tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28929431945348140302023-11-16T08:37:55.208-08:00BLOGTISTIwelcome to the world of our family as we enjoy the world ourselvesAndrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-43820058824460342602011-02-22T10:57:00.000-08:002011-02-22T11:25:27.080-08:00Thank You and I'm SorryWe were living in New Zealand when tragedy struck the United States. One morning we woke to the radio alarm and instead of the usual quirky kiwi morning show we heard the confused and subdued announcement that New York City appeared to be under attack. <div><br /></div><div>Over the ensuing days and weeks we were beneficiaries of constant heartfelt sympathy from friends and acquaintances. I was amazed at their concern for us and our country. I quickly learned that a country the size of California with the population of Seattle had a lot to teach me about national pride.</div><div><br /></div><div>We have been watching the news closely and I want to reach out to the people who reached out to me. I'm sorry that this <a href="http://www.nzherald.co.nz/">dark day</a> has come. I hope for healing and strength to come to you soon.</div><div><br /></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-58343466382134726042011-01-25T09:43:00.000-08:002011-01-25T09:55:45.741-08:00The bad girl bandits (a comic strip)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fBhfLoYp4jeC9xjm__iaUrdv_kAT6_vgFcKKdxWqdOG5c62qQCU2isG7KLmDWwTiUsWDFgm97FbC9Qi3gPIvrOmET5JGrWm3TFXBt98Gn4HdUxzQSDASF__fxYfM7RpOMwN35Ap4gKi2/s1600/SAM_2430.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-fBhfLoYp4jeC9xjm__iaUrdv_kAT6_vgFcKKdxWqdOG5c62qQCU2isG7KLmDWwTiUsWDFgm97FbC9Qi3gPIvrOmET5JGrWm3TFXBt98Gn4HdUxzQSDASF__fxYfM7RpOMwN35Ap4gKi2/s320/SAM_2430.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566183333317516386" /></a><br />Once upon a time there were two girls.<div><br /></div><div>They looked and acted nice</div><div><br /></div><div>But they weren't (girls with pigtails saing saying "MooHaHa")</div><div><br /></div><div>They did not even like babies.</div><div><br /></div><div>They broke pencils.</div><div><br /></div><div>They made fake roads (cars unknowingly driving down roads that end in ponds)</div><div><br /></div><div>But then the Hulk came and almost defeated them. But he died on the spot.</div><div><br /></div><div>And they were never bad again.</div><div><br /></div><div>They played with babies too.</div><div><br /></div><div>The End. </div><div><br /></div><div>By Maggie </div><div><br /></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-51983618270034442872011-01-24T15:12:00.000-08:002011-01-24T15:22:27.145-08:00Sick. Ill. Feeling Poorly.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlX59PvqufwQ4y0Sm8pgXBjUnKboRpu-nO5jYwBJ1Vv_-tHari81N-PO3hLEMmaHoNf21AweWOBDItkj02T0LsAHOJhure5u3cLjn9c5XVjBwmN27ilduYr68g_2Z36j6bGtIGVWPZ_eQB/s1600/SAM_2294.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlX59PvqufwQ4y0Sm8pgXBjUnKboRpu-nO5jYwBJ1Vv_-tHari81N-PO3hLEMmaHoNf21AweWOBDItkj02T0LsAHOJhure5u3cLjn9c5XVjBwmN27ilduYr68g_2Z36j6bGtIGVWPZ_eQB/s320/SAM_2294.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565895332000380754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl-p-jU4ReXcznd3Hp_2B1pW2VEKhhu1UvvRHlX2JptQ1-2dh_OWwjQZT0wOJdILUeYQ6fRUa2Z-0ndqjj6oc5PXlt9BaywGsSEchHWir8mxAZ2QB5dJ7yZoWdo8OW9u3PZ7Wt30kzOIP/s1600/SAM_2295.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWl-p-jU4ReXcznd3Hp_2B1pW2VEKhhu1UvvRHlX2JptQ1-2dh_OWwjQZT0wOJdILUeYQ6fRUa2Z-0ndqjj6oc5PXlt9BaywGsSEchHWir8mxAZ2QB5dJ7yZoWdo8OW9u3PZ7Wt30kzOIP/s320/SAM_2295.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565895321655152978" /></a><br />Varying amounts of coughing, throwing up, and crying are going on around here. These are pictures of better days since no one would want photo documentation of our current situation. Hopefully days like this will come again.Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-79116462378340588502011-01-12T08:19:00.000-08:002011-01-12T09:16:34.261-08:00Enzo the Impertinent<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMZSLqHDpJYJQIgLTEJuqV6q9Wj_KJ_7fIQa1qbui96uFPuKc9l4iJNngUF7wU3mCjFDBxpwGV-TI2WnwQGqdHnAUxHwluGKfI4jgmDMTCSmpDsy4hdC3Tz74_gAGVS6gPoD0NL1THpQs/s1600/SAM_2218.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoMZSLqHDpJYJQIgLTEJuqV6q9Wj_KJ_7fIQa1qbui96uFPuKc9l4iJNngUF7wU3mCjFDBxpwGV-TI2WnwQGqdHnAUxHwluGKfI4jgmDMTCSmpDsy4hdC3Tz74_gAGVS6gPoD0NL1THpQs/s320/SAM_2218.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561336974533507458" /></a>I have some concerns about Enzo. Several times in the past month people have made a point to comment to me about how adorable they think he is. Unfortunately, the conversation goes like this:<div><br /></div><div>Out of town family member: "That Enzo is just so cute. I want to take him home with me! Today when I arrived he came straight up to me and said, 'I'm angry with you. Don't talk to me!'"</div><div><br /></div><div>Venerable branch matriarch: "Enzo is so cute. Today when I visited nursery I said "Hello" to him and he told me to shush."</div><div><br /></div><div>Then yesterday, there was a woman with a petition outside the grocery store. She tried to engage Lena and Enzo with a cheery "Hey there little guys." </div><div><br /></div><div>Lena smiled back with delight. New people are always new friends for her. </div><div><br /></div><div>Enzo pulled his face into a fierce scowl and screamed, "I am NOT a little guy." </div><div><br /></div><div>The petition woman laughed, "He is so cute!"