And I Kept a Straight Face...

2011-12-03T21:28:00.000-02:00

I miss Home Depot

Living abroad, I often say, “This is so much easier in Brazil than in the U.S.” and I often say, “This is so much easier in the U.S. than in Brazil.”

Lately, it’s been the second of those two perspectives that I seem to be voicing more often. It may come from the fact that we are trying to contract a builder to construct the wall/pool/barbeque area, etc. on the lot next to the house.

First estimate: R$15,000 NOT including material. Just the wall.

Wow! So, I would pay someone else to do it for basically 3 reasons:

1. It’s hard work and it’s getting hot (well not this week but soon it’ll be summer in this tropical country)

2. I work a ~~full~~ part-time job and don’t really want to also build something in my off time

3. I don’t have the faintest idea what to buy or WHERE to buy it (materials) that’s why I need a professional.

Then, the other night my friend Diane says, “Sara, why don’t you fly someone down to do it?”

I was like: HUH?

She continues: “You HAVE to know people in the states, builders, construction people. Those people would not mind a holiday in Rio de Janeiro basically free of charge. It would most likely be done faster and better than with anyone you hire here.”

And I thought: HMMMM, interesting idea.

Then this morning, the second team showed up to give us an estimate. This new father son team will do the wall AND the pool together—and perhaps prepare the barbeque area. They’ll bring the estimate next Tuesday. We made sure to ask them for an estimate with material and an estimate without cost of material. After all, it’s the bottom line that we really need to know. And of course the workmanship, so they told us we can visit some existing sites these two are responsible for to see their end product(s).

Then, this afternoon, after wandering one of the biggest malls in the city (EW!) for 3 hours—I really need the sun to come out. I’m bored with the rain.) Sierra and I went to Etna looking for blinds for her bedroom window.

Her window is 120 cm X 120 cm

In stock: 70 X 140, 170 X 120, and just about everything else in between.

So, I found the nearest store employee to ask, “Do you all have any more blinds in stock?”

Store employee: “No, what we have is out.”

Me: “Do you cut the blinds that are here to fit the customer’s need?”

Store employee: “No.”

Me to self: Man I miss Home Depot. If we were in the states…we would be at the register, paying for our faux wood blinds, and heading home to hang them.

In the end, Joaocemar (the name of the store employee who helped us) asked me for my phone number in order to call me the first part of next week when the next shipment arrives. When he entered my number into his cell phone, I thought, “Hmm, is that your work phone?” He said the blinds arrive and leave the store pretty fast. I said then call me right away. I live here, close, and I’ll come as soon as you call. And again, thought to myself man, I miss Home Depot.

Final thought? If you are a builder or know a builder who would like an all-expense paid vacation to Rio de Janeiro, includes room and board during the project, send me contact information. One criterion: he/she must stop by Home Depot on his/her way to the airport to pick up white, 2 inch faux wood blinds for my daughter’s bedroom.

2011-11-15T20:27:00.000-02:00

A única coisa que se muda é o endereço.

Ever been to a rodeo? Cow ropin? Hog tyin? Barrel racin?

Spent any time around Cowboys?

This is a diagram of the traditional course for barrel racing. The video below is a different type of competition. I'm not sure of the name.

If you answered yes to any of the above questions, answer this:

Been to more than one rodeo in different towns? Different states? Different countries?

I won’t say that I “grew up around the rodeo”, but my small town of Isanti, MN hosted one of the largest rodeos in the state every summer. I was no stranger to the weekend excitement every July.

I won’t say that I “grew up around horses”, but, by the time I turned 12, I was an experienced rider. (Oh how I wanted my own horse when I was kid.)

I won’t say that I “grew up on a farm”, but my father did and as a child we grew or raised (or my father hunted) pretty much everything my family ate on the 12.5 acres we called home.

All of that must be why, while visiting my friend Francesca this past weekend—whose daughter recently became a proud horse owner, I was in no way put off by the prospect of watching some barrel racing in Macae,RJ, Brasil.

What I did not know, was how much I would recognize. For example:

Cowboys love country music and God (listen to the song in the background and notice as this young rider makes the sign of the cross after her run)

Skewered meat/barbeque goes hand-in-hand with ranchin’ (and cold beer).

Farms are dirty.

That my father and my uncles have Brazilian twins.

This man, from behind, looked so much like my Uncle Bob I wanted to give him a hug. There was another man competing who resembled my father; Sierra pointed him out but not in time to snap his foto.

It was such a fun experience to be around generous, kind-hearted, fun-loving people who literally spent 12+ hours on the ranch, racin and having a great time that day--in the hot Brazilian sun might I add. While we were all exhausted, drove back the 30 minutes to Francesca's oceanfront apartment, took hot showers, put on clean clothes, not covered in dust and smelling like horse, ate pasta, and crashed. The Cowboys and Cowgirls, on the other hand, finished their day of fun with a heel tappin, yee-hawin barn dance 'til dawn.

For a minute, I wished I had a horse and was a Cowgirl too.

I guess some things are the same no matter where you go.

The only thing that changes is the address.

2011-11-03T21:33:00.000-02:00

On being CatholicI have been thinking about my religion a lot lately. If someone asks, I always answer, "I'm Catholic." However, I, like many other Catholics around the world, cannot name the last time I attended mass. I, unlike many other Catholics around the world, don't really feel guilty for this.
I am not sure whether or not I should feel guilty for it. I don't know if it makes me a bad Catholic because I don't feel guilty, but I don't.
Despite the fact that I don't regularly attend mass, I am very spiritual and very faith filled. Most people don't know that I pray daily. Most people don't know that I put great weight in Divine Power and Divine Intervention and Divine Direction. Most people don't know that I often turn my eyes toward the sky and say, "What is it you want me to learn Lord? I'm trying to listen, I really am, but I just am not hearing you."
My faith not something I openly share. It's not for sharing. It's personal. It's mine--my faith, my belief, my conversations with God. I don't want to share them necessarily or need to.
So why am I writing about being Catholic and having faith and talking to God on my public blog you might ask.
Because today something so incredible happened, I want to share it. I want to voice it for fear that it will disappear if I don't. I want others to hear it because maybe others have had the same experience and think they are alone.
When I woke up this morning, everything was different. The smell in the air was different. The green in the trees outside my bedroom window was different. The pink across the sky as the sun rose was different. The kindness of the other commuters on the road was different. The reflection of the mountains on the ocean was different. As I made my way to work, I caught myself looking at the same scenery I see everyday as if I was seeing it for the first time. And I caught myself smiling for no apparent reason. I found myself saying, "Thank You Lord" outloud.
I felt this overwhelming sense of peace. I felt this overwhelming sense of direction (which was incredible to feel since of late I have felt VERY lost/without direction). I felt such a presence of God.
It reminded me of a song a friend shared with me about 10 years ago. A song that had struck a chord the first time I heard it and struck a chord again today. It explains what was happening to my view of the world this morning.
Instead of looking for miracles and not seeing any, I was looking for where there wasn't one. Seeing miracles all around me, I smiled. I think I am starting to truly believe...

when we feel the most discomfort, we learn the most;
when we feel the most out of place, we are truest to our needs;
when we feel that we are wandering alone, He is there;

If we trust...
If we listen...
If we see...
If we believe.

I believe.

2011-11-01T10:04:00.000-02:00

Enough?

This picture is enough for me.

What is enough?

Time with my loved ones. Time to myself. Hours in the day. Money in the bank. This isn’t a new question for me. It’s one I revisit from time to time. It’s one I like to pause and think about. It was the recent loss of Steve Jobs that inspired the reflection this time. This man not only changed the way we communicate; he changed the way we think, the way we think about the way we think and communicate. His death led to an array of inspirational Facebook status updates, reminding us all to be creative, try, never give up, don’t let failure stop us, be true to our heart’s song, and think outside the box. The world mourned the loss of a great man. I have to admit, I didn’t know his name before he died. I Googled him. It’s true. The first posting about his death I read on Facebook led me straight to Google. I clicked on that first Wikipedia link and thought, “Oh! That’s who that is. How sad.”

Not long after, I saw this:

I didn’t need to Google anyone to understand.

Then I saw this:

At first, I was offended by this one, but I wasn’t sure why. I thought about it. I realized, it was because I felt it was disrespectful to Steve Jobs’ survivors. Then I thought, maybe I’m offended because I feel guilty, and I began to wonder. Is it possible to get so lost on our own individual path that we forget to look around us? Have I forgotten to look around me? Do we get carried away with wanting more and forget to see how much we have? Have I become selfish? Are we really successfully living in a world where international news is literally a nanosecond click away, thanks to the man on the left, yet we ignore the reality in the photo on the right? (There’s something ironic in that, isn’t there?) What do I know about the world today? At times, I think I am choosing to live in the neatly enclosed bubble I created.

I am blessed. I am privileged. Regardless of the number of times I get caught up and think I need more, I am among the rich of this world. Seriously, what are my daily concerns?

Will I oversleep and be late to work?

Will the pool be installed by the time the weather turns hot?

Will there be enough hours in my work week to get done what I am responsible for?

Is there gas in my car?

Is there coffee?

Do I have clean underwear? (ok, not really a legitimate thought, but it’s about the caliber of concern listed here, so it fits.)

What if. What if I had to worry about where my child will sleep at night? What if I had to worry about medical care for myself or my loved ones? What if I had to live in constant fear for my safety? What if I was illiterate?

Enough wealth? Measured in what way? Evaluated by whom? Do you have enough? Could you give more? Could you live more simply?

2011-10-06T09:45:00.000-03:00

Trying to be productive…

This will be short. I am in month 3 of a new job, new house, new schedule, new everything. I keep using the excuse that I am adjusting for the times when I feel less productive. What is the statute of limitation on adjusting time? I now struggle with the battle of self-destruction. I should be adjusted by now. I should have accomplished more today. I should…blah blah blah.

Enough of the should have. I am DOING.

So although I am hungry for another inspiration to post about, I am going to keep this short and scrub the verandah floor so I can see the fruit of my productivity concretely.

2011-09-16T22:15:00.002-03:00

When she looks back, what will she say?

When I was 7 months pregnant with Sierra, I closed on my first house. I swore to never make my baby live in an apartment. Never is a dangerous word. We need to be careful when we use this word.

I brought my darling daughter home to a house; it wasn’t exactly a home though. We lived there two years before I decided I want a bigger house. What I know now is that I was running away from what I had created, and I thought more space was the answer. Needless to say, I bought, we moved in to, and I sold the second house of my daughter’s life in under a year. (Details of the chain of events which led to that omitted purposefully.)

I found myself, almost 30, a single mother, and moving back home, with my parents…pretty much every independent American’s worst nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare though; it was wonderful—thank God. The year and a half Sierra and I lived with my parents afforded her a relationship with her grandparents she would not have otherwise had if life had dealt us a different hand. It was also a time in my adult life that, like it or not, I needed Mom and Dad, and I am extremely thankful that they had the means to be there for me during that time. I am luckier than many because they were, and it afforded me a relationship with my parents I would not have otherwise had.

After a year and half, I was able to buy my third house. It was a townhouse, but it was the last unit. We had a yard and space for a barbeque, and it was all ours. We lived there for almost three years, and I liquidated every last item (minus four boxes and three suitcases worth) when I decided to pick up and move my daughter to another country—to what kind of living arrangement you ask; an APARTMENT. Remember that never phrase I mentioned, well, never is a dangerous word.

We enjoyed five years in our 10^th floor Rio apartment, overlooking the Lagoa, Rocinha, and a distant view of the ocean. More than a dozen kids for Sierra to play with and never leave the apartment complex. We had two pools, a gym, a large play area, 24 hour security, friendly doormen, and a home.

And I just traded that in. I lived in that apartment longer than any other place in the 20 years since first leaving my parents home. BUT…We are back in a house, and it is a HOME. It’s comfortable, warm, welcoming, peaceful. It feels good here. But…

You knew there would be a but, right?

It’s FAR. It’s far from Sierra’s school. It’s far from my work. It’s far from most of her friends. It’s far from most of my friends. It’s far from the beach. Distance-wise, it’s only 20 kilometers (12.43 miles). It’s actually closer to my work than my mom’s and dad’s house was when we lived with them 10 years ago. But we live in a mega-tropolis, and traffic makes even a few kilometers (or miles) long sometimes.

