Finding the Light Side

Written Sunday, October 30, 2016

Here we are back in the States and once again on the verge of Halloween. Buckets of candy are looming, costumes, and today--carving pumpkins. Two years ago, our first fall in Guadalajara, we had to think through their Día de los Muertos and while we heard that trick-or-treating happened, we had no where to go for it. We ended up skipping costumes (which was fine by me) and per a friend's suggestion we gave each kid some money to choose their own candy from the store.

Last Halloween, our second year in Guadalajara, our friends the Smiths lived in a gated community where trick-or-treating happened. The kids cobbled together costumes and we went out with the Smith's son, Luke. It was Luke's first time ever trick-or-treating and it took us a house or two before we realized there was a song we were supposed to sing in order to get candy. Mexico is happy to take on other countries' traditions, but they're going to put their own twist on them. Whatever the case, great enjoyment was had by all.

This year's crew: Sapphire Girl, Obiwan Kenobi, & Owl Girl

Some folks are able to track down pumpkins to carve, but we never got that far. Because of this the kids were thrilled to get pumpkins this year, and this afternoon we had a carving party. The kids are definitely growing up because I didn't have to do much beyond cutting off the top of the pumpkins and digging out the final bits of the innards. I did end up helping Jon, but mostly because the concept of negative space was new to him and he almost cut his pumpkin's giant mouth in reverse.

Once the kids found their groove, I wandered the yard picking up pecans. They planned and worked and eventually songs broke out, and ballads were sung to the "brains" of the pumpkins, the stringy orange strands lined with seeds. Ev eventually lapsed into Spanish and sang, "Me gusta tus naranjas, con mi amor"* in convincing tones. It certainly moved me to tears of laughter.

Three jack o' lanterns now grace our porch waiting for their darkness to be turned to light tomorrow night. As Clare aptly put it, "The only way to make the pumpkins truly bright is to take out their brains." We have succeeded.

* "I like your oranges, with my love."

Grocery Shopping

The kids have Awana Clubs on Sunday evening and it's the perfect time to do our serious grocery shopping. I got to Sam's Club and Walmart tonight, as well as Harbor Freight to pick up a couple things for Kraig. Getting to stores here is certainly easier than in Guadalajara.

It's nice to be in a town with such a large Hispanic population, though, because the stores carry just about all of the favorites we got used to in Guad. There are a couple things we haven't tracked down yet. We got hooked on Fritos con Limón (Fritos with Lime) while in Mexico, and unfortunately they don't seem to have crossed the border. But there are some more authentic Mexican groceries I haven't gotten to yet, so I'm holding out hope.

I also am reminded I'm in the South when I go to groceries here, that and we're near Louisiana. There are shelves full of Cajun fixings, and Sam's Club has an aisle devoted to various kids of fry oil--peanut, vegetable, coconut, you name it. Big vats of it. And fish fry seasonings and bread crumbs. These are delicacies we are still too new to Texas to fully appreciate. No worries there, though. There's time.

Now...if I can find the Middle Eastern spices and sauces I could get in Canton, Michigan, we'll really be cooking.

Saturdays Gone By

One of the events I really miss from Guadalajara was a monthly get-together some of us started last year. One Saturday a month we'd head to a local park and--well--play. The kids were let loose with some parental interaction. There was bike-riding, trampoline fun, pick-up soccer games, and whatever else came up. The parents would play, but they'd also talk, and talk, and talk. Those of us participating were primarily homeschooling, but that wasn't a requirement. What we did require was that the outing would be on a Saturday so that the working dads could come with the moms and kids. It was a lovely experience, and what I liked particularly about this group was that Kraig and I were connected with both spouses. Kraig had some deep male friendships, but they weren't just any guys. They were the husbands of my close friends and fathers of my kids' friends. I kind of knew it was a unique situation then, but being back in the States has driven that truth home.

Parents' schmooze time

Our connections here in Longview (so far) are a lot like those we had in Michigan. Kraig is forging friendships with profs (primarily male) at the university, and while I'm getting to know some of the wives through Bible study and the monthly wives get-together we aren't getting to know them in the context of couples or families. Our church so far is less connected to our weekday interactions. Or maybe I mean more that the interactions at church have only been there--they haven't overflowed into our lives. I hope that as we get to know folks better there will be more of an overflow, but that may take a while.