</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm worried that as long as he's so dang cute he's going to get away with anything. Admittedly, it works on me.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-56120214273422536702011-01-04T20:45:00.000-08:002011-01-04T21:19:15.616-08:00Keeping in TouchAn unfortunate side effect of coming back to the land of the free is my tendency to fall out of contact with the world at large. Something about being between the shining seas gives me the impression of closeness with those that I care about, family and friends. What I forget is that proximity only means so much in a relationship and being in the same country as someone (or even just countries with the same national language) does not mean that I am maintaining a relationship with them.<div><br /></div><div>These broodings were sparked by a response to one of my sporadic attempts to keep in touch. Our first Christmas card in three years made it's tentative way to addresses far and wide without knowing for sure if the intended recipients still lived there. I went on my merry way hoping far flung friends and family would know I was thinking of them and forgive my former silence.</div><div><br /></div><div>The other day I got a response to a card from an elderly friend who we met while living in New Zealand. The letter was dated for Christmas day and after a brief paragraph expressing surprise at hearing from us shared the sad news that his wonderful wife had passed away. I immediately remembered how I, as a young homesick woman with a new baby, had leaned on her for support. And then, of course, I realized the last time we talked was six years ago, when Maggie was a baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to get so caught up in my busy life that I don't stay in contact with the people that are important to me. This includes you. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a slow learner so I thought I'd start by blogging again. And someday, when I build up the courage, I might even post something on facebook.</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-16476145325520683692010-12-13T22:05:00.001-08:002010-12-13T22:05:49.168-08:00What!?!<div class="sflyProductPreviewWidget" style="width:425px; height:494px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetTop" style="height:6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/top.gif);"></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetCenter" style="height:482px; padding: 0 6px 0 6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bg.gif); background-repeat:repeat-y;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewLogo" style="width: 105px; height: 34px; padding: 14px 0 0 14px;"><img src="http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/logo.gif"></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewContainer" style="height:350px; text-align:center; padding: 0;"><a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery"><img src="http://images-community.shutterfly.com/prs/v1/0AauWbdq2btWMg/0AauWbdq2btWMuLA/p/67b0de21b3127d902548/JPEG/1292306718000/0/"></a></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewMessageContainer" style="height:55px; background-color:#f4f4e9; text-align:center; padding: 15px 0 15px 0; line-height: 19px;"><div class="sflyProductPreviewTitle" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 15px; color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"><span>Classic Slate Blue Solid Colors</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewSEOText" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 13px; color: #333333;"><span>Modern greeting cards and <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/party-cards-stationery" style="color: #6666cc;">party invitations</a> by Shutterfly.</span></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewViewCollection" style="font-family: arial, sans-seris; font-size: 13px; color: #333333;"><span>View the entire <a href="http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery" style="color: #6666cc;">collection</a> of cards.</span></div><img width="1" height="1" border="0" src="https://os.shutterfly.com/b/ss/sflyshareprod/1/H.15/111?pageName=sharekey&c1=msc&c2=blogger" /></div></div><div class="sflyProductPreviewWidgetBottom" style="height:6px; background-image:url(http://cdn.staticsfly.com/img_/share/preview/msc/widget/bottom.gif);"></div></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-19884055460135725122010-09-12T15:29:00.000-07:002010-09-12T15:29:26.090-07:00Paradise?<div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbxto5EZcwmdVqWKJhAeds1obGNvRIGyQaFyU1eNIM3K7Et7JdBdUx9VzyW1SeTRtf5DrrxIMpofsk4HsYT7VfjA5SY-oHSNlKTefXEUMod2mU-RmAI8dr7DnRdkbXS3G1-yAOi2bxTHK/s1600/SAM_1560.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihbxto5EZcwmdVqWKJhAeds1obGNvRIGyQaFyU1eNIM3K7Et7JdBdUx9VzyW1SeTRtf5DrrxIMpofsk4HsYT7VfjA5SY-oHSNlKTefXEUMod2mU-RmAI8dr7DnRdkbXS3G1-yAOi2bxTHK/s320/SAM_1560.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><br /></div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-3427618995193145272010-08-04T21:39:00.001-07:002010-08-04T21:40:21.170-07:00Adivce?Not sure how to respond to this email from Maria...<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', courier, monaco, monospace, sans-serif; border-collapse: collapse; ">My dear Madam,<br />How are you? thanks for your reply. I am sorry to say that, i have no job anymore. Because the new madam doesn't need me. She has suspend me from the job. Now I'm wordless. i have spend nine thousand taka to make a home that u send. I can't do any kinds of hard job because of my physically illness. Now I have no money to maintain my family with two child. I want to start a cloth shop. I need your help.