomach bugs, which made it lose a lot of its freshness. We are loving baby carrots, crisp celery, vine-ripened tomatoes, avocado, and berries. I'm re-discovering my love for cooking--remembering old recipes and trying out some new ones. Today we tried with smashing success Jessica Seinfeld's Mac & Cheese with cauliflower hidden inside (Thanks for the Deceptively Delicious recipe book, Katie--just getting into it now and loving it!).

* Pulling weeds in my garden. I know this is such a mundane task for most, and always has been for me, but I was in heaven today pulling weeds and re-discovering the plants I planted so many years ago in what seems like another life. In the middle of my weed-pulling, we went down to the creek to throw rocks, watch bugs and spiders, and test what floats and doesn't in the water. I can't believe that creek was always there, yet we so rarely ventured down there. I'm glad we have another chance to enjoy it.

Here's the fig tree that was just tiny when we moved into our house eight years ago. Now it's a hardy fig-producing tree just right for little people to climb

* Meeting my neighbors. Some of them are crazy, but most of them are just plain friendly and nice. Some of them have been there for years, but we didn't ever bother to go introduce ourselves to them. I guess we were too busy with church and babies. It's nice to be in this limbo state of life for now so we can see the gaps that too much busyness creates in our lives. It turns out there are lots of kids at the end of the street in the cul-de-sac, so we need to get over there and make some friends!

* Finding Teji's Indian Market & Restaurant in Round Rock. For date night, Rich and I went there and met the nice Punjabi proprietor and browsed the aisles with all the tastes and smells from our other home. We got some sooji, chiles, and garam masala, then chowed down on some fabulous palak paneer, yellow daal, egg curry, sabjee, naan, and rice. My mouth was so happy. They also rent Bollywood movies and do take-out, and we got to see so many Indian folk come in and chat with the owner--a really small-town feeling there. So nice to know that there is a place we can go to remember and experience anew some of the things we like best about India.

* Rich's great work schedule. Being the amazing, disciplined guy that he is, he has left for work every day by 6:30 am so that he can come home by 3:30 or 4 pm. It's so wonderful to have him home for dinner and for the stores to be open late enough that we can get the stuff done we need to as a family.

The kids watching plasma-screen TVs at Sears while Rich and I shop for appliances.

* Old friends. Everyone we know from our past life is spread out among three wards now, but we've been able to see a lot of them and re-connect. They have been so kind and inclusive with us--inviting us to the pool and for playdates, bringing over cake and ice cream on my birthday, and some just did a welcome-back party for us last night. On Sunday, much to our surprise, they read our records into the ward during sacrament meeting. It felt good to know that we belong there and finally have a home for the next little or long while.

Graham making friends with Rowan at the pool, a child of Curtis & Aislinn, whom Rich knew in college and who adopted our duck Martha while we were away

* A neighborhood school! Our elementary school is nearly one mile away and completely safe to walk or bike. The assistant principal is an old friend in our ward, and we already know so many good friends at school that we are re-connecting with. We went to Kindercamp last week and Russell has been SO excited every since to go to school!

Stay tuned for more blogs. We fully intend to rewind and tell some amazing stories from our trips to Kashmir and maybe some more of our last days in Delhi and other travel. . .

Written In My Journal On My Third Day in America

2008-08-13T20:33:00.006+05:30

7 July 2008
Flower Mound, TX, USA

We have moved back to America--but we're homeless and stuff-less until September when our shipment arrives on the boat and we move back into our house. Our "little" house on Armstrong Drive that could house 6 or 7 families from our branch in India. 10-12 if you put some in the garage or on the deck. What kind of crazy, sick world is this where we think such a house is too small (mainly because our stuff won't fit) and I just paid a whole boatload of money for a minivan with leather interior, a sunroof, airbags galore, and a conversation mirror? The amount of money we just paid for that minivan would be about 2 years of salary for Margaret, or 10 years of school for Lakshmi. How do we reconcile it?

While I was in India and a friend would be going to America, I'd say, "Go to Target for me!" I loved Target when I'd come home on home leave. Essential stuff, fun stuff, good bargains, stuff you didn't know you needed or wanted. And to be honest, it was one of things I daydreamed about when I felt excited about moving back to America.

Tonight at 9:00 pm, after putting my kids to bed, I hop into that brand spanking new Honda Odyssey and go to Target. I go down nearly every aisle and stay until they start dimming the lights and announcing for everyone to take their final purchases to the checkout line. Same delightful stuff, same solitary, dreamy feeling I remember from the last time I was in America. But I forgot about the empty feeling of standing in line with strangers, all of our carts full of stuff we probably need much less than we need to be home with our families in bed, or at least connecting with people we love in meaningful ways. I spend $63.00 (Poojah's monthly salary) and walk out of the now-darkened empty Target at closing time.

I load the fresh (yummy!) milk, various cheeses, clothes for Russell, my favorite pens and markers and toiletries into that fancy minivan and drive away. I open all the windows and turn off the A/C, yearning for something organic, something real in all this surreality. Oddly, I miss Anil (our driver). I miss the guard that would have met me at all the doors in India. I miss Margaret and Poojah and Lakshmi, and even that creepy guy that sat outside our gate. And I wonder how I can live as an American now? How can I live the American Dream without denying the ways that India changed me? How did it change me? I'm not sure. And then as I drive along I start sobbing. Why? For the people who will never see a Target? Of course not. Maybe mourning for the futility of such materialism?

And then it hits me. I am crying because I feel betrayed by Target. I realize that I was wrong to consider Target a friend worth sending my friends to visit for me. Target, as it turns out, is not my friend at all--at least not a good one, because I never walk away from it recharged. Same goes for Wal-Mart, a new car, a big house.

But I do have lots of human friends and family here in America I can reconnect with who will bring that meaning, that raw humanity I miss from India back to me.

But I can still shop at Target and drive my new minivan and live in my "big" house, right?

My Dream House

2008-08-06T02:02:00.004+05:30

The good news is that our tenants moved out of our house! We went over there yesterday to get the keys and have a look. The kids and I walked through the house straight to the backyard (I tried to ignore the dead grass and weeds) and down to the creek. We spent a little time there throwing rocks in and moving rocks around. Loved it. So peaceful and beautiful back there. But then we went back in the house and remembered that it's still pretty small and still pretty badly laid out. Sigh.

So now we are officially house hunting. So far that means looking at a lot of houses and waiting for something to jump out at us.
Russell pulled this book off the shelf at Deseret Industries in Utah a few weeks ago. I considered it a sign, and bought it.

The book suggests that before we do anything, we come up with a freeform narrative of what each of us define as our dream house. Well, we've already started house-hunting, and we're stumped, so I figured maybe I should try the narrative thing. Here goes . . .

The Front Yard
My dream house is nestled among trees and invites people to come on in. The garage is not the focal point of the thing; ideally it would be on the side or in the back. It has a front porch large enough to sit and chat with someone or read a book while the kids play in the yard.
The house doesn't look huge from the street, even if it is. The house looks like it's part of nature, with landscaping that is less of a well-manicured lawn and more of native, sprawling, informal plantings. The house also doesn't look exactly like everyone else's on the street. It is close enough to the other homes to feel neighborly, but not so close that we could spit and hit each other.

The Public Areas
When you enter the home, you know just what to do and you feel right at home. If you are a member of the family, you have a place to put your things; if you are a guest, you know right where to go and sit down and make yourself at home. Every room in the house has lots of natural light and feels spacious and clean. This means it has vaulted ceilings, lighter colors, or wood/tile flooring.
The kitchen is at the heart of the home, with an eating area and family room nearby. The kitchen is large enough for everyone to help make a meal together and has enough storage space for all of that food storage we like having.

Elsewhere in the home there is another room where one can retreat to read a book, play a musical instrument, do some office work, or talk on the phone.

Perhaps there is another closed-off room, maybe with a separate entrance, where I could teach music classes; this room would have to be large enough for lots of singing and dancing, a place to store extra keyboards, and with a bathroom nearby.

The Backyard
Somewhere in the kitchen/family room area there is a door leading to the backyard where the living space extends naturally; this door invites everyone to go outside and enjoy the amazing backyard. There is a covered patio there, preferably with ceiling fans, where we could have breakfast or dinner or cook our dinner on the grill.
There are large shade trees in the backyard with a few fruit trees and some sunny areas where vegetables, herbs, and flowers can grow. From one tree hangs a swing. Under another big tree there is a rock garden or a sandbox for children to play. Perhaps there is a grassy spot in the yard where kids can play soccer or volleyball, or a cement pad for basketball. In an area hidden from view there is a place for hanging laundry and a place for composting. Somewhere there is a place for gardening tools. Maybe in the back there is a place for a fire pit and some seating for a late-night marshmallow roast.

The Bedrooms
There are three large bedrooms or four small to medium-sized bedrooms. If the house is a two-story, there is a living area upstairs for toys, some seating, or a desk for homework. The master bathroom is not overly grandiose, but it has plenty of closet space for me and Rich and the room is big enough for a small seating area or a desk. The rooms are more than just boxes, but have some built-in bookshelves or desks, good closets, or nice windows or architectural features. One bedroom or enclosed living area is perfect for guests with a comfortable bed or sofabed/futon and bathroom nearby.

The Location
This is key. My dream house is close enough to the city center that you can go to the symphony or a museum without driving forever. If we decided to go to the university for post-graduate studies, we'd be close enough to get there on public transport. It is also located within safe walking or cycling distance of Rich's work, parks, schools, and a pool. Ideally, there would be a place I could reach by foot or bicycle where I could get groceries. On top of that, it's gotta be close to the church for scouts, mutual night, and Sunday meetings. The idea here is to have only one car and not spend our lives in it so we can spend more time outside getting exercise and fresh air.

Oh, and I don't want it to be too big! I don't want to lose my kids and I don't want to clean too much. I don't want to spend our lives maintaining a big yard or spend all our extra money on utilities to keep up a too-big house.

So there you have it. My dream house. A few conflicting dreams there, eh? Hey, at least it's not the urban farm Rich is dreaming of!

Now we've gotta get to work actually finding it. Let me know if any of ya'll find it for me!

A Little Adventure is Good For the Soul

2008-07-24T23:39:00.000+05:30

Aby has forbidden me to stop blogging, so here's yet another entry from last month I didn't finish until now. Stay tuned for something more current about what's going on in the here and now in America . . .

Last summer on a trip home, my dear friend Deb gave me some vinyl letters she thoughtfully made for me to put on my wall that say:

A LITTLE
ADVENTURE
is good for the soul

I put it up in our room and I often ponder on what that exactly means and if it's true for me. Has this little adventure been good for my soul? Has it been too much adventure to be good?