We average an hour to go to school in the mornings and an hour and a half to come home. 2-3 days a week Sierra is riding public transportation to get to and from school, and the time this consumes in her day can be one hour to three hours depending on…traffic, the weather, the attitude of the drivers, the position of the moon in relation to the Earth…you name it, it’s unpredictable in the end.

With that said, I recently find myself thinking: What is she going to say when she’s an adult and she looks back on this time in her life. Will she have fond memories of our beautiful, peaceful, welcoming home? Or, will she tell her friends, partner, colleagues what a chore it was to be so far away after five years of being in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world? Will she resent me for the choices I made and forced her to live? Or, will she thank me for the opportunities I provided her?

I hope it’s the latter.

2011-09-07T21:37:00.001-03:00

Memory Loss?I received an email once, you know, the mass forwarded email with a message that says you'll have eternal good luck if you forward it on to eight people. I don't remember exactly what the email said, but it had something to do with friends and the kind of friend they are. Something about how people come into your life for a reason, to complete a purpose. If you have friends for a short time or a lifetime, they are equally as important because the reason for that person entering your life is significant and perhaps something you don't know or won't ever know for that matter.
This is so true. I think I'm losing my memory. I seem to have a hard time remembering details. I vaguely remember having been somewhere or seen something or a weekend trip. Then something happens to jog my memory and it comes back--usually. Or someone retells the whole story and in the end I say, "OOOOHHH! I remember!"
George Michael's "I Want Your Sex" was on the radio this morning as I drove to the beach. I could sing along word for word, and I did. I don't think I've actually heard that song in 20 years, but I turned up the volume and sang along, not missing a beat (Bira looked at me strangely a couple of times during the song). As the song was coming to an end, I found myself smiling (not because the song is ridiculously perverted). I found myself smiling because I was 17 again, in Hibbing, MN at the Holiday Basketball Tournament with Dee Tousignant, in our hotel room, decorating the last of the door signs for the guys on the basketball team, eating Wheat Thins with peanut butter covered in chocolate, and screaming our lungs out to George Michael. Yet I can't remember what I did last Sunday.
Living in a foreign country messes with my memory too. I think it's because I still don't think in Portuguese all the time, and being an expatriate means people come and go--a lot. You make new friends and you say good-by--a lot. It's hard at first, especially if you aren't used to the transient life. But a person adjusts, and it ends up being kinda cool in the end when you can say things like: my friends in Abu Dabi, or this friend of mine in Mexico...and things like Skype and Facebook make keeping in touch with people living internationally easier and the loneliness or saudades manageable.
I met one of those friends this week for breakfast. She lives in Luanda. She's here until January because she's pregnant with her first baby and Luanda doesn't have adequate health care facilities to provide the pre-natal, delivery, post natal care she wants/needs/deserves. We met for breakfast at 7:45; I left her house to go to work at noon! There was barely a moment of silence between us as we caught one another up on what life has been like in the two plus a few months since she and her husband left Rio. And we barely scratched the surface. It was great to see her, spend time with her, know that she is healthy and happy and growing (literally at the moment since she's pregnant). But more importantly, I left thinking about that email. The one I received, about friends coming in and out, for a lifetime or for a moment. My visit with my friend who lives in Luanda left me reminiscing about the first couple of years I lived here in Rio. Memories of afternoons on the beach, my first trip to Ilha Grande, my first Escola de Samba enseio, The Black Eyed Peas on Ipanema Beach for New Year's Eve...memories I had thought I had forgotten.
Sometimes we think we have control of our own lives and then something happens, and we are reminded that we in fact are not the ones guiding this passage. We make decisions or leaps of faith in a moment or over time. We share our joys, and our pains, with others. We strive to be successful, to do the right thing. We congratulate our friends on a job well done or a promotion, and we say good-bye.
I'm starting to believe that perhaps my quase-amnesia (so I have self-diagnosed anyway) is all part of this grander scheme. Maybe I'm not supposed to remember everything all the time. Maybe forgetting for a little while makes the moment when I remember that much sweeter...and it's meant to be that way.

2011-08-26T19:07:00.000-03:00

Under Construction
In one way, that's what I feel my life is at the moment...
Under Construction.
Maybe it's more like Rennovation and not so much Construction. Afterall, I feel fairly well constructed at this point in my life.

Since June I've:
bought and moved into the new house and started a new job (in Brasil)
enjoyed a 5 weeks vacation with family stateside
went to JellyStone Park for the first time and felt like a kid
gained--American junkfood(and lost--moving and settling in the new house) at least 10 lbs (5kg)
became a mother of a teenager

As I worked to unpack boxes and organize new cabinets, I craved the sense of order and routine. One month into the house and I am beginning to feel the routine take shape--and at times finding myself seeking chaos. At times, perhaps, creating a little chaos just for the feeling of it. I wonder why that is.

I have a world of opportunities ahead, sometimes more than I can wrap my mind around, and it leaves me in a stalemate unsure where to begin.

This all may be because until recently I was too comfortable in what I considered to be my daily routine, too accepting. Accustomed to the get up, go to work, go to bed, get up, go to work, go to bed. I realize that this moment, right now as I write, is quite possibly the first time in nearly a month that I have had the chance to just be. And it feels good. It feels welcome. It leaves my head empty and my heart curious.
And it makes me smile to think of what path I will blaze next...

2011-06-18T19:55:00.000-03:00

A chapter closes...
I was given the honor of addressing the 8th grade class at their end of middle school celebration Friday, June 17. The following is what I shared:
Good afternoon class of 2015, parents, EARJ middle school students and faculty

20 years ago last Thursday, June 9, 1991, I graduated from high school. (Yes, I just revealed my age to an auditorium full of people) At the time, it was, maybe it still is, customary to choose a famous quote or saying that represents the graduating class. This chosen quote is then displayed on commencement programs, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. For my graduating class, the class officers selected the following quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. And according to custom, it was printed on the commencement program, open house invitations, and several pages of the senior section of the yearbook. 20 years later, the programs, invitations, and yearbook pages are either dust in the wind or covered in dust in a number of attics/storage spaces. I guess it is safe to say, more importantly, that this saying was instead imprinted in my memory. Ironic in some ways, for what lies WITHIN us really is what is most important.

8th graders, future graduating class of 2015, soon-to-be freshmen, you are sitting in a seat that magnifies all that is behind you. You received a capsule letter this morning reminding you about how you felt at the beginning of this 8th grade year. Many of you were surprised when reminded of what your thinking used to be like. Some of you were surprised by how your opinions were altered over the course of this year. Some of you were just plain surprised. But what great things you have accomplished! Not only this school year, but all the school years until now. Inside the classrooms, on the athletic fields, as a member of your respective families, as you discovered what it means to be a friend.

This seat you occupy also magnifies the vastness of what lies before you. You’ve registered for classes, you’ve elected class officers, you’ve attended one upper school class all in anticipation for what August has in store for you. Some of you will face these new adventures in a new school or a new city or a new country. All of the unanswered questions, all of the anxiety will soon enough be addressed. While you seek those answers, as you traverse the path before you, might I remind you to pay attention to what lies within you.

What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us. What do you take with you from your EARJ Middle School experience? I think it is safe to assume that my colleagues would concur with what I wish for you to take, what I hope you keep in your imaginary pocket or bag of tricks,

I hope you take your effective decision-making skills; you know how to face tough choices; you know how to state your opinion in a constructive fashion; you know how to construct a valid argument and remain open to understanding when the opinion is contrary to yours; you know how to make mistakes—with grace. I hope you continue to develop the habits of successful people: attention to detail, organization, the art of discourse, how to control impulses. I hope you take with you the gift—of inquiry. Ask questions, doubt facts, search for answers, trust your inner voice.

You have arrived here today individually and collectively. You can be proud of what you have accomplished as a class. I know I am. I would like to leave you today with another quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: To laugh often and much, to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children, to learn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends, to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others, to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child or a garden patch….to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded!

May each one of you find success. Congratulations class of 2015!

2011-05-30T18:21:00.000-03:00

Change and Challenge and Moving on and Looking back and Making Decisions

Most of us are scared of change. It is a natural program mode of the human brain: Change on the horizon? Panic button! However, most change experienced leads us to challenge ourselves in ways we never imagined possible. Sometimes it means physically moving on. Sometimes it enables us to look back and reflect, process the actions taken and the lessons learned and make a spiritual change in our life. Mostly, change is frightening, in my humble opinion, because it means we have to make decisions.
I Feel Like a Grown-Up. I like this phrase. I use this phrase when I feel the strength of independent, solid decision making. But this phrase also reminds me of how complicated life continues to be as we grow up and lead independent lives, and how often, even as adults, we long for the protection of our parents.
The first few years living in Rio I didn't have a car. I used public transportation, walked or hitched rides with friends. The first months after buying my car, I often said, "I feel like such a grown-up." Independent, self-sufficient, self-reliant. There was victory in navigating the roads, the toll booths, the police blitz, and the car inspection in Portuguese. There was a sense of accomplishment in understanding the mechanic when the battery had to be replaced and the tires pumped up a little. It made me feel like a grown-up.
I'm facing a major change in my life. There's a lot going on. And although I enjoy the sense of accomplishment over those things which I tackle on my own, there is a part of me that uses the phrase I feel like a grown-up because what I'm really craving is the safe, secure protection of being a child, of being taken care of, instead of caring for the situation on my own.
Why is change so scary? Especially as an adult? Perhaps it is because if we make the "wrong" choice and move toward change in a direction that brings negative consequences we accept the ownership of the decision making process. There's no one to fall back on but ourselves--of course that's scary. I don't know anyone who LIKES to fail.
But what if we look at change first through the lense of success and opportunity? How would that alter our perspective? Continuing on the same path, on the surface, appears to be easier than facing change. It's certainly easier to accept our life's routine as is. It's comfortable to continue in the direction we have been going. You know it's that famous saying, "It's ALWAYS been done that way." Nobody really knows if "that way" is the best. What happens when somebody else suddenly sends us in another direction? What happens if we are sent in that direction when we happen to feel the most empowered we've ever felt? Couldn't we begin to view change as an opportunity rather than a burden? Might we find ourselves actually thanking the change agent for the chance to make a shift?
That is where I find myself now. Forced to make a change. Forced to change direction in my routine. A little bit nervous, but not scared. I feel invigorated. I know what I have to offer. I know what I know. I know there exists many things which I don't know and even more that I don't know I don't know. What a privilege to be able to learn more. What an opportunity to look outside of what has been and think: I can totally make a change!
That must be where the element of looking back comes into play. If we don't take the time to reflect on what brought us to where we are, to who we have become, how are we supposed to navigate in which direction we are supposed to continue living?
Wide open opportunity is scary. Limitless possibility is daunting. Who knows where to begin in making major, life-changing decisions? Who has the confidence to trust the inner voice? How many people get the chance to start again?
The beauty of it all...I do!

Salvador2009

2011-05-16T20:07:00.001-03:00

Click here to view this photo book larger

Photo Book

2011-05-16T20:04:00.001-03:00

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Photo Book

2011-05-16T20:03:00.001-03:00

Click here to view this photo book larger

2011-05-13T17:43:00.000-03:00

I'm tellin ya.
The material is endless.
Here, from a former colleague of mine:

Just read this on a Biology exam...
"Outline two modern examples where evolution can be observed"

The answer: "museums and the zoo".

And another one from my cousin who is also a teacher:

We're reading "The Odyssey" and today we read when Odysseus' nurse says she'll keep his secret because she "fed him at the breast." The students couldn't understand how Odysseus could be breast-fed by someone other than his mother. They wanted this whole lesson on breast-feeding, and I wouldn't give it to them. One of the boys pipes up: "I can tell you all about breast-feeding. It was the best 3 years of my life." He kept a straight face...I didn't.

If you have one to share, send me an email at sarawicht@hotmail.com

2011-05-11T14:22:00.003-03:00

And I Kept a Straight Face...

As a classroom teacher for 16 years, I have heard many-a one-liner from middle schoolers. I have more than once said, "I need to write this shit down!" I imagine there are infinite other "one-liners" waiting to be shared by fellow teachers. I am now working on finding the platform I can use to communicate and share them.

Something is in the works...it will probably involve Facebook. It may become a second blog instead...need to check blogspot to see if the above title is currently in use.

This is exciting!