<br /><br />I will be grateful to you. if u save me from my poverty.I miss you . I also miss your kids. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-19490376794070789452010-07-27T20:57:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:40:57.547-07:00Lots of Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9inFh3K9tS6LO52k4FwlkfAW-IvGCkoTsctXuBcu_dj_kRzsJe76FSwwAJg_paOXJItW0X5U4OLXMlBjYv1-qqGCK9Z2_A-B959Lp5ddsh9l4vH2gUb9VJiEiMXmypwmHO9pHAQ3lkeT/s1600/SAM_1393.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9inFh3K9tS6LO52k4FwlkfAW-IvGCkoTsctXuBcu_dj_kRzsJe76FSwwAJg_paOXJItW0X5U4OLXMlBjYv1-qqGCK9Z2_A-B959Lp5ddsh9l4vH2gUb9VJiEiMXmypwmHO9pHAQ3lkeT/s320/SAM_1393.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498811487770520098" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><i>Lena and her great grandpa taking each other for a walk.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><i><br /></i></span></div>In the course of our lives we have repeatedly made decisions based on the desire to be closer to our families. It was never too difficult a decision since we're lucky to be related to some of the coolest people on the planet. Over the past few weeks the better part of every day has been spent with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents in a maelstrom of activity. Today, we said goodbye to the last of our family leaving for home out of town. I'm sad our month of family is coming to a close... <div><br /></div><div>...but it's not even dark and the babies are tucked in </div><div><br /></div><div>...Bryce took Titus and Maggie out for a paddle</div><div><br /></div><div>...and I'm online </div><div><br /></div><div>I think I can get used to this too.</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-30925902166529593672010-07-06T09:28:00.001-07:002010-07-06T09:51:30.778-07:00New PerspectiveWhen we left B-desh we immersed our tired minds and bodies in the surreal worlds of hotels and amusement parks. It was a startling contrast but we embraced the transition to life with neat orderly lines, flat sidewalks, and green grass. <div><br /></div><div>We've been here for nearly a month and sometimes I have the sensation that we're still walking through an amusement park. It seems too good to be true. The air is clear and quiet, there is green grass and an abundance of trees to climb. Best of all, when we go outside, no one seems to notice us. We're just another nondescript family enjoying this peaceful abundant existence.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am so grateful for it. </div><div><br /></div><div>But, I recognize that I'm more grateful for it than I've ever been before. I appreciate things in a new way. It's delightful to fill my water bottle from the tap. It's wondrous to have a digital clock reflect the correct time day in and day out. Children are playing outside! </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a big believer in "thank you cards" so here goes:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><i>Dear Bangladesh, </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><i>Thank you for letting us stay with you. We learned a lot.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663366;"><i>Love, The Blogtistis </i></span></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-63181479882887657522010-06-19T18:42:00.001-07:002010-06-20T22:07:51.439-07:00Double Digits<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjna4FzbzelFvaYJFe3j4LT7bYwRC4LxCX-OWzfaUMeXp5N79EVmA99A6pcjtoU46ynnb8BjvOdnlukUOnGwOpkLG651uWQUF3zylaiZ_O6Qw-0wY64y5iFdDWl8sZU6qNfPrl17h2KGGcK/s1600/SAM_1116.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjna4FzbzelFvaYJFe3j4LT7bYwRC4LxCX-OWzfaUMeXp5N79EVmA99A6pcjtoU46ynnb8BjvOdnlukUOnGwOpkLG651uWQUF3zylaiZ_O6Qw-0wY64y5iFdDWl8sZU6qNfPrl17h2KGGcK/s320/SAM_1116.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484668238927228882" /></a><br />Somehow in the craziness of the last few weeks Titus turned 10. We did manage to mark the occasion and he was presented the requested binoculars for viewing the night sky. It seems, however, that in our time away we completely forgot the tendency of the sky here to be overcast both day and night. So far we haven't seen any stars. Maybe we shouldn't have encouraged this new interest.<div><br /></div><div>Still, I'm happy for any occasion to celebrate this little guy. I love the way he still gets excited when we pass a playground. And how he's willing to carry two styrofoam swords through three airports for the prospect of battling it out with his cousins. I hope he never loses his sense of fun and play.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Birthday, Titus!</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-9925475075732568202010-06-17T21:27:00.000-07:002010-06-17T21:45:17.591-07:00Just Kidding!<div style="text-align: left;">Not me. I wasn't just kidding. That's really what happened. Then the next day Bryce went down to have a chat and they apologized for their hasty decision and asked us to stay. So, I guess they were just kidding.</div><div><br /></div><div>Only it wasn't that funny.