Not sure.

But here's how I'm different, from my perspective:

1. I know how to have non-LDS friends. It sounds silly, but I didn't really have many non-member friends before I moved to Delhi. I grew up in Utah, went to BYU, and lived in Leander, TX where we had a ward chock-full of people just like us. So I never needed anybody else. When we first arrived in Delhi there were three other expat LDS families in Delhi, and they all lived on the other side of town and were in a different branch. Yes, I could have made friends with lots of people in our branch, and since then I have a bit more, but at first I needed someone more like me. Someone who understood the expat dilemmas. So, for better or for worse, I have lots of non-LDS friends. They get together often for coffee and go to expensive restaurants in the evenings and drink wine. They go shopping together and compare giant gems they are wearing. They talk about which places in Europe are the best to visit in the summer, how annoying their servants are, and how hard it is to find a house within your housing budget.

Thankfully, since our arrival many more LDS expat families have moved to Delhi and I've become good friends with more people more like me. But I'm grateful that I've learned how to be more in the world, and hopefully not too much of it.

2. I know how to yell and scream to get what I want. This can be very useful. Yelling and screaming was not my nature as an adult, but those who knew me as a child may recall that as the only girl in my family with two older brothers and one younger (until Janielle arrived), I fully understood and utilized the power of yelling and screaming. So I guess in India I got back in touch with my inner child. It was essential there, not so acceptable here.

3. I no longer know how to cook and clean. Or so I thought. It turns out that it's pretty much like riding a bike--you don't every really forget how. Motivation is a whole other story. I am loving the cooking part, but frankly I never loved to clean. Now that I'm out of the habit, I'm gonna have to work to get back into it. I'm hoping I can train my beautiful children and husband to do most of it!

4. I'm really good at booking flights and hotels for vacations. It's really an obsession. I'm going to miss all of those cool vacations to far-off places. But I don't think we're done traveling yet. Just gotta make it a priority.

5. I know the Pearl of Great Price, the Old Testament, and the living prophets better because of the seminary and institute courses I've taught. One of the best things about living in a place where the church is so new--they let little old me teach CES!

6. I know how to fly long distances on airplanes with small children. I know how to get through security without too much trouble. After a year or so I learned that taping a little paper with everyone's name to their passport was a good idea so I wasn't constantly having to open them up to find the right one when I filled out paperwork. I learned that when you travel with kids, it's better to take less, and make them carry their own little backpack to lighten my own load.

7. I speak a little Hindi. I have learned how to better communicate with people who only speak a little English.

8. I wear wild and crazy clothes and jewelry. Sometimes. Though I think I'm a bit of a chameleon, and have found that now in the USA I tend to dress more like everyone else.

9. I am a better manager. Sort of. Or maybe I just realize that I'm really not a good one and need to learn better how to manage people.

10. I know how to cook some Indian food. But not enough. I guess the real thing I've learned is what good Indian food tastes like. I'm hoping to make some Indian friends in the next place we live so I can learn from them how to cook some of my favorite dishes that I didn't get enough practice making. Oooo, what I wouldn't give right now for a pile of good home-cooked Indian leftovers--yellow daal, some spicy sabjee, and jeera rice with raitha sounds really yummy right now. Maybe with some eggplant and paneer. And piping hot chapatis with just the right amount of bubbles and brown spots. Yummy.

11. I'm a better music teacher. Teaching Musikgarten in Delhi really brought so much joy to my life, and I loved teaching my own kids along with others from all over the world. I'm hoping I can keep it up in some way in America.

12. I've seen a lot of Bollywood movies. I didn't like them at first, but now I just think they're the greatest. With Bollywood people are good and noble and the villains are horrible. Everything merits a song and dance, and I'm sure this changed my psyche in a fundamental way.

13. I drink Coke. Not anymore really. Remember the chameleon part? I'm not really drinking it now that I'm back to Mormon-dom and people who know me as Molly Mormon. But I must admit that I did take to drinking a bit of Coke in Delhi. Not every day. Mostly just when I had an upset stomach (which was often during some periods--Rich's mom always gave her children a Coke when they were sick), and other times when I just thought I needed it. Yummy water, Graham calls it!

So there you have it. The thirteen ways our "adventure" living in India changed my soul.

Was it good for my soul? I'm afraid if it was, I just can't quite articulate it right just yet. Maybe never. But living in India definitely changed my soul forever. And probably even more, it changed the souls of our children. I think that's a good thing. Time will tell.

First Impressions of America

2008-07-11T10:18:00.005+05:30

We are in America! We flew into Dallas on the 4th of July. I must admit I got a little teary-eyed when the pilot welcomed us to America. The land of the free and the home of the brave. Let's hope we're brave enough to make the most of our new lives as Americans.

I think I blogged more in India because I missed my family and wanted to connect with them. Now that I'm staying with all of them in turn while we wait for a place to live, I guess I don't need it so much anymore. Here's a blog I started last week for your reading pleasure. Will blog more when I've got my pictures in one place again and our own place . . .

ON DRIVING AROUND

Russell: "Mom, drive faster! You can drive as fast as you want in America!"

Isaac: "Mom, look at the clouds! Mom, see that big one over there? Can you drive under it? I wish I could drive. I would drive under the big clouds if I could drive." [I guess I hadn't thought about it before, but in Delhi the sky was so hazy that it was rarely clear enough to see blue sky or clouds--my kids didn't really know what clouds looked like!]

Graham: "Look, a COW!!" [This came after about five days of driving around and we finally saw a cow . . . he said it like he finally felt at home!]

We may not have a home yet, but we did buy a car. Everything we own in America (minus what is now living in Dad Cutler's attic and Aunt Liz's garage) now lives in our new Honda Odyssey. We really wanted the more sporty, turbo-charged Volvo xc70 wagon with built-in booster seats, but in the end it made more sense to get the minivan that everyone and their dog seems to think is the greatest. It is pretty great, I must say. And nice to have at least one thing decided for the moment. Nice to drive too. Though I've had too many sleepy driving moments lately that remind me that I really do miss having a driver.

ON FOOD & THE GROCERY STORE

After checking into our ExtendedStay America hotel in Austin (with cigarette burns in the bedspread and a sticky kitchenette floor--but a nice hot shower and a fridge and microwave!) Wednesday night we went to the local grocery store HEB to scare up some non-fast-food dinner. The kids' first trip to the grocery store.

Russell: "Whoa, in America the grocery stores are HUGE!!"

Isaac: "Look Mom, they have frozen peas! Can we get frozen peas. Pleeeeease?"
[We had dinner at Mark & Cherie's house Tuesday and had frozen peas and the kids looked at them like they'd never seen them. I told Isaac I used to feed him frozen peas as a baby and he thought they were candy. Even after trying them frozen, he still thinks they are a treat! Woo-hoo!!]

Russell: "Look Mom, they have broccoli! Can we get broccoli?"
[I'm beaming now.]

All Three Boys: [in front of the Ben & Jerry's shelf trying to pick our ice cream flavor] "No I want my OWN ice cream!" [I'm not beaming anymore . . .]

So we came home with Mac & Cheese, frozen peas, a frozen Indian food TV dinner, frozen pizzas, broccoli, strawberries, baby carrots, corn-on-the-cob, string cheese and a little Ben-and-Jerry's for each of them. Happiness. Graham was especially happy to get spicy Indian food again. I've really got to settle down and start trying to make it for him before he loses the taste for it.

It's not that you can't get any of this stuff in India. It's just that having it all in one place without having to bargain or fight off beggars or die of heat is a pretty neat treat. Beautiful, in fact. Who knew that I'd ever think HEB was beautiful!

All Packed and Off to Kashmir!

2008-06-22T05:48:00.002+05:30

No, we have not fallen off the blogging bandwagon just yet. And yes, we intend to continue writing about our transition back into "real" life in America. We have just had a CRAZY week packing up. Who knew that having eight people do the actual packing could be so exhausting? But I think it's all the categories and the weight and size limits that kill us. And having all those people in your house making things disappear all day for 5 days is rather unnerving. Add to that the 3 adorable kids running around moving things out of their designated spots, and let's just say I had a few moments of meltdown (though no sobbing yet, just a little yelling). I think we had four categories of stuff to separate:

1. The sea shipment, which has to fit into a 40-foot container (shouldn't be hard, but once you add all the packing materials, the bicycle rickshaw, furniture, and swing we've acquired, it will be tight). This shipment supposedly takes 8-10 weeks to arrive, but I'm counting on 12 or more based on late shipments for us and others we know. So you've gotta make sure everything you pack in this part you can live without for three months (or more).

The craziest part about this shipment is that some of the furniture we had ordered came only a few days before the packers arrived. One beautiful antique cabinet we bought had termites in it, so the day the packers arrived we had them come take away the offending piece and treat everything else. Then the outdoor cane furniture we had custom-made was 6 inches too tall and made you feel like you were a munchkin when you sat in it and they'd sewed the cushion covers wrong-side out, so during the first two days of packing the cane-furniture-wallahs were working furiously in the yard and in the house to fix their mistakes! Add to that Mr. Shyam Lal, the cheerful old gentleman who was re-upholstering our couch and chair and only finished the second day of packing, and we had a lot of stuff going on those first few days! I'm glad I'm a few days away from that and can laugh now . . .

2. The air shipment, which is supposed to arrive in a few weeks and can weigh up to 300 kg. At first we were going to put our bikes in this shipment so we could get away with having one car and ride our bikes to school. Then we found out we likely won't be moving into our house until August . . . or September . . . or October . . . or November. Whenever our tenants decide to move out (they don't legally have to move out until September 30) and we get the house ready to move in--that's when we will be moving into our house. So where will we be living when we get to Austin? We don't know! And I definitely don't want to unpack our stuff twice, so that sea shipment might be sitting in storage for a few months once it arrives in August or September while we figure out what we're going to do! This shipment was especially frustrating because it turned out to be 250 kg, but since the sea shipment had already been packed, I had nothing else to add to it! I wanted to run out shopping to fill it with textiles and spicy snacks, but I was just too exhausted at that point.

3. Stuff to sell or give away. We sold or gave away all of our appliances and air conditioners (220-volt stuff doesn't work very well on American 110-volts) and some various other junk. We did a garage sale/auction India-style with this guy named Mr. Pawha. He did all the advertising and set it all out two hours before. He had 5-6 guards there with him and I stood by him while the people (mostly Sikh men) crowded around making bids on stuff, then I approved the final bid and people shoved bills into my hand. In just over an hour we had sold EVERYTHING and I had a giant wad of bills that added up to about two thousand dollars (should help pay for our frivolous travels on the way home)! I'll post a picture later to give you a sense of the craziness of it all. Things are often slow and inefficient here in India, but this was a pretty slick operation I'd say!

