Noodle and the Goose Again

Snow Day

I had forgotten that an inch of snow means crisis in the American Southeast, so when the rain turned to snow on Sunday afternoon, I assured the girls they would NOT have a day off of school the next. I was wrong. School was cancelled by bedtime.

Before that, however, we hit the deck for some snowy fun.

Creations were created.

Until toes and fingers got too cold and a hot bath with hot chocolate chaser was in order.

It actually kept snowing a bit overnight and the yard looked lovely in the morning light.

Most of the white stuff had melted by afternoon, but it was still enough for a pleasant diversion and an excuse not to do the laundry.

 

Hope Springs...

I woke up this morning feeling worse than terrible, with the persistent ache in my side howling in protest every time I drew a breath. It suddenly struck me that the last time I felt quite this way, with such a side ache, was back in 2006 when Goose was a baby and I had pneumonia. Which I didn't realize for some time because, well,  I was busy.

So today I'm assiduously ignoring the pain until tomorrow, when my doc's office is open and I can make an appointment. Hopefully its just my over active imagination, because I'm, you know, busy.

With what I'm not exactly sure. Working two days a week, teaching a class, preparing lectures, grading papers and all of that. Which is serving as distraction from the endless drudgery of cleaning up the house, doing the laundry, purchasing food and making something eatable for my voraciously hungry family who have the audacity to want to eat at least three times a day.  And then there's the dog. (I really, really, really miss our pembantu, our helper, who we left back in Indonesia).

But I am not thoroughly disheartened.  Though the groundhog saw his shadow, I'm gearing up for Spring. I'm planting seeds. Seeds. Something I've felt compelled to do in the past, with better results in the US than in SE Asia. So far the broccoli, bok choy, cherry tomatoes, swiss chard and basil have sprouted and are happily stretching their little sprouty leaves toward the lamp on my desk.

It is such a hopeful sight and daily I cheer them on to gaining their three real leaves and getting transplanted into their own special pot forthwith to venture outdoors when the frosts are gone and the ground warm. Exactly where they will all end up is totally hypothetical, as we live in the woods without much sun - sometimes I long for the vast open garden fields of my homelands. But truth be told, whatever makes it can probably be accommodated in some way on our very sunny deck. It is that big and my success with seedlings that pronounced.

Still and all, today we bought more and more seed packets - peppers, pumpkins, squash, beans, and flowers.

Because in February?

You just can't have too much hope or too many packets of seeds.

February 4.

The day creeps closer. Of course.

It was today a year ago that we threw stuff into suitcases and ran as quickly as we could to the airport to come home from Indonesia because my mommy was dying.

It was this day a year ago when I was sandwiched between my girls in a hotel bed at the Singapore Airport when my mommy died. On February 4.

Still I'm rendered speechless, mute, wordless by that fact.

I wasn't there, I wasn't there, I wasn't there when she died.

I know there is nothing my girls could ever do, or not do, that would ever be unforgivable, that would ever cause me to turn away from them, that would ever break my love for them. Because a Mother's love is like that. My Mother's love was like that.

I wish I could believe myself held in that love, always.

I miss her so much.

In our last converstation - before she got too sick to reply to me - a crackly voice on the telephone from the other side of the world - she kept asking, "Are you okay? Are you eating good? Are the girls okay? Are they eating good?". And my heart breaks to remember it.

Today while brushing up on Jewish mourning rituals for my class I came across a description of Kaddish, the prayer said for the year after a loved one has died. The prayer, it was suggested, is said daily so that the sayer can bask in the love of the one lost for a little more time before they cross over into eternity. Like when your mother asks you if you are warm enough, if you are getting enough sleep, if you are eating good - those expressions of the love that your mother has for you but doesn't have the words to express. That love, that concern, that care.

Are you okay? Are you eating good? Are the girls okay? Are they eating good?"

And I read this:

When we are born our parents carry us. When they die,
we carry them, but the truth is they are carrying us forever.
Just as Yakov Avinu asked his children to carry him back
to Eretz Yisroel before he died, but he was really telling
them, I will carry you back from the four corners of the
world. (attributed to Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach )

Still, my mommy carries me.

Still she carries me.

Welcome the Year of the Dragon!!!!

 

 

 

Being All Sciencey

As I believe I've mentioned here before, we are not really big Science people at our house. Sciencey at best. And yet, something possessed T to undertake not one, but two major Science experiences (as Goose calls them) in the past 24 hours.