Here's the first of hopefully many from: And I Kept a Straight Face:

Student: Ms. Sara, there's a very strange definition for climax in the dictionary. It says climax is orgasm!
Me: That's right. Climax is a synonym for orgasm.
Student: What?! But how can you say, "I was reading the story, and I just got to the orgasm."?
Me:

And I Kept a Straight Face...

2011-03-21T17:57:00.006-03:00

Barack Obama in Rio de Janeiro 2011 This picture is of his helicopter arriving at the Flamengo Soccer Club in my neighborhood (currently the city champions). I took the picture not knowing it was him, but I later saw on the news the report of his arrival to the club coincided with the time I took the picture. He used their field as a landing zone for getting around the city.

I have never been in the same state as a U.S. President let alone the same room. I'm not even a super political person. I don't claim a party--not 100% anyway. I don't like to discuss politics. I don't tell people who I vote for. I just want everyone to get along. I do, however, hugely support pioneers. I am a sucker for anyone who is a 'first'. To be the first to do something, in my mind, in my little world, is like hanging the moon--it's bigger than hanging the moon. U.S. President Barack Obama may not have hung the moon, but he is a pioneer of unsurmountable proportions.

yesterday, I was lucky enough to be one of twenty teachers from Escola Americana do Rio de Janeiro to receive a ticket to listen to President Obama's presentation Sunday, March 20, 2011 at the Municipal Theater in Rio de Janeiro. I have to say, it was EVERYTHING and more than I could have expected. I sat at the edge of my seat for the entire 22 minutes, hanging onto every word as President Obama greeted the 2,000 in attendance with a "boa tarde Brazil" and went on to recognize the natural beauty that makes up this incredible country. The landscape that hasn't stopped taking my breath away since first seeing it 16 years ago when I first fell in love with Brazil.

President Obama is a fan of "firsters" too I think, as he made it known that the Brazilian people have moved mountains in their history as well; from overcoming Portuguese rule to surviving two dictatorships, and recently electing their first female president. He applauded the Brazilian people for their exercise in democracy.

All the while, on the edge of my seat, I was willing him to look my way. I was determined to get eye contact. I was seated in the balcony, stage left, the side which he entered and exited the stage, and I was working the super power of telepathic persuasion the whole time. Just as I thought I had lost out on my chance of a lifetime to come "face-to-face" with an American President...he did it, on his way off stage he looked up, RIGHT at ME! Eyes to eyes, he looked at me! I'm pretty sure he was thinking, "Wow, that looks like a fellow American! Actually, I think that woman is a fellow Midwesterner." And...he SMILED, waved, and exited the stage, leaving me extremely happy, proclaiming, "He looked at me! He looked at me and smiled!"

I've been living as an expat for nearly five years now. In many ways Rio is my home. I have acclimated nearly 100% to life as a Carioca. I am not sure I would be as happy living stateside at the moment. I do love it here; however, there was something special about being surrounded by all those American Secret Service Agents yesterday afternoon that all of a sudden made me feel overwhelmingly patriotic, proud to be an American and little homesick for the Land of the Brave.

2011-02-22T21:01:00.001-03:00

This photo has NOT been digitally enhanced! This was the actual moon rise over Rio Friday, February 18, 2011. Amazingly beautiful!
I love you all the way to the moon...and back.

2011-02-03T19:49:00.004-02:00

Beach Volleyball EARIOJ-style
If you know anything about Brazil you know:
1. Brazil is actually spelled BraSil.
2. Brazilians LOVE samba and celebrate by drinking chopp--draft beer
3. They have produced some of the best beach volleyball players in the world!

Well, I have to remind myself now to spell Brasil, BraZil when writing to my American friends. I have acquired a passion for Samba and wait with baited breath each year for Carnival. I am pretty good at celebrating just about any occasion with a cold chopp. However, all the Friday Volleyball Matches in the world will not make me one of the best beach volleyball players in the world.
But I'm sure having fun trying. Some friends from work and I started a Friday routine this year: Beach Volleyball/Happy Hour. We comnandeered a sand court on the beach in Leblon, made friends with the barraca owner in front of the court to ensure plenty-o-ice-cold beer--at a discount--and every Friday we play until the sun goes down.
At first my colleagues were timid.
"Oh, I don't know how to play Sara."
"What? Beach Volleyball? I've never played."
Through coaxing and trial and error, we have a pretty regular group coming out each week to actively participate in the game or as a 'beerleader' (vs. cheerleader).
It has proven to be a great end to sometimes hectic work weeks. Plus it's fun to hang out with people you work with and NOT talk shop! For teachers, that is sometimes a difficult task as many conversations tend to revert to the topic of shop.
Part of my persausion has been a weekly email, inviting faculty and staff. I have written formal invitations, quick reminders, and poems. One week, my poem set off an avalanche of rhyming diddies from the science teachers even!
Well, this week...I thought...I can't do just another poem. The poem has kind of lost its punch. I need to do something new, something different, something people don't expect; and during the night last night--as all creative artists are inspired--it came to me.
In David Letterman style:

Top 10 Reasons to Play Volleyball on the Beach on Friday
10. VB skills really improve with time and practice. (It's true; ask Amanda or Katie!)
9. The laughter will leave your stomach hurting so much you will swear you just did 20 minutes of Abs of Steel.
8. Free exfoliation on your feet from running through the sand.
7. Balance your body's Vitamin D. (In case Cod Liver Oil is not a part of your regular diet.)
6. Clear your sinuses by breathing the salty, sea mist for a couple of hours.
5. Studies have found that drinking beer actually reduces your chances of stroke and heart and vascular disease.
4. It has been proven that positive relationships with colleagues outside of the workplace increases workplace morale.
3. You can avoid Friday afternoon traffic out of Zona Sul, reducing the amount of stress in your day.
2. Sweating improves circulation and skin health, eases joint pain and stiffness, reduces cellulite (come on, who doesn't want that), eliminates impurities like heavy metals (AC/DC, Metallica, Iron Maiden, etc.), burns calories and controls weight (after the holidays this is important), reduces stress and fatigue (we work with children and adolescents of course we have stress and fatigue), relieves pain (but not the pain in your block 4), promotes healthy immune system (to fight all the bacteria students expose to us each day), strengthens the cardiovascular system (who doesn't need a bigger heart?)

And the number one reason to join us Friday after school in Leblon....

1. It's FUN!!!!!!!!!!!!

We'll have to wait until tomorrow to see how persuasive the list of 10 is.

2011-01-26T19:35:00.006-02:00

Things that I LOVE...

Batman at the beach when Bira is working.
New Year's Eve on Copacabana w/ Bira.

My Girls Walkin the Dinosaur in Buzios.

Quiet nights at home, just me and my violao.

Running across an abandoned canoe on an abandoned beach on horseback.

Life is good.

Live well.

Love hard.

Say you're sorry.

Respect nature.

Kiss the people you love.

Smile at your reflection.

Work hard.

Play fair.

Pray.

Be gracious.

2010-05-31T09:58:00.001-03:00

Being Satisfied...or not
Feeling the need to write it all down. To remember how thankful I am for so many loving people and incredible opportunities in my life. Write it all down in order to preserve what might be lost to the daily regiment that we often find ourselves in. This idea of being satisfied continues to resurface in my mind. My thoughts are often trickling back to this notion of "enough". What is enough? A roof over one's head. Enough food to be healthy? The means for a daily laugh, intellectual stimulation? or a big house and a fancy car, countless friends and a full social calender?
I would guess as in all things, enough too is a matter of perspective and unless one sees another's perspective the measurement of enough will never be equal. I have had more than enough in many ways at many times throughout my life. Thank God. Yet, at times I have sunk to the thoughts involving: I Want More. Why is that?
I am facing a crossroads in my life. A major decision. Sure I've been at this sort of impasse before, but somehow this time it feels like it isn't as much about me as it was 15 or 10 years ago. This time it seems that no matter what decision I make, somehow someone will not be happy, including me. How does one begin to even think about what to do? When there is no one right answer but 100 possible right answers. I guess I could stop fretting and look at that as a blessing since many people don't even have 1 right answer to choose at times in life.
Here's the deal: I have to leave EARJ after this year. I will have fulfilled the 5 years alotted as an expat teacher with the school. I cannot continue directly. I have the option, after a minimum of 6 months, of reapplying and returning, pending vacancy, to the school. But I cannot continue as is after June 2011.
What do I do?
I am happier and halthier in Brasil than I have ever been in my lifetime. I guess I sorta saw that coming when we moved here in 2006, but I had no idea it would be this influential. I knew then what I know now about how much this country feels like where I belong, but I had no idea it would get into my soul the way it has.
Do I stay? Pound the pavement. Push my professional life in another direction? Feed creative energies and return to writing? Publish the book I've always wanted to publish? Do I seek another international post? There are a lot of places in the world. A lot of great schools around the globe looking for educators. Living in another country would be a worthy experience for my daughter. It would be a financially comfortable life. It would be stimulating. It would be challenging.
What do you do when you don't have control? Or you don't feel like you have control? When you can't see the answers to the questions that are floating around in your head. When you would like to know the future. When you are forced to make a change that you don't necessarily want to make? The truth is that the options are limitless. That's what makes it so hard. There are too many options and I have no guarantee what the outcome of any one of the options will be.
I want to be 5 again. I want to hear: You can have the grape popsicle or the orange popsicle. You pick. I want the choice to be that easy.
But it's not...

2010-05-16T01:36:00.002-03:00

Riding a Bicycle
Writing is kinda like riding a bicycle. Ok, not really. Maybe it's more like driving a car. It's something you learn through concentrated, deliberate, hopefully well guided practice before you can consider yourself versed in the task. I used to be a writer. But I haven't been practicing. And now being out of practice makes me envy all those beautiful things I read for the talent portrayed in the work.
I just spent 30 minutes reading other people's blogs (there are some beautiful things written on some of these blogs. Some real talent that would sell if transformed into print). At least they are people I know. It's not like I was surfing random blogs. It left me with this feeling of loss, emptiness...I used to do that. I used to be good at that. I'm not feeling very good at it anymore. Why not? Because I don't do it anymore, and I'm fighting this language war inside my head almost 24 hours a day. Thinking in English, speaking in Portuguese, dreaming in English, retelling the dream in Portuguese, working in English, socializing in Portuguese. It's like having two little armies between my ears battling it out for ownership of the podium. Once in awhile Captain Port. wins the battle and both the thoughts and the words end up in his mother's tongue. Most of the time, it's a clustered, confused combination of two languages and some garble.
In the end, this language acquisition experience of the past 4 years has left me feeling slightly less intelligent and hugely less verbose. I used to be characterized as verbose. Ask me where something is and I'll explain to you how it was built and arrived at its current state. Not anymore. Hey, Sara, where's the extra garrafa of agua (see the mixture of language there). My answer would be: in the cozinha. Some days I feel ill-prepared to formulate even one complete sentence.
I'm a writing teacher. And a pretty good one if I do say so myself. My students generally improve their writing skills by 3-4 years as a result of having my class. How can I be so good at telling other people what to do, but so bad at doing it myself? Practice, or lack there of. I know what it takes to be a good writer. I know training and determination makes you a better writer, but I don't have anyone hanging the "A" over my head for producing the next great blog post. So, I don't practice and I don't train. But I sure know how to tell my students they need more organization. Maybe that means it is more about the pressure and needing external stimulation...hmmm, that sounds like a totally different topic and perhaps one that would be appropriately discussed with my shrink (if I had one, which I don't but am now considering hiring).
Why isn't riding a bike the same as writing? You can learn to ride when you're 5 years old, ride like the wind until your 15 and start driving and not get on a single bicycle again for 20 years, but still ride like the wind without a moment hesitation when you do. Is it the pure motor memory that kicks in and leaves out any real need for intelligence? I don't know. Hopefully driving a car is the same because I just bought one and get to pick it up in 3 days. Let's hope I remember how to do that.

2010-04-13T19:33:00.002-03:00

Rio Under Water

Last Monday, April 5, the rains commenced around 6:30 p.m. The winds were similar to Hurricane/Tropical Storm winds I experienced while living in Houston. The rain didn't let up for a solid 24 hours. Even after the first 24 hours, it continued to rain only with less force most of the time. The amount of rain that fell in that first 24 hours is said to be equivalant to 347 olympic sized swimming pools. I'm not sure any city could handle that much water. The city streets filled quickly. Motorists were stranded through the night. Thousands went without electricity for up to 4 days. Niteroi, a suburb of Rio and once the capital city of Brazil, seems to have suffered the highest number of casualties. A major landslide Thursday morning after the rains seemingly were on their way out, buried some 200 people and destroyed houses, stores, a school and a church.