4. Stuff to pack in suitcases and carry with us. Three sub-categories here: stuff to take camping in Kashmir, stuff to take to Scotland, stuff we'll need in the USA until our air shipment arrives. Throughout the week we threw this stuff into a designated room and I've still not entirely sorted through all of this. We think this will all fit into 11 suitcases, but I'm hoping to pare it down a little bit when we get back from Kashmir.

Last night the branch had an activity to bid us farewell. It was beautiful. The young women and young men did dance numbers, the Primary kids and missionaries sang songs, our driver Anil sang a beautiful Hindi ballad about submitting to God's will, and (worst of all) Boddu showed the DVD Rich made for the Pulsiphers and our family with Graham's 1st Year, a slideshow of India, and Walk a Weekend With Us. It was fun to walk down memory lane, but it was strange to see these videos that were never intended for that audience! We will surely miss all these faithful, loving souls we have come to know in the New Delhi 1st Branch. The future looks bright for them and we're excited to see their growth from afar.

For the last two nights we've stayed at the lovely oasis of Bnineteen where we have everything we need (except a clothes dryer--still not sure how I'm going to get the clothes dry in the next hour before we need to leave!), and including a few things we don't need like a neighbor who doesn't like kids and their noises early in the morning, and tea served at breakfast.

This morning after we go to sacrament meeting we are off to the mountains of Kashmir where we will stay on a houseboat for three days and go trekking (hiking) and camping for three days. We're doing it sahib-style with pack-horses to carry gear and kids, and a guide and cook to help us along the way! We figure we deserve it after a week of madness.

I don't think I've ever been more exhausted in my life. On Tuesday we went to a farewell dinner with Rich's co-workers and the whole time I was nodding off after our first big exhausting day (and this is really out of character for me). And every night I've had plans to stay up and pack or do paperwork or even blog, but I have been falling fast asleep even before the kids some nights! I have no idea how anyone moves without packers and movers. I imagine it's easier when you're moving shorter distances and don't have so many categories and wait times, but moving is definitely a herculean effort no matter how you slice it.

On Monday we will be leaving on a jet plane back to our homeland. We'll stop on the way for a quick trip in Scotland with Brandon, and then we'll be safe at Grandma and Grandpa's house ready to start the scary process of rebuilding our American Dream.

I Am A Part of All That I Have Met: Sariah

2008-06-13T07:18:00.005+05:30

I was going through my closet this morning and found an old T-shirt that brought back a flood of memories from high school. My best friend Sariah and I (Iah and Rind) were nerds and we knew it, but we made our own kind of cool. She is the coolest, most passionate, most opinionated, most crazy person I think I have ever met. She changed my life for the better, for sure, and still does.

Iah & Rind
I'm a Supreme (pizza)

L+L=W
Loner + Loner = Winners

"You see things and you say, 'Why?'
But I dream things that never were, and I say, 'Why not?'"
George Bernard Shaw

All the stuff we did . . .
mountain-tromping
jam-canning
cover-cuddling
Easter-dating
window-peeking
boy-dumping
stupid-story-telling
puddle-jumping
finger-painting
BOM-reading
cartwheel-faking
Boston-baking
E-mail-bonding
Hepburn-watching
wedding-planning
thumb-sucking
country-hopping
zit-popping

9 Ways to Get Killed in Delhi

2008-06-02T05:00:00.000+05:30

Now that our last guests and essay winners Todd and Hilary have booked and paid for their tickets, the gloves are coming off. We can now tell you about the top reasons why we will be lucky to make it out of here alive.

Here are are nine things that can kill you in Delhi. All of these we or somebody we know has had a personal experience with.

1. Fire

As I sit here writing this the lights are flickering on and off. About five minutes ago the lights went off and I saw a very bright light outside the house across the street accompanied by a loud sizzling sound and a bunch of smoke. It didn't start a fire, but it could easily have. This happens all the time.

Our friend Laurie Goering who lives a few streets away and is a reporter for the Chicago Tribune stopped in earlier today (pictured here in her mostly cleaned-up state). She was covered from head to toe in black soot. Half her house just burned down due to her air conditioner bursting into flames. Their family was all gone from the house at the time, but she got lots of frantic phone calls from the servants while sitting in traffic trying to get home!

So, call the fire department, right? Thankfully we have a fire department within walking distance. After being called, they showed up nearly an hour later. The house was still smoldering inside. Turns out, they have absolutely no equipment. The first thing the firemen did was ask her if she had a flashlight. When she suggested that they try to go in the house and, you know, put out the fire, they said that they needed an oxygen mask, and did anyone have one? After a while someone brought an oxygen mask, but they still didn't go in and use it because it was the only one and they didn't want to waste it! So they just sat out with Laurie and her household staff and neighbors and watched the place burn down. And then they left.

We had our own electrical fire on the side of the house once. You can read about it here. Thankfully it only burned down the wooden electrical box.

A family in our branch once had a fire in their house too. When we arrived to help clean up there was tons of water on the floor, the room was in darkness except for the sizzling of the electrical outlets which we never could figure out how to turn off, and the place reeked of burned plastic. They had a similar experience with the "helpful" fire department.

If all the houses were not made of brick this city would have been burnt totally to the ground a long time ago.

2. Angry Cow

On our street there are two stray bulls. We pass by them every day in the car and frequently encounter them while walking to the market or the ATM (Graham's all-time favorite outing).

Here is a picture of us walking by one of them.

Being Indian cows, we just always assumed that they were of the non-violent type. But the other day, we saw the following article in our little community newsletter. Just a note, the "lane facing Mata Ka Mandir" in this article is the street where we live, and the bull in the article is probably the one in the picture above.

Bulls of NFC (New Friends Colony) In A Nasty Mood - Resident Becomes a Dreadful Victim!!

Animals have always been a serious cause of trouble in our colony.

Time and again, there have been stories about residents bitten by dogs. The dog population has become intolerable now, and it has become a menace for people. A large no. of cows, too have been spotted in the colony. The lane facing Mata Ka Mandir, is like a zoo in the mornings, with cows and dogs arranged in a unique array.

The incident which happened recently is indeed shocking and substantiates the problems faced by NFC residents due to animals. A lady resident Padma Verma had gone to the NFC market for some work. At an arm's distance from her, two bulls were quarreling. One bull broke out from the brawl and attacked her, inserting its horns into her flesh.

Padma Verma lay in a pool of blood with an enormous spectrum of bruises on her face and body. It was just then that the Almighty sent his messenger Bailu Khanna to her rescue. She too, happened to be in the same market and was sitting in her chauffeur driven car when the incident happened and witnessed it completely. A big crowd surrounded the victim. Bailu jumped out of her car and with her driver's aid, lifted Padma, dragged her into her car.

Bailu felt pangs of anguish as she could see foam oozing out of her mouth and she lay unconscious. She rushed to Sujan Mahindra, a nearby hospital in the colony to provide her immediate medical aid, which was critically important.

Padma was later shifted to Vimhans. She is still in the Intensive Care Unit, under the inspection. The doctors said that it was indeed one of the most shocking case ever.

The incident is a shame on the life in NFC, which is considered as a dream colony by most!!

Simultaneously, it is a reminder for those who show their love for animals by feeding them wholesome, as in the case of the lane opposite Mata Ka Mandir, at the cost of their fellow residents in the colony who are attacked by these very animals. The residents are requested to seriously take this as an awakening and rectify their causes and deeds - not to stop feeding street animals, but only to the extent that they don't become accustomed to it, and start collecting in huge numbers at certain sopts and create hindrances in the flow of public and attack them.

We also wish Padma Verma, sound health. We hope that she soon gets back to her normal self, and comes out of the trauma of this incident.

3. Bit By the Wrong Mosquito

Most of you know Merinda's fun with Dengue Fever last year. You can read about it here.

Unless you are in a village or in a situation without proper medical care, the first time you get dengue, it won't usually kill you. The second time is supposed to be worse, however. Thankfully, Merinda survived the last dengue season without a hitch.

4. Murdered by Your Servants

There was a Belgian lady who was brutally murdered by her driver a couple of years ago. We didn't know her personally but know people who did. The driver was driving crazy (which most of them do) and his employer threatened to fire him. Here's the news article about the incident.

There are often stories about this sort of thing in the papers. Sometimes the servants are mad about getting fired. Sometimes they just kill everybody in their beds and steal everything. Thankfully we employ a full-time security guard, but you never know about him either!

5. Trampled to Death

There is absolutely no concept of crowd control here. Every year we go to the Republic day parade and most of the walk onto the parade grounds is OK, except they always have one part somewhere where they will block off the path except for one tiny opening. Everybody will be pushing and shoving trying to get through that opening.

Or there will be a long line, waiting for something to open. The minute it opens everybody runs forward and starts pressing on each other. The picture on the right is one I took while being crushed along while leaving a cricket match.

The feeling of being in a crowd situation like that is truly terrifying, especially with the kids. You are literally smashed from all sides, there is not a spot on your body that is not pressed with the human flesh of another person and you just have to keep moving forward. There is no choice. If you were to trip or try and stop, there would be nothing to stop the mass of people from trampling you down to the earth (Merinda the Editor here: Funny how Rich's tone is starting to sound just like that dramatic stuff from the NFC newsletter and the Republic Day Parade!).

6. Blown Up

Many of you probably read about our trip to Hyderabad where we were on our way to the Charminar when it was bombed. Had our plane or car been on time, we would have been right in the middle of it.

A couple of times a year there is one of these things. There's been a couple in Delhi while we have lived here. What's amazing is that there will be a bombing in a crowded market, and the very next day, the market will be bustling again. People just get used to it and move on.

7. Die Waiting for an Ambulance

If you get into some sort of medical emergency in Delhi, just get into a cab. The ambulances here are almost completely useless. One big reason is that they get no respect on the roads. We see them occasionally with their sirens wailing and everybody is cutting them off and treating them just like any other car.

Of course the reason the ambulances get no special treatment on the roads is that they are typically just flip on their sirens on their way to lunch or something instead of there being an actual emergency. Out of all the ambulances I've seen here not one has had an actual sick person inside. They are usually full of people sitting there calmly just like any other car while the sirens wail away.

A few months ago at a birthday party Merinda met a lengendary woman in town--a Panamanian woman who gave birth to her baby in an Ambassador car. She was at home and her contractions started coming really fast. The first person she called was her meditation teacher who wasn't successful in slowing anything down (apparently the baby didn't feel like meditating). Then she called her sister who brought her official Panamanian Embassy Ambassador car to pick her up and take her to the hospital.