This post has actually gone off in a completely different direction than what I originally intended. I was thinking how it was easy to drop everything on a Saturday and head to a park with friends when we were living in an apartment in Guadalajara. Here we've got a house, and Saturday is, so far, for projects and family time (the kids got bikes today and Kraig worked to get them up and running). I wonder if that's the way things typically are for everyone here. Life is busy, and connecting may not rate as high in importance.

I shall have to ponder this.

Guadalajara Parco Metropolitano

Where Am I Again?

Last night I dreamt that I was trying to explain something to a girl and I had to speak in Spanish. It was quite realistic since I stumbled around to find the right words, the same way I always managed in Guadalajara. It wasn't until I woke that the significance of my dream hit. I'd finally dreamed in Spanish, albeit haltingly, after living for two years in Mexico...but we no longer live in Mexico. It was one of those bittersweet moments. We've had a lot of those this year, and I know there will be more.

This past summer we wrapped up our time in Guadalajara. We wished our apartment a cheerful farewell. It worked well for us, but we didn't mind saying goodbye to it. The farewells to friends, colleagues, students, cleaning and security staff for our apartment, and even the avocado vendor at our local street market--these were the more tearful farewells. Our church friends have been treasures without replacement, and Kraig has forged some strong connections with his fellow profs and some students. We've just begun to see the impact that time makes on relationships and we've had to say goodbye, leave the long-term in God's hands.

At the end of June Kraig was offered and accepted a position as assistant prof of civil engineering at LeTourneau University in Longview, Texas. Kraig and I did a whirlwind visit in July which ended in buying a home, and at the end of August we all moved down, moved in, and started the real work of settling.

It's a new adventure, and a new process, and we pray we can settle here for a good long time. It will take time to put down the roots--we know that. In the meantime I relish the visits to Walmart where I eavesdrop on the large local Hispanic community's Spanish conversation, enjoying the familiarity of the language more than grasping any of it. Sometimes I am almost tricked into thinking that when I walk outside I'll see the blue sky and cramped parking lot of my corner Walmart on Aviacion and Santa Margarita in Zapopan by Guadalajara. Tricked enough that I start dreaming in Spanish.

Dreaming of Mountains

Last night I dreamt of mountains again.

I dream of them now and then--enough that I notice and remember when I wake up, even when I can't recall many details. The mountains are always beautiful with great peaks topped with snow, and sometimes there's a lake. There are usually many of them, and most of the time I'm traveling through them. Most of my dreams (that I recall) tie back to some random incident in the previous day, but my mountain dreams don't. They just come. Since the impression they leave is always one of refreshment and a longing for beauty, I've come to take them as a reminder of God, his creation, and what he's doing in my life.

Perhaps I read to much into them. Perhaps I don't read enough. I guess that depends on the analyst. Personally I love how God can use a dream as a reminder of himself.

This morning as I crawled out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to start breakfast, I relished the fragmented images of vast spaces and fresh beauty. As my brain woke more I remembered that today was that day. That is, the anniversary of Keren's death. The seventh anniversary. I haven't forgotten it, but it hasn't weighed on me this year. It didn't last year, either, and I think part of the reason is that here in Guadalajara we aren't in the dead of winter like it is in Michigan. I love winter and I miss it. I love that the day Keren died the world was covered in fresh snow. But there is no denying that the days are dark and short in a Michigan January, and one is constantly reminded of death. Here in Guadalajara the air is chill to temperate this month, and now and then the scent of spring wafts in, stirring the blood, the heart, and the mind. Life quickens.

So yes, all that to say that death wasn't the first thing on my mind this morning. Instead mountains and beauty were. And for me, that turns my mind to God. As a result, when I did think of Keren this morning it was in the context of God and his work. I was thinking of how he uses dreams of beauty to remind me that he has things in hand, and those mountains of life that we are wending through are not just challenges. Rather they are works of art beyond anything I could ever create.

The mountains and gorge on the north side of Guadalajara don't do justice to the snowcapped peaks in my dreams, but they're definitely beautiful.

Waiting for a Break in Traffic

Those mornings when one must
Take time in one's hands
And dare Aviación*,
It seems rather unjust
That at first the lands
Flash past in swift succession.
Deception builds false trust,
Then suddenly bands
Of cars surround, stop motion.
One is stuck in slow rust,
Slave to jam's demands--
Some hour no more obstruction!