Thousands of Cariocas are left homeless.

This is the view of the hill and Rocinha from my verandah. The path down the right side of the picture used to be full of trees--and houses. This demonstrates the landslides last week in Rio on a very small scale.

Here's a closer version of the same picture. EARJ is right at the end of the "slide".

The aftermath of this flooding is pretty complicated. I have taken to buying the daily paper in part because it amazes me how the politicians continue to point the finger at the predecessor. The areas of high fatality are almost entirely poor areas, slums/favelas, in the city. In most cases, people are there due to 'squatter's rights', and the city officials who oversee the areas haven't done their part to uphold the zoning laws. Yesterday's newspaper reported that the governor intends to move all residents from 8 of the city's favelas. This means relocated somewhere around 1 million people!

My student's family lived at the end of the landslide pictured above. Their house was within ordinance. Their house was legal. However, there were several illegal houses above theirs on the mountain side; and when the trees and foliage gave way to the rain, it swept the illegally built houses with it. The retaining wall behind my student's house wasn't strong enough to withstand the forest AND the tumbling homes. The result: their house is destroyed.

I spoke to the mother of this family yesterday afternoon. Sadly, the city will pay to construct a new retaining wall, but all repairs to their house are the family's responsibility. It's really sad; as had the city not permitted the homes above to be build, the retaining wall would have withstood the impact of the forest and their house would have been fine.

It will be interesting, to say the least, to see how this unfolds in the coming months. One thing I have learned in my four years living in Rio de Janeiro: many laws exist, but for every law there are at least 2 ways around it.

2010-04-03T09:16:00.003-03:00

A much needed update...

Just too lazy to keep up with the blog. Here is what we've been up to since Carnaval.

A barbeque and sing-a-long with friends...

A beautiful daughter turning into a teenager (Lord help me get through the next 8 years)...

Beautiful sunset in Macae with Francesca and Sophie...

Appreciating the full moon over the Lagoa from my verandah...

Simple things in life can keep you going.

p.s. the ear is back to normal. Dr. treated me for an inner ear infection despite the absence of vertigo or fever. All clear and hearing normally again. Thank God!!

2010-03-13T10:17:00.002-03:00

Life goes on and the sounds of silence...

December through February is a whirlwind of holiday. Our school calender gives us 6 weeks off over Christmas and through January. Then in February the city shuts down to take in the madness of Carnaval and welcome the Lenten season. I think the overindulgence of Carnaval is all preparation for the abstinence of Lent.
This period of time 2010 was one of alegria and felicidade. LaShunda spent 3 weeks with us over Dec/Jan and Vicks returned for her second Carnaval in Rio during Feb. It was tour guide Sara 24 hours a day, and I loved every minute of it. (hence not having a lot of time for updating this blog)
We have been back to school full-time (meaning having class 5 days a week) since late February now, and I have to say getting into the groove is easier said than done when you are used to living life in anticipation of the next day off.
But that's ok. The demand to "get to work" inspires the congnitive juices, and I'm feeling fired up about all that has to still be accomplished with my 63 eighth graders between now and June 15. We have much to do. I am excited.
Through all of this, I have been battling a very persistent sinus infection/congestion issue. Beginning last November, after returning from a week long trip with those same 63 eighth graders needing a lot of class time, I have been coughing and/or blowing my nose nonstop. Morning greets me with a minimum of 20 minutes hacking up the crud that settled in my chest and face during the night. I have been to my GP 3 times, completed a 10 day antibiotic regime, lived on Tylenol sinus around the clock for almost 2 weeks, and overdosed on vitamin C in the form of acerola juice and supplemental tablets. Only to find temporary relief.
At the same time, I have intermittendly experienced strange sensations and blockages in my left ear. The first time, my ear closed completely, leaving me listening to others in a strange, bent neck, head turned to the left to accentuate my right, working ear position. Used the anti-inflamatory ear drops prescribed by my GP and experienced success when the ear finally reopened. Let me just say, speaking a second language and understanding what others are communicating through only one ear is no easy task.
I thought I was all clear and on the mend, as my ear reopened, I was still coughing and suffering the occasional sinus pressure. That's when the Tylenol sinus came into the game. Tylenol sinus accompanied me through Carnaval this year. I wouldn't have been able to survive without it, but I have to believe it's just not good for the body to take it every 6 hours for 15 days.
In the midst of this phase, that pesky left ear started acting up again. This time, it didn't close completely, but began contorting the sounds which entered the ear. It's like having a HAM radio in your head but not exactly programmed to the correct frequency. A week of this and PHEW! it passed. Life went on...
Until a week ago Thursday, when the sounds in my left ear returned to their strange ways. This time, I decided it was appropriate to call the dr. again. "Sara, I think it's time you see a specialist." A referral to an ENT, a consultation, a battery of hearing tests, and the results: I have hearing loss in my left ear! WHAT?? (literally)
It seems I have lost all the base sounds in my left ear. Do you realize the ramifications of this? Set your stereo controls to eliminate base and push all the treble to the max but make set the dial to 95.4 when the station is really 95.3. That is what I am hearing. It requires so much additional brain energy to process the sounds. It's maddening. It's uncomfortable. It's a little scary. The base and baritones are all the beautiful, delicious, chocolatey smooth sounds you get lost in and wrap around yourself. They are the pleasures of music and comforting voices, and they are gone from my left side.
So I look to the "specialist" Dr. Jair and say, "Ok, I did my part on the exam. Now you do your part and tell me why."
"Well, I don't know Sara."
Great, that is not the answer I wanted to hear. He had already gotten the sneak peek inside my ears using his super magnified ear looker thing. Couldn't he see?? He's the SPECIALIST afterall. The expert whose hands I am putting my faith and hearing in right now.
"That is why I want you to have this exam."
"What exam?"
"I am sending you to the lab to have a catscan of your HEAD!"
Gulp, nodding of head, "O K"
"This will show us exactly what is going on, and then we will be able to move forward with treatment."
This will show us exactly what is going on? What are you looking for? People don't have catscans of their heads to determine something with their ears! Do they? REally?
He continued, "no medicines or treatment until we know the results."
Great, well, really not as big of a deal as it sounds since anything I had previously tried or was currently taking wasn't making any difference in the functioning of my ear anyway.
So I had the exam Thursday, and I wait until Tuesday for the results and Wednesday to talk to the dr. again for answers and in the meantime,
I teach 8th GRADERS!! I work in a SCHOOL. The sounds coming into my left ear are only the high pitched registers. These are pre-pubescent boys and girls. Think about the register of their voices. Think about the register of 20 of their voices at the SAME TIME! Brutal torture. If I supported war, I would call the US Dept of Defense today to recommend this new form of torture for POWs. Seriously...at times I want to scream. At times I want to cry. Most of the time I just want SILENCE.
Mostly in my period of waiting, I continue to think about the what ifs.
But I work hard to push those thoughts away since there really isn't anything productive in that. My biggest concern and what is occupying many of my thoughts is WHAT IF it's permanent because so many things would have to be different.
Until Wednesday, I'm capturing silence.

2010-01-19T13:13:00.002-02:00

Over the Shoulder Boulder Holder
Brazierre
Tit Sling
Bra
Can you think of any other names you have heard used for the undergarment worn by women?
It is one word in Portuguese that I routinely forget. I ALWAYS remember Cueca (men's underwear). I never forget Calcinha (panties). But I can never remember sutia (bra).
I actually had to look it up right now on an online translation site. It's ridiculous. I wear one. Nearly every day, at least when I'm not in a bikini or sleeping...okay too much information.
Well today I had to have a chest x-ray to make sure what has been diagnosed as sinusitis is in fact that and not an upper respiratory thing. Going to the dr in Portuguese is always a challenge. My brain almost immediately goes into "DUH" mode. I think it is because I am overly nervous that I will not understand what is said. I think I'm afraid they're going to say, "Sara, you have a growth the size of a basketball in your bum." And I'm going to look at them, smile and say, "Tudo bem." (ok)
So the technician calls me back to the x-ray room this morning. We greet each other, and he asks, "Voce esta com sutia?"
I stare blankly in return.
He repeats, "Voce esta com sutia?"
I stare for about 15 solid seconds and say, "Eu nao entende."
He repeats, this time a little louder and slower, "Voce esta usando sutia hoje?" Only this time he added a very discreet gesture in the direction of my chest.
AHHH, the light goes off bling bling...
"Sim, to usando. Claro." Like of course I'm wearing a bra, duh!
Had I not been preoccupied with the basketball sized tumor, I probably would have used common sense to know that you can't have an underwire bra on while taking a chest x-ray and I would have understood him the first time he asked.
I think after today, I'll remember sutia is bra in portuguese.

2010-01-15T09:13:00.004-02:00

Onde as montanhas entram o mar!!
My little lady in a random window in Parati! So cute!!

The first night we were without electricity due to the tropical rain storm that hit late afternoon. We became quite the pioneers. I felt just like Laura Engles.

We woke early January 12 to catch an 8 a.m. bus to my favorite place in all of Brazil: Trindade. Just outside of Parati. This is truly a little slice of heaven on earth. The mountains literally run into the sea. I knew it was going to be a great trip when I looked out my bedroom window and was greeted by this incredible sunrise.

During our 3 days, we enjoyed swimming in calm(er) waters, hiking an amazing trail to a waterfall through a national forest, escaping a downpour, running through a blazing thunderstorm, reading by candlelight, sleeping in mosquito hell, looking out at the ocean from an unblocked vantage point, laughing at silly mistakes in language, meeting new friends, wandering the streets of Parati at night, and much needed relaxation.

2010-01-11T10:34:00.002-02:00

Beach days with friends and summer sunsets...

2009-12-23T11:08:00.007-02:00

Cidade Maravilhosa!

Rio de Janeiro, 6,136,652 occupy approximately 1182.3 square kilometers.The greater metropolitan area is estimated to be home to roughly 11-13.5 million. The juxtaposition of the transatlantic rain forest and concrete is breathtaking to say the least.

View overlooking Gavea Jockey club from Christ the Redeemer

The "Carioca" (the name used for people from Rio de Janeiro) embodies a particular personality and attitude. One that is easy going, happy, relaxed and ready to put anything off until tomorrow in order to "curta sol na praia ou danca samba."

But Rio is a megatropolis. 19% of Rio's population live in favelas (Brazilian Portuguese for slums). Some of the original favelas were started as quilombos (independent settlements of fugitive African slaves). The areas later grew when slaves were liberated in 1888 and had no place to live. The housing crisis of the 1940s also forced the urban poor to erect additional shantytowns/favelas.

The favelas of Rio de Janeiro are built on the mountain side with some of the best panoramic views of the city. However, during rainy seasons, these areas are prone to flooding and mudslides, leading to numerous deaths each year.

View of Rocinha from Sao Conrado

Add to these very poor areas the fact the Brazil is one of the most economically unequal countries in the world with the top 10% earning 50% of the national income and about 34% living below the poverty line. During the 20th Century the Brazilian Government made several attempts to improve the nation's urban poverty problem. One of the most well-known is the relocation of 10,000 favela inhabitants to public housing during the 1970s while Brazil was under military governance, depicted in the film Cidade de Deus/City of God. Programs are continuously implemented but with little avail.

This huge contrast in economic dispertion leads to a sometimes volitale environment. On the surface, Rio de Janeiro is one of the most beautiful cities in the world. However, poverty perpetuates crime, and Rio is no stranger to crime. The desparate will go to extreme measures to put food on the table or clothes on their children.

Praias Lelon e Ipanema

I fell victim to this crime about a month and a half ago after living in Cidade Maravilhoso for three and a half years. A beautiful, sunny Friday afternoon, roughly 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Another American teacher and I were walking the beach on our way to take a quick swim and meet friends for happy hour. The beach was packed, the sun was shining. As we attempted to cross from Leblon to Ipanema near the water, we were suddenly jumped by about 15 teenage boys at one time. They immediately separated me from my friend and commenced to strip us of everything we had. My sunglasses were literally ripped from my face.