The first involved what might result if one, on his night off from work, might place two kettles on the hot stove (one pasta, one lentils) turned on high, whilst also positioning  a wooden spoon strategically on a third burner (also on high) with the handle reaching all the way to the counter-top AND THEN leave the house for god only knows what reason, at approximately 4 am.

I don't know what his working hypothesis was, but the results were; a) a smoke filled house, b) a charred and about to burst into flames wooden spoon, c) a hole burned in the counter-top (perfect for making the house ready for sale!), d) a solid block of burned pasta, e) the screeching of 4 properly functioning smoke alarms, f) terrified wife and children yanked from their peaceful slumbers  screaming and screaming and screaming (mostly the children) and running for the front yard. Oh yeah, and the dog howling, yipping and running pell mell around that yard.

By the time he got back from where ever he went (I never did ask, though I suspect it might involve early morning fast food) I had thrown the charred remains of spoon, pasta and lentils into the sink, opened every door and window possible and got the kids back to bed. It took me a bit more time to settle back down.

THEN about 12 hours later came his second experience. This one involving animal behavior. Specifically what might transpire if one left one's PUPPY WHO CHEWS EVERYTHING IN SIGHT all alone, outside  her crate, in the room that your wife just spent the whole entire freaking day cleaning and organizing with the door to the closet wherein said wife just carefully unpacked and repacked all the china and crystal from her mother's house in sturdy cardboard boxes, all carefully labeled and safely stored OPEN. Leaving this puppy while your wife is out grocery shopping, your kids are glued to a movie in another room, three closed doors away and you are sleeping downstairs.

Yeah, well, that one didn't go so well either. The smoke alarms didn't go off, but there was a bit of screaming when the wife got home. And just a bit of crying over some broken china and crystal.  Not too much of the latter, thankfully. But enough to decisively prove MY working hypothesis that WE CANNOT LEAVE THE PUPPY UNATTENDED AND ROAMING FREELY IN THE HOUSE NO NEVER, NOT EVER!!!!!!

I don't know. Perhaps the man was inspired by the other science experiences going on in our house over the past few weeks. Both Noodle and Goose did Science Fair projects this year. And though we all (the girls and I) complained and whined and moaned our way through the projects, in retrospect they were a walk in the park with ice cream on top. Nothing broken, nothing burned. Just three decidedly non-sciencey women trying to wend our way through hypotheses, procedures, results, observations and presentations. Goose did best of all, excited and on-task. Keeping Noodle focused was somewhat harder.

Goose's Experience was about color mixing using color tablets (like for Easter Egg dying), water, test tubes, pipettes, expanding crystals and lots and lots of pretty colors.

It was actually pretty cool and she did such a good job on it.

I was downright proud of her, especially because she insisted on writing everything by herself. Yeah, it didn't win any prizes - which she was rather saddened by - but girl did a good job. And loved the "Science Fair Participant" ribbon that she got.

Noodle's Project was mostly Noodle wanting to play with electricity and me trying to channel that into something Science Fairy. Like trying to determine which kind of light bulb might be more efficient - an incandescent or a compact fluorescent. Because, you know, there's that whole Clean Energy thing going on and it's a very pertinent contemporary political and environmental issue. Plus, Noodle just read a biography of Thomas Edison and was all jazzed about finding out how light bulbs work.

The experiment was not the work of professionals - to be sure.

A six-volt battery, some wire, a few nails, a metal filament (lifted from a metal pot scrubber) and a piece of wood (yes, it is a garden stake, but you use what you have in our house).

Whoo hoo!! a red glowing metal filament!!

Followed by failed attempts to light light bulbs with the 6 volt battery.

Yeah, not so much. But as we know, From the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success!!!

Try Mom's desk lamp!!!

Success!!!

A brightly glowing filament!!!

Success!!!

Measuring the heat given off by the light bulbs (with a drug store digital thermometer!!!)

Success!!!

Success!!

And while I thought her presentation rocked the world (it had a Graph, for goodness sake), the snoot-nosed grad student judges (who were, I suspect, Science People) didn't so much. So yeah, she didn't win either, but as I kept singing to her:

Disaster didn't stymie Louis Pasteur!
No sir!
Edison took years to see the light!
Right!
Alexander Graham knew failure well; he took a lot of knocks to ring that
bell!
So when it gets distressing it's a blessing!
Onward and upward you must press!
Yes, Yes!
Till up from the ashes, up from the ashes grow the roses of success.

