Things I Miss About Living in America & Texas

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?

Mt. St. Mindy Calmed

Another Pulitzer Prize winner I love is Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner. Early in the novel Lyman Ward greets his new bride Susan and brings her to their new home in the West. She finds the place beautiful, he is charming, and she is excited about her new life. Later in the novel, after many years and hardships, she travels East and returns back home. He picks her up and they travel home in nearly identical circumstances. Yet this time she finds him repulsive and the place depressing. For some reason those parallel scenes were very poignant to me. They show that no matter where you are, what truly matters is your point of view, the feeling in your heart. If I am at peace with myself, it doesn't matter where I live or what people do or say around me. I can take the angle of love, beauty and joy in any circumstance if I but choose to.

So that brings me to today--Sunday. I often call my mom after church on Sundays so she can hear the hilarious/traumatic/unbelievable things that happened in our branch and how I dealt with them. It usually runs along the lines of an embarrassing tantrum in sacrament meeting, giving an impromptu lesson, some shocking hygiene or mosquito moment, or someone coming home with me from church to see the breakfast dishes and legos all over the floor. But Mom's not in the right time zone at the moment (she's holding Janielle's beautiful new baby Camberly in Texas!), and the Pulsiphers have gone home, so the blog will get the Sunday de-briefing.

I had a typical Sunday. But the way I felt about it inside was atypically cheerful and mature. Maybe Mt. St. Mindy will become inactive very soon after all.

1st Moment: Late for Church
Though I try very hard to arrive early at church, unfortunately I wasn't able to tear the boys away from their legos early enough or anticipate the last-minute requests for apple juice from Graham. I gave them a good lecture on the way to Church about how we need to do better Sunday mornings getting ready in time, and they all said they would try harder and I think they meant it. When we pulled up to the church, we parked behind the cars we knew belonged to the mission president and two members of the district presidency. Perfect. But I walked in without shame and we sat down in the front, knowing that I had tried, and at least I had come. It helps that Pres. Taylor and other priesthood leaders are often so kind and complimentary of our family, so I didn't feel like they were judging me in my less-than-perfect arrival.

2nd Moment: "I Want the Most Water!"
When the sacrament water came to our row, Isaac looked for the cup with the most water in it and took it. Then Russell started SCREAMING, "Mommy, I wanted the most water!" I tried my best to whisper calming things, but he just kept on screaming. So I picked him up and walked out of there. But amazingly enough, I didn't feel that rage building up in my heart which I often feel at such moments. We went into the Primary room and talked calmly about what the sacrament water is really about and how it's not okay to be loud during sacrament because you draw attention to you and away from people thinking about Jesus. Then we said a prayer, got a nice big drink of water and went back in. And the rest of sacrament was pretty uneventful as far as attention-drawing kid moments.

3rd Moment: "I'm Going to Put My Wife on the Spot Here"
I had the wonderful opportunity of attending the 1st Annual New Delhi Young Women Camp this weekend. It was fabulous in so many ways, and I love each of these beautiful five girls who attended from our branch. The one on the far right, Niharika, was baptized just last week. She has been coming to my seminary class and church faithfully for a few months, and it has been beautiful to see this girl who doesn't go to school and didn't have any friends grow in confidence and make friends. Carolina, the girl on the far left was once the only active young woman, but has recently become inactive. I was so happy she came to camp and I think it gave her just the boost she needed to propel her back into activity.

So lucky me, Rich asked me without warning to come up and speak about the experience of attending Camp. Thankfully I had felt a small impression in the car on the way that I would be speaking in sacrament, so I didn't feel too shocked. As I started to stand up, Russell whispered in my ear, "I should have brought my testimony glove to help you, Mom." So I started with bearing testimony of those five basic things--Jesus Christ, Book of Mormon, Joseph Smith, Thomas S. Monson, Restored Gospel. And the Spirit carried me after that to speak about the activities of camp, how they strengthened our girls, and how proud I am and how proud our Heavenly Father must be of our beautiful girls. When I sat down I felt like I had said just what the Lord intended for me to say. I'm grateful that I was able to be in the right state of mind to be an instrument in the Lord's hands at that moment.