My initial reaction was to flee, attempt to run, fight off the little piranas, but the truth is I was completely outnumbered. The result was me getting more banged up than necessary. The delay in the struggle came because one boy wanted my watch, which needed to be unhooked in order to be removed. (He wasn't intelligent enough to know that.) He tried for what felt like 5 minutes to tear the watch from my wrist without opening it until I was able to yell in Portuguese that I would take it off.

We were left with the clothes on our backs and nothing else--literally. Thankfully, we have friends in the city. No body on the beach helped. Whether anyone saw the encounter I am not sure as it all happened very fast, but there was no reaction from any other person on the beach that day.

Where has this left me? My perspective of Rio de Janeiro has certainly been changed. I still love Brazil; I still love Rio; I still go out; I still walk the beach. BUT...I am far more cautious and at times downright scared than I ever was before this experience. I now go out with nearly nothing. I have a very plain watch. I don't carry a bag. I don't wear jewelry. I shove my cell phone in a pocket. I disperse money throughout all pockets and stuff a little in my bra. Being left that day without money to even jump on a bus and get back to my neighborhood left an ugly feeling of desperation that I don't ever wish to repeat.

Yes, these sorts of things happen in cities around the globe. Rio is not the only megatropolis in the world with crime. Lessons of life in the fast lane are sometimes harder to learn than others. I got this one. I don't need a repeat in order to understand.

2009-12-22T12:53:00.002-02:00

Rabanada Bem

They might look like your average French Toast, but don't be fooled. These are genuine Rabanadas. Delicious and sinful, traditional Brazilian Christmas goodie. Let me share with you how to create these at your house. Make a batch to share with family and friends during your holiday feast. Add a little Brazil to the table.

Take bakery style dinner rolls. The kind that come in a "log" and you pull them apart. Pull them apart. Mix together milk, sweet and condensed milk, and if you can coconut milk. Soak the pieces of bread in the milk mixture. Beat eggs (2-3) in a separate bowl. After soaking each piece of bread, squeeze out excess milk, and dip in egg. Fry in pan with oil until golden brown. Cover with cinnamin/sugar. Enjoy!!

They are very similar to American French toast in preparation, but the milk mixture makes an incredible difference in final taste.

ENJOY!! Happy HOlidays!

2009-12-13T11:01:00.002-02:00

Digital Photography has changed the way we socialize.

Seriously, I was watching a novela (soap opera) a few weeks back and there was a scene in a bar/club. There were 2 main couples (in the show) who had gone to this bar together. Part of the scene in the novela included the four characters taking pictures of each other and immediately looking at the camera to see if the photo turned out, laugh at a crazy face, or gush over how beautiful one of the others looks in the photo. After this brief segment of the scene, the scenario of the novela continued (in the bar/club), and the camera was put away. The picture taking portion didn't really have anything to do with the plot.

It made me think: Digital Cameras have changed how we interact with each other.

'NO LOOKING AT THE PICTURES UNTIL SUNDAY ON THE WAY HOME!'
My friend Diane established this rule Friday night of a recent Girl's Weekend. I have to admit we were all a bit resistant; however, we complied. It was not easy at first, but by Saturday afternoon we were no longer thinking about immediately turning the camera around, pushing the the play button, and looking at our pictures. We accepted that whatever crazy photo might surface on Sunday could discreetly be deleted later if necessary. We also agreed that if we missed the really great shot because we didn't know it turned out the first time, it wasn't meant to be.

Remember having to wait for the film to be processed? Picking up the prints from Walgreen's, shuffling through the stack sometimes still a little sticky from the chemicals used. In a roll of 24 or 32 you may have ended up with 10 decent shots, and you had to pay for all 24 or 32 regardless of how blurry, dark, over-exposed they might be. There are benefits to only printing the 'good ones'. And we must be doing the Earth a favor by printing and discarding fewer pictures.

But I was thinking about the feeling of anticipation. The pleasure of receiving the pictures after so much waiting. How that is somewhat character building. We are able to be instantly satisfied, appeased by looking at our shots seconds after they have been taken, which is GREAT! At the same time, Sunday's drive back to Rio after the "no looking girl's weekend" was quite entertaining as we recapped our weekend adventure while scrolling through the pictures together for the first time. Try it the next time you have an afternoon, evening, weekend get together. Apply the no looking rule and observe the difference in the behaviors of people.

2009-11-15T10:05:00.001-02:00

Life is beautiful!

Take a moment to appreciate the every day elements before they pass you by.

2009-10-31T10:09:00.002-02:00

Meus Amores!

Sierra, Bira and I took a trip to Salvador, Bahia, Brasil a couple of weeks ago. This city is one of the most historic in all of Brasil. It was the first port city in Brasil and was the gateway for the Portuguese conquerors. The group Olodum is from Salvador, and the beat of their drums are a constant sound there. The city is still full of well preserved history in its buildings, music, food, and customs. It was a great 5 days.And my baby is growing and changing and so appreciative of what we have. On the way to the airport on the last day she said, "Thank you Mom! For bringing me here, for the stuff you bought me, for the boat ride." Ahh...life IS good!

2009-10-03T15:50:00.001-03:00

Valeu Rio!!

2009-09-08T21:29:00.007-03:00

The Room is FINALLY Transformed

Thank Goodness for a gentle, patient daughter.
Sierra has been asking me for 2 years to paint her bedroom. We finally did it. This past weekend was our weekend of projects. Monday was Brazilian Independence Day, so we had a 3-Day weekend. It was overcast and chilly all weekend, so no beach. I have worked a lot on my patience lately, so I was able to let the kids help without getting too frustrated. Actually, I didn't get frustrated at all. I found myself smiling pretty much the entire day. Here are the pictures to chronicle our hard work.

The walls were all white when we started. Sierra had hung several tweener posters on the walls in attempts at decorating, but she quickly removed them the night we brought home the paint.

Sierra, Leticia, and I started with the green wall...

And finished with the details around the corners of the pink sides...Then we had to wait until Sunday because the green needed to be "completamente secou" (totally dry).

Phase One Complete...good night...until tomorrow.

The girls started phase two by taking the paint we bought and mixing it with other leftover paint I had to create the colors they wanted to use for the balls.

Then, I outlined the balls on the wall, created the pattern, while the girls determined who would use which color. They were so organized and cooperative. It was fantastic to work all together.

I added some final touches and made sure edges were evenly coated...

And the magical bouncing balls made there way to Sierra's room.

2009-09-08T16:45:00.003-03:00

Space and Stuff

We all simply occupy space with our stuff. It seems like we all have too much stuff and not enough space. When I decided to move to Brazil three years ago, I looked around my fully furnished home and asked, "Man, what am I going to do with all this? I worked really hard to get all this."

In about 30 seconds I replied, "It's just SPACE and STUFF."

And so the adventure to Rio de Janeiro from Cambridge, MN began. For three years, I've done relatively well at keeping the amount of stuff to a minimum. I live in a modest apartment with modest furnishing, and I am continuously passing on my stuff to someone else who wants it, needs it, would use it, appreciates it.

But something happened this weekend that slightly shifted my reference to my stuff. For the first time since living in Brazil I actually had the thought: I don't want to leave "that" behind. I'll take it with me where ever I end up going.

What is it? You may ask (assuming anyone is actually reading this post now).

This is the thing that prompted that thought last weekend. A table and two chairs. The table and two chairs that sit on the veranda of my apartment. The table and two chairs where we have our breakfast, lunch and dinner. The table and two chairs where I drink my morning coffee. The table and two chairs that have listened to hours of me playing the guitar. The table and two chairs that have supported numorous backgammon games. This table and chairs that was was a hand-me-down from my friends Jennifer and Valdir two years ago.

This table and chairs moved to the top of the container list should a move ever happen because last weekend this table and chairs got a little facelift. I unfortunately do not have a before picture; this photo is the after shot. A fresh coat of stain and it's new again.

But the important thing that it taught me: stuff is always stuff. I would liquidate my house all over again for the right move. It's the memory I now hold on to of sanding and cleaning and then painting them with great company on a lazy, dreary, cloudy Saturday afternoon that I get to hold on to forever. Whether the table and chairs make it into the container or not.

2009-08-30T09:02:00.002-03:00

My baby's 11!I took the plunge and threw a HUGE part-Tay for the little angel...not so little anymore and encroaching on the teen years is an interesting adjustment for this mom who still feels too young to have a Middle School aged daughter. She continues to be the best part of my life, despite the mood swings. If I survive this transition in her life, I will be able to survive anything.

She thoroughly enjoyed her party, as did the 94 people who came to help her celebrate!

Sierra and her BFF Leticia. Look at those smiles!Breakin all my former mom rules, the party was from 5-9 on a SCHOOL night!! I know. We returned home around 10, after waiting for the last of the friends to be picked up. Sierra happily schlepped her gifts in, took a quick shower and begggged to open at least one! She opened them all. At 11:45 she was still smiling from ear to ear, but ready to crash. Friday morning getting up for school at 6:30 a.m. wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I think the adrenaline was still pumping from the night before.

Happy Birthday Baby!!

2009-08-23T09:38:00.002-03:00

Inspiration, ideas, interest in moving it to the next level...
It's true. I've had several inspirations and ideas for the next blog posting in the last 4 MONTHS! But I haven't had enough interest in moving those ideas to the level of publication here. Writing takes heart. The heart and soul have to be in the right place before the ideas will just flow from brain to hand to page. I'm still feeling a little lacking in that inspiration, but I'm starting to believe I better do something about it soon or I may stop writing forever. And I don't like that idea.

So to get started with this first posting since April I thought I would share some random thoughts I have had.
First, If I complain when I can't find my favorite shirt because my maid washed it, ironed it and put it away, does that make me spoiled?
Second, Should I buy it, should I drive it, should I get it...Would I be happy driving a 1971 VW Beetle (called a Fusca in Brasil)?
Third, I like mirrors a LOT. What does that say about me?
Fourth, Is it really ok to go through life not having ANY plans for the future?
Fifth, When did I get old enough to have an eleven year old child?

My new leaf is turning over. I will work at updating this at least once a week. Because no matter how you feel after reading this, I am already feeling lighter having written it.

2009-06-06T20:25:00.002-03:00

I'm still here

I have clearly been neglecting my blog. This addiction called facebook has taken over my computer time. I have not been creatively inspired in quite some time, which is making it difficult to even write this post. But to anyone who still checks this site from time to time, my apologies for my lack of attention. Another teaching year in Rio will be coming to a close soon. Incredibly three years have passed faster than I ever imagined they could. Somehow I feel like I've been a carioca my whole life. I hope to regain my ability to compose creative, thoughtful pieces of writing soon.

2009-05-03T09:15:00.001-03:00

Pisoq Ruins 2009

2009-05-03T09:12:00.000-03:00

Machu Picchu 2009

2009-03-23T21:43:00.002-03:00

Pão de Açúcar--More pictures of our climb.

Pão de Açúcar--Sugar Loaf Mountain--is a peak situated in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, from the mouth of Guanabara Bay on a peninsula that sticks out into the Atlantic. Rising 396 metres (1,299 ft) above sea-level, its name is said to refer to its resemblance to the traditional shape of concentrated refined loaf sugar.
I've looked at this mountain from the bus window at least six times since making the climb. Each time, I am surprised and awed by what I accomplished. At first I said I would NEVER do this again.
My sore muscles told me for at least four days that I would probably never do the climb a second time, but in looking at some of the pictures for a third or fourth time, I'm starting to think I might just try my hand at this little hike once more.

And since my fatigued muscles are no longer here to remind me of the challenge, I might be convinced...

2009-03-21T09:09:00.002-03:00

Music and dancing and parties galore!!!The Harlem Gospel Choir in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Why isn't the lady behind me enjoying the show??
Suzanne, Patricia, and me at the triple the fun birthday party. Phew, it's been a busy week and a half. I might need a holiday to rest up from all the playin around...more pics of last night's show to come.