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for all of the support through that time of domicile ambiguity. I really appreciate the understanding and offers of hit men and such. For a while, part of me wanted to just make a clean break and avoid unpredicatble mind-changing landlords. But, in the hope that someone will give us a break when we're in our eighties, we decided to stay. </div><div><br /></div><div>There was also the fact that we love it here and really really want to stay. We've been trying to enjoy ourselves and are well on our way to taking everything in our easy western lifestyle for granted. Just look at all that grass!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6a4P55sVD-HGRyQyRj60ZfwlbXjMl-QcWifPa9TaVuysH_2H9AWemB7VDWTqF4AwM3l_JsHMeEfDUnA16Yyphf7Frc-Egpxzi1091xSAOK2hnfvb03ABby4gZTopmkmf-nSayt4mGCWEY/s320/SAM_1156.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483967583861473778" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">So, now it's official. We are again residents of <a href="http://www.vashonchamber.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Vashon Island</span></a>. You are very welcome to visit ANYTIME. Come see the view out the living room window.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Sra8MDpYHSF-ATTU61NH4T7rM5O_TtDtPaiVd4qxW-T9QQa_AXyGjLH6cfPtBO4cm0hNI3y1aMA4cr_RRGIyqiwHVXbDmDHWcgkrkxzvZcDavoKd9tBFt_FxxX4q0li4mOTyZx84OsHC/s320/SAM_1146.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483967577079385122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-55115460893058219882010-06-14T11:43:00.000-07:002010-06-14T11:58:45.117-07:00Hello House. Goodbye House.While still in B-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">desh</span> we managed to find a house for us to rent. A near <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Utopian</span> home with four bedrooms, an amazing view of the Puget Sound and Mt. Rainer, and beach access. The levels we stooped to in order to secure such a perfect spot are embarrassing but totally worth it (family members calling and visiting, and an email with a family bio and photo).<br /><br />We spent last week moving every last bit of our worldly possessions into our new home. It was an exhausting and cathartic process that left us ready to sink into the oblivion of a settled happy life. Looking at the twinkling lights of the Tacoma skyline we imagined that we really had ended up where we always hoped.<br /><br />Then, on Friday, there was a note on the door from our landlords who live in another house on the same property. They wanted to talk and when we finally had a chance to sit down with them together they said, "We don't think this is the house for you. We think you folks should move out."<br /><br />Oh sad day of frustration and worry!<br /><br />So, the fact that our phone and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Internet</span> were finally hooked up today is bittersweet since we'll have to leave it all behind in a short while. I'm on a mission online today to look for somewhere new.Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-22050494655341593082010-06-09T06:42:00.000-07:002010-06-09T07:07:31.436-07:00Going HomeThe last leg of our journey home was a packed flight on United from San Francisco to Seattle. After four days of airplanes, airports, hotels, and amusement parks we all got buckled in and promptly fell asleep. <br /><br />We stayed in our seats as everyone else disembarked to give the kids a few extra moments of sleep. As the other passengers filed past the compliments were forthcoming. <br /><br />"What well behaved children!" <br /><br />"I had no idea there were children on the plane they were so quiet!" <br /><br />I smiled ironically to myself thinking of what we had gone through in order to have peace and quiet on this last tiny two hour flight home. Still, it's nice to think that there are passengers out there impressed with how well behaved our sleeping children can be to offset the dozens that had to endure Enzo's angry crying and Lena's manic screaming on the two flights before. <br /><br />I'm so glad that's over.Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-75721560723741118882010-06-01T04:49:00.001-07:002010-06-01T04:52:35.578-07:0081 Dome Mosque<div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NGAOuMPhwWvgMfO54ScGbC-9e5jxdOhky4sIyUr03DGS-tIfibsph-8LAzqguL9L3ZENRj0S3OCNe7_aYIBL7040Yjl_G0bB_Hzp3ADFOt-z9d_ZFgFAUBZx52hxRwB6m1ZjZKpUk9K_/s1600/P5270400.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NGAOuMPhwWvgMfO54ScGbC-9e5jxdOhky4sIyUr03DGS-tIfibsph-8LAzqguL9L3ZENRj0S3OCNe7_aYIBL7040Yjl_G0bB_Hzp3ADFOt-z9d_ZFgFAUBZx52hxRwB6m1ZjZKpUk9K_/s320/P5270400.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9NGAOuMPhwWvgMfO54ScGbC-9e5jxdOhky4sIyUr03DGS-tIfibsph-8LAzqguL9L3ZENRj0S3OCNe7_aYIBL7040Yjl_G0bB_Hzp3ADFOt-z9d_ZFgFAUBZx52hxRwB6m1ZjZKpUk9K_/s1600/P5270400.JPG"></a>I just watched the slideshow of pictures from the trip. It sounds like the main themes were heat, patience, and attitude. A good recipe for dealing with life in B-desh.</div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;">Now we're in the throes of sorting and packing. Just two more days in Chittagong. </div><div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-61547410645130026672010-05-27T23:43:00.000-07:002010-05-28T03:07:12.619-07:00Happy Birthday Enzo!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9TXfFnIOV-M0vH-SRiWp3pfXVEZDzyoRXeEMrnztX3SMdhEWZTqwNf3UrmRVhdAqSX3JgTrU9sN3RBfqZFamRPzobIudpVLOkPYMS_4V8mBcRciU578qK7n4JuQSc4S2y-WueXYTH5F8/s1600/P1070638.