4th Moment: "Bhoomika Will Play"
Since Elizabeth and Andrew went back to Rexburg, I had thought I would be the one doing the Primary music again. But when I went into the Primary room I found Sis. Mickelson playing beautifully. She asked me to stay so she could lead the music while I played, but later she said I could go because Bhoomika was prepared to play "We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet." Bhoomika is this sweet 11-year-old whom the missionary Sis. Daniels worked with to teach her to play the piano. I started teaching her lessons a month ago with the intent of helping her play in Primary, but I hadn't anticipated that she'd be ready to go so soon. What a relief and joy!

5th Moment: "Sister, While the Iron's Hot, Let's Have Mutual"
Since I wasn't needed in Primary, I was able to go up and check on Graham in Nursery and found him with his two teachers Poojah and Dolly with the lesson manual opened and three other young adults in the room all doting on Graham (What nursery in the Church has five teachers for every kid!?!). One of them was Tamanna our Young Women's president, who had missed camp but had heard enough about it and was excited enough about the girls who had come that she said, "While the iron is hot, let's have mutual this week." We have not had a mutual activity for around six months. In the end, we decided to change the time of Seminary Saturday for the activity, which I really don't like to do. But I was able to flow with it and recognize that it's most important that we don't lose these girls while they are on fire. I'm so grateful for Tamanna and her inspiration and efforts as a Young Women's president.

6th Moment: "Walk in the Light"
Yesterday at the close of Camp we watched the General Young Women Broadcast, but the DVD froze up just before President Eyring's talk, so we all decided to watch it in our branch Young Women classes today. I love Henry B. Eyring. He never minces words and those words are always drenched in Spirit, depth and power. I think my favorite words he spoke this time were:
"I promise you that within the next few days you will feel the illumination of the Spirit of Christ and the Holy Ghost in your everyday life. When you walk in the light, you will feel at that moment some of the warmth and the happiness that will finally be yours when you are welcomed home again with the hundreds and perhaps thousands of others whom you will bring with you, who have walked in the light because you did."

So here's to a day where I was able to keep Mt. St. Mindy under control and share and partake of the light of those around me freely. Happy Sunday.

Mt. St. Mindy Erupts Again

When I was in college I spent a semester in Nealtican, Mexico living in a village near an active volcano named Popocatepetl. My first day there I noticed there were evacuation maps and notices spray painted on walls all over town. So the next morning when I woke at around 5 am to a siren and a man shouting "Eeee-gas!" at the top of his lungs, I was sure the volcano had erupted and it was time to go. I jumped out of bed and hurried down the ladder from my bedroom to find everyone in my host family still fast asleep. Hadn't they heard the alarms?

It turned out that this "alarm" was just the guys who went around town every morning selling gas canisters for water heaters and stoves with a car alarm announcing their arrival. A lovely wake-up call that eventually I learned to awaken to without panic. When they said I'd be living in a Mexican village, I'd imagined I'd wake up to a rooster, but like most things in life, the place wasn't exactly the way I pictured it!

I still remember vividly the panic I felt my first morning there, wondering what in the world I was thinking coming to live next to an active volcano a gazillion miles away from home and family!

(A photo of Popocateptl, which did actually erupt ash a month or so after I arrived)

When I moved to India, the biggest surprise was not the active volcano a few miles away (there are none to my knowledge), but the volcano in me that suddenly became active when I became faced with corruption and cheating seemingly on every turn because I'm a rich foreigner, an easy, uninformed target. That volcano hasn't been very active lately, but yesterday the Cutler Compound's peanut gallery got to witness yet another (apparently entertaining) eruption.

In our neighborhood we also buy gas by the can for our stove just like those good 'ol days in Mexico, but it comes on a bike or in a small truck and you call and order it. We pay a company $9 about once a month to refill our empty canister while we use our second one, so we are sure to have an extra one handy if we need it. In the last few years that we have lived here we have occasionally, for various reasons, found ourselves without gas for a few days, and become quite handy at microwave cookery and pestering the gas people for another canister. It's a very odd feeling to not be able to boil water or scramble eggs for days at a time.

Margaret has mentioned a few times lately that the gas canister sometimes isn't as heavy as it should be when they deliver it, but I hadn't thought through what to do about it. Yesterday the gas guy came to deliver a newly-filled gas canister and I asked him to come inside with the canister so we could weigh it on our new scale (Thanks, Pulsiphers!).

The canister has the weight of the canister printed on it (16.3 kg in this case) and it's supposed to have 14.2 kg of gas in it (also printed on the canister), making what should be a total of 30.5 kg. The gas-wallah put the canister on the scale and it weighed in at 25.