2009-03-10T18:25:00.002-03:00

Who would give me flowers this beautiful? And Why???
They are a "thank you" from EARJ S.O.S. (Service Oriented Students) club for my delivery of a speech during the kick off to the Cancer Walk-a-Thon to take place March 22.
Here's my speech in print (like most speeches, always better when delivered):
They asked me to speak today because I walk.
I walk because I am no stranger to the cancer monster. I think only a few of us remain strangers to this illness that reportedly impacts over 12 million new cases annually. In 2007 alone, 7.6 million cancer deaths occurred worldwide. (about 20,000 cancer deaths a day) How does a person begin to fathom statistics of this size?
It has to be made personal.
My mother is a survivor, currently undergoing chemotherapy again, battling for the third time in the last 19 years. She has managed to find resilience in her Faith and lives knowing that each day is truly a gift.
My father is a survivor, currently outliving the predicted survival rate for his type of cancer. He is living as one of the 15% predicted to survive gastral and esophageal cancer.
My maternal grandmother was a survivor. She lived with a mastectomy half her adult life, before the research identified the benefits of reconstruction for breast cancer survivors.
My paternal grandfather was a survivor.
I lost Brian, my 16 year old cousin, to this illness.
Four months ago, October 2008, I lost Jason, my 38 year old cousin.
My family tree is riddled with this ugly illness, running through its branches. It is insufficient to simply be "tired of it".
One would think traveling the road once would make it easier a second time, or a third time, or a fourth time, but it doesn't it only makes me more angry. One would think having so many firsthand experiences would help the grieving process the next time around. It doesn't. It is horrible and hard and feels unfair every time. And every time I am left with the feeling that there is very little that I can do to alleviate the pain my loved ones experience. There is very little I can do to avoid living my life in waiting: for the results of a medical exam, for the next diagnosis in my family. For me it isn’t a matter of “if” it is a matter of “who is next”. And now I worry most about my daughter, my nieces, and nephew, the next generation of my family.
Because I know fighting this illness changes a person. Watching a loved one fight this illness changes a person. Once a person is diagnosed, everything is different. And most of the time for most people, things being different is not ok.
It is just different, and we all have to find a way to survive.
So, what can we do?
We do what I’ve been doing since 1995.
We walk.
We walk because we believe. We walk because others can’t. We walk for our mothers and our fathers and our sisters and our brothers. For our friends and our colleagues we walk.
We walk and we shoulder the courage to continue to fight to change the statistic that claims this disease will personally affect 75% of the women sitting in this auditorium by the time she turns 60.
We walk to preserve the quality of life for a cancer survivor.
We walk because we need to continue to find the answers to questions about treatments and prevention and survival and one day elimination of a disease that is far too common. We walk for ourselves when there is nothing tangible left for us to do.
We walk in honor of the survivors we know. We walk in memory of the loved ones we’ve lost. We walk.
hoping that in 25 years our children and their children won’t have to.

2009-03-05T21:56:00.001-03:00

Gracas a Deus!The world is a beautiful place and I am truly blessed!

2009-02-25T09:32:00.005-03:00

Carnaval and ClimbsVicks: Sara, when you asked if I wanted to hike while in Rio, you didn't specify that I would be tied to a safety harness and using a rope!
But this one view of many is my reward for the spent energy!! Beautiful!! We are all very tired and very excited that we accomplished climbing a mountain! Nearly 1,000 feet!!Rio de Janeiro at dusk. Copacabana on the left edge, Botafogo Marina on the right, Cocovado on the horizon. Incredible!!

Ian, Meg, me Vicks and Kirsten before heading to Sambodromo!!!

Me and Vicks dressed up and ready to desfilar...man those costumes were HOT!!

2009-02-18T19:52:00.001-03:00

Carnaval esta Chegandooooo!!!!!

2009-02-10T22:57:00.002-02:00

Bikinis and Congas
So as of Sunday, the total number of bikinis occupying my closet is 9! And the conga, a must have with each bikini (you can't imagine the limitless possibilities with this piece of fabric! It's ingenious.), is up to 10! I'm starting to believe this may be a borderline obsession. I didn't even attempt to add up the number of Havaianas in the other closet, which also are a must have with each bikini. I was too shocked when I actually saw ALL of the bikinis and congas together in one space at the same time. I could totally open a secondhand bikini shop. Would you buy a 'used' bikini? hmmm, good question. Not so sure I would.
This all started me thinking...maybe it's a reflection of my environment (ya think?). When I lived in Houston, did I overbuy any certain item? Let's think.
Did I have 9 cowboy hats? Uh, no.
Did I have 10 pairs of cowboy boots? Uh, no.
Maybe I had 9 horses...ok ok, so there is more to Texas than cowboys and cowboy gear.
How about when I lived in Minnesota?
Did I have 9 pairs of snow pants? Uh, no.
Did I have 10 scarfs? Uh, wait...I think we might be on to something.
How about 10 different cozy winter hats? Indeed! I believe I had at LEAST 10 at one point. (I liked hats a lot for several years.)
So for now, the current environment is forcing me to overbuy bikinis and more or less, beach wear.
let's face it. A girl does need at least two bikinis. If you venture to the beach two days in a row, which I often do, it is likely that the bikini worn the first day is still damp the morning of the second day. We all know the unpleasantness of attempting to wear a still wet bikini. However, I'm pretty sure that by the third day in a row on the beach, which I often have, that first bikini is good and dry. It could be worn again...
Well, here's my proof:I think I may need to seek professional help on this one. It just seems a little excessive. I'm going to work on repairing this situation. I will not buy another bikini the ENTIRE month of February! (I know, big sacrifice.)
I am curious though. Is there anything in your closet, in ridiculous numbers, that you know deep down you don't really NEED yet you continue to buy just ONE more of?

2009-02-01T08:59:00.002-02:00

The modified pub crawl: The Quiosque Qurawl....Here's Meg at our first stop overlooking the path we are embarking on...praias Leblon and Ipanema.
Nancy, me and Brad near a quiosque somewhere along praia leblon.
Us girls after a trek to the water to...cool off.

The intent was to go through Leblon and Ipanema, ending at Apoarador to watch the sunset. We made it almost through Leblon. Operating with little to no agenda, enjoying each other's company and not keeping a schedule. It was a beautiful sunny day in Rio with good friends. Now we have a reason to schedule Quiosque Qurawl Parte Dois!

The blazing sunset ended our travels, the rain poured in, we returned home to eat, shower, rest and plan "parte dois".

2009-01-19T11:45:00.002-02:00

Recipe for holiday

The Brazilian Caipirinha

1 lime
2 ounces of cachaça
Sugar to taste
Ice cubes
Wash the lime and roll it on the board to loosen the juices. Cut the lime into pieces and place them in a glass. Sprinkle with the sugar and crush the pieces (pulp side up) with a pestle. Just enough to release the juice, otherwise it'll get bitter. Add the cachaça and stir to mix. Add the ice and stir again. It is delicious and potent!

If you can't find cachaça where you live, use a good vodka. The drink will then be called caipiroshka. No vodka? Use white rum and you will have a caipiríssima.

You can also try the Brazilian fruit called lima-da-Pérsia, strawberries, kiwi, fresh passion fruit with mint, passion fruit with pitanga, watermelon, grapes, you name it, instead of lime.

2009-01-09T07:48:00.002-02:00

I could think of nothing better than to spend my birthday with beautiful friends, on beautiful beach, under the sun, surrounded by love and laughter! It was a GREAT day!!Oh Ana! Ana and I started the day. Picked a spot in Leblon where the chairs and umbrellas carried the emblem of my favorite local cerveja. I thought it fitting they brought us our very own cooler to set between our chairs.

If you could hear the conversation surrounding this picture of me and Luciana, you'd be laughing. heheAnd the clouds only rolled in at sunset when I went home to enjoy a delicious chocolate cake made especially by Dona Thelma for me. Come over! There's plenty left!

2009-01-05T15:57:00.002-02:00

What have you been up to?? Me? playing on the beach. Here's the outline of my bikini in the sand after falling down playing fresco...I love the fact that I can live without a schedule for a few weeks!! Ahhh holiday. I have time to post pics today since it is raining. Vou ficar na praia amanha...com certeza!

2009-01-02T10:16:00.000-02:00

Feliz Ano Novo! Happy New Year! Prosperity to all!!!

2008-12-26T15:51:00.000-02:00

Somewhere...

2008-12-20T19:21:00.002-02:00

Hi Guys! Wanna go on an adventure with me? Life is short; we only live once, right? Come on, it'll be fun!!!I think it's time for a second one. The first was when I was 18; that's 18 years ago...hmmmm I'm sensing a pattern..
Where are we? Do I look happy or nervous?? Good question. So glad I have friends with connections...The stencil looks good, but that will wash right off. We don't want that.
We definitely want the REAL thing!!! Something that will be with me forever... and ever...
And it looks soooo good! I wonder what I'll add in 18 years.

2008-12-14T09:57:00.002-02:00

The annual "work Christmas party" was held last night at our headmaster's home. Complete with cocktails, food, and live music; the night was one to remember! Here are a few shots of me and some of my friends.

Diane, Suzanne, Brad, and me

Diane, Suzanne, Brad, Meghan and me

Diane, Suzanne, Brad, me and Diane

And this is what happens after too many (drinks) pictures....

Happy Holidays! Feliz Natal! Bom Ano Novo! Happy New Year!

2008-12-13T13:20:00.002-02:00

I get to work here...

This is the view from the top of our highest block at EARJ. You can see my apartment on the right side, this side of the water, and behind the tallest buildings (brown and cream) in the foreground of the photo. And I'm here for another year...at least.

Excuse now, I must go sit next to the pool for some color before my party this evening.

2008-12-06T15:01:00.002-02:00

I haven't done one of these in awhile. So here goes:
I am: an educator
I know: I am lucky to have so many great people in my life
I want: the insurance to reimburse me for my surgery
I have: my health
I miss: my sister
I feel: blessed
I hear: traffic on Lagoa/Barra
I smell: nail polish
I crave: picanha
I cry: when I am really angry
I search: for more hours in the day
I wonder: what 2009 will have in store for me
I regret: not grading student work during my medical leave
I love: my life
I worry: about my family's health
I remember: too much
I dance: every day
I don't: eat cooked vegetables
I argue: for fun sometimes
I write: my blog, on facebook, on student papers, emails, notes--my life's story
I win: happiness
I lose: pens
I wish: I could guarantee a peaceful life for the people I love
I listen: with my heart
I can usually be found: on the beach or next to the pool
I am scared: of people without a conscience
I need: to remain positive
I forget: secrets people tell me

2008-11-30T12:28:00.002-02:00

Flowers, Fireworks and the beginning of the Christmas season

I returned home from the hospital to this beautiful floral arrangement from the teachers in the middle school. It is still alive and well and adding such beauty to my home.Although the fireworks at the annual Christmas Tree lighting left much to be desired, I enjoyed an evening among friends. Good snacks, good wine, good company...not much to complain about.

2008-11-25T08:58:00.002-02:00

Black Friday...

I just read a pop-up ad: "After Thanksgiving Sale: starts at 4 a.m."

Are they serious?!?!?!

2008-11-18T21:25:00.002-02:00

I am busting with gratitude!!

I am so grateful in this moment I could cry tears of joy. And to think a couple of hours ago I was feeling no inspiration for a new blog post.
I am scheduled for minor surgery tomorrow morning. Nothing major--just a hysterctomy (a major step in prevention due to the extensive cancer history in my family). This surgery is performed daily around the world with great success. I have read everything I could get my hands on about what will take place. I have met for literally hours with my primary dr., my ob-gyn, and my surgeon. I have immense faith in all three of these professionals. I am feeling very comfortable with what will ensue in the next 12 hours. Even knowing that I will be undergoing this surgery in a language other than English.
I am used to taking care of me. It's what I've had to do. To a point, in our adult lives, I think we all grow accustomed to this. Yes, I have a loving and giving family, but I have managed to live so far away from them for most of my adult life that I have prevented them the opportunity to "help" (physically) when times of need arise. I rely on them for prayer and council and guidance and a quick kick in the rear from time to time.
Let me just say the members of my Brazilian family are incredible people!! I was showered with hugs and thumbs up throughout the day today and as I exited school, wishing me well during tomorrow's surgery.
My very good friend, Barrie, has taken one of her two personal days to accompany me to the hospital in the morning and sit there with me all day.
My very good friend, Suzanne, is on her way to my house now to spend the night and rise with Sierra, maintaining responsibility for my angel for the days to come. AND...
I just received a phone call from my very good friend, Ana, who insists on making her way to the hospital tomorrow night to keep me company through the night!
Unbelievable!!! Thank you thank you thank you. I am forever grateful!!