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9TXfFnIOV-M0vH-SRiWp3pfXVEZDzyoRXeEMrnztX3SMdhEWZTqwNf3UrmRVhdAqSX3JgTrU9sN3RBfqZFamRPzobIudpVLOkPYMS_4V8mBcRciU578qK7n4JuQSc4S2y-WueXYTH5F8/s320/P1070638.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476259998926365634" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Do you remember this little guy? Today he turns two.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjar3lAod-sfba0CNtzLLrHQoPcL_L3yO90txN33DUfzg3fr4jlYFj2TBj3J2hzz9Pe91_jM4OFu2T5iZH-fwC69a1APxPMdPLwsHOiLLd6Ljm1M-nVQYlvjFRK_rbnkcfwWno90giKuCKk/s1600/SAM_0240.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjar3lAod-sfba0CNtzLLrHQoPcL_L3yO90txN33DUfzg3fr4jlYFj2TBj3J2hzz9Pe91_jM4OFu2T5iZH-fwC69a1APxPMdPLwsHOiLLd6Ljm1M-nVQYlvjFRK_rbnkcfwWno90giKuCKk/s320/SAM_0240.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476255030839700434" /></a><br />He's pretty busy these days tackling his sister and throwing dinosaurs but, luckily for me he hasn't lost his snuggling skills. We're not marking the occasion very well since he's home alone with me and Lena. I tried to sing Happy Birthday to him but got shut down. He wanted "Twinkle Twinkle" instead. I did give him some brownies with banana. I think he appreciated that at least. </div><div><br /></div><div>We also want to send birthday wishes to Enzo's special birthday buddy. Happy Birthday Chaka!</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-45719006114257122772010-05-25T00:37:00.000-07:002010-05-25T00:37:26.856-07:00Keep Them Busy<div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gaKdqm63bjq1qaavVg38dGSwad-HszLGfaDHYaeMzdceosS2hddCYpnQXDnCOPLIF8NzCYC_xHxOunSx7UCV9H6Bpc4S659nTaNb8nWY887IMfNTKrnptowFeoXN1urHh22hj2jVcEnL/s1600/SAM_0739.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6gaKdqm63bjq1qaavVg38dGSwad-HszLGfaDHYaeMzdceosS2hddCYpnQXDnCOPLIF8NzCYC_xHxOunSx7UCV9H6Bpc4S659nTaNb8nWY887IMfNTKrnptowFeoXN1urHh22hj2jVcEnL/s320/SAM_0739.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div>Bryce, Titus and Maggie left yesterday afternoon for their big trip to the Sundarbans. Maggie was lucky to get to go despite last minute change of plans. So now it's just me and these little crazies for the next week or so. Here they are getting some energy out on the treadmills. Didn't last nearly long enough.<div style='clear:both; text-align:CENTER'><a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'><img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /></a></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-29297404992850958932010-05-24T01:42:00.000-07:002010-05-24T02:26:18.391-07:00Terri Bazaar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLMzMq6AlWOT2HVGX-ADevi7bpoIDUVbbvpnoha_zWwYAaJNs2Lhv8d5ttjx6Ha_XnybJ3ifR9MDrghHg_IJYQHYi74gJTmHzym3rjM0g9KoZofg99Yhhtsc-WvlWyuRYDI8VWbzVr7E1/s1600/SAM_0874.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLMzMq6AlWOT2HVGX-ADevi7bpoIDUVbbvpnoha_zWwYAaJNs2Lhv8d5ttjx6Ha_XnybJ3ifR9MDrghHg_IJYQHYi74gJTmHzym3rjM0g9KoZofg99Yhhtsc-WvlWyuRYDI8VWbzVr7E1/s320/SAM_0874.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474755550658009570" /></a><br />Saturday night, right about when the babies go to bed, Summer decided we should go visit Terri Bazaar. It's a market about town with a reputation for amazing fabric, killer accessories, and cheap prices. Summer and I went with Carol, the most famous math mom in Chittagong, out into the dark and drizzling rain.<div><br /></div><div>I'm constantly impressed with the dazzling bling on the clothes around here. I am a pebble among gems. Maria continues to be disappointed in my faded t-shirts (even though most of them were made in B-desh!). Once when I wore dangly earrings she told me shyly that they were very beautiful. The truth is that I would really like to wear irridescent colors, beaded bangles, embroidered mirrors, and rhinestone studded sandals. So, we went out to see what we could find.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Bazaar didn't disappoint. We were dropped off down a long alleyway bordered by piles of soot and garbage that the rain had turned into black mud. The smell of stale urine drifted in and out on the breeze. In many ways it was a typical Chittagong side street. But the dark night sky was brilliantly illuminated by the shining fabrics and gold threaded ribbons displayed in the shops lining the street. Even when the power went out the street glowed, almost arrogantly, as if it knew just how beautiful it was.</div><div><br /></div><div>I had a great time. I loved it all, including stepping in the mud and being grazed by passing rickshaws. The picture doesn't do it justice (of course) but hopefully the saris and ribbons I bought will be just as brilliant in the days to come.</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-22255730922682697002010-05-21T21:23:00.000-07:002010-05-21T21:34:16.901-07:00Sightseeing<div style="text-align: left;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; ">This last week we spent our mornings "sightseeing". Thanks to Summer we were able to go without Enzo and Lena! Next week Bryce and Titus are hoping to see some tigers in the wild when they visit The Sundarbans. Maggie is looking forward to her performance in the Elementary School Closing Program. The littleuns and I are looking forward to some cool rainy weather brought on by Laila. Here are some glimpses of last week:</div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEklfYh6LqHDFSZW84y9yuG9hfpe2OU5OhwuZFZuZdv2wTUry5r6aZrlQtGJASr6N8zjaKDxf1gl4kvZr6HvSdUGtDIopCAV-sD5QCsRPSKl1FwFHMgUbGC8gMHTEw9VnLA7C2GoUlPUAM/s1600/SAM_0577.