I tried, with Margaret's help translating, to tell him that this wasn't acceptable, that this canister was only 2/3 full. He acted like he didn't know what we were talking about, but he left and brought back a new canister and his boss. We put it on the scale and this time it weighed 27. I repeated calmly (to the boss this time), that this canister was not full, and we needed a full canister.

When he looked at me blankly, I took out a piece of paper and wrote the math on it:

16.3 + 14.2 = 30.5

I pointed at it insistently as my voice started to rise, and my blood started to boil. He looked at me like I was crazy. Anil our driver then came in, asked what was going on, and started laughing. I asked him what was so funny. He just kept laughing.

And then I starting boiling over with anger. I said (okay, shouted) something like, "Maybe I'm just a stupid American and I don't understand things, but I can do the math and I can see that you are cheating me." After Margaret trying to translate back and forth for a while (though she never translates everything--I really should learn Hindi better), and nobody doing anything, I wondered, was I missing something? Most probably.

But eventually the guys went back to their truck and brought a third canister, which, miraculously, weighed a little over 30 kg, about as much as it should. I won! Sort of. I don't think you're a winner if you find yourself shaking for a 15 minutes after you've yelled and screamed enough to get your way. I asked Margaret if she ever has this problem. She says this happens to them often, but they don't have a scale to prove it, so sometimes they just have to take the canister anyway.

So I know all you math-minded people out there are computing that this gross injustice probably adds up to a max of $3 a month, but over 2.5 years that's $90! It's not a ton of money, but it's something. I'd rather choose to give it to the poor people in India than be swindled out of it. That money could send a girl in Delhi to school for 5 months. But maybe I would have better karma if I'd just let it go and not let it get to me.

For all I know, the gas company in Texas was cheating me in more sophisticated ways. The difference is that in Delhi I get to look the corruption in the face and choose whether to take it or not. Someday I plan to live in a place where the gas comes to me in a pipe and the corruption lurks deeper, where it never gets over 90 degrees in the summer and it snows in the winter, and nobody stares at me like I'm an animal in the zoo.

But until then, we may have to keep enduring occasional eruptions of Mt. St. Mindy. Let's hope eventually this volcano of my temper enters the inactive category.

I'm Off to Jail for Two Years

Today I received a legal notice in the mail from the electric company that said, among other things, "On account of dishonour of cheque . . . it is evident that you dishonestly and intentionally issued the aforesaid cheque with a knowledge that the said cheque would not be honoured on presentation. For the above acts, you have made yourself liable to be prosecuted. . . and liable to be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to two years or with fine which may extend to twice the amount of the cheque or with both."

In short, I bounced a check. Gotta love the hyperbole.

The amazing thing is that if I cough up the cash within 15 days, this grave and serious error will cost me a mere 200 rupees--around $5! Not bad for intentional dishonesty and fraud. I guess in India nobody ever bounces a check by accident. But I can handle the accusatory tone with that price tag!

Stuff We Stuff in Our Suitcases from America

I'm a list girl. I make lists for everything. I have visions of my great-grandchildren finding my old notebooks with all my lists in them and finding them fascinating. Delusional? Maybe.

Yet one of my favorite books is A Midwife's Tale: The Life of Martha Ballard, Based on Her Diary 1785. I know. It sounded boring to me at first glance too, but I loved it. The diary itself was essentially a list of the things she did everyday--where she went, who visited her, what she was cooking, what she was planting, what the weather was like. But the way the author looks at the entries as a whole, we learn a lot about life during that time and about the simple grandeur of this woman. I found it rather validating as a regular wife and homemaker.

So maybe if someone as talented as Laurel Thatcher Ulrich ever gets a hold of my lists, they could write it up and win a Pulitzer Prize too!

Below is a list that gets re-written over and over at our house: a list of stuff we can't get here, but think we can't live without (or can't afford here--imported American cereal costs $8 a box!). Perhaps it will illuminate some of the everyday realities of our life in India.