2008-11-18T17:10:00.002-02:00

I have been slacking. I am actually addicted to Facebook, and I have been neglecting my blog. I also haven't been feeling very creative. The two times I have logged in to this blog, I haven't really felt the creative energy to write a new entry. As I put together this post, I'm not really feeling the creative juices. However, I have some good shots from our second weekend in Macae a couple weeks ago.

The water was pretty rough on Sunday, and the surfers were insane. I was afraid I was going to come up for air to a surf board in my forehead more than once. Sierra opted for the shoreline where her feet sunk deeper and deeper with each wave.Then there was this carload of puppies for sale. Sierra wants a dog sooo badly! It must be the age. Oh, heavens me we are NOT getting a puppy when we live in an apartment. Especially not this boxer! Do you know how big they get when they're full grown?

We enjoyed our "girl" time with big girls and daughters. Dinner out, lazy mornings, lounging on the beach....the things girls like...

Candid shots now and then when it's least expected.

Thanks girls, for a great weekend in Macae!!!

It's A New Day - will.i.am -

2008-11-10T18:13:00.001-02:00

I was in love with will i am before seeing this! Now...oh my!

2008-11-02T17:03:00.003-02:00

Date Night!

I found the perfect place to play my guitar!

There is a park very close to my house, where a royal family used to live. It is now a preserve/park and open to the public. It is a fabulous little escape from the noises of the city. On the property, there is a cement tower. A man built this tower for his wife, who was an opera singer, so that she would have a space acoustically adequate for her to practice. It is now MY space. The acoustics in this round room are AMAZING!
So last night, I took my guitar--and a bottle of wine--and stayed in the tower 5 hours playing and singing! It is my new favorite place in the city.

2008-11-01T16:36:00.001-02:00

I love that even on an uneventful day, I am fascinated by my surroundings.

I was just hanging out on the veranda, looking down at the trees. What do I see?? 2 Monkeys playing tag in the branches.

AHHH, I love living here!!

2008-10-25T21:08:00.001-02:00

My "new boyfriend" is clearly my GUITAR. You all understood that, right??

2008-10-21T19:15:00.013-02:00

Sssshhhh, I have a Secret Confession...

It is time for me to confess.

I have a boyfriend! Yes, it's true. I am finally admitting it after nearly three months of secret rendezvous and late nights together. He's fabulous --trustworthy, supportive, strong, dependable. He brings out the artist in me. Whenever I am near him, I feel like singing. We have spent hours together, yet each time I hold him I learn something new.

At first I thought it might be more of an obsession or infatuation than anything healthy because I would find myself thinking about him ALL day long. I can be out with friends for happy hour or dinner, enjoying relaxing conversation with great people, and my mind wonders to thoughts of him. I just want to get back to him.

I knew it was problematic the first time I thought about him at work. I didn't even want to work. I just wanted him in my arms, passing the hours caressing his strong neck. That is when I decided it was time to come clean. It is time to make the confession, time to let you all know that very soon I just may start sleeping with this new dream.

So I wanted to share a picture:

Isn't he lovely? Look at the finish! The picture makes me want to play right now, seriously, I stopped typing for a minute to go play a song. I am addicted to this instrument, and it is so much fun. It is challenging and frustrating and my fingers are killing me and I can no longer have long fingernails on my left hand, and it is no where near as easy as Santana makes it look, but it is my new favorite thing.

2008-10-19T22:13:00.002-02:00

2008-10-16T20:25:00.005-03:00

My family lost a special member last night.

We are no strangers to the cancer monster. My mother is a survivor, battling for the third time as I type. My father is a survivor. My maternal grandmother was a survivor. My paternal grandfather was a survivor. I lost a cousin too young (He was 16.) to this illness. The family tree is riddled with this ugly illness, running through the branches. It is indescribable to be "tired of it". One would think traveling the road once would make it easier a second time, or a third time, or a fourth time, but it doesn't it only pisses you off more. One would think having so many first hand experiences would help the grieving process the next time around. It doesn't. It is horrible and hard and feels unfair every time.

Fighting this illness changes a person. Watching a loved one fight this illness changes a person. Once a person is diagnosed, everything is different. And most of the time for most people, things being different is not ok. It is just different, and we have to find a way to survive it too.

Jason has been battling his illness with everything he is since March of 2007. He was a great cousin. We grew up in close proximity to each other. He was the same age as my brother, and his sister the same age as me. We spent many holidays and summer's days together while kids. He loved the outdoors and everything country--hunting, fishing, four-wheeling, animals. He worked hard. He had great jokes. He did excellent imitations of our uncles that made us all laugh around the bonfire. He was a great fishing partner for Sierra when she was small and learning how to bait her own hook and cast her own line.

Paula, Eden (Jason's niece), Jason--Summer 2007

He will be missed! No matter how you cut it. His absence will be difficult to get over for all who knew him. My rational mind is telling me, "He's with our Savior. He's no longer in pain. He's no longer needing to fight 24 hours a day." My heart is saying, "It's so damn unfair!" Thank God for faith. Thank God I believe he has gone to a better place, to watch over all who love him, to eternal salvation.

2008-10-06T21:32:00.002-03:00

A quick Sunday night adventure. Me and my angel!!
Caique with control of the camera takes all the girls by surprise.
Sierra dancin with Caique.
Sierra dancin with Suzanne.

2008-10-04T18:44:00.000-03:00

SMILE!!! Life is short.

2008-10-02T17:57:00.002-03:00

I walked through the door this evening, returning from work, looked directly ahead through the open door and toward the veranda and this is what I saw...The sun beginning its evening descent.
Before my eyes, the sky changed colors.
The clouds swirled and spiraled.
The pinks began to dance across the ocean horizon.
And evening reared its head.

2008-09-27T20:47:00.002-03:00

Campus Wildlife
I have often said that the campus I work on is the most beautiful academic campus in the world. Not only are the views of the ocean and city amazing from the top of our highest building/block, the tropical wildlife (counting the children) are a regular, welcomed distraction from class.
Toucan perching on the ledge of one of our balconies a week and a half ago.Even I, the teacher, have been known to stop class, take everyone to the balcony outside and watch as monkeys or toucans play in the trees outside my window. Despite what the Fruit Loops box taught me as a kid, toucans' beaks are not striped.

2008-09-20T17:41:00.002-03:00

The Beach Story
(This blog entry contains sexual content)
So a couple of weeks ago, late on a Friday night/early Saturday morning, I was hanging out at the beach with some friends and witnessed one of the funniest things of my life. Since that night/morning, I have shared this story with several friends here. Today I was prompted to share the story with my blog readers. It goes like this...
The hour is approximately 2:30 a.m. I'm sitting on the steps leading to the sand in Leblon enjoying the enormous waves crashing onto the shore. The weather was changing (again, as it does from day to day during the winter here) and another frente frio (cold front) was on its way. Because of the climate change, the waves were particularly high. If I had to guess, I would say they were at least 50 feet at times. (My spatial reasoning is not my strength) The music of the waves crashing and the back splash they produced were hypnotic. I stared at the water coming in for over an hour that night. Well, around 2:30 an energetic couple entered the beach, descending the stairs near where I was sitting on their way to the sand. The man resembled the old man of the sea--white haired, full beard, leather tan skin and probably 60 something in years. The woman looked like someone enjoying her glory years--mid 40s, fit, smile on her face from ear to ear, happy to be hand-in-hand with the old man of the sea.
They descended the stairs and proceeded to walk the beach away from where I was sitting. The street lights iluminate the beach at night but create shaded areas every 60 yards or so. The spry couple found one of these shaded areas and made themselves comfortable. Mind you, the space is only shaded. It is not dark. It is not concealing. The silhouette of a person in the shaded area can be clearly made out from several yards away.
Once the couple was settled, I went back to the enticing beauty of the waves, marveling at the fact that the residual waters were nearly reaching the steps where I was seated about every fourth wave. They were magnificent. They were powerful. They were forceful.
For a reason I'm not sure of, I glanced back down the beach where the couple had been. And what do I see??? The woman, lying on her back in the middle of the beach. I squinted, wondering where did the man go? Just in time for my eyesight to adjust to the light difference, I notice the man too is lying down, not beside the woman, not under the woman, not even on top of the woman. He was, however, very near her. With tuned eyes the silhouette of the man's head comes into view--facing the woman, but between her thighs! Yes, you read correctly. They had a very adventurous evening in mind when they descended those steps. And although they carefully chose a shaded area of the beach, they in fact were clearly visible to anyone sitting on the boardwalk, walking by on the boardwalk, riding a bike on the boardwalk, most likely even to anyone driving by on the avenue above the boardwalk.
Of course I immediately call the attention of my friends. We all enjoy a shocked moment of "Wow! That's courage. Must be a turn on to know people can see you." before one of those powerful, forceful, particularly large waves crashed to the shore near the mans feet and commenced to engulf the horny couple and all of their belongings.
Both the man and the woman, rapidly rose (the lady without pants mind you) scrambling to grab anything they had laying next to them on the sand before the water whisked it back out to sea as it receded. They hustled up the beach a little further to safety, searched for the poor woman's pants, to no avail. Can I just say that at this moment, I had tears streaming down my face at the sight. The couple successfully find something for the woman to put on. They exit the beach. I am still crying in laughter. I think their moment passed. I think the mood was altered. I think next time they'll pick a different location on the beach at night.

2008-09-14T10:20:00.003-03:00

Checking in on H-Town...

As many of you know, I lived in Houston, TX for 5 years. Sierra was born in Houston. Although the state of TX has been known to produce some scary thinkers, I have a special place in my heart for Houston. During my 5 years in TX, I experienced the wrath of several hurricane producing tropical storms. The week after I sold my house in TX, my neighborhood flooded as a result of a hurricane. They are unbelieveably strong forces of nature. When water falls horizontally, it is frightening. Well, Ike made landfall in Galveston early Sat. morning, ripping apart much of the coastline. This storm was so strong there is hurricane damage as far as downtown Houston--approximately 60 miles north of the coast. Windows in skyscrapers DOWNTOWN were blown out.
Saturday morning, I attempted to call several members of my TX family. All I heard were busy signals. I think the lines are still down.
As of this morning, I have heard from LaShunda, KaSandra, and Cindy. All of them and their respective family are safe. KaSandra had evacuated to Odessa where her extended family lives, but she has no true idea of the condition of her home near Houston. LaShunda was hiding behind a bed for fear of the wind crashing in the window, and with the exception of some leaks in the roof and a few windows Cindy's house is in tact--as well as her loved ones.
I'm just waiting to hear from Lorry. I am assuming she too is without power and cannot access email or telephone lines.
Big hugs to all of you and sending as much energy as you may need in the clean up process.

2008-09-13T09:24:00.002-03:00

Of COURSE I had to play with a picture of Sierra too....

Here is what she would have looked like in 1984.

And in 1978 she would have been one foxy momma!!

2008-09-10T20:38:00.004-03:00

LMAO!!!!

You have to try this site: http://www.yearbookyourself.com/

Here are my results....First there is me in 1956...so scary I have no comment!

Then there's me as my MOM!! in 1966. This is strikingly similar to her.

Here's me with sexy, long straight hair in 1974.

And as my sister in 1976!!

And this one (1990) is so similar to my actual senior picture I peed my pants when it loaded!! Even the pose is the same! Oh, Aqua Net!

And then I loaded this one from 1994, and I realized this is closer to what I actually did with my bangs during that period of my life! What was I thinking?

Thanks Jill, for providing the link on your site--http://brennekids.blogspot.com/. It made my night.

2008-09-10T17:16:00.002-03:00

New painting for the house...

pretty, huh?

2008-09-04T18:22:00.001-03:00

When you rise before your alarm and are greeted by awesome beauty....it makes it ok! (even at 5:30 in the morning)

I've been doing a lot a thinking lately. Not just the every day thinking. The deep, introspective kind of thinking. The kind you can get lost in. Too many ideas have crossed my mind in the past month to list, but two very important goals have come from hours of sitting still:

1. Don't borrow worry Sara.

2. Capture moments.

I'm making a conscious effort to avoid overly stressing out. I am working to not fret about the small stuff. Most importantly, I am letting go of things I can't control. Why worry about something that will never be? It takes too much precious energy. Life is fragile.

As I find myself more and more often with a large grin on my face, I am stopping to breathe in the moment, to capture it, to freeze it in my mind's eye. It comes from being so completely grounded and emotionally healthy--it is an amazing feeling.

