A Surreal Mid-Winter Week

As previously mentioned, I made a quick, unexpected trip to the States last week. It felt funny and extremely surreal and so I thought I would reflect on what it's like to be be plopped down in the US during a random, mid-winter week. Some highlights:

#1 Michael Bolton.

For some reason Michael Bolton is getting a lot of press lately. Every time I turned on the television there he was talking about the trauma of cutting his hair or the trauma of being mocked, but mostly just talking about his new book. (Which was released yesterday, The Soul of it All: My Music My Life...you're welcome Michael Bolton.) Actually I have a bit of a soft spot for MB. A neighbor of mine in Ghana woke up to Said I Love You But I Lied a la Groundhog Day every morning for 4 months. A very nuanced song, indeed.

Image from here.

 #2 The weather.

It never ceases to amaze me the level of interest Americans have in the weather. In Congo sometimes I'll say, "Looks like it might rain today." And the response is usually, "There's no way it's going to rain today, white girl." And that's the end of the conversation.

In the United States, 9 out of 10 people can tell you the expected highs and lows on any given day. This is a great go-to conversation item. Especially because last week in Virginia the temperatures were crazy cold, then in the upper 60s for two days, then it rained 4 inches, then it got crazy cold again. See how that works? I have just made fascinating weather conversation. 

#3 Super Bugs.

Everyone is either sick or deathly afraid of becoming sick. I am now well-versed in how long MRSA vs. the Norovirus can survive on surfaces. Our only defense is bathing in bleach. Please get me back to my comfort zone of malaria and meningitis -- bugs that have yet to morph into "super" status. Ani and I both returned with a cold, which is evidence enough for the Mamas that no human should ever, ever be exposed to cold weather. A suspicion I'm happy to confirm.

#4 Super Bowl.

Silly me thought I might miss the Super Bowl because I would be landing back in Congo right around kickoff time. Not so. Did you know advertising companies have become so smart that commercials are released prior to the Super Bowl and shown on "news" shows so we can debate whether they're controversial or not? That is some truly genius marketing.

Image from here.

#5 Argo.

I went to see Argo at the local college movie theater where I was most certainly the oldest person there by at least 10 years. Everyone was dead silent and awestruck the entire movie. I think it's because they've never seen TVs with knobs or beanbag ashtrays. My 1990s born sister says it's the best movie she's ever seen (but admittedly has only seen 8 non-romantic comedies) and begged me mid-movie to tell her how the Iranian Hostage Crisis turned out.

Image from here.

Image from here.

 #6, #7 and #8 Three Perks.

I learned to tie a scarf like this:

Image from here.

(A skill I hope I never need to use again.)

I became surprisingly sentimental over my baby's teeth chattering for the first time. Her misery = my milestone.

And I went to Target 3 times in one day. That was my sign to remove myself from the country. God Bless America. And Target.

Image from here.

P.S. I can now highly recommend the Cave Hill Farm Bed and Breakfast. The innkeepers are especially good at flipping the breaker switch when a fuse blows in your room...which may or may not be the result of plugging in too many heating devices.

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Friday List

Jill's List:

I talked about this list of drool-worthy sketchbooks in Thursday's post.  I can't stop thinking about them!  But, not sure if I can cheat on my "legendary" all-time favorite "used by artists, writers, intellectuals, and travelers."  (Johan and I's shared love of these products is a real cornerstone of our marriage.)

Image from here.

This is the craziest story.  I love stories like this.  What does that mean about me?

Story and image from the Smithsonian Magazine.

When DRCongo scored the first gorgeous goal of the game with Mali on Monday, the roar that arose from all around our walls caused Johan to yell (a little frantically), "What the hell is going on?!"  (I, smugly, remembered that there was an important game.) The cheers were followed by 10 minutes of frantic honking.  The last time we were that alarmed was when the arms depot exploded across the river last year. Unfortunately, as this headline tragically puts it, "Talent-Filled Mali Smother Leopards."

Found a new patisserie that is truly incredible.  Eric Kayser talks about the opening:

We will also open our first store in Central Africa, in Kinshasa, which is a very different environment. That has been a very strange project that I’ve loved. You can’t ignore Africa, it’s impossible. There is so much to do there on the high-end, luxury side, and on the mass production side to produce food to feed the people. 

Tiny strawberry tarts with real fruit instead of red gel paste.  Crispy-chewy baguettes.  Kusmi tea.  (Kusmi tea!?)  And fresh madeleines.  I'm still sad that I left my madeleine pans in Virginia. They were my go-to party trick.  This recipe.