Ziploc Bags
Dryer Sheets
Oxiclean
Peanut Butter
Marshmallows
Rice Krispies/Chex
Chocolate Chips
Molasses
Mapleine (for making syrup)
Food Coloring (not sure what's in the local stuff . . .)
Sugar
Brown Sugar
Peanut M&Ms
Goldfish Crackers
Pretzels
Tortilla Chips
Canned Green Chilies
Corn Tortilla Mix
Yeast
Pectin (just learned how to make freezer jam from the domestic goddess Dawn!)
Seeds--tomatoes, basil, dill, sunflowers, cornflowers
Bacon
Yellow Cheddar Cheese
Mechanical Pencils
File Folders
Music CDs
DVDs
Underwear
Socks
Makeup
Deodorant
Mosquito Repellent
Sunscreen
Children's Chewable Tylenol & Motrin
Band-aids
Music Teaching Materials for Mindy
Gospel Teaching Materials
Engineering Books for Rich
Electronics Gadgets for iPods and Computers
Electronics for Rich's Work and Co-Workers
Legos
Swimsuits
Swim Toys

We're really good at ordering things online and having them sent right to your door, so why not book your ticket now for your dream trip to India? Then you can stuff some stuff in your suitcase as hostess gifts! We promise to help you take that suitcase home filled with more interesting stuff like textiles, jewelry, clothes, spices and carpets.

Who Are You Guys?

Hello people out there reading our blog. Recently we've been using statcounter.com to track how many people are reading our blog. There's a lot of you! The statcounter also tracks other details like location and referring page. The odd thing is that some of you are reading from places where I don't think I know anybody, like Moscow and Helsinki and Poland and Alabama. And there's links to our blog from sites I didn't even know existed.

Frankly, it makes me feel a bit creepy and nervous to post things lately because I'm not sure who's reading now. I don't think I'm ready to make the blog private just yet--I like sharing it with people who are interested. But knowing how many people are anonymously reading makes me feel oddly disconnected from human connections and reality. Feels kinda like when I thought it would be fun to get up with Graham in my arms and run that silly race with the Indian flag at the India-Pakistan border ceremony. And it was fun . . . until I sat down and realized that thousands of people had watched me and laughed at me and wanted their picture taken with me later. And then I watched the video Rich took of me, and was totally mortified. Okay, so blogging isn't quite that mortifying, but sort of. It's just that when I first started blogging I knew just my family and a handful of friends were reading, and that was fine. Now that it appears to be a boatload of strangers, I'm not so sure about it anymore.

Anyway, I'm on a new crusade myself to leave more comments when I read people's blogs so they know I'm there and so I make more personal connections. I invite ya'll to do the same. I'd love to know who you are and what you think of our blog. And that way if we do decide to make it private, we can be sure to invite you.

Currently the boys and I are in New Zealand with Gurney grandparents soaking up the sand and the sun outside their door. Heavenly. Would be perfect if Rich were here with us. But that darn job that makes this all possible unfortunately requires him to actually work every day! I'm grateful for his hard work.

Today we went to a beautiful and wild surfer beach west of Hamilton called "Whale Beach" where the waves were giant and the black sand like quicksand. Isaac and Russell finally caught onto the wonder of the waves (Graham was hooked from the start) and were giddy with the water knocking them over. We hadn't planned to get in the water because we were in skirts and pants from the temple (that didn't happen . . . it was closed). But before we knew it, the ocean had other plans, and we were all wet and had to ride home two hours in our underwear! The McDonald's drive-thru people are probably still laughing!

Turkey Talk

Surreal. That's how life feels today. I guess it should since I live halfway around the world from what I'm hard-wired to think is reality. And I think having the Pulsiphers here has reminded me of what American life was like, thus making Indian life all the more incongruous.

It started at 2:00 am when my cell phone (which happened to be next to my ear since I talked to Rich in Bangalore before I fell asleep) rang. It said "private number" on the caller ID, so I thought it must be some emergency from the USA or Mom in Australia. But it was my Grandma Funk in Utah who meant to call her son in California but hit the wrong speed dial button. Oops. After I chatted with her groggily about how fun it is to have the Pulsiphers staying with us, she asked, "Where is everybody?" "Oh, they're all asleep, Grandma. It's the middle of the night."