Aviación without traffic

*Aviación is the primary road by us that we can take to get onto one of the local highways.

A Dose of Humility

Every evening at about five
The road before our apartment fills.
   Both lanes are packed,
   Tempers flare, horns blare,
   Diesel fumes rise.
For some, the minutes are too much
And they attempt a shortcut
   On the alluring open expanse
   Of our service drive.
But hopes are dashed
For there is no exit off it.
Their impatience is rewarded
   With a choice between
   Drop off or retreat.
Mistakes seem like that--
   A dead end
   Where we can only backpedal
   Or fall flat on our faces
      And partake of humility. 

Eyes in the Sky

In Guadalajara
   The streets and ways are mysteries
   Without experience...or GPS.
I have no GPS
   But experience I have gained
   And maps assist.
Last year I discovered by chance
   That my iPad maps
   When planned out at home with wireless
   And carried to help me on the road
   Displayed a moving blue dot.
Without internet or cellular access
   My iPad still tracked,
   Pinging off towers to show my my way.
It's quite a blessing really--
Though also alarming--
To realize there are eyes in the sky
   Tracking my way....

Festivities

The other night we sat.
   You plugged away on papers,
   I watched a movie, folded laundry,
       When the skies across the street
                   Exploded
        Fireworks lit the night with
                   Neon flowers. 

What was the occasion?
What cause for celebration?
It was two days before Halloween,
Four to the Day of the Dead.
Not exactly fodder for fireworks.
   At least not to our American minds. 

More often than not
   We watch the festivities
    From across the street,
         Not comprehending.

It's (Not) All in the Sign

The balcony of our apartment looks down on the entrance of the "coto" (gated subdivision community) next door. Beside the entry is a pretty fountain, that adds pleasant splashing to the usual shriek and rumble of traffic noise. The other day, though, I noticed that not only was it not running, but the water had been completely drained from it. I wondered idly why and figured it must have something to do with cleaning or a leak. It wasn't till this afternoon that I noticed a sign posted over the fountain.

"Si tu Perro se hace/Tu no te hagas"

As far as my woefully limited Spanish and Google translate can tell me, this says (literally), "If your dog makes, you do not play." 

I'm hoping my friends who are much more fluent than I can shed some light on this sign, because obviously there's something missing in my translation. It reminds me of street signs like this one:

I can't help but think of everything that is implied. We must assume that the dogs are doing something in the fountain. What are they doing? I have a guess, but I think I'll leave that to the imagination. And is it that while the dogs are doing this, "you" don't get to enjoy the fountain? Or is it that the fountain is not playing as long as the dogs are doing this? I just don't know.

I'd be tempted to point to this sign as an example of how Spanish is full of assumptions, but that would be a faulty, not to mention low, blow. After all, it didn't take me long to remember our American "slow children" and how that must make non-native English speakers scratch their heads. 

Language is a funny beast. 

Schizophrenia Hits Home

Steam engine at Greenfield Village, Michigan

Last Saturday the kids and I returned to Guadalajara after spending six weeks back in the States, mostly in Michigan. Kraig spent the first three weeks with us, but had to return for a conference and university requirements. The kids and I, though, weren't bound to his schedule, so we sent him off to his solitude (poor dear) and stayed on to get some of the stateside work and visiting done. It was well worth it. We binged on family and friends, gorged ourselves in fact. I think all of us laid up stores of memories that will hold us well in the coming year. It was time "at home." It was familiar, so familiar. It was also a little strange because...well, because it wasn't all home....

Greenfield Village with Givens-side cousins

Greenfield Village with Warnemuende-side cousins

Meramac Caverns with Grandma & Grandpa Warnemuende

Kraig and me enjoying steak in Oklahoma with his bro & wife

So Kraig picked us up at the airport Saturday night. We stepped out into the familiar night of Guadalajara and were soon zipping along the road that would lead us...home.... Each part of the road was well-known to me. I knew the exit well. I knew the trick of how you need to watch the traffic to make sure you aren't run over. I knew the buildings and could read a lot on the signs (which gave me a little thrill of pleasure). The road in front of our apartment building was as bumpy and pot-hole filled as ever (actually, more than it was a month-and-a-half ago since there's been that much more of rainy season to erode it). But I know that road.