Unfortunately, the baby didn't wait and she gave birth in the car while sitting in traffic with the driver in the front seat and everybody else averting their eyes. Once she arrived at the hospital she figured that she had gotten this far on her own, so she just had them get out their scissors, cut the cord, and then she went home.

But then it came to the matter of the birth certificate. She went back to the hospital later and asked for one. The told her that since the baby was born in the car and not in the hospital that they wouldn't get one from them. Then she went to the Indian government to get one, but they wouldn't issue one because the car was a Panamanian Embassy vehicle and technically while in the car she was in Panama. So now she is working with the Panamanian government to try and get a certificate for her new little Panamanian baby.

8. Death by Mysterious Causes

Since we are telling stories here, this entry is an excuse to share one that was told to us by the Wallys. The Wally family lived here in India for about ten years while working for the American Embassy. Just before they left we took them out to dinner to get some wisdom about living here and they did not disappoint.

Among other enlightening things, they told the story of this family they knew. There was this old cook who came with the house they rented. They didn't know much about him, he just sat there and cooked. They had not lived in India very long when they walked into the kitchen, and there he was, keeled over in the soup. Dead.

Not knowing what to do, they loaded him in the car and took him to the hospital. The people at the hospital looked at him and told them that he was dead. Yes, they knew that, but wouldn't they take him? No, they replied, they only took people who were alive. So they went to the next hospital where they got the same answer.

Hospital after hospital would not take him. Finally, totally frustrated by all this and at their wits end, they quickly drove to the last hospital, laid him out on the door, and quickly drove off.

9. Angry villagers

For a place with the reputation of being non-violent, there is sure a lot of caste-related violence here. Every once in a while we will be driving around and run into some mob shouting and carrying on about something. A couple of days ago it was a bunch of Sikhs, some of them with swords. ("Hey, kids, can you lock your door, there's a bunch of guys with swords outside").

Here's a picture we've shown before of some angry villagers who had blocked a road out in Andhra Pradesh. They were upset that somebody in their caste was thrown into jail.

One day this week I went into work late because the Gujar caste had shut down all the roads leading into and out of Delhi. They burned some buses and were causing all sorts of problems. Why? They want the same treatment as the lower castes. In India there is an equivalent to affirmative action where there are government jobs and places in schools alloted to the underprivileged castes. The Gujars were protesting for their caste to be included in the lower one so they could enjoy such benefits!

Now this blather may sound completely crazy (and it is), but the truth is that there's a part of us that will miss all this danger. First, of course, it's all very exciting.

I remember when we first arrived in India. I looked at those three wheeled autorickshaws where you sit out in the open with no seat belt, and thought that I would never get in one of those things. A year later we were buzzing around Delhi in them all the time, not just us adults, but with the kids. They love them, and the truth is that they don't go any faster than a bicycle. (Earlier today the one I was in with Margaret and her two daughters got a flat tire and I held it up while they guy put on the spare out on a busy road!)

Second, there is something quite empowering about being in a place where, if something goes wrong, nobody is going to help, where there are no ambulances or fire trucks, no 911, nobody to swoop down and rescue you. It is not easy to get used to, but there is this enormous sense of personal responsibility that emerges when there is no "nanny state" or an army of lawyers there to make sure that you live a safe and bubble-wrapped life.

We Have ANOTHER Winner!

2008-05-29T19:26:00.003+05:30

Yes, we did say the essay contest was over and Mark was the winner. Only Todd Hendricks would be so audacious as to send in an entry anyway. But, as usual, he's written something that makes us bust up laughing, and since he's able to get himself here before we vacate the place, he now becomes the keeper of the prize. And we win too, of course, because we get a visit from Todd and Hilary next week--some of our favorite people!

And now, the essay . . .

Disclaimer: With a billion official Indian languages to choose from, ranging from Urdu to Telugu, I have chosen to write my essay in Assamese.

Essay for Todd J. Hendricks

It’s true that I haven’t ever imagined myself in India, which is very odd since India and its beliefs have shaped so much of my life. I have the Bhagavad Gita on my bookshelf. I haven’t read it, but I understand it’s an important book. I know that Gandhi is an epic movie. I haven’t watched that either. But I am practicing Indian-style recovery to help me after the epic, 14-hour plane flight: I do yoga at Gold’s Gym. (Since Rich knows how inflexible I used to be, I’ve included a picture of me in bridge pose.)

I guess India’s biggest influence on my life was Mr. K. Donald Cobain, a modern-day holy man. Mr. Cobain lived in Seattle, where he sent out his influence worldwide, specifically with a brilliant album titled “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” This from an organization named after a serious Hindu value: Nirvana.

So choose me, vote for me, pay for me to go to India for the following reasons:

I understand the culture. As soon as I started working in corporate America, I could relate to the caste system. Having been on the bottom with no chance of reaching the top, I would like to go over and network with others in my situation. Perhaps even more fascinating, I would like to meet those who will be taking my job when it’s outsourced. I have also heard in the business world (perhaps more times than there are people in India) the term “sacred cow.” That, alone, should prove my understanding of the culture.

I enjoy a change of scenery. It seems that with America you should be able to see something different if you travel from the Pacific coast to the Atlantic coast, but now it’s all the same. Fat Americans everywhere you go. Obese dads, sedentary moms, chubby kids. Fat, fat, fat! I know this isn’t the case in India. Gandhi for example—skinny. So skinny clothes wouldn’t fit and he had to wear a bed sheet. Then there’s the iconic Mother Theresa. She was just the cutest nun ever, although I still get confused if it was she or Michael Jackson who said, “I’m a lover not a fighter.” Anyway, I love panoramic, scenic variety. Bring on the skinny people!

I’m not intimidated. There is a reason I’m not intimidated to travel to India: I know the magic words. In foreign travel, all you have to do is speak loudly, “Do you know I’m American?” This carries a subtle, but easily understood threat. Something along the lines of, “You know how George W. Bush messed up the supreme court? Don’t make me call him to do the same thing to you!”

I can forgive Rich. This has been a dark hole, a specter, if you will, in my soul. It just didn’t seem right that Rich should enjoy a childhood plus a young adulthood plus adulthood where he had a maid, a housekeeper, and a chauffeur. Where was my maid to do my laundry? This trip will compensate for my unrealized desire to be waited upon hand and foot. And as a bonus, I’ll throw in extra forgiveness about that remark from Rich’s sister that I looked like an elf with my pointy ears, and also from his friend who said she felt like she was in Munchkin Land because all of us but Rich were lucky to push past 4 feet tall wearing Doc Martins. (Hint: This section alone should convince Rich to choose me.)

I have passion. One of the repeated aspirations of the late Jonathan Gemmill was to fund the entire construction of a building on the Brigham Young University campus. It was to be named the Spencer Harris Institute of Technology. Similar to that, I have a passionate dream. There is nothing I would enjoy more than casually dropping (to everyone I come in contact with), “Yes, I won an essay contest. And in so doing, I received a trip to India. It was magnificent. You should go there. Really.” I will deliver that line over and over again in a slow, cadenced, sincere, somewhat folksy, somewhat sorry-for-you-that-you-can’t-even-write-and-will-never-see-India tone.

I won’t act like a tourist. While the majority of visitors will be shopping for spoons with the shape of India at the top or trawling around for miniature Taj Mahals, I will pursue scientific journeys. I will bring home a vial of the Ganges river to see if anything can really be more vile than Utah Lake. Then I will intimately experience the miracles of science as my body becomes a breeding ground for parasites. (Do you have the Nitazoxanide treatment at your place?)

I recognize a great deal. While we all know I mentally scraped by to graduate with my MBA and I still find nearly all things to do with math fuzzy, Rich and Merinda gave me a story problem I could solve:

Free airfare + Free room and board < The price of gas, rice, and electricity in America

In this case, less than is a good thing. I promise, if you choose me as your house guest you will fully realize the meaning of your essay contest. I will be yours. Truly.

To quote Pedro, “Vote for me and your wildest dreams will come true.”

And as a bonus:

Two-for-one deal.

A vote for Todd Hendricks is a vote for Hilary Hendricks. Hilary would love to see something beyond Utah County since she married a dud who moved her to Spanish Fork. Not only do Todd and Hilary have their own passports, Hilary could pay for all of her expenses and keep Todd adequately medicated for a pleasant experience for all. And she would ensure that Todd and Rich would not bore everyone with “Remember when . . .” stories from college. Hilary would also like to write and photograph a story about Primary kids in India for Friend magazine—Is that a 3-for-1 deal?

And as a bonus on top of a bonus:

Todd and Hilary would even bring home an extra suitcase full of Cutler housewares. To our house or yours? If it’s great stuff, we may call to let you know Delta has yet again “lost” your baggage.

Isaac's Faith

2008-05-28T13:57:00.000+05:30

Me (while rooting around for the paper cutter for Isaac's latest project and tripping over stuff we're sorting to sell, give away, air ship, sea ship, take in suitcases, etc. as we get ready for our sudden move across the world):
"Oh, Isaac, I just don't know if we can do this."

Isaac (without hesitation and a slightly annoyed tone):
"Mommy, Heavenly Father wants us to move back to America, so everything is going to work out just fine."

Thanks, Isaac. What a great, faithful kid he is.

People I Love In India: Sonia

2008-05-27T19:18:00.005+05:30

When I think about leaving Delhi, I am the most sad about the people I will miss and perhaps never see again. I certainly won't get around to writing about all of them, but I'll start with one of my favorite people--Sonia Sharma.

Sonia joined our church about three years ago. Whenever you see Sonia she is smiling and greeting people warmly, having fun, and working hard. She is eager to learn secular truths and the truths of the Gospel, and just finished serving beautifully as our branch Relief Society president. She knows how to be a good friend, and freely gives of her time, energy and affection to so many.

Sonia is from a Hindu family, and they allowed her to join our Christian church and attend the meetings. But they insisted that she marry a Hindu man they pick out for her in an arranged marriage. When her older sister attempted to do otherwise, her mother started having seizures she was so upset, and wouldn't settle down until her daughter consented to go for the arranged marriage. Sonia struggled with this dilemma with her marriage for some time, and finally decided to defy her family and marry a member of our church. She met Bobby while he was serving a mission here in Delhi, and they got to know each other better at the All-India Single Adult Conference last year. They were married in Bangalore on April 17th and sealed in the Hong Kong Temple on April 29th .
Her parents and relatives still do not know she got married. They think she has gone to Bangalore for a job (which is true--she does have a good job there). Can you imagine getting married and nobody in your family even knows? She doesn't plan to tell them for a few years to avoid the weeping and wailing and perhaps violence that could result. Also, if she doesn't tell them she can send money home for her sister's education; if they knew she had married a Christian in a love marriage, they would not accept her money.