Luckily I did go back to sleep after Grandma's little surprise (always great to hear from her and partake of her rose-colored view of all things, even at odd hours!). But I still was up early, and quickly remembered that I needed to fix the washer hose I had broken last night. This was a relative emergency because while washing Graham's cloth diapers last night the washer had stopped when it got to the rinse cycle because there wasn't enough water. Because we live in India, we don't have the blessed luxury of constantly running tap water. We do have various mechanisms and people to try to remedy this, but they don't always work as planned. Anyway, before I went to bed I pried the hose off the tap to confirm that indeed there was no water. Made a mental note to put it back on in the morning and wake up the guard to tell him to turn on the water pump so I could get the diapers in the washer rinsed and dried before we ran out. Why, you ask, was I worrying about washing and drying Graham's diapers when I pay two people to occupy my kitchen all day and do housework? I ask myself the same question quite often. Part of the answer to the question is that you get what you pay for (though they are very well paid by local standards). The rest of the answers are partly my poor management skills and partly incomprehensible.

So I spent the better part of my early morning with a screwdriver trying to figure out how to get the hose back on. I kept reasoning aloud (with Michael Pulsipher as my sounding board, who was working on his homeschool homework) that if I could pull it off, I could certainly put it back on. But my brain needs more practice with fix-it work, so it took me a while. I was quite proud of myself, however, when we finally figured it out (by the time I did Isaac was awake and helped me finish it off).

Then David graciously took Isaac to school so he could use the car afterwards. Graham and I read some stories under the stairs and I tried to make a plan for the day. Dawn and I decided to set off with our little ones to Sarojini Nagar to fill the urgent need Isaac has for pants now that the weather has turned "cold" and mosquito-y. So we piled Russell, Graham, Michael, Grace, Katherine, Dawn, Anil (our driver), 6 sliced carrots for Isaac's Thanksgiving feast at school, 7 library books, lots of snacks, diapers and water, and me in the car and made it to Sarojini just after opening time at 11:00. We did amazingly well with our 5 kids in this crazy market full of cheap export clothing. Dawn got a skirt for Elizabeth and a bright pink Indian-looking cotton shirt with sequins and a beautiful gold crepe paisley-printed sari for herself. Russell talked me into a $5 Superman sweatsuit he didn't need. Anil followed us around and tsk-ed at the prices we were paying. But we think $2.50 for a shirt is pretty good! We took a break to take Russell to school by 12:30 and then hit it again. I found four pairs of pants for Isaac, which thankfully turned out to be just what he wanted. $5 each with adjustable waists, some with camouflage accents and zip-off shorts, which he thinks is sooo cool. He plans to use the camouflage to help him hide from his friends at recess.

Success on that count. But when we got home our good bargains quickly dissolved from my memory when I heard the news about the turkeys. Oh, the turkeys. Rich and David will be at home alone this Thanksgiving while Dawn and I take the kids to the Pushkar Camel Fair in Rajahsthan. But this year we're going for a bachelor Thanksgiving party with 10 LDS missionaries joining them for their feast. So we felt like these poor homesick boys needed a turkey. I scoped out the prices of what I could get them for through friend at the American Embassy ($1.60/lb), and decided they might come cheaper locally. So I asked Margaret to look for one during her weekly trip to her favorite food market INA where "everybody knows her name" as they say on Cheers, since she's been a faithful customer for 16 years. But I neglected to give her a price point. And gave her all of this week's food budget for the 13 of us. Big mistake.

So she came home with two turkeys--a male and female with the feet still on. I think she watched them slaughtered herself. Lovely little things totaling 5 kg (about 12 lbs.). But the price . . . not so lovely. $90. NINETY DOLLARS!! For two scrawny little birds. When I asked Margaret why she would pay Rs. 3600 (half the weekly food budget) for them without consulting me, she looked at me blankly, as if to say, "Why wouldn't you spend $90 on a turkey? You throw your money around like water on everything else." Surreal. Last time I checked I'm a miser. But in India, wealth is all relative.

I was incensed by all of this, probably way more than I should have been. But to me it highlights the irony of the fact that I have hired domestic servants to help me around the house and they often cause more stress and more work and more expense than their work is worth. I cannot kick the American way of life and get annoyed when the people who work for me don't act like washing machines, dishwashers, minivans, running water, garbage trucks or security systems.

So anyway, we called the turkey shop and asked the man if we could return the birds. He said he would try to sell them, and then give us the money if he does. Cross your fingers for us! What would you buy? The bird in the refrigerator, or the one you could look in the eye and make friends with before its slaughter? I'm afraid most everyone will choose the latter.

I'm praying they do sell, because I've already committed to buy a frozen turkey imported from the US from my friend. I haven't picked it up yet, but I'm hoping it's a Butterball one with a pop-up plastic button that tells us when it's done!