Apartment, sweet apartment with a good view of road

The apartment was the same old place, just lacking some of the knickknacks I'd put away for while we were gone. The cupboard in the kitchen had the same hitch that you have to work around to close it properly. The bed felt just right since Kraig had put our foam pad back on the mattress. There were eggs, bread, and milk waiting for us in the fridge. We were home.

But the day before I'd been home. Home in my parents' house that I have known for longer than any of the homes I've lived in since Kraig and I married. I drove down Lilley Road and looked at corners that I've driven by for more than thirty years. I had visited Greenfield Village, Henry Ford's collection of homes and buildings from various periods in American history. I'd talked with dear friends and hung out with family.

The mall on the corner with its ever-changing front

We've been back in Guadalajara for a week, and slowly the split feeling is fading. I'm more here now than there. But I'm still both. I can think of the two places simultaneously as if I belong in both, or as if I am in both, even when I'm not. For the first couple days back it meant treading carefully. I had to hang on to my mind to make sure I stayed present in the place where I was, not the place I'd been a few days before.

I don't envy the schizophrenic mind. It's hard enough figuring out where home is without dealing with a brain which convinces you that you are in two places.

Expert bag searchers

But I can't be in both places at once. The first night we were back Kraig asked Evie if she was glad to be home. "I am," she said. "I want to be here with you. But I kind of wish we could be here and in Michigan at the same time."

I understand this. I love Michigan. I've come to love things about Guadalajara. One has been home, but isn't totally now. The other is becoming more of home, but never will be completely.

If there are ever moments when I long for my final home in Christ it's in transition times like this. To be truly home, to be single-minded, to be with friends and family from here and there (and there and there and there....). That's something to look forward to. It's nice to remember in these schizophrenic moments that it won't always be like this.

For now, though, I will pray I can be present here--as much as I need to be.

Rainy season sky in Guadalajara

Digesting Christmas

I thought of calling this post "Pondering Christmas" but that was slightly blasé, and this title, "Digesting Christmas," was stuck in my head. The literal feasts of Christmas are long-digested, and that's a good thing. I'm back to daily treks up and down the flights of stairs to our third floor apartment, and that is also a good thing. But I am still digesting our Christmas experience--treasuring the beauty and craziness of it even as I yawn and look for a bed or frown when a bit of emotional reflux hits. I am full, still very full.

We were able to experience a bit of a Guadalajaran Christmas for the first part of December (or even part of November if you count the fact that they were selling live Christmas trees in stores by mid-month). The kids spent a bit of almost every day in November and December practicing for a class dance, and all the classes put on a show on the final day of classes before Christmas. This shindig involved costumes, and I happily plunked down some cash when the class parent of both Ev and Jon's
classes announced they were getting a seamstress to make the "disfraces" (costumes) so all would be the same. The results were much better than anything I could have cobbled together. Clare's costume was adequate, and despite her voiced hatred of the song her class was performing, and her disgust in having to wear a tutu, she put it on with a will on performance day and almost enjoyed herself.

Obviously we had no snow, but the coto (gated community) beside us put up Christmas lights (which are still up--it makes me happy) and poinsettia blossoms adorned every bare inch of landscaping. We didn't get a tree, live or plastic, since we were headed to Michigan for Christmas, but Clare suggested we create a paper one. We did, and the results were terrific. We even strung lights on it as well as festooning lights on our quilt wall-hanging. It was amazing the difference that ambient light made in the apartment. Up till getting the twinkle lights all we've had are the fluorescent ceiling lights. Between the decorations, the school program, the songs at church and the excitement of going "home" for Christmas, we were pretty festive.

 We headed to Michigan on the 19th and were able to stay there through the 3rd of January. It's impossible to know what all to expect from a trip like this, particularly when it is one's family's first return trip. It was incredible and lovely, and so, so hard. At times it seemed like we had never left. But emotions ran wild and off the track like my dad's electric toy train when the kids turn the power knob too high. We saw so many friends and family and the two weeks overflowed with good conversations...and at the same time there were so many friends and family we couldn't or didn't see, and we were bereft with the loss.

Talk and fun with the Grands over Mexican Train.

My friends Laura and Jen tried to create a magazine-perfect pose
while we made cookies with our kids. This was as close as we got.
To tell the truth, Laura couldn't keep a straight face long enough
and my camera kept jiggling because I was laughing so hard.