I had the awesome opportunity to go to Hong Kong and be there with Sonia to help her receive her endowments and be sealed to Bobby last month. So fun to go to Hong Kong on my own and hang out in this amazing city with Sonia and Bobby for an evening.

Here's Sonia trying octopus for the first time on the streets of Hong Kong--she didn't like it!
It was a sacred and sweet experience to be the two of them in the temple. Sonia said to me during a quiet moment in the temple, "Sister, I feel so unworthy to be here. So many people sacrifice so much to come here, and I feel like I didn't have to sacrifice anything to be here." After thinking for a moment, I remembered that her Sonia's Canadian aunt paid for their trip to Hong Kong, and she was referring to the fact that she didn't have to sacrifice financially. But I was aghast that she didn't feel like she had sacrificed! What an amazing woman she is.

I know she will do great things in Bangalore and wherever else life takes her. I'm so glad she found a great guy like Bobby to walk by her side as she joyfully and faithfully goes through life.

5 Ways that Cricket is cooler than Baseball

2008-05-23T06:56:00.014+05:30

Rich here.

Indians as a whole are rabid cricket fans. There's typically a game on as I'm walking by the cafeteria and if there's a big match, like India versus Pakistan, everything in the country basically grinds to a halt.

Traditional cricket takes morning till dark for five whole days to play a single match that often ends up in a draw. A shortened "one day cricket" version of the game caught on because not a lot of people have time to sit and watch a single game for five days anymore. A whole day is still a lot of time for me, but finally a new game has come on the scene called Twenty20 (or T20 for short). This one is only a couple of hours, like a baseball or football game, and it is actually a pretty fun sport to watch.

So what is cricket anyway? A very rough approximation is that it's baseball with only two bases, and the batter stays at bat until the somebody knocks down some sticks the batter is standing in front of or somebody catches a pop fly.

I took our 100 software engineers out for a professional T20 game recently. As much as I'd hate to admit it, I actually enjoyed it just as much if not more than a baseball game. So at the risk of sounding un-American, here are:

Five Ways Cricket is Cooler than Baseball

1. The Batsmanship

In basball there is only one type of swing, two if you count bunting. The strike zone is pretty small. In cricket the strike zone is huge. The bowler can throw it right at your feet, to your right or left or straight at your hands.

You don't necessarily have to hit the ball ahead like you do in baseball. The two bases are in the middle of a big round field. Sometimes the batsman will pop the ball up and over their head behind them. Or hit it back and to the side. Or just try and wack it out of the park. The variety of different kinds of swings is huge and the batting part of the game a lot more interesting.

I've tried playing a couple of times and am certainly not a very athletic person, but I've found hitting in cricket darn near impossible.

2. The pitching

The pitcher doesn't just stand there and throw the ball. These guys are athletic. They run towards the batter, and the rules for throwing make it so you can't cock your arm, it has to stay straight. So they kind of hurl themselves forward at it.

The pitcher (or bowler) takes a huge running start, sprints towards the line on the left, jumps over the line, and before his foot touches the ground, hurls the ball at the batsman. Typically, the ball bounces once on the ground before reaching him.

These bowlers are able to achieve near-fastball types of speeds doing this. There is another pitching style where they don't run as fast, but spin the ball so that it breaks after hitting the ground.

Visually, the whole spectacle of the bowler running across the field and throwing themselves at the batsman is a lot of fun to watch.

3. More wholesome controversy

Every sport has it's controversies, it's part of the fun. Baseball has certainly had its share in the last few years.

Cricket has its share as well but they are of a much more wholesome variety. There are two big ones I can think of recently. One was where an Indian player talked some trash to an Australian on the field. Now you don't have to be a professional lipreader to understand some of the vile expletives that cross the fields of American sports.

The Indian player's crime: He called the Australian a "monkey". Charges of racism flew and the whole thing ended up in big protests across India with people burning effigies of umpires.

The other burning issue that I got to witness firsthand at the cricket match I attended was this:

You can't see it very well, but those are cheerleaders that were imported from the USA for India's new cricket league. I think they are from the Washington Redskins.

When they first came to India, they wore the skimpy outfits that are standard fare for the ladies in that profession. There was such a hue and cry from the local political leaders they either got banned or in the case of the ones I saw in Delhi, dressed up better, so now they are covered up from head to toe. The debate rages on, after all the outfits are not any worse than your typical Bollywood movie dance number. This sort of debate is very refreshing after having to endure the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction wall-to-wall news coverage back home.

(One interesting note is that they didn't let some of the dark-skinned cheerleaders perform. The sad part is that this didn't didn't really generate much buzz in the local newspapers.)

4. The drama of the game

The fun of sport are those dramatic moments. Sure, in baseball you've got the home run, but cricket has that too. Players slide into the bases in baseball but in cricket also does it: They dive headfirst towards the line with their bats sticking out.

The key difference between cricket and baseball is this: There is only one inning in the whole game, and each player gets only one shot at bat. If you get out, you're done for the whole game. The good news is that you keep hitting until you are out. In regular cricket, it is possible for a really good batsman to stay at bat for a really long time, slogging it out for whole day or two and score over a hundred points. (That's why the regular game takes days and days to finish, you have to get twelve guys out this way and they are mostly just bunting all the time to keep from getting out.)

So when somebody gets out, it doesn't happen very often and it is a big deal. If the batter gets struck out these sticks get knocked down and sometimes go flying through the air. If a pop fly is caught, the whole team goes crazy. The fielder throws the ball high into the air and the whole team runs towards the fielder where they all hug and celebrate.

In the meanwhile, the batter slowly walks back alone across that big round field to the dugout, his head held in shame.

5. The fans

Here are some of my employees getting painted up for the game.

Could a billion people this nice-looking be wrong?

For those of you who are interested in reading on, here is a quick primer on the rules of the game:

The Rules

Here's a picture of the cricket field we went to as they were warming up and getting it ready:

The game is played on a big round field with the batting happening in the middle. At the bottom of the picture you can see a boundary line that goes around the entire field. Batters can hit the ball in any direction.

Cricket is a bit like baseball, there's a pitcher (called the "bowler"), and a batter (called the "batsman"), and a bunch of fielders standing around. The fielders have to cover a huge area.

Instead of bases like in baseball there are two lines with a set of three sticks, called "the wicket", behind each line. These sticks are just lightly tapped in the ground and can be easily knocked over by a ball. There is a batsman behind each of the lines, only one of which is batting at a time.

The bowler takes a big running start, throws the ball and the batsman then tries to hit it. If he succeeds, he runs from his safe area towards the line on the other side. The guy on the other side also runs the other way, and they keep switching places back and forth from line to line for as long as they feel safe doing so.

There are three basic ways to score:

They get one point for each time the batsman on the right crosses the batsman on the left as they are running back and forth, switching places. So if the batter hits a good grounder, they might run back and forth twice and score two points.
If the batsman hits the ball hard enough that it rolls out of the big round boundary before a fielder stops it, they score an automatic four points.
If the batsman hits a home run out of the boundary, they get six points.

There are three basic ways to get out:

Just like in baseball, if the ball is caught by a fielder before hitting the ground, you're out.
If when one of the batsmen is running between the lines, one of the fielders throws the ball and knocks over the sticks, you're out.
If the bowler pitches the ball to you and the ball knocks over the sticks right behind you, you're out.

In regular cricket they play two innings and in each inning they have to get all 12 players out (or the sun sets on the 5th day and the match is declared a draw.) They shorten the game by fixing the number of pitches. Twenty20 means that each team gets twenty "overs" or groups of six pitches. After 120 pitches, the teams switch sides and whoever got the most points wins.

Healthcare Heaven

2008-05-22T21:51:00.005+05:30

The day we found out we are leaving India, I got an eye infection. Like I do with many medical things, I ignored it and hoped it would go away. I stopped wearing my contacts and wore my funky new glasses. But my funky new glasses give me a headache, so 5 days later when it still wasn't getting better I decided it was time to go to a doctor. And here begins the delight of medicine in Delhi . . .

1. I try to find a doctor. Instead of looking in the yellow pages, I ask a few people, check my Delhi Network book, and send a message to the Yuni-Net email list last night. A woman I know sends me a list almost immediately of 10 recommended opthamologists.

2. In the morning I start calling the doctors close to my house. All the numbers are mobile numbers and the doctor himself answers every time. One doc named Dr. Verma said he would be in his office (a bit far from my house) all morning, but I could come to his house (closer to my house) between 4 and 6 pm today. "I don't have to make an appointment?" I said. "Just come sometime between those hours," he said.

3. Graham and I pick up Isaac and Russell from school and stop by Dr. Verma's house on the way home. I am steeling myself for the circus that usually erupts when I go to the doctor with all of my kids. We walk in the gate and the guard escorts us into a small room with all the usual opthalmologist equipment at the front of the house. We wait literally TWO minutes for the doctor to come in. He comes in, examines my eyes, tells me what's wrong, writes me a prescription, I pay him Rs. 300 (US$7). Done. The whole thing took TEN minutes, and we even had some conversations about Lasik and why my glasses might be giving me a headache. No copying my insurance card (US$7 was the TOTAL COST of the visit), no filling out extensive paperwork, no signing disclaimers, no seeing an assistant before the real doctor. Just plain and simple medicine.

4. Rich goes out in the rain with Graham at 8 pm (isn't he a hero?) and walks through the alley and across the street to the chemist (pharmacy). He shows the guy the prescription, the guy finds it and hands it to Rich, Rich pays Rs. 38.20 (US$0.90) and walks home. No waiting in line, no waiting for the prescriptions, no insurance cards, no paperwork. Medicine without the bells and whistles is still medicine. NINETY CENTS for two prescriptions!

I am NOT ready to face the fun of healthcare in the good 'ol USA. I AM ready for this eye infection to go away so I can think straight without my glasses on. Maybe I will go for that Lasik . . .

Mark Gurney's Winning Essay

2008-05-20T00:25:00.002+05:30

Following is Mark's brilliant essay. Isn't he the greatest?

Unfortunately, Mark has declined the prize, so it's now open to anyone willing to write an essay and willing to come here before the end of June. Anyone game? You've got a week, and you better have a passport because there's likely not time to get one at this point!

"Oh India, how do you need me? Let me count the ways."

by Mark Gurney

10. India Needs Cleanliness. I've never been to India, but I've heard from first-hand sources that India needs cleanliness...and who better to deliver than "yours truly". I've been known to clean buildings in one single bound. My nickname in high school was Mr. Clean. Needless to say, if India wants to get cleaner, that will start with me.