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEklfYh6LqHDFSZW84y9yuG9hfpe2OU5OhwuZFZuZdv2wTUry5r6aZrlQtGJASr6N8zjaKDxf1gl4kvZr6HvSdUGtDIopCAV-sD5QCsRPSKl1FwFHMgUbGC8gMHTEw9VnLA7C2GoUlPUAM/s320/SAM_0577.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><i>Titus swimming with some kids in the Bay of Bengal. The water was warmer than than the oppressive muggy air. Titus was sweating when he came out.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#006600;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uKQR_uYAYg17pstFpeAxcCG45cbtSKGFyPBMOP1wtotPiD52ChH0RzpY-n-wX3-FBvlboQ6qzokqRzulE_wNQRgbTfGZlVQfhEJGlxdRN_JTGC_GYxiizEApDPCD3O20jxRsyExgnEM2/s1600/SAM_0489.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6uKQR_uYAYg17pstFpeAxcCG45cbtSKGFyPBMOP1wtotPiD52ChH0RzpY-n-wX3-FBvlboQ6qzokqRzulE_wNQRgbTfGZlVQfhEJGlxdRN_JTGC_GYxiizEApDPCD3O20jxRsyExgnEM2/s320/SAM_0489.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000066;"><i>Ladies at the garment factory making some shorts for K-Mart.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000066;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCreOvRwaxxaNLN2V4aXQpP1BLfjyMV9aimwLKITeYjH0l3LFrR4l4pa_fggdR6aGN4zw1zPx9dzQhoX6Jz4u5BqFMhqnharn0E-RgcAHrC3-MnlGF94rc7X1iFMZn-MtCoDr44qx8UyG/s1600/SAM_0675.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCreOvRwaxxaNLN2V4aXQpP1BLfjyMV9aimwLKITeYjH0l3LFrR4l4pa_fggdR6aGN4zw1zPx9dzQhoX6Jz4u5BqFMhqnharn0E-RgcAHrC3-MnlGF94rc7X1iFMZn-MtCoDr44qx8UyG/s320/SAM_0675.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><i>A peek into the Catholic School where the children from the orphanage attend. Such beautiful grounds and gardens. The staff were caring and attentive. It was painted cheerful bright colors. But, it was still hard to leave those little babies behind.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#330033;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AHM_0fNa6wZmqhVjURZG3pvjrnpP_ET17yM3BrjWcdkwoS16DqEKE74x71Pl-4msN3mw7ex76Bf9G2nw6UEnYLgC81l1yyVvU32emIDlpJZGe3eTZkvRJS_8qeh1mrCNGGs3zvmNgOmZ/s1600/SAM_0730.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0AHM_0fNa6wZmqhVjURZG3pvjrnpP_ET17yM3BrjWcdkwoS16DqEKE74x71Pl-4msN3mw7ex76Bf9G2nw6UEnYLgC81l1yyVvU32emIDlpJZGe3eTZkvRJS_8qeh1mrCNGGs3zvmNgOmZ/s320/SAM_0730.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a> </div><div style="text-align:center;margin:0px auto 10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#993300;"><i>Bryce with a couple stacks of life rings recovered at the shipbreaking yards. We didn't get to see them in action but we did a bit of shopping. Bought an old spyglass. </i></span></div><div style="clear:both; text-align:CENTER"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;" align="middle" border="0" /></a></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-69811198631227110022010-05-18T00:57:00.000-07:002010-05-18T01:10:53.469-07:00Book Review<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: 11px; "><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6260997-half-the-sky" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide" border="0" src="http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1255572078m/6260997.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/6260997-half-the-sky">Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/60441.Nicholas_D_Kristof">Nicholas D. Kristof</a><br/><br/> My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/103246005">5 of 5 stars</a> A very important message and call to action. I so appreciate the women who shared their stories and the authors' efforts to make a difference in a world needing change. There might have been some inaccuracies and inconsistencies, and I can't make a blanket statement agreeing with the book as a whole, but I'm so glad I read it and highly recommend it. </span><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Lucida Grande', serif;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:11px;"><br /></span></span></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-42431832134621841232010-05-17T01:09:00.001-07:002010-05-17T01:18:34.368-07:00Garment Factory Tour<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">By Titus:</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><div><br /></div>Today we visited a garment factory. It wasn't anything like I expected. I thought it was going to be by open street not an alleyway! I thought it would look fancy not beat up!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">Inside was a different story. First, we walked up a flight and 1/4. Then, we got to the main floor. Accidentally, we went the wrong way. First we had to see the manager. So we went in his office and talked a while. Finally he agreed to give us a tour. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">We went to the working area. I can't remember the name of the first area but I think it's where they put, store and check the clothes they make. The second area must have been really boring because I can't remember what it was. The third was a stitching and sewing and a little cutting. This was also the floor where the doctor was. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#003300;">The next floor was about the same just no doctor. Then we had a snack and left.</span><div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">By Maggie:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Today I visited a garment factory. When I was there I was really surprised to see so many sewing machines. All the sewing machines looked different. Some were big, others were small. But all women worked on them. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Today I also visited a beach. At the beginning I got a little wet. But even though there were people watching I played on the rocks and sat on the rocks. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;">Even the car ride was fun because I sat and sat and sat and it was fun because I was sleepy.</span></div></div></div></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-25823574931257255612010-05-15T00:00:00.000-07:002010-05-15T00:14:08.512-07:00Coconut Harvester<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpDz9ixGtmGWu-dlxd3Z_SyZWCw04_A6UdOrWDcnF-A_9EEnE332O6um_MyDC3Dv6Ju39YbLjgIZPdlTm8CfWpECfcrZMlWqljK0Q_Fst9QEk3EdgcXvBvLVDxQxJMQoNB-4S45LdsTuW/s1600/SAM_0329.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNpDz9ixGtmGWu-dlxd3Z_SyZWCw04_A6UdOrWDcnF-A_9EEnE332O6um_MyDC3Dv6Ju39YbLjgIZPdlTm8CfWpECfcrZMlWqljK0Q_Fst9QEk3EdgcXvBvLVDxQxJMQoNB-4S45LdsTuW/s320/SAM_0329.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471390181859426018" /></a>We live on the third floor. Apartment 3D if you're ever in the neighborhood and feel like visiting. <div><br /></div><div>It's actually the fourth floor since the ground floor doesn't count around here. That puts our view right at the frond level of a full grown coconut palm. </div><div><br /></div><div>For the past few moths we have been watching some coconuts ripen on the trees outside our kitchen window. The other morning I heard some rustling outside the window. When I looked outside I saw this guy crouched in the tree. Just your friendly neighborhood coconut harvester and palm tree pruner. He climbed up and down with the help of a rope (and possibly some invisible limbs). </div><div><br /></div><div>He was happy to let me take his picture because Enzo was with me, waving, and being uncharacteristically friendly. I think Enzo was very impressed. A new standard has been set for climbing skills.</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-5194310675432478382010-05-12T22:20:00.000-07:002010-05-12T23:07:31.780-07:00Labour SuiteYesterday we finally made it to the maternity hospital. It is a private hospital and therefore fairly nice. We had to spend a little bit of time explaining why we were there and that we only wanted to see how things were done there. They were a little reluctant to let us in but finally called the Chief Medical Officer to meet us and give us a tour if she approved.<div><br /></div><div>Dr. Rosie, wearing a white coat over her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">shalwar</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">kameez</span>, was soft spoken and efficient. We started in the induction room. A white walled room extending from the cement hallway with six metal framed beds. The beds were all full, some with two women together. They all laid obediently on their sides facing us. Nurses in white gowns and peaked caps were about, checking their IV bags and cutting fruit onto a metal plate in the corner. </div><div><br /></div><div>Behind us a doorway was cut through the wall. The opening was covered by hanging fabric. When it was pulled back we could observe the delivery room. Three high beds were pushed against the wall. All were occupied and the tiny woman in the center bed was calling out in a voice universally <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">acknowledged</span> to herald birth. A nurse stood at her feet calmly setting instruments on a tray. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just past the delivery room doorway was a wide door with a steep ramp leading down to the Operating Theatre. The anaesthesiologist was nearby and explained that he was preparing for his third C-Section that day. The lucky woman stood behind him near the table draped in a blue gown.</div><div><br /></div><div>We saw the C-Section recovery room next and got only a small peek of the nursery (sweet little baby heads laying in wooden cots). Women with natural deliveries might stay for up to 24 hours but usually go straight home. </div><div><br /></div><div>This entire labour suite could fit inside my apartment easily. And, amazingly, they do 700-800 births per month (they said perhaps 200 of them are cesareans). </div><div><br /></div><div>As we asked questions and observed the quiet business of women around us involved in one of the most <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">significant</span> experiences of their lives I marveled at it all. </div><div><br /></div><div> The building was old. There were chunks of cement missing from walls. There weren't doors or even curtains between the beds. And there was a significant absence of equipment (my ears and heart strained to hear the quickly skipping beats of an electronically monitored fetal heart rate). But, it was clean. The staff were efficient and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pleasant</span>. And I was comforted by the distinct impression that these women would be safely delivered and on their way home, happy with babies in arms.</div><div><br /></div><div>And really, isn't that what it's all about?</div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-12059867938609798822010-05-10T21:30:00.000-07:002010-05-11T21:26:10.247-07:00Ridin' Around in My CNG<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd7sz0zhr4CQ1o8Wgz4ZVFzKZs1PVw0J6zrOT8xJAZWFJy0jHr7Sc_qtPrrp25wy4y4_lYX8t0t8uAwL-stpFFfO77SB6O4j9X_A1Fusn9dEsM2q3bK3d0mFn-FZe0tFW3JGHOoqcklLy/s1600/SAM_0372.