Jon and Aunt Carrie relax after Christmas dinner.

Cousins!!! (At least some of them....)

One reason it was hard was because it was a homecoming, and yet Michigan is not our home right now. This was particularly tough for the kids. They can't see the big picture like Kraig and I can and they don't have a way to put our time in Michigan within a framework of a year or two or more. To them, Michigan is home and they asked frequently why we had to return to Guadalajara. Michigan is the place where grandparents are and good friends. For Clare this was most tough because she hasn't found good friends in Mexico and she has long-time ones in Michigan--friends who take her as she is and have fun with her rather than expecting her to meet some unspoken criteria. 

The future is as mysterious as unopened Christmas presents.

We spent the two weeks talking through the future and evaluating. Kraig and I have both felt that if he was offered a second year here in Guadalajara with the same package he should take it. We knew that the package could be offered for a second year. A second year here would help us get our feet under us and know what the best path is for our family after that. What we didn't expect was the proposal he was given just before we left by his department head and another department head he's worked under for the past semester. There has been a staff opening in the department and they wanted Kraig to take it. It would be a local hire position, though, which means a significant pay drop and some other big changes for our family. In all, it didn't seem like a great idea; we haven't been here long enough to really know which end is up for a long-term decision. But we were concerned about relationships with the staff at the university; would Kraig seem ungrateful and greedy if he took the one-year contract extension instead? Would the door to the position have closed if we came to the end of a second year and felt we would want to stay? We've had some clarification since we've returned, but during our time in the States it was a huge discussion point.

School for the kids has been a major factor, too, in our ambivalence about a future here. While we've been very happy with the care and diligence of the staff at the kids' school, the actual education provided hasn't fit how our family has experienced education up to this point. We're used to interactive classrooms and challenges for the kids, and so far that's not what we've experienced here. We decided after talking long and hard over the two weeks that we'd go ahead and pull Clare this semester and homeschool her--a huge change for us. We'll continue to evaluate Ev and Jon's classes this semester and make more decisions later.

On January 3rd we said goodbye to Michigan and flew back "home" to Guadalajara. Goodbye to one home, hello to another. We are a split family, not divided physically, but divided emotionally and culturally. Life is not as straightforward as it was before we moved to Mexico.

It is a truth that will take time to digest.

The Blessing of Totato Soup

It's Thanksgiving Day, and our hearts and minds fly to friends and family who are gathering today to feast and celebrate. I love Thanksgiving; even with all of the food prep it is essentially a lazy day. There is no big agenda. The goal is to be. And to be together.

Of course, here in Mexico it's a regular day. The kids are at school and Kraig is giving exams. I went grocery shopping this morning and the laundry is running. It's hard to believe it is Thanksgiving when one looks out on green trees and grass. There's a nip in the air, but that's as close as it will get to cold. I'm glad it's not blatantly obvious what we're missing, but at the same time, I am thankful that we're looking forward to a gathering on Saturday with our friends from Ajijic. There will be turkey and green beans, and I'm bringing pumpkin pie. I found real whipping cream this morning, which I would say is the icing on the cake, but that's a misplaced idiom for this. It's the whipped cream for the pie--literally and figuratively.

Yesterday my sister Jessie who lives in Singapore wrote about the joy of being invited. Even though in some ways it's easy to forget these American holidays when one is in another country, there is still a longing. It is a longing for place and family, but it is also a longing for gathering, particularly with like-minded folks. We can always reach out and bring them into our homes, and as Jess put it, we do that. We were raised to do that. But when someone else turns and says, "Please come, " it means a ton. So we were warmed when Blair and Barb said, "Would you like to come? We don't make a big deal about Thanksgiving, but we like to have something with friends."

When I think of the blessing of gathering it is always associated with food. The best gatherings have food that brightens the eye as well as feeds the stomach. Good food encourages conversation. It can also be said that good food is best when shared. Every time I tell the kids I'm making a certain family favorite, there first question is, "Is someone coming for dinner?" They've already made the association. I wish I answered in the affirmative more often.