But these things are sometimes easier said than done. However, I think a higher power is keeping His eye on me, helping me to stay on track with these two personal goals I have set, for when I might be losing perspective, I am gently reminded with an awesome view like this:and I remember that beauty surrounds us, people are priceless, time will pass but memories are forever and this life we each trudge through is a true blessing!

2008-08-28T19:42:00.004-03:00

Chilly Macae!
Here are a few more pictures from our weekend in Macae with Francesca and Sophie. My camera batteries died in the first morning, so I had to wait this week for Francesca to upload and send me the shots from her camera. Here's me the first night in Cesca's apartment...it was late and it was chilly (it is winter here afterall) as the wind off the ocean blew through her veranda door.

We enjoyed a couple of hours on the beach Sat. afternoon, despite the breeze and overcast. Neither of us ended up in our bikini--it was too cold, but we had the chance to have Sierra take this shot of the two of us. My neice saw this photo and said I look like my sister here. (I often look like my sister.) Another friend of mine looked at this picture and said Francesca and I look like WE could be sisters. She's such a good friend of mine that she's like a sister, so I guess that counts, right?
Here is the beach in front of her building. The last building on the right in this picture is Cesca's apartment building. Seriously!?! Could you stand it? The only thing you hear is the ocean crashing on the shore! It's amazing.
Our angel babies, Sierra and Sophie. Despite the 5 year age difference, these two played extremely well all weekend long. Sierra is the patient "big sister" and Sophie is a gentle joy to be around.
Would you take these two to lunch?? We did!! Proudly!

I think this year will find us in Macae often, visiting Cesca and Sophie. It is a beautiful, quiet city just outside of Rio and a welcomed rest from busy, noisy city living.

2008-08-24T23:07:00.002-03:00

I'm thinking of buying a new place...

Check out the support beams they're using during construction!!

2008-08-18T18:41:00.002-03:00

The downside of being a teacher.
Last year I started a project at school teaching adult staff members English one night a week after school. I had a huge turnout the first couple of months (almost 30 students) then schedules and staffing changes forced over half of my students out of class. They were no longer able to keep up with work responsibilities and attend class. However, I had four or five regular students who persevered through the entire school year, many of them making great progress in their acquisition.
When I returned to Rio this July, I learned that my star student had been released (not as in The Giver released) from staff (a.k.a. fired). I was shocked and heartbroken. This man is one of the kindest people I have ever met. He was so driven to learn English that he was continuously asking me for more practice exercises between classes. He made incredible strides in his oral fluency. It was very rewarding to both he and I.
I don't really know what happened or why he was released; I guess I don't really need/want to know the details. I just felt like I never had the chance to bring closure to a friendship. I felt like it was stripped from my life without warning, and I was sad that I might not ever know what becomes of him. This, my friends, is not a new thing to us teachers. However, it is never something I enjoy.
However...I opened my email this morning to find this email:
Hi Ms Sara.I am not working in the school now. If I am writing this e-mail, it is because I had a good teacher. What I learned, will be very important for my life. I don`t know what I go to do now. I am studing the books and I am doing the exercises. You will be my teacher always.Thank you.
As I read the email, chill bumps traveled up my arms and down my neck, my eyes welled with tears of happiness and pride, and I said a small prayer of thanks for knowing that I have helped make a difference in this man's life.
I am going to offer the class again the year; we will begin in a couple of weeks. I need to give the supervisors time to sort through the schedules to make sure those who attend class can be successful. I also think I will work it out to meet this former student once a month for coffee to practice his English.

2008-08-17T07:53:00.003-03:00

Look who turned 10!
Sierra's 10th birthday was Friday and to celebrate I had a cake and some brigadeiros sent to her classroom during brunch for the class. While we were in MN, she celebrated with a birthday party at Justice with her cousins from WA and a friend from MN, so she didn't have another party here in Rio. She told me Tuesday night, "No offense Mom, but I don't really want to do anything with you this year for my birthday. I just want a friend to come over and hang out. You can go out."
So, her friend Marina came after school and stayed with Tania, our maid, until about 9 o'clock. The girls did a little "cooking" in the kitchen, played at the court and play level here at the condiminium and rented a girly movie. I hope this isn't an indication of "teenager" mentality when kids don't really want to "hang out" with their parents. It's just too young.

Here is Sierra's class with their teacher, Ms Diane--far left in black shirt--before singing "Parabems" and digging into the cake and brigadeiros.
The boy on the left in yellow is also the birthday boy. Fernando and Sierra share August 15 as their birthdays. They are in the same class, but Fernando turned 11. His mom and dad and I put 2 sets of candles on the cake, an eleven and a ten. At first Sierra didn't like having a birthday buddie, but after it was all said and done she said it wasn't so bad. It was actually kind of neat once they started comparing the time of day they were each born.

As for me, I find it hard to believe that my baby is 10 all ready! Sometimes I look at her and still see the sweet, tiny little baby in my arms. Other times, I look at her and wonder where this very mature insightful young lady has come from. Always, I look at her and give thanks for the true blessing in my life that she is.

Happy happy birthday my baby girl!

Official Jason Mraz - I'm Yours video

2008-08-15T23:01:00.003-03:00

I LOVE this song. It makes me smile and want to move my feet!!

2008-08-10T14:36:00.003-03:00

Have you ever looked at pictures of yourself and not recognize the person in the picture?

My friend Barrie had a birthday party for herself last night--Moroccan style. They transformed their house with beautiful draped fabrics and mosaic candles lighting every table. The food was unbelievably good, as it always is at their house. It was a great evening, but when I looked this morning at the few pictures taken last night, I didn't recognize myself. Weird. Maybe it has something to do with always being the one behind the camera instead of in front of it.

Here's one of me and my friend Suzanne. (Her eyes are actually open!)Not sure what I'm in the middle of saying, but I'm not surprised that Suzanne's eyes are closed.What in the world is this about??? Who is this?This one is actually pretty good. From left to right: Suzanne, me, birthday girl Barrie. The three of us make up the middle school English department at EARJ. I think I'll make each of them a print of this picture.

We also have the resident Mae (pronounced "my" and means mom). Vania is such a source of stability for many of us younger teachers on campus, and the ongoing joke is for all of us siblings to vie for attention from Mae. She didn't move from the sofa very often last night because each of us fought over our turn at her side.

Here are Priscilla and Ana Helena getting their "mom time". I am so lucky to work with so many wonderful people--my Brazilian family!!

2008-08-06T18:01:00.002-03:00

Hi Dixon!!!

We miss you (and your mom!) Sending you big hugs.

2008-08-04T19:21:00.002-03:00

Going Brazilian...

I have lived in Rio two years, and I finally had my first Brazilian. All I can say is, "What was I waiting for?!?!"
(it is not possible to publish pictures for this post.)

2008-07-29T10:12:00.004-03:00

Visas, RNE cards, expiration dates

Brazil requires foreign residents and visitors to acquire Visas prior to entry. There are about five different types of Visas, depending on the travelers individual situation. I have been here in Brazil on a Temporary Visa - V, which is a two year visa permitting the holder to work while in the country. The Visa is pasted right into the holder's passport and adorned with fancy stamps and illegible signatures. To acquire this type of Visa, a company or entity in Brazil must sponsor and assume responsibility for any potential holder. The American school sponsors my Visa and Sierra is granted one due to her being my dependent.

Once you enter the country with this type of Visa--or any Visa for that matter--you are required to register with the Federal Police within 30 days of entry. On the day you register, they take your fingerprints, file several passport sized photos, and document your entry. It is Brazil's way of keeping track of the foreigner population. You also receive what is called a protocolo once you have registered. The protocolo is essentially a strip of paper about an inch wide and four inches long with your passport picture adhered to one end of the strip. This paper serves as the foreigners legal identification in the country while waiting for the RNE, or Brazilian Identification card to be printed. The time between the protocolo and the RNE is supposed to be less than 180 days. When it surpasses the 180 days, the protocolo needs to be sent back to the Federal Police to be stamped for another 180 days. Mine and Sierra's protocolos have been stamped and re-stamped for 180 days 5 times!!

However, yesterday, we were finally scheduled to pick up our RNE cards (the permanent, plastic version of the protocolo) at the Federal Police in a little town outside of Rio called Nova Iguacu. We were on the road by 8:15, in Nova Iguacu by 10:30, and standing in front of the agent at the Federal Police by 10:35 to be handed these:

Our permanent Brazilian ID cards. I know you can't really make out the writing on the card, and that is not important. Actually it's probably better that it is not possible to read them since there is a lot of personal information on them. But, in the top card, I have drawn a black arrow at the section of the card that reads "Validade". (Validade in Portuguese means Valid until or validity--for clarification.) The date below Validade on both of our cards is 27-07-2008. (mo.-date-yr.)!

The cards expired the DAY BEFORE we actually picked them up from the Brazilian Federal Police. And of course they did, they were processed with my first temporary working Visa, two years ago. At the time of filing, the Federal Police had no way of knowing that I would still be here after the initial two year Visa. How could they?

In the meantime, my working Visa has been officially extended another two years. Sierra and I will need to go to the Federal Police to register again, in the the next 25 days or so, be fingerprinted and photographed, and most likely receive ANOTHER protocolo to wait for a valid identification card.

The good news: In the two years I have been here, I only needed to show my protocolo when entering and exiting the country and one time when riding and interstate bus to Paraty, a small beach town between Rio and Sao Paolo. At least the ID isn't something that a person needs to produce regularly. AHHH, politics, government bureaucracy, red tape. I think no matter where you are these things don't function in the way any of the civilians using the services would like.

2008-07-27T14:49:00.005-03:00

Some last days' pictures from our holiday in MN

The final days of vacation are always insanely busy! When you first begin a 6 week holiday, it feels like you have all the time in the world. It never fails though, the last day sneaks up on you before you know it, and you have failed to cross off all the "want to do" items on the list.

Nonetheless, we were able to spend a lot time with and visit many friends and family in MN while on vacation, and we were fortunate enough to make a trip to VA Beach to spend time with my sister and her family. Many things to be thankful for.

In the final days, Sierra and I tried to squeeze everything that was forgotten and spend the days with Gramma and Pappa too. Long mornings spent drinking several cups of coffee while sitting on the patio were cherished. Now my morning coffee doesn't taste the same without Mom and Dad's company or the sound of the birds chirping in the trees around us. Sierra and Gramma feverishly finished and painted several more leaf molds. We were lucky enough to fit two of them in our suitcases, wrapped in bubble wrap. They now decorate our veranda in Rio.Sierra took the time to give Gramma a lovely beauty makeover (notice the blue eyeliner--earlier used by me and Colette for our 80's party, now Sierra's play make-up), and Pappa was pretty shocked when he walked in the porch and saw the two of them all "done up". I believe he is contemplating laughter or tears here.

We endulged in a night of broasted chicken in Grandy at the "world famous Brass Rail".The good thing is that with modern technology we can talk to each other on the phone anytime we want, and it doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Mom and Dad can pick up their phone and dial our number here as a local call. It sure makes it easier to be so far away knowing that I can hear their voices regularly. That certainly wasn't the case in 1995 when I first came to Brazil. And it made it easy/possible to call this afternoon while laughing my butt off because I found this in my kitchen cabinet:

Let me tell you the story of "Mario". I bought a People magazine the first week I was in MN. I buy several People magazines while I'm in the states because I really like People--except now because Brangelina is all over them--but anyway. This particular People magazine happened to have a bunch of pictures of Mario Lopez in several different apparently famous poses like the one shown here, which was originally Burt Reynolds in like 1970 something. Well, Mom and I had a riot with this magazine. She and I decided we would unstaple this shot of Mario and tape it to the inside of her kitchen cupboard where the coffee grinder is stored in hopes that someone, namely my brother, father or Aunt Jo, would open it to grind coffee and find the shockingly revealing picture. So amidst giggles, she and I taped it to the cupboard one night when no one was looking. Unfortunately, no body was ever actually surprised by the picture. It seems that the coffee grinder and filters have been stored in this cupboard for so long that no one really looks when they open the door. They simply unconsciously open the door, reach up, grab what is needed, and close the door again--without EVER LOOKING! So we ended up having to point it out to everyone--mostly threw hysterics because Mom and I found it quite amusing.

The funniest thing now is that somehow, in my mother's infinite wisdom, she managed to convince my daughter