9. India Needs the Possibility of a Gurney Trifecta. This possibility has only been spoken of in hushed tones in dark places...but it is possible that a Gurney Trifecta could converge on India. There's no telling what this Trifecta could mean for the country. Imagine, The three middle Gurneys together; Brandon, Merinda, and Mark.

8. India Needs Order. I've heard from various sources that India has a hard time coming to complete stops at stop signs, keeping straight lines, and correctly ordering french fries at McDonalds. Well not only have I done those things, but I've done them in order of each other, including stopping at a stop sign on my way to McDonalds, waiting patiently in line to give my order, and then placing my order by saying, "shukria for the french fries", but I've also helped old ladies at nursing homes do the same thing.

7. India Needs Another Blonde. I've heard that your boys are tired of being stared at because they have blonde hair and blue eyes. Well, they'd stop staring if they saw more of those features...and I offer both!

6. India Needs an American Who Has Sat Down to Watch All Six Hours of Sholay! I know India culture inside and out by the mere fact that I have watched all of Sholay...over an extended period of time.

5. India Needs Less Congestion. I don't cause a lot of traffice, and I currently don't have a cold, and do not plan to have one any time soon. Also, I don't have allergies and won't be sneezing because of dust.

4. India Needs Someone Unfamiliar in How to Make Nuclear Weapons. I'm not sure if you've noticed but India is next to Pakistan, and sometimes the two countries want to show off their guns...well this potential visitor has very little in the gun cabinet (meaning muscles), and is definitely not familiar in the nuclear ways. In other words, just peace and love from this brother.

3. India Needs PHUN, that's PH (balanced). India needs someone who is:
Pretty
Hot
Unless
Near OGLE-2005-BLG-390L b (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20060921201511AAFCaQ7)

2. India Needs Family. This may be unfair, but I am family and that makes visiting so much more fun. I can be a true uncle to your boys, and even play Kalamus Fire with them. No guaranties that it will be as fun as with Brandon, but Uncles are Uncles and brothers ar brothers.

and the number one reason why India Needs Yours Truly is....

1. India Needs Mark Gurney. While I can't offer to lower the cost of gasoline on the average consumer, I can't offer troop withdrawals within 90-days of of being in office, I can't promise all those manufacturing jobs back to the workers, I can't offer to bring back the middle class, I can't offer a peaceful resolution to the Palestinian-Israel conflict, I can't offer lower taxes and more spending, I can offer myself, which is pretty darn good and a promise I can deliver on.

Thank you for your consideration.

Why Texas Needs The Cutlers (or the Cutlers need Texas . . .)

2008-05-16T10:51:00.010+05:30

You know that essay contest? It ends today, and the only entrant, Mark Gurney, is the official winner. Mark, if you want to come to India in the next four weeks, we will be your happy hosts. But you might have to help us pack. I guess we could change the essay contest to "Why Texas Needs a Visit from Yours Truly," but somehow I don't think we'll have as much enthusiasm.

We know for sure now. We are going home!

Total shocker. But I'm surprised how relieved I feel. Mostly because now we at least know what's next, but also because we get to go home where things are familiar, where our family is, where we belong.

I started crying when I looked up the school lunch menu at Blockhouse Creek Elementary and saw that every single day they have something Isaac will like! How crazy is that? I'm already arranging in my head my new furniture in my old house. I'm straining to picture what will be growing in our backyard, how big the tree we planted in the front yard must be by now, how much fun my big boys will have now playing in the backyard rock garden. I'm giddy thinking about seeing Janielle and her baby anytime I feel like driving to New Braunfels or she feels like driving to Leander. And then there's the brand new Leander Ward building and the newly-formed Vista Oaks ward. Christa's baby I haven't met yet, LDS role models and friends galore. Isaac and Russell can ride their bikes to school every day, recite the Pledge of Allegiance, and observe a moment of silence for prayer every morning. It's 30 degrees cooler in Texas right now. Ahhhhh.

There are lots of big question marks. What will Rich's job be in Austin? Will we be able to fit into our old house? Will we be so shocked by the consumerism and sterility and wide open spaces and anonymity in America that we'll want to run back to India? Maybe. But this feels right today. Tomorrow will have to be dealt with tomorrow.

Aby's 2nd Question & Whiplash

2008-05-15T08:12:00.008+05:30

In India we drive on the left side of the road (though many people drive on the right just for fun, but the technically legal thing to do is drive on the right). The first time I went back to America after moving here we got in the car and started driving on the right side, and it felt really strange. For a few days I had this disoriented, vertigo sort of feeling every time we drove anywhere. I kept thinking we were going the wrong way when we actually weren't. Then one day I felt my brain do a creaking, crunching, slightly-painful one-eighty turn, and suddenly driving around on the "wrong" side of the road didn't feel so wrong anymore.

So, Aby, to answer your second question: "Are you moving back to the States in five weeks?"

Funny you should ask. WE DON'T KNOW! We thought we pretty much knew we were staying here another two years, so we booked our tickets to go the USA in five weeks for a VACATION and Rich's sister's wedding. The local powers-that-be assured us ("Don't worry, sir" ) that we were staying, we just needed a few signatures to make it official.

Last night, we were watching the great Bollywood flick "Jab We Met." Great movie about a girl named Geet who habitually misses trains and jumps from one plan and guy to the next with glee. Just as we reached the climax of the film, where Geet and the male lead Aditya part after he helps her get to her latest love in Manali, Rich's old boss called from Austin.

He said the powers-that-be in America have not approved the budget on our contract extension and suggested we figure out how to reduce the amount (though we're not allowed to see the actual budget--go figure). Apparently the current budget has allotments we don't need, like a giant relocation budget to get us from America to India.

Excuse me, guys, we've already relocated--we're over HERE in this third world country, waiting for you to choose our fate. This is an emotional roller coaster. Wanna jump on with us? How would YOUR wife handle this? (Okay, one of the powers-that-be is actually a really brilliant and powerful woman, but it's always so convenient to demonize those men, isn't it?)

So last night as we tried to process this new information, I started to feel my head do that creaking, crunching, slightly-painful thing again. Move back to America? Yea, way back in February we prayed and fasted and agonized and talked ad nauseum, and finally decided to stay here. But it's been a long time since then, and we're third-culture kids--our brains know how to spin every-which-way now. If we need to go back to America, we can make that decision right too.

We could kick those people out who are renting our house in Leander and have our backyard back. We could enroll our kids in Blockhouse Creek Elementary this fall and ride bikes with them to school everyday. We could run around and buy a bunch of souvenirs, take more pictures, take some cooking lessons, say goodbye to everyone, pack up, and go home.

Home.

Creak, crunch, ouch!

Nope, not just yet, missy. Maybe we can still make this work. Maybe we still want to.

Just somebody please just give me a definitive answer so my head can stop spinning. . . . I think I'm gonna have whiplash.

Aby's Burning Question

2008-05-14T06:46:00.003+05:30

Aby 's comment on my last post:

"I'm gonna go ahead and ask an ever burning question that has been on my mind since I started reading your blog; if having all that help (driver, housekeeper, cook, etc.) is more trouble than it's worth - why have it??"

Aby, I wonder that myself quite often. Here's the reasons we always come back to:

1. It's really dirty and germy here. The amount of dust and dirt and disease here is colossal. When I wash my hands--and I wash them probably 10 times each day--I almost always see dirt coming off in the brown water dripping into the sink. When I tell the kids to go wash their hands and feet, they can clearly see why this is necessary without even talking about germs. When I open a scrapbook that has been on a shelf in a closet for months, there is sooty dirt all over on each plastic sheet protected page. When I take my winter clothes out of the closet each year I have to wash them because of all the dust that's collected on them. Even though we sweep and mop the floor every day at our house, we still have filthy dirty feet at the end of each day from walking around barefoot inside. Nothing that came into the world white remains white for long. So having servants pretty much feels necessary because keeping things clean is a really big job. The car has to be "dusted" every day as well. And then, when you add the risk of freaky diseases, having a dirty house or a dirty toilet becomes a big health hazard and the stakes are much higher in this land.

2. Servants are cheaper than machines. Unlike industrialized America where having a machine do a job is cheaper than a person, in India "help" is really cheap. The driver Anil makes $150 each month, the cook/housekeeper Margaret makes $150 too. That's for full-time work. My friend Michelle who just moved back to America from India just paid $100 for someone to come clean her house for 4 hours! I don't remember how much a dishwasher cost when we were shopping for one (it would have had to live in the laundry room if we'd gotten one), but when we looked at the one-and-only model in the shop, we decided paying servants to wash dishes would be more economical. They iron the clothes that get wrinkly from hanging out to dry or from the substandard dryer we paid too much for. They soak all the fruits and vegetables in bleach-water so the nasty microbes on them don't kill us. You get the idea.

3. They know stuff and people don't cheat them as much. One major help is that our servants speak Hindi and can therefore work as translators of language and culture. Anil can ask for directions when we're driving. Margaret can call a plumber and wait all day for him to come and communicate with him when he comes. Margaret also goes to the food market and supposedly gets better prices because she's not white (though I do have my doubts about this one). We can send Anil to buy something without us and he'll probably get a better price because he knows the little alley where you can get it cheap and they don't know he's buying for a foreigner.

4. They live here. We have two relatively nice servant's quarters above our garage (a bedroom and a bathroom with a nook for a kitchen in each) where Margaret and Poojah and her family of five live, and the driver Anil and his family of five live in the other one. They live there rent-free and get free utilities. When we drive around and see all the homeless people around us, and talk to the people at church struggling to find a place to live they can afford, we feel pretty happy that we are providing housing to two families in India. There is so much poverty around us in India, and giving to beggars is nice but doesn't necessarily help them (the money often goes to beggar-masters and doesn't get the kids a home or education). We feel like giving two families an income and a place to live is a way of doing our part to help the people of India. Their working for us also enables three children to go to school who might not otherwise be able to--two of whom are girls (who traditionally miss out on school). The first two years we lived here we had the lone driver living in one of the quarters part-time and I always felt badly that the room was being wasted on one person when there were homeless families outside.

5. They are members of our church. And this is probably the single most important reason we keep them around. Before Anil worked for us, he wasn't able to attend church because his employer made him work seven days a week. Now he comes to church every week, and is the branch mission leader. His kids know all the primary songs and his wife is the Enrichment leader. Margaret and her family joined the Church after she started working for us (her Hindu husband is not yet a member), and she says the Church has brought her family so many blessings. Now of course, if they stopped working for us they might find jobs that would allow them to continue going to church. But what if they didn't? And what if they hated us AND the Church forever because their branch president and his wife fired them?

So why all the complaining?

In spite of all the reasons I just listed, having servants is probably the number one reason that I want to get on the next plane to America. I've done a lot of thinking about why this is, and I've learned a lot about myself.