There was no question, though, that the first time I was able to make Totato Soup* here in Guadalajara we were going to have guests. For one thing, one pot of Totato Soup can feed a small army (or in this case, our family of five and our Ajijic friends who have four kids, three of them teenagers). For another, it is a melding of flavors that accomplishes everything I have stated good food should do. It is a pleasure to share it.

chorizo
(yes, it really is that red)

I had to wait for our shipment to make the soup because my big pot was in the shipment. In the waiting time I scoped out stores to be sure I had all of the ingredients. Some items were easy to come by: a chicken, carrots, celery, onions, garlic and canned tomatoes. I had a rosemary plant and thyme, so no need to search for those herbs. Small white potatoes are a staple here; almost as flavorful as Yukon golds. Other ingredients were a little trickier to come by. Sausage here, chorizo, has little variation. In the States I use breakfast sausage with sage for the soup, but here there is basically one kind of sausage and it all has red coloring so cooks up to look rather fiery. It's flavor is not unpleasant, but it is distinctive. I found decent frozen corn at Costco (a lot of corn here is field corn, so tough). I haven't discovered chicken stock or broth in cartons (I expect if I did it would be too expensive), and I didn't have time to make some, so I went with dry bouillon which is available here by the bag.

powdered chicken bouillon

Once I got my pot it was a matter of putting the ingredients together and setting a date for the feast. I was a little apprehensive that it wouldn't taste right--I hadn't been able to find loose sage ahead of time, and I just wasn't sure whether the sausage would be right. But the magic of the recipe worked. The aroma of the bubbling soup filled the apartment and taste-tests freed me from anxiety. I shared some with Rosa our cleaning lady because I couldn't wait to spread its wealth. Our friends came and by the time they left the pot was lightened considerably. And best of all, it had been enjoyed along with good conversation.




I'm already plotting my next pot and am figuring out with whom we will share it. The blessing of Totato Soup has come to Guadalajara.

"papas blancas cambray"

*My Michigan friends can attest to the power of Totato Soup which originated, of course, with the Rabbit Room. They have tolerated my love of all things Rabbit because of blessings like Totato Soup. I can't take any credit for creating it. Hutchmoot chef, Lewis Graham, got the idea for it after reading the first book of The Wingfeather Saga, by Andrew Peterson. Lewis made the soup, and knew it was made to be given to others, so he shared the recipe:

Ingredients:

I cooked the chicken in my crockpot this time

One 3 to 5 lb. bag of the small Yukon gold potatoes, sometimes called butter potatoes.

Two boxes of Kitchen Basics chicken stock.

One package Jimmy Dean sausage with sage.

One whole chicken, already roasted at your local store (or baked at home).

Three ears fresh corn (or one bag frozen corn), two whole carrots, three stalks celery, two medium yellow onions.

One large can of whole, peeled tomatoes (or two small cans diced tomatoes).

Fresh garlic, dried thyme, sprig of fresh Rosemary, two dried bay leaves, kosher salt, cracked black pepper, and a healthy pinch of red pepper flakes.

Directions (in Lewis Graham's words):

1. Two or three glugs of good olive oil in Dutch oven. Make warm, add sausage. When the sausage is done, remove from pan but save the grease.

2. Cut potatoes in half, and rub well with sea salt (About one tablespoon is plenty for the batch). Heat the saved grease up in the pot, add potatoes. Let them sit awhile, frying the skins a little.

3. When potato skins have browned a little, add fresh veggies, chopped up of course. Cook them a little; when the onions are translucent and celery pliable, add chicken stock.

4. Add chicken, pulled from bones, sausage, tomatoes, and everything else.

5. Let that bad boy cook awhile. When it boils, reduce the heat and let it simmer.

Lewis concludes: "The rule with soup is the longer it sits, the better it gets. Mind it occasionally, stirring to keep anything from burning in the bottom. Fresh bread is always good. Be sure, absolutely sure, to do a little celebration dance after each taste, each seasoning."

Planning Ahead...Or Not

A few weeks ago I helped out in Evie's class. Her teacher has wanted to do something special for Thanksgiving and figured Evie and I could give some input there. Why yes! The class decided to do a feast, and I volunteered to make pumpkin pie--real, homemade pumpkin pie. I wanted them to know there was something more to life than the pies one buys at the supermarket.

Thankfully when I promised this I knew that it was possible to get canned pumpkin, though perhaps tricky and expensive. Friends who have lived here longer spoke of finding it at local Wal-Marts, or even finding whole pumpkins to make it that way. I hoped to go the canned pumpkin route. Unfortunately I didn't see canned pumpkin in the local markets, but thankfully our friends in Ajijic were able to go to one of the big ex-pat stores there and found three big cans for me. The price was worth it. I figured I'd do a big pie-baking bash next week before the kids had their feast and before we had a Thanksgiving dinner with church friends.