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsd7sz0zhr4CQ1o8Wgz4ZVFzKZs1PVw0J6zrOT8xJAZWFJy0jHr7Sc_qtPrrp25wy4y4_lYX8t0t8uAwL-stpFFfO77SB6O4j9X_A1Fusn9dEsM2q3bK3d0mFn-FZe0tFW3JGHOoqcklLy/s320/SAM_0372.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469867516732576674" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Bryce, Titus and Maggie took me out to dinner the other night for Mother's Day. We decided to go to a new restaurant (very worth it) that was across town so the first step was cramming into a CNG together and enduring the hot and dusty fume filled 20 minute ride. Bryce snapped some shots of the trip. </span></span></p><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It reminded me that I never posted on here the Warden's Message (from the US Embassy here) from late March. </span></span></p><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Recently a U.S. Embassy employee was injured during a purse snatching while riding in a Rickshaw. An unknown subject leaned out of a window of a passing vehicle and grabbed the employee’s purse. The employee was pulled violently off the rickshaw and dragged, sustaining multiple abrasions. The incident occurred in the diplomatic zone in the early evening.</span></span></i></span></p><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#663333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The recent incident involving rickshaw use is a reminder that one is exposed to special risks whenever riding on a rickshaw. To minimize exposure to accidents and crimes of opportunity, each passenger should carefully evaluate the situation when making a decision to use a rickshaw. Factors might include the expected route, time of day, traffic congestion, condition of the rickshaw and assessment of the rickshaw driver. It is strongly recommended that handbags, knapsacks and the like not be carried while riding on a rickshaw. For security reasons, the Embassy recommends that U.S. citizens avoid riding in taxis, buses, and engine-powered rickshaws (CNGs).</span></span></i></span></p><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Of course if you take away rickshaws, CNGs, buses, and taxis there really isn't any way for us to get around since we don't have our own car and driver. We decided to keep risking it. But I always try to make friends with the drivers by paying them way more than necessary. It's like insurance, right? And besides, I'm no good at bargaining. </span></span></p><p dir="LTR"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: separate; font-family:Georgia, serif;font-size:16px;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhrjHQr0Ab-dwJm_q3nAJZ0jg0j_6EAq5RNskEmrQTv-qLDqPnYqwEgZKnBHt7W2kraF9Bl0cuX1K5Z0gq1IpG7I_LzzhGJDqg0dx1kLufAsaM2zfGd0DVwe8vS_kteCwKLxpOtJl7LdxH/s1600/SAM_0333.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhrjHQr0Ab-dwJm_q3nAJZ0jg0j_6EAq5RNskEmrQTv-qLDqPnYqwEgZKnBHt7W2kraF9Bl0cuX1K5Z0gq1IpG7I_LzzhGJDqg0dx1kLufAsaM2zfGd0DVwe8vS_kteCwKLxpOtJl7LdxH/s320/SAM_0333.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469867508358200562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"></span></span></span></p></span>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2892943194534814030.post-3024835148562979722010-05-08T20:37:00.000-07:002010-05-08T22:40:05.389-07:00Happy Mother's Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfaQ56HRedm4_CL9XBGhR4lBJxY5q_rXQOf4VcY-VTxmi8ptqh44H0xdubXHvadqMPFHMsXvURTQCRCicAjMgevoZr7N0fUMNVEwxOBKBvDyWZaeAwRx1yYvxeArFBlRrtALODNOTraWR5/s1600/P1070052.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfaQ56HRedm4_CL9XBGhR4lBJxY5q_rXQOf4VcY-VTxmi8ptqh44H0xdubXHvadqMPFHMsXvURTQCRCicAjMgevoZr7N0fUMNVEwxOBKBvDyWZaeAwRx1yYvxeArFBlRrtALODNOTraWR5/s320/P1070052.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469136213882257778" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Life can be complicated and unforgiving. It is full of suprises and sometimes switchbacks that catch us off guard and, in my case at least, throw us off balance. Lately I've had plenty of time and opportunity to appreciate how the things that trip me up pale in light of the challenges of others.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I have never faced the kind of struggle that meets so many women of the world on a daily basis. Extreme poverty, hunger. Violence or threat of violence. Lack of education, lack of choice. Prostitution and trafficking.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Essentially, I have experienced a near fairy tale life all this time without really realizing it. I have spent most of my life surrounded by strong capable women and supportive men. People around me have always assumed I could do the things I wanted to do, and I basked (and sometimes succeeded) in their encouragement.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">On Mother's Day, which always feels like a celebration of all women to me, I want to thank and recognize the amazing women in my life. Those who have, by example and practice, shown me the value of education, love, play, and opportunity. My life has been blessed by you. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I hope and pray, on a daily basis, that I can do the same for others. For my children, for you, and for women around the world.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you! </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Andrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05364743947303801467noreply@blogger.com2