1. I am fiercely independent. This independence seems in part to be a distinctly American characteristic--something about that pioneering spirit, I guess. I haven't done a thorough study, but among all of my expatriate friends here, the Europeans and Asians don't seem to have a problem with gaggles of servants doing everything for them. But the Americans do. LDS Americans are even worse. It's hard to explain, but if I'm a stay-at-home mom who doesn't cook, clean, do laundry or drive, what do I do all day? With all these servants, my identity becomes blurred. I don't like being dependent on all of these people to survive, especially when they let me down. Though our driver would like nothing more than to be my knight in shining armor, I'm constantly bursting his bubble because I'm working toward independence from him.

2. I am a control freak. I like my laundry folded and sorted a certain way and the dishes washed and stacked in a certain order. I like my kid's diaper changed in the bedroom, not the kitchen. And I want to vomit or scream obscenities when I realize that sometimes the same rag that cleaned the toilet is now being used to wash my dishes! I like to be certain that I washed my hands before and after that chicken was cut, and that the toilet paper we just bought was actually the cheapest roll in the soft-enough category (and how do you explain that to someone who doesn't use toilet paper?). I like to drive the fastest way to school, but some days I'd rather go on the road that goes past the beautiful Lodi Gardens just because I need to see some beauty that day. And trying to explain that to Anil feels silly, so we just keep on going the yucky Ring Road way as I feel trapped and powerless in the back seat.

3. I like my privacy. I don't like having to worry if I'm being a good example to these new members of the Church in my home and in the car all day every day. I don't like it that I can't throw away the annoying noise-making toy or the machine gun toy that they gave my kids because I know they go through the trash before they empty it. I like walking around in my underwear or staying in my pajamas all day when I'm having that sort of day. And when I yell at my kids, I don't like people standing around or watching in the rearview mirror thinking, "How can madam yell at these sweet wonderful children?"

4. I am a reluctant manager. I hate ordering people around. I hate trying to figure out how to tell them nicely and constructively that they're just not cutting it. I am not good at explaining what I want and how I want it done, especially to people who don't speak English very well. I hate people being afraid of me and unwilling to tell me the truth because I'm the boss and they know I won't like what I hear. And frankly, I am non-confrontational and that is why I still have servants and can't figure out how to make it otherwise.

So there you have it, Aby. The circular thinking and reasoning that occupies way too many late-night discussions with Rich. We think we're working toward more independence from our beloved helpers. Let's see if we have the guts to put our plans into action.

Things I Miss About Living in America & Texas

2008-05-12T08:44:00.005+05:30

Y Family
being there for smaller events
meeting new babies
visiting in smaller doses

m Privacy
not having to make pleasantries with your dishwasher
or worry about offending your minivan
or close the door every time you go potty

Z Central A/C and Heating
not having to decide every time I enter a room
if I am going to be there long enough to turn on the A/C
or remember to turn it off when I leave the room
or feel guilty because I've got A/C and heaters and
millions of people outside don't have it
and may not have power
because I'm using it all

G Nearby LDS Temples
I went to the Hong Kong Temple a few weeks ago
I could really use more spiritual feasts like that
without jet lag and expensive airline tickets and hotels

N Being Normal
would love to go somewhere and have nobody stare at me
or think I'm filthy rich or immoral
like the Americans they see on TV

Y Driving
nothing like getting in your car alone and driving
wherever you want to go
without having to explain it
or make sure your driver isn't on his lunch break

P Wide Open Spaces
sure miss road trips on freeways where you can drive fast
and don't have to dodge cars and animals and people

b Cycling
ah, to live in Blockhouse Creek again and ride bikes with my kids
to school, to the pool, to playdates, on vacations

F Drive-Thrus
sure miss the convenience of McDonald's and Wendy's
but as Rich said yesterday, at least the kids don't whine,
"Look, there's a guy cooking something in a pot under that tree!
Can we PLEEEASE stop?"

O Silence
was remembering today how jarring a car honking at you is in America
in our world you hear a car honking every few seconds
vendors shouting, generators running, fans spinning
on top of the usual kid noise endemic to young motherhood

G Public Libraries
storytime, DVDs, magazines
summer reading clubs
browsing

E Gardening
in theory I could garden, but it's really hot
and the $20/month elderly gardener is so very cute and Zen
how could I fire him?

Bridesmaid Necklaces, Part 2

2008-05-10T06:31:00.001+05:30

Here's the necklaces Margaret made. She made six and they are all slightly different. They all are an average price of $25. If you want she can probably make a longer one or another multi-strand one, but she's packing up and moving suddenly like me, so if we can stick with what she's got, that would probably be better. She's modeling each necklace and then I've got them all lined up in a few pictures so you can see how they compare to each other. Sorry about the immodest shirt--she went and changed her shirt into something that would show off the necklaces properly!

Win A Free Trip to India!

2008-05-05T07:00:00.001+05:30

While we were traveling in the USA over Christmas, Delta Airlines lost our suitcase full of kids' clothes, Isaac's scriptures, most of Russell's Christmas presents, and, worst of all, 12 personalized books from Nana. Russell especially was very very sad without his costumes and his Power Ranger motorcycle.

We submitted a claim to Delta and received a generous compensation for the loss, which coincidentally is roughly equal to the cost of a ticket from the USA to Delhi. Amazingly enough, nearly four months later, the bag magically appeared and Rich picked it up from the airport recently (after having to do a fair amount of yelling and screaming for three hours!).

Since we didn't spend much of that compensation money and got our stuff back anyway, we want to share the blessing and use the money to bring one lucky person to visit us here in this amazing place.

So go ahead, write a short essay. Your topic, should you choose to accept this challenge, is:

"Why India needs a visit from yours truly"

The winner will get their essay published on our blog (whoopee!) AND receive a free trip to Delhi, including airfare, free room and board in Delhi, and travel agent services if you choose to travel outside of Delhi.

All entries must be submitted by May 30th. Just include your essay as a comment on this post, or if you prefer, email it to us. Happy writing!

Arranging a Marriage (Part 1)

2008-05-04T22:00:00.000+05:30

Poojah, the shy daughter of our housekeeper Margaret looks to be heading for marriage these days. It's interesting to watch. Things are getting pretty serious. Now, serious doesn't quite mean the same thing as we are used to, they've never actually met or spoken a word to each other.

How to Arrange a Marriage

As many of you know, arranged marriage is pretty much the norm here in India. I am not an expert in this subject, so I might get some of the details of this wrong. Any of you out there who know better can correct me.

If any of you shy bachelors (or parents of shy bachelors) out there think this sounds like a great idea, here's the process you might follow:

1. When your parents decides it is time (for educated people in the cities, when the boy is about 27), the hunt begins. A girl's parents might start a bit earlier.

There are several methods for searching:
Friends and family. Asking around to your friends in your "community" (which means caste) is a great way of finding a potential girl.
Hire an agent to assist in the search. They will put together a profile for you, and come present profiles of girls to your parents. Most people I know are not really involved directly in this part, just their parents.
Take out an ad in the newspaper. Be sure to include caste, religion, height, weight and occupation.
Turn to the World Wide Web gods. There's lots of "matrimonial" sites out there, used by Indians all over the world. Here's a link to an example. Note the pull-down menu for first "religion," and then "community." Marrying within your caste is still the norm. For more, google "indian matrimonial."
2. The parents make contact with each other and begin discussions. Health, education, family background, weight, job or job prospects all play a part. Especially for the Hindus, an astrologer often gets involved to make sure that the horoscopes match up properly--your birthdate and time of birth are key here. One common Bollywood movie plot is that the astrologer predicts disaster for the couple, but they get married anyway because they are in love and disaster strikes after intermission. Or the bride or the groom lies about their birthday to avoid such doom, and then, sure enough, the doom comes anyway.

Often now, especially among educated families, the boy and girl will actually get to meet prior to the wedding. This is not always the case. These days there is everything between not meeting at all to having a cup of coffee to a supervised courtship.

3. There is a negotiation phase. The bride's family almost always agrees to pay for the cost of the party and often still provide a dowry. (I have told my wife's father that I am still waiting for mine.) We teach our young men in the Church that they should not ask for a dowry, but it still happens sometimes. One brother got a laptop computer, a Blackberry, and his parents got a bunch of other stuff.

The costs to the bride's family can be significant and many families save up their whole lives for their daughter's wedding. Imagine blowing about $250,000 on a party and you'd get the idea. Our driver, Anil, has a savings account he contributes to every month. His daughter is only 6 and he already has several hundred thousand rupees saved and hopes to have three times his yearly salary saved up by the time he marries her off. Merinda's working hard to convince him to encourage her to marry a returned missionary and use the money for her college, but old ways die hard.

The families negotiate about the size of the party, whether the groom rides a white horse or sits in a white car, what dances they will do, etc.

4. There is an engagement ceremony. It's more of a family affair and I've never been to one myself, so I don't know too much about it. The pictures I've seen show the families very nicely dressed with lots of fruits and rice being offered up to the gods of your choice.

5. Finally, there is the wedding! Indian marriages are a topic all on their own and I'll write about them one of these days.

Even in cases where people have a "love marriage" it often approximates more of a self-arranged marriage than the thing that we are used to where you date for a year or so, propose, etc... I've seen in the church where there is a young single adult conference and a boy will meet a girl from a similar background, have a few shy conversations, and then ask about marriage. At that point the boy will talk to his parents about it and the above arranged marriage process will get kicked off.

Pooja's Negotiation - Will he or won't he?

Margaret our cook has had several people inquire about Poojah's hand in marriage before. All have been vetoed by the family in various stages. Although Poojah is a little plump and very shy, she has boys lining up for her.

But last week they found the boy they think might be the one. This boy is from a family that Margaret's best friend knows back in their native city of Chennai. The eldest son recently got married, which clears the way for the younger one. Margaret doesn't know them directly, but a friend-of-a-friend isn't bad. The family has a good reputation and the boy has a good job.

They sent a VCD of the elder one's engagement party. She let us borrow it and we took a screen shot of Poojah's boy Thomas Raj:

Poojah said she likes him, so they are moving forward with the negotiations. Yesterday Margaret had an important conference call with the interested parties The good news is that the boy's family says they don't want a dowry...so far. Sometimes this crops up later.

There were many phone calls to Chennai back and forth on this before the subject of what she looks like cropped up. Poojah got dressed up and Merinda snapped the pictures below and sent them via e-mail this weekend:

Cute!

Healthy!

Great with kids! (Graham is not included in the deal)

They have agreed so far:

The wedding will be in Delhi
There will be about 30 guests coming from his side
The wedding can be performed in our church. This will be the third wedding in India that I will have performed, and every time I feel really surreal about it, like "What the heck am I doing standing in the middle of New Delhi, India performing a marriage?!?"