Note to Self: Try this recipe just as soon as pans are rescued from storage space this summer.

I just realized that 30 Rock just ended.  Like today I realized this. I had no idea it was coming. Having a hard time with it.  Luckily, I'm a season behind.  All hail the expat media delay.

And.  Oh, Virginia.

Sarah's List:

I know I'm about a year (or more) behind, but Adam and I are obsessed with Homeland. Unfortunately my obsession has morphed into borderline PTSD. For example, I've jumped several times when I'm fairly certain I've spotted Abu Nazir in Kinshasa. Did you know by the end of Season 2 Claire Danes is hugely pregnant. How did she do it?! Oh wait, she used a body/belly double.

Image from here.

Six Toddler Games for Lazy Parents. I don't know...some of these require using 2 hands.

Image from here.

A fascinating account of a trip to North Korea. Check it out: Sophie In North Korea.

Rare photo of non-staged ordinary N. Koreans. From here.

Looks like Obama served Cheez-Its at an Inaugural Ball. Delicious.

The Inaugural Ball That Ate Washington

If you're reading this, I'm probably here. I really should do them a favor and revamp their website. If only I knew how to do that... Watch for an upcoming review of the innkeepers-who should keep the heater cranked if they know what's good for them.

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Free Draw.

The other day, another mom came by to pick up her kids, who were over for a playdate.  I was inside the house.  She stood of the porch and, laughing nervously, yelled into the house, "Wow!  You're brave!"

I smiled modestly and thanked her for complimenting my capable creative spirit, "Oh, well, I thought the kids might like some painting and the porch is the perfect spot..."

For what I believed I was being complimented.

A few seconds later, I realized I hadn't seen Lou in awhile.  "Awhile" in toddler time, which roughly equals two minutes or ample time to destroy something quietly.

So, while trying to wrap up the playdate, I sweetly called, "Lou! LouLou! Lou?"  She was nowhere.
Finally, the mom said, "Jill, she's here with me.  On the porch.  That's what I was talking about when I said you were brave..."

And there, was my daughter, wearing her fancy dress, standing on the table, meticulously smearing blue paint over every inch of exposed skin.

  For whom I was actually being complimented.  (This was the second time it happened.)

The playdate mom smiled anxiously at me.

While Lou is a paint girl, Elias' preferred medium is a really nice, top quality, fine-but not-too-fine pointed, black pen.  He spends hours filling up blank notebooks with maps, spaceships, cats, cows, and planets.  I have hundreds of pages of his work.  He blasts through blank notebooks at a disturbing pace.  Good thing South African sketchbooks are relatively cheap here.  (I am awfully tempted, however, by some of the gorgeous paper options listed here.)

We're planning a trip to the pen section of Pearl Paint this summer.  His mind will be blown.

Buy this original print (sans pink arrow) here.

We'll just make sure to keep Lou away from the paint.

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Redheads Forever

Hope my two little redhead girls grow up to be half as feisty as their Grammy was.  

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Winter, Here We Come

I’m about to make an unexpected trip to the United States - and I’ve just realized it’s January over there. (Listen, it’s surprisingly difficult to keep up with the month when the weather stays the same year-round. Don’t judge.)

I have experienced exactly one winter in the last eight years and it was only for a few weeks. We went to the States for Charlotte’s first Christmas. I remember nothing except feeling exhausted and nauseous the entire time, which I blamed on cold weather. Then I learned I had been pregnant for an embarrassingly long time, without a clue. And that is my memory of the last time I was cold. 

And this is what happened to Charlotte's beautiful face. Windburn and chapping. It wasn't pretty.

Every June when we get back to the States, I look around at everyone and think, "Wow, you've all made it through another winter. You've worn so many layers of clothing. How did you do it?!"

And so, I’m trying to mentally prepare for the cold. It’s like when there are too many air conditioners on, right? Or maybe it’s more like that time a few weeks ago when I wore long sleeves because it had just rained and there was a light breeze?

I can’t stress how much I hate the cold. When I was little I was literally allergic to being cold. I would break out in hives and have to take warm oatmeal baths. I slept under an electric blanket in the summer. Yesterday Charlotte said she was “SO COLD” and wanted to take a warm bath. It was one of the hottest days of the year…in the tropical Congo. She is not coming with me on this trip.

This time it's just me and Annaïs and she's only experienced winter in utero. Next Post: Baby’s First sub 85° Weather.

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Tuesday List!