And quite frankly?

We've had about as much Science as we can take for awhile.

MDS

MDS = Mango Deprivation Syndrome.

I've finally discerned what is going on with me as of late. It has been at least 6 months since I've had a decent, much less delectable, mango. It is messing with my mind. Last evening we were forced to try a mango smoothie made from frozen mango pieces that, at least in the photo on the bag, actually looked more like a real mango than those sad, sad, sad green rocks they try to pass off as fruit for $1.99 each at the grocery store. It was disappointing, to say the least. Didn't taste remotely like mango. Didn't even look very yellow. In the immortal words of Noodle, it was "SO NOT REAL MANGO MAMA".

I know.

Six months into being 'back' in the US. Six months into severe mango deprivation. My symptoms are myriad.

Case in point. Over the last two weeks I've become irrationally furious over the following:

1) That I can count on ONE HAND the number of Asian students in my girl's school and TWO OF THOSE FINGERS ARE MY DAUGHTERS for pity sakes. And what is more every single one of those Asian students is adopted and has freaking lily white American parents. They've been talking about racism (of course, because it was MLK day) and my girls were confused about where they fit. "Am I white or am I black?", Noodle asked me. "Are those the only choices??". YES YES apparently they are in THIS place, but in the rest of the freaking world? Yeah, Sweetie, not so much. There are exponentially more people in the world who look like YOU than who look like ME. Do you remember Asia? Do you remember when Mama and Daddy were the odd ones out? Do you remember when you could count on one freaking hand the number of white/blond kids in your school and I had a terrible time trying to find you in a crowd of your classmates because you all looked so much alike and it wasn't just the dang school uniforms??????  Seriously, I'm glad that the school is talking about racism and that there is a substantial African American population at the school, but, but, but, but I think we need to live somewhere else.

2) The absence of any decorations, indications, products or recognition that next Monday is the Lunar New Year aka Chinese New Year aka Spring Festival  which is the LARGEST and most celebrated holiday in the world. Just not in this particular portion of the American South, so it seems. I know. I said it was irrational anger, but even in Indonesia where as recently as 15 years ago it was ILLEGAL to celebrate the holiday it is now a National Holiday - day off of work - and you can buy oranges and fireworks and red envelopes and piles of the frightfully garish red and gold decorations on street corners and the grocery store. And folks? I checked. The percentage of Chinese people in Indonesia is NOT HIGHER than the percentage of those in the US who might be celebrating this holiday. As Noodle said when we were scouring the aisles of a craft store for anything remotely Chinese New Yearish or Dragonish, "It's like there are no Chinese people here at all, well I AM HERE AND I AM CHINESE. Deal with it".

3) The lack of decent mangoes.

Point two.

This week I ran into a woman (Dutch/American) who had just returned from Indonesia - specifically from Jogja and even more specifically from the Center I worked at the University there. When she said, "Apa kabar??" to me my knees nearly buckled, my heart lurched dangerously and I seriously felt like weeping. Apa kabar? How are you? How are you? Apparently not quite as "here" as I might be.

Which might explain,

Point three.

My recurring dream that we're somewhere in the actual physical transition from Indonesia to America. Sometimes packing in Indonesia. Sometimes in airports. Sometimes in Ohio. Sometimes unpacking in our house. But never never never settled here. Always trying to manage the transition somehow. And when I wake up it takes me some time to reorient myself and figure out just exactly where I am (the dog licking my face is helpful on that score).  Where am I again? Who am I again? What?????

Which leads to,

Point four.

The really most bizarre of all.  Yesterday I returned to the campus I was formerly associated with (and the reason why we were living in NC in the first place) before becoming unassociated with and moving to Indonesia to teach nearly 5 years ago. Just before Christmas the Religion Department Chairperson (a different one than before) asked me to teach a class this semester. And I said. YES. So there I was yesterday, back in the same old classroom (though the blackboards have been replaced with white boards!) opening my mouth to teach (a different class than before, thank god) once again, as I did for years, years and years ago. I am deeply grateful for the chance to teach again and I genuinely like and enjoy the people there (the ones I didn't so much are mostly gone away) but folks, the rabbit hole that I've fallen down has gotten curiouser and curiouser. The students in my class could not even identify a photograph of a highly decorated Mosque as being a "religious building", though they thought perhaps the golden scribbles might be some sort of writing.  Some sort of writing. Ya Allah!!!!!!!