After the turkey rage and drama died down (mostly) I headed to the church to teach seminary to my class, which was well-attended today: 1 boy and 6 girls. We talked about how Moses learned to delegate and as I taught the students about how important it is for leaders to share their load and accept help and for us to support and help our leaders, I realized how much the Lord is teaching me as I clumsily get leadership practice at the expense of everyone around me. And as I taught them about Mt. Sinai and how the children of Israel were content to let Moses ascend that holy place and talk with God in their behalf instead of being worthy to enter themselves, I learned other whispered truths spoken to my heart about personal revelation and total trust in the Lord and His plan for me.

On the way home from Seminary we dropped off several girls, one of whom was a girl who is investigating our church named Sonam. It seems that Sonam has never ridden in a car before because it made her so sick that she vomited repeatedly out the window after she and I quickly crawled over and around each other so she could get there. Cars honking, hazy air, giggly girls chatting in an incomprehensible tongue in the backseat, rubbing Sonam's back and she vomits out the window again while we crawl forward in traffic. Surreal. But maybe it's more real and raw than anything I've ever experienced in America, and that's why it still shocks me even after two years. Why it breaks my heart and makes me question everything I thought I understood, or perhaps understand it better.

Stay turned to hear the fate of our poor rejected birds . . .

Rich Rediscovers a Great American Hobby

I love travel. It makes you see things in different ways, discover new truths about yourself, understand humanity better. Coming back to America this year has proved much less of a culture shock than I remember it being last year. When we flew into Austin especially, I just felt like I was coming home. I guess in the end, I'll always be American (and maybe even Texan?) and it will always feel like home, no matter how long we stay away from it.

For Rich, this trip has helped him rediscover a weird part of his personality. He has gotten back in touch with the part of him that is a seeder.

Yes, a seeder. In his 20s he was into cosmopolitan things like Seder Passover feasts. These days, it's seeder not Seder. Well into his 30s now, he has delved more into the Texas side of his nature. Four words: "EAT. SPIT. BE HAPPY."

For Rich, it usually begins anew with a long drive stretching ahead of him late at night. Some people stop at 7-Eleven and buy a Coke to keep them alert. But Rich buys a bag of David Roasted & Salted SUNFLOWER SEEDS, Jalapeno Hot Salsa flavor. Arriba!

And before I know it every time we get in the car, my husband is chewing something and opening the window to spit it out! But it's only recently that I discovered that great name for people with this habit. Here's the word-for-word blurb from the back of the bag of these habit-forming seeds:

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'RE A SEEDER!

Seeders are unique. They're cool, confident, independent, active, and hard working. They know that eating DAVID Sunflower Seeds makes what they do more enjoyable. Things are better with DAVID because they're a snack and an activity. Experience SNACKTIVITY.

HOW TO EAT DAVID SEEDS

Crack the shell with your teeth, eat the seed and spit the shell. Experienced seeders pop a handful of seeds in their mouth and store them in one cheek, then transfer a ssed over to the other side with their tongue, crack it, then eat the seed and spit the shell.

DAVID - EAT. SPIT. BE HAPPY.

DAVE seeds are a great value and are good for you!
* Excellent source of Vitamin E (an antioxidant), Phosphorus, and Magnesium
* Natural source of zinc and folic acid
* 8 grams of Protein per serving
* Naturally Cholesterol Free

Hilarious. There are definitely weird quirky things all over the world.

If I Only Had a Brain . . .

True story . . .

Dad: "Isaac, we're having three guests for dinner, so how many plates do we need?"
Isaac: "Okay, there's five in our family, so it's three plus five. Let's see . . . eight!"
Mom: "Here's the plates, Isaac."
Isaac [counting]: "Hey, how did Mommy know what three plus five is?"
Mom: "Well actually, I did it inside my head. Mommy does have a brain."
Isaac: "No you don't. I control your brain."

MWAHAHAHAHA!

Any of you who have children will know exactly how true this is. Those of you who have new sweet little babies or one on the way, guard your brain carefully, because little by little they will take it over.

As my own mother used to put it so well in this little song:

I am slowly going crazy,
1 2 3 4 5 6 SWITCH!
Crazy going slowly am I,
6 5 4 3 2 1 SWITCH!
I am slowly going crazy,
1 2 3 4 5 6 SWITCH!
Crazy going slowly am I,
6 5 4 3 2 1 SWITCH!

And on and on . . .