Yesterday when I picked up the kids I saw Ev's teacher. "I have the canned pumpkin!" I said. "Good!" she answered. "Our feast is tomorrow!"

Ummmm.....

I was sure I had heard wrong, but Ev assured me that they had parceled out different types of food to the kids in the class, and as I promised, I was assigned pumpkin pie.

This is not the first time something like this has happened at school. Jon's teachers are notorious for sending home sweet little notes asking for Jon to bring something in the next day. Things like "gel in a bag" and "napoles, cooked". Half the time I'm scratching my head as I try to figure out exactly what the item is, and then have to figure out how in the world we are supposed to find it before the next day. I thought at first that these last-minute requests were because Jon's teachers are fairly young and inexperienced, but apparently not. Clare hopped into the car one day after school and said, "I have to do a poster for tomorrow on a topic." A poster, as you know, requires poster board. I don't usually stock up on poster board. Thankfully, that particular time I had just bought three for another project I had wanted to do and hadn't gotten to yet. All this to say, I shouldn't have been surprised when I was asked to bring in pumpkin pie for two second grade classes (about 36 kids total) the following day.

There was no help for it. We needed evaporated milk, pie tins, and whipped topping of some sort. I knew evaporated milk was easy to come by, as were disposable pie tins. What I hadn't seen was any sort of whipped topping (Cool Whip is not a staple here). I also had faint hope of finding pre made pie crusts, so it looked like I was going to have to make those from scratch as well. I can make a decent pie crust, but they never look as nice as the prefab ones, and a bunch of second-graders weren't going to be concerned with the quality of the crust's flavor.

I hate driving out after school because that's when the traffic builds up, so the kids and I decided to walk down to the corner market, about a five minute walk. Sure enough, we found plenty of evaporated milk and pie tins, but no pre made crusts--sigh! As for whipped topping, I found something that said "whipped topping" in a freezer chest. The box looked like one that would have whipping cream in the States. My hope was that it would suffice. We trekked home and got to work on the pies. Clare put together the innards and Ev and Jon helped me with the crust. Unfortunately Ev didn't realize the water I'd put out for her had to be measured and she dumped it all in before we realized. My shortening was gone, and the crust was now unmanageable. I saved it--we'll see if I can make it work for a cobbler. My patience had about hit its limit, but thankfully Kraig arrived home just then and suggested hamburgers for dinner from a restaurant a stone's throw away. Wise man. He and the kids traipsed off for those while I made new pie crust...with pure butter.

The pies turned out beautifully, and the little bits of crust I tried melted in my mouth. I sent three in with Ev today and we kept one for us. I'm not about to give up all of that pie crust! The class had their feast this morning and the pies were a huge hit. The other teachers got to have some, too, so I think that makes the butter worth it. However I told Kraig last night that from now on I am going to plan for the unexpected. Because apparently that's what one must do here to survive.

How much canned pumpkin do you think I'm going to need?

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

Jon's dragon puppet for school

If anyone wants to break out in the "Hallelujah Chorus" now would be the perfect time for it. We have our shipment at last!!! The reality of this has not sunk in, nor have we really begun to unpack (barring a few items the kids discovered in one of the boxes). But over dinner joy was building. Clare mentioned a book she loves and I said, "Guess what! It's in the shipment. And the shipment...is here!" That kept happening and we'd all look at each other and giggle. Yes, there was a lot of giggling this evening.

Kraig and I are wiped and the kids are out cold. It was a long day. It's been a long four months of waiting, for that matter. Last Friday I went in to the purchasing office again to follow up on things and found that as usual, nothing much was happening. Thankfully a staff member was there who has been able to mediate translation the past few times I've gone in. He hasn't been on the project, but it seemed that every time he was there, movement occurred. Friday was no different. In fact, by the end of the discussion Friday he took over the case--and suddenly things moved. We had word by the end of Friday that our entire family would have to go to the airport in order to retrieve the shipment, and we could go this week.

So this morning at 10 a.m. we met a university van and our staff member, Israel, and started off for the airport. The kids were thrilled to get out of school for the day, though we tried to warn them that waiting would be part of the events of the day. Little did we know....