Since we denied you your Friday List last week (the horror!), I thought I'd compile some stuff for your Tuesday.  Here goes it:

I have this popular item in a bag of makeup-I-never-use-but-can't-throw-away.  I have a little problem in airports with MAC stores.  I buy expensive lipstick.  None of which I ever wear.  I desperately want to be fantastic enough to pull of this shade.  This post gives me a bit more confidence to shock everyone around me with a ruddy pout.

Image from Huffington Post.

Have you heard about this film?  Crazy.  Awful.

Image from the film's official website.

My student's verdict on M.O.'s bangs = decidedly lukewarm.  (I promise you, we were actually discussing content of importance.  Things like this...just come up...in 6th grade classrooms.)  Here's what the rest of the world had to say.

Image from NPR.

The first two defined my travel-lusting teenage years. Now there's a third?  And it's supposed to be "nearly perfect?"  Man, I love Julie Delpy. And her French apartments.

Image from here.

Free cesarean-sections as public health strategy in (the other) Congo.  Working?  Hmmm.

Image from here.

A version of this middle class whine has appeared every few years since 1909.  Truth or fiction, New Yorkers?  (Please say fiction.)

Image from NYTimes.

Andy Warhol letterhead perfection. (Really written by his mother?)

Image from here.

 Sussing out SlateAfrique.  Any thoughts?

And, because it was one hell of a day, my husband sent me this link.  With the encouraging statement, "Paris is apparently overcome with Leprechauns and Goth Warriors.  But, this will make you happy." He was right.

Image from here.

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The Kinshasa Negotiation

The professor sussed out my situation via email, "Will you have a reliable internet connection for quizzes?"
"Yes. Yep. Absolutely." I responded.

I mostly told the truth.  My Kinshasa internet connection is pretty good.  I think it is absolutely good enough to take an online Statistics class...with some minor headaches.  If I pre-dial the minor headaches into the equation, I'm banking on being able to plow my way through this class and arrive on the other side with 3 precious grad school pre-requisite credits.

However, I already had to use the "But, I live in Kinshasa" line. This class has not even started yet.

I was hoping to keep this negotiation point to myself until it was really necessary and I had heartily proven myself as legitimate by passing a couple of quizzes.  But, it turns out that just because a class is "online" doesn't mean you won't need a real-life, textbook.  (You can laugh at me now, it's okay.)

So, when the class received an email asking us to recheck to make sure we had the correct book as there had been a problem with the bookstore listings...I had a few hours of panic.  Because, no, I did not have the right textbook.  And, unlike most others taking this class, it will take either several weeks or several hundred DHL dollars for "Discovering Business Statistics" (the one with multi-colored pushpins on the cover) to land on my Central African doorstep.

Textbook (the right one) image from Amazon.com

So, I'm still working on a solution, but it seems like the professor is - slightly reluctantly - willing to help me out.

Loads of people take online courses while living in bizarre places.  In reality, I am not that special.  I admit, however, to hoping that my "interesting living circumstances" buys me a little American patience.

At least until that book gets here.

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Cast Off: A DIY Photo Essay

After a bit of a hiatus, Mama Congo is back and well-rested. First up, let's review. Remember the time Adam broke his hand and I was more concerned about my sore throat? (C'mon, it was a really bad sore throat.)

The time finally came for his cast to come off. So on our first day of vacation when everyone was jet set to exotic locales, we took a field trip to our community workshop, better known as the atelier.

Atelier workshop. More fun for the children than any vacation destination.

Here our favorite Maintenance Manager Neil, met us to do the deed.

Neil the "MM." He fixes things, builds things and performs tasks ordinarily reserved for medical professionals.

He started with what I am told are called tin snips. (An entertaining and educational field trip.) Adam is obviously extremely comfortable with this and not concerned whatsoever.

The look of utter relaxation.

Confirming that look of relaxation.

And then the vise came into play.

I swear that's a look of concern, sympathy and love--having nothing to do with "I told you so."

Neil pre-made a metal plate just to Adam's specifications to protect him during the process. Perhaps the sweetest, most personal thing anyone's ever done for him.

Trying out Adam's favorite Christmas gift.

Does it really get any better for a 6-year-old? Best day ever.

And then the saw came out.

More incriminating evidence that I will not win wife-of-the-year.

Meanwhile the children play unsupervised amongst the power tools.

Grease face.

Snot face.

The moment we've all been waiting for...

 Is quite disgusting...

And that, children, is why you should never break a bone away from home. 

*All photos by Jill Humphrey, who can make an atelier workshop look like the most beautifully lit photography studio.

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