Someone PLEASE BRING ME A REAL MANGO.

SOON.

A girl and her dog.

Why yes, we did do Christmas.

For the most part it was quite merry.

Filled with presents at home.

Presents in Ohio.

And family, family, family.

We got to sing with Oma.

And hang out watching football with Opa

and Cousin Hengree.

Goose went flying in the back yard.

And we snuggled the newest member of the family.

Dogs and kids ran amock.

And my family all got together to eat. And talk. And eat. And talk.

We came back home to yet another fun, fun package of gifts, which made everyone very happy.

Especially Miss Zora who both lost her mind and forgave us for our absence over a cat-nip filled jingle ball.

Merry, merry, merry.

Christmasing

So far Christmas at our house has been pretty much equal JOY JOY JOY to Be. Here. For. Christmas! and sad, sad missing my Mom and mourning the changes in our family , with a whole lot of OVERWHELMED by the season thrown in. We're working at finding our feet and enjoying what needs to be enjoyed.

Last weekend we got all dressed up and revived the tradition of seeing The Nutcracker. Noodle kinda remembered it but it was Goose's first time. She was enchanted until the pas de deux when she fell asleep. We had front row seats so we had both the dancers and the orchestra to watch (I was a bit anxious and may have actually purchased tickets the day they went on sale back in, oh maybe October?).

It was a closing weekend performance (University of North Carolina School of the Arts) without any hot-shot guest dancers so it was a bit uneven (though the Cavalier did not, in the end, drop the Sugar Plum Fairy despite a rather iffy hold - and the momentary look of terror on Sugar's face - and I'm guessing that beyond the second row no one even noticed) but it was FUN. And magical.  And Christmasy.

Also Christmasy? Baking,

And decorating Christmas Cookies.

With assistance from Zora.

And support (for falling frosting bits) from Maizie.

Our windows are all holidayish.

A Victorian Christmas Village has appeared on top of the Cabinet.

Complete with the Horse whose legs Noodle broke when she was 2.

Yup, still broken.

And we have a tree. A big glorious real smelly Christmas Tree. We had to restrain ourselves from buying the 10 foot one (8 foot only) and we've been savoring it. Eating our meals by its light, sniffing indiscriminately, cuddling up to watch Christmas movies under its branches. I haven't yet gotten a good photo of it in all its glory, but trust me, it is NOT THIS TREE.

Noodle/Goose Household Tree 2010 Yogyakarta Indonesia.

So not that tree.

We put every single ornament we could find on our tree. Every single ornament. Including all the ones I brought home from Indonesia and from my Mom's house and the ones that Noodle made special for this year and the ones in our Christmas box and the ones in my closet and...

So many memories - Muttley's bone, the glass cardinal someone gave me the year we were waiting for Noodle, kitties galore, old glass bulbs from my childhood, so many memories.

Except for this one, which I just found under the tree this morning. Never saw it before in my life. I would suspect that Santa's reindeer left behind some sleigh bells, but, well, you know, as Goose says, "Santa Claus isn't REAL!!" and pretty much never early. The sad truth is most likely that Maizie brought these bells home from a neighbor's holiday display. I'm actually afraid that the holiday display may have been inside a neighbor's house. My dog is very social.

Ho, ho, ho.

Noodle Hits Double Digits

Noodle celebrated her birthday while we were in Florida. This makes her, as I noted she wrote recently, "Currently 10" and chomping at the bit to grow older (despite my pleas to the contrary).

The birthday was celebrated, of course, with dinner. N requested Grandma's Noodles, of course. Between my sister, myself and my Mom's actual noodle kettle, we did pretty darn well at replicating this delicious family favorite. Eaten with apple sauce, of course.

Cake-wise, the girl wanted "White cake with strawberry frosting and strawberries on top".  Which became a Lady Baltimore Cake swirled wtih Strawberry Jam topped with Fresh Strawberry Icing (basically butter, powdered sugar and strawberries) and fresh strawberries - the first of the Florida season and 10 candles.

It kinda cracked down the middle, but it was Good, Good, Good.

There were presents for Noodle and for cousin N, hitting 23 (I think) a few days later and lots of family silly time.

A Birthday Party So Glorious that some refused to lose the lei for days after.