Call me and I'll sing it for you. There is a tiny space left in my brain Isaac hasn't taken over that holds this song for the moment!

Of Ants, Grasshoppers, NGOs & Big Business

Following is one of those forwarded emails entitled "Enjoy the Truth" spreading around Rich's office. It's a retelling of Aesop's fable "The Ant and the Grasshopper." I found it fascinating. Rich said, "Not very funny, but a highly interesting glimpse into the Indian mind. Shocking, really..." Another great thing about being a foreigner: something as pedestrian as forwarded email becomes cultural artifact. . .


From: [An Indian rising-middle-class engineer]
Sent: Thursday, January 18, 2007 6:41 PM
To: [The Indian engineers at the office & Rich]
Subject: FW: Enjoy the truth

Jokes!!

OLD VERSION...

The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away. Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.

MODERN VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter. The grasshopper thinks the ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away. Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.

NDTV, BBC, CNN show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

ArundhatiRo y stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house. Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other grasshoppers demanding that grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter. Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the grasshopper. The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance). Opposition MP's stage a walkout.Left parties call for "Bharat Bandh" in West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry. CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among ants and grasshoppers.

Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'.

Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the Prevention of Terrorism against Grasshoppers Act [POTAGA]", with effect from the beginning of the winter.

Arjun Singh makes Special Reservation for Grass Hopper in educational Institutions & in Govt Services.

The ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.

Arundhati Ro y calls it "a triumph of justice". Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice'. CPM calls it the 'revolutionary resurgence of the downtrodden' Koffi Annan invites the grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.

Many years later...The ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi billion dollar company in silicon valley. 100s of grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India ...

As a result of losing lots of hard working ants and feeding the grasshoppers, India is still a developing country......

Merinda's Two Cents:
Interesting, eh? So this is clearly a revision of a similar email that bombarded American inboxes during various recent presidential elections. Here's one American revision of the ant & grasshopper fable. Fascinating how two different cultures can take an idea and spin it so differently. This Indian version seems to blame the world's well-meaning aid to and capitalistic exploitation of India as the reason the grasshopper is still starving. In America, it's simply the Democrats who are to blame.

Even more fascinating is that in India the grasshopper is the loser, while in many American interpretations (in Disney's old flick the grasshopper ends up playing his fiddle for the ants in their tunnels and they all live happily ever after) the grasshopper is the winner because he is the artist, the party animal, the one who truly enjoys life. In India where starvation is a stark reality, not just a romantic idea (i.e. "a starving student or artist"), the ant is clearly the winner simply because he's alive, enjoying life or not. And with so many people starving here in India, the only way some can reconcile the injustice is to conclude that the grasshoppers must deserve it. If only those NGOs would stop feeding them . . . !!

I guess in the end it's not all that different from the Democrat vs. Republican rhetoric. Just looks shocking from an outsider's perspective, especially an American who used to believe the world is dying to have a piece of the "American Dream" and it's our job to share it. Not so sure about that anymore when I read about poor remote villages in India horribly polluted because they don't have electricity in their huts so they are using diesel generators to charge up their battery-powered TVs to get a slice of such delectable American fare as Friends and Desperate Housewives. Okay, I don't know if that's what they're really watching, but American TV is definitely here in India.

This week there've been protests in India because of some racist comments to an Indian actress on a British reality show. Sometimes I wonder if this global culture thing is really a good idea . . . Maybe we were all just meant to stay home with our mothers minding our own business.

Second Day in Paris

Graham up close and personal in his oh-so-French hat. It was wonderful to have some Mommy-Graham time alone. Things are fun with three boys, but very fragmented and crazy. More than once when we found ourselves outside with Graham's hat, we were scolded by older European women to get that baby's head covered.

Today we were getting over our jet lag, so we didn't get out until 3 pm. Graham and I took the long way to the Metro station to explore a bit, then took a long metro ride to Sacre-Coeur. We climbed all 290-some steps to the top, but I'm afraid Graham slept through the climb and the view. He was awake, however, to people-watch on the hill in front of the church with all the lovers lounging around!

Tonight Rich and I found a Thai restaurant around the corner from our hotel and a grocery store (hallelujah!). The Thai food was delicious, and we ate it outside in the beautiful night air. Graham slept through the whole thing yet again, and as I write they are both asleep beside me.