Currently they are talking about the dance numbers they are going to do and some other details. The boy's father and brother are coming to Delhi next week to meet Poojah and the family and get a better feel for the situation. When Merinda asked why the boy himself wasn't coming, they said he was busy with work.

Next Sunday Margaret will go to Chennai to meet his family and check them out. When Merinda suggested Poojah go along too, Margaret said, "Why would I take her with me? She doesn't need to come."

The actual boy and girl currently have no plans to meet in person until their wedding day.

So will the negotiations continue to go smoothly? What will happen when the boy's father comes? Is this family from Chennai really all they are cracked up to be?

Stay tuned.

Ode to the Deep Freeze

2008-05-02T21:01:00.000+05:30

Oh Deep Freeze
My friend
With delectable delights
To satisfy cravings
And homesickness fight

You help us stop bugs
From spoiling our meals
And chocolate from melting
In heat that's unreal

Ice cream, chocolate chips
Bacon, bananas
Tortilla mix, cake mix
Pecans from Grandma's

Otter Pops, Easter candy
Emergency Indian food
To feed local guests
Who find our food not so good

Craisins and raisins
Strawberry jam
Yeast and roast beast
From the meat man

And now that it's hot
You make ice for our water
Since it comes from the tap
Steaming hotter and hotter

But the generator is broken
And there's no electricity
So goodbye freezer contents
We barely ate thee.

Had a Prank Call Lately?

2008-05-01T22:31:00.004+05:30

If you have had a prank call in the last few days, it was probably us. Our Skype phone is currently on strike. We dial numbers of people we love, it rings, picks up, and then silence--on both ends as far as we can tell. So if you've had a few mysterious phone calls, consider it a love call from us. Unfortunately, our technology doesn't want our voices heard at this point. This has happened before, and we think we just have to wait until the phone decides it likes us again. I hope it happens soon. We miss ya'll!

Hey, did you know that if you call us in Delhi on our home phone, instead of a ringing sound, you'll hear some cool ethnic Indian music? Gotta love it.

Designing Bridesmaid Necklaces for Kim's Wedding

2008-05-01T17:52:00.001+05:30

Trying to find the perfect necklaces for Kim's wedding and this was the best way I could find to share ideas with the Cutler girls. Ignore this unless you're interested in the jewelry possibilities in India . . .

First, here's Marcia, our designer (and a great friend and superpowered woman). She's modeling the shortest length you can do without having to have a clasp (which increases the price).
She didn’t have anything that seemed just right, especially if we need the same thing for everyone. But we discussed different stones we thought could work and she’s willing to custom-make things for us if we want. She plans to make one this week to show us and then she can sell it to someone else if we don’t like it.

Here are photos of some of the stones she could use:

Here's some stones she has put together to make a necklace--not quite the right colors for us, I think, but it gives you an idea of the sort of thing she puts together to make a necklace.
And here's another necklace in the making:
Here's one that's already made. Note the v-neck shape. Do you like it? This style with the metal chain can only be done in China so it can't be custom-made for now. But she can make ones with a v-neck shape without the metal chains, just stones and pearls throughout.
Here's a really fun one with lots of strands of tiny freshwater pearls with stones mixed in. She can custom-make one like this for us. This one shown here is pricey--about $80, but if we do fewer strands and cheaper stones it could be closer to $25.
I really like this style with the different shapes and sizes and colors of stones all mixed together. She can custom-make ones like this, maybe with less yellow, more peach, and lighter greens.
Here's some peachy pearls we could get as long strands and twist them, knot the end in the front or use a clasp to make it two shorter strands.
Here's those peachy pearls twisted.
Here's some "smartie" peachy pearls.
Here's another one in the v-neck style that might look nice with a t-shirt. Probably too hot pink, but again the colors could be worked with if you like this style.

More peachy one with a slightly longer length and dark green stones in it.

Gotta love it that I'm wearing the shirt I think I inadvertently talked everyone out of for Amy's wedding. I promise I didn't plan it!
Now here Marcia and I started pulling stones and pearls together that could work for her mock-up. The green in the middle is a nice seafoam green. Some of the oblong and tear-shaped ones have the holes on one end of the stone so they stick out sort of like a Flintstone necklace. Fun look.
And here's some colored pearls we picked out that we could add as accents.

Unless we tell her otherwise, she’s going to make a medium-length necklace with some chunky stones in orange, peach pearls and some green and blue bits sprinkled in. If we tell her to she could do a longer v-neck style with the strand crossed on the bottom or something, which might look fun with a t-shirt. She thinks she can keep the cost around $25.

Some questions:

Do we want the same necklace for everyone, or different?
Or same general style but different lengths and/or sizes of stones and pearls?
Or same general colors but different styles and lengths?

Calimist Fire and the Power Rangers

2008-04-29T21:04:00.005+05:30

Russell has quite the imagination and likes to tell stories at night. They are quite long and most of the time I am sound asleep on their bedroom floor by the end of it. For the sake of our family record-keeping one night I decided to transcribe a story he was telling to Merinda and I.

The readers' digest condensed version is:

These exotic animals, superheroes, and fish gather for an epic battle.
A mighty clash of good versus evil (or baddies versus goodies) ensues.
The good guys win.

The story seems to me like a mash-up between some superhero cartoons he must have seen, (except that we don't have any) and the epic battles of ancient Hindu literature (which we have never told him about). If you've ever read the Indian literature like the Ramayana, it's a lot like this. Fantastic creatures with casts in the billions doing epic battles in a clash between good and evil. I wonder if there isn't something in being heaped in with piles upon piles of colorful people that inspires this sort of thing.

There is also a girl-eating, piano-crushing, swimming character named "Celimist Fire" that Russell invented with the help of Brandon one day. I can't explain that one.

So for those of you with the time and courage to read on, I give you "Calimist Fire and the Power Rangers":

Once upon a time there were these power rangers. A red power ranger, a purple power ranger and a red power rangers. Four power rangers. There was another power ranger a white power ranger. And there was a yellow power ranger.

They all went to a city called America. We've been there before. There were spiders. They didn't drink their blood, but they did get their swords.

Then Batman came. Spiderman came. Superman came. I saw them came. He was the baddie. There were all the goodie. The one with ice on it, he was called White Ice Man. And they were all fighting and it was a party-fight. Ice Man freezed them, Spiderman tied them up with webs, and then Batman punched these webs, and then Powerangers chopped it, and the red one was the leader, and then all of them zoomed over them and the spiders died.

That's the first scene of the story. And then the next scene is in water. And there was the killer whale and shark and the fish. The mean fish. And then all the fishes that were scary and evil in the sea. And then all the fishes that weren’t scary and evil and the sea and then all the goodies and baddies had a big fight. And then eventually they didn't have killer whale. And then the killer whales and sharks and scary things were on the goodies team.

Then the goodies teached the other goodies to be the best fighter. And then somebody dropped in the water the scary fish. And then (this is really scary, mom this is the scary part). Then a boy and a mom dropped in the water ahead of the thing that is poisonous. The mom dropped on it and died and the kid dropped on it and died. And do you know what they did? They came back alive and swimmed.

And then they saw....the killer whale!!! And they were on both teams. They were on every team in the world. The goodie team and the baddie team. And they were on the submarine team and the boat team and all the teams in the world.

And then they were Calimist Fire. Calimist fire is like a T-rex except it is black. Did you know that Calimist Fire can swim? They can break everything. Everything except a piano.

[Mom: Why won’t they break a piano?]

Because Calimist Fire don't actually like music. And then all the Calimist Fire in the world were swimming.

Calimist Fire likes boys, they see some girls, and then they can break pianos, except for lights, they can break anything except for lights. Know why? The lights make things light and he loves light. He actually breaks pianos. He thinks that girls play stupid and boys play good. The only thing that he can break is light.

And then what happened is all the Calimist Fire in the world came, all of them, and they all jumped in, and they were all black. (Did I mention that all Calimist Fire are black, except in the winter when they turn brown.) And then there were different colored ones black ones and brown ones (the brown turn black in the winter) and the blue ones, and all of them jumped and all of the animals in the sea went under the water.

At first, do you know how they float on water, they lay down. First they jump down, and they get straight, first they are crawling, and then do you know what they have to do, they get straight like this [he demonstrates], and then they move their hands like this and tip over like this: Shhhhhhh. And their blades help them swim.

And then, do you know what they saw? All the animals squished together on top of the water, and all the turtles were on the top of the water, and all the things that were under the water and can't float stayed under the water.

And here is the really scary part. One Calimist Fire sees another Calimist Fire, but they noticed the baddie Calimist Fire just do nothing, they don't have any superpowers. The goodie ones can do anything in the whole world, except die. Calimist Fires if somebody shoots fire at the place where they got bit by a shark, do you know what happens, they get stitched together.

The next thing they climb up on top and then you know what they do, the jump on top of the tree, jump on top, and then they are so strong that they shhhhh the tree so they fell down, and then (this is really scary) the whole world turned into hot lava. And everyone in the world died except for the Calimist Fire!!

And then they guy was printing something and then it was nighttime, and it was the baddie which was Freeze-Man!! And he can only freeze one thing and that's the police. And he was printing something. And they all said freeze! (and this is really funny) and then let me take a drink (and this is really funny) and he freezed everybody (and this is kind of scary) and he didn't freeze everybody. And they pointed their guns like this and the Calimist Fire fire, and he came in, and this was cool, he turned into hot lava, and turned into a gun, and turned into fire, and then he was fire-man. Magic, huh? And the fire-man was made of fire. And then do you know what he did? And if fire-mans touch people then they die, and he touched the freeze man and he died.

And then the Freeze-Man came back alive (and this is scary) and then the Freeze-Man freezed again. (and this is really funny). And then he turned back to Calimist Fire, a black a Calimist Fire. And then Power Ranges came and Superman came and Batman came. So Superman carried Batman, Calimist Fire carried Spiderman (all the super heroes were friends with Calimist Fire) Calimist Fire don't eat boys they only eat girls, but they have friends with girls, 5 girls. They don't ever see girls in this story.

Have you heard this story before? It's a difficult story.

And then somebody Evil-Maaaan. His name was Evil-Man-Hot-Lava. And he was on freeze-man's team which were the baddies, and all the baddies in the world came and none of the baddies have superpowers except hot-lava-man.

Calimist Fire can turn into a baddie, but he doesn't in this story.

But then hotwheels police came and batman police and superman police came and spiderman police came and and the most scariest one the Calimist Fire police came. And they broke the baddies house. Except for their lights.

The End.