First off, it rained last night. It's dry season now in Guadalajara, and we haven't had rain for a couple weeks. Apparently the weather decided it was time to make up for this, because not only did it rain during the night, but it kept up all day. When it rains, streets flood, and accidents occur. Today was no exception. We were only about seven kilometers from the airport when we got stuck in a traffic jam for at least half-an-hour. The kids played games and we inspected the ads on trucks and cars passing us.

When we reached the airport and the place where packages and shipments are stored until retrieved Kraig told the kids to leave their backpacks in the van. We didn't want them to have to cart them all over the place while we tracked down shipping questions. Once we got into the gatehouse (I can't think of a better name for the first building we entered) we discovered that no, the whole family was not needed, just the passports. In fact, kids weren't allowed into the shipment area because of all of the moving equipment. Kraig waved goodbye and he and Israel headed through creaking turnstiles while the kids and I commandeered two of the three seats available in the gatehouse.

And we waited. We probably arrived there at about 11:30. In the course of the next few hours we caught two glimpses of Kraig and Israel--once passing out of the main office, and once in the distance by the entrance of a warehouse. At two or so, Kraig came through the gate and grabbed all of the cash I had...and the next time we saw him was at about 5 when he and Israel came up from the street.

Can I just say, the kids were pretty amazing. It was probably the most boring day of their lives. We made do with Clare's tablet and my phone for a few games, but batteries ran low, and then it was a chapter of one of the Chronicles of Narnia (but not the one we're on as a family 'cause that was stuck in the van), and paper from a notebook I had. There was a game of Simon Says when they got antsy and on each others nerves (and mine), and they ran races down the chain link-lined walkway leading from the street to the gatehouse. Thankfully I packed a substantial lunch, so we had food, but that wore off toward the end. I also was thankful that while it seemed the kids weren't needed after all we had brought them, because if we hadn't they would have had no one to pick them up from school.

There were a few workers in the gatehouse--a man and a woman behind the check-in desk and a security lady who used her security wand to check all of the workers and visitors flowing in through the gate. They accepted my kids with smiles. At one point in the afternoon a young man with horn-rimmed glasses and blue rubber bands on his braces was checking out and chatted with us a bit. He'd spent a year in Minneapolis as an exchange student and wanted to know what had brought us here. We waved goodbye after the chat, but a few minutes later he returned with a simple wooden toy in hand for Jon (who was pretty cranky at that point). "I found this in my car," he said as he handed it to my now-grinning boy. "I remember playing this game many times when I was a kid. My dad was a physician and I had to wait without him a lot."

Kraig and Israel's final return was a huge relief, no question, and even more a joy when we saw that the van was packed with our fourteen trunks. All had been done! Israel headed back toward the apartment in that van while our family got in another that had been ordered since the trunks took up a lot of room. Kraig gave me the rundown of his adventures which involved a ton of standing and waiting and getting wet in the rain.

The biggest item that we'd been concerned about was the storage fee payment. The university was covering it, but there was no way to cut a check ahead of time since we didn't know the amount, and we didn't know how much cash we needed on hand (and weren't sure we could afford it even if we did know the amount). As it turned out, we couldn't retrieve cash there as the airport only uses one bank, which isn't ours. At first Kraig and Israel thought they'd have to leave to go get it from the university, but then Israel stepped up and personally pulled all of the money from his bank account. He'll be repaid by the university, but it was a huge thing that he did. Kraig and I are both a little overwhelmed by it. The cost of the late fees was equal to what it cost to ship our things here in the first place. Not only did this guy help us immensely this past week and today, he went above and beyond what was needed to give us an amazing gift. We might not have had time to retrieve everything today if he hadn't chipped in personally. He was so nonchalant about it, too, when we thanked him. His only request was that we call him when we needed a guide for some of the places in town as he loves to show people the city. To say the least, we'll be taking him up on this, but we're busy figuring out what more we can do for him.

And that was that. Our ride back to the apartment was amazingly traffic-free, and the trunks were unloaded in no time. Now they're scattered throughout the apartment waiting for their contents to be revealed. Everything was accepted by customs, so as far as we know, everything we packed is there. My fingers are itching to dig...but not tonight. Tonight, I'll just sing.

Ten of the fourteen trunks. The others were already transferred to other rooms.