It is fabulous being here. Someday I'd like to live in a big city like this, maybe learn French, maybe learn to paint. Lots of years left to follow these dreams . . . after a little relaxing, I'm excited to get back to my current dream-come-true life at home with my husband and children.

Graham Demands to See the Arc de Triomphe

This is Graham and me at the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. After walking down the Champs Elysees, I saw the Arc de Triomphe from across the street and was about to duck into the subway station and call it a day, when Graham decided he was hungry. So we sat down on a curb for me to feed him.

While I was feeding him, I noticed there were lots of people over there, and gee did they ever look small. By the time Graham was all full, diaper changed, and burped, we decided to take the underground tunnel we hadn't seen before to see the thing up close. It was a whole different story when we got there! It was gargantuan, and awe-inspiring. Plus, we were there just in time to see a neat ceremony for the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier that lies at the foot of the Arc.

Why Breastfeeding is Great Reason #62: It forces me to slow down and consider the details of the wonders of the world I often miss because I'm in a hurry.

I never would have appreciated the Arc de Triomphe so much without my tiny traveling companion with a mind of his own!

On My Own in Paris

I wasn't so sure how I'd do Monday all on my own with my very minimal French (I kept lapsing into Spanish anytime I tried to communicate!) and a baby on my back, but I was ready to try!

Rich had meetings Monday, so Graham and I went to the Louvre and wandered around looking at the paintings. Unfortunately, the artist I most wanted to see, Vermeer, was in the section that was closed for the day. But I did see the Mona Lisa. There were crowds of people, so I didn't get a good look. Nothing spectacular to report there.

My favorite part of the museum were the art students in the galleries painting copies and/or interpretations of the works of art. It was fun to sit and watch them in their craft in various stages, and see what sort of people go to school to be artists. Surprisingly, many of them seemed to be of retirement age. Maybe I could learn to be a painter someday . . .

When Graham and I tired of the Louvre, we went outside and found a lovely spot on the grass in the sun and took a nap. Then we wandered through the Jardin de Tulieres with its ponds, ducks, flowers, and outdoor cafes. Then we took a walk down the Champs Elysees.

Stranger Than Fiction

There are some days that are so crazy that all you can do is throw up your hands and laugh! On Wednesday we found out that Rich did indeed have to travel to Paris for work. We both weren't looking forward to a week without each other while one of us was in such a romantic place, so we figured out a way so that Graham and I could go with him to Paris and Ross and Claudia could watch the boys in Dallas. So Thursday I started doing laundry and packing like a mad woman so we could leave on Friday for Dallas.

The first adventure of the day came when I washed and dried ALL (no exaggeration here!) of Rich's dress pants with a waterproof gel ink pen and they all came out with black spots on them. Yikes!

So while I was calling everyone I could think of to get their opinion on how to get the pen out and directing the boys to pack their bags, I walked over to the stairs and noticed a cute little red handprint on each step leading upstairs to the bathroom.


No problem, I thought--all the paint I have within reach of the boys is washable. Then I remembered the acrylic craft paint I'd just packed in Russell's bag for a craft project they were planning to do at Grandma's house. Whoops! My darling little boy had poured a puddle of each color on the floor of my bedroom, and then when he noticed how dirty his hands were, he made his way upstairs to wash them because he can only reach the sink up there!

We have needed new carpet since we moved in, so I decided to leave the handprints there. Maybe the artwork will motivate us to get new carpet. Meanwhile, every person that walks in the door will get a taste of life with a 2-year-old!

Quarterly Enrichment

What a great idea!
News of the Church/October

Mom's Got It Right Again

The part of conference that rings in my head today is from Susan W. Tanner's talk. She said her mother told her as a young woman to do her best to take care of herself before she walked out the door, but when she walked out the door, she needed to focus on others.

At first I thought, "Well, how do I apply that to me? I stay indoors most of the day!" But then I remembered my mom's modus operandi. Typically when we woke up Mom had already showered, dressed, put on her makeup and done her hair. I rarely do this before my kids wake up, rarely wear makeup, and on some days don't even bother to change out of my pajamas (my motto: pajamas should always be able to pass as regular clothes so you can stay in them all day without anyone knowing it!).

But Sister Tanner's talk made me wonder if a better approach to my stay-at-home-mom-ness is to take the time each morning for myself (reading scriptures, praying, making myself beautiful), and then walk out of my room equipped to serve my family with all my heart. The older I get the more I realize Mom had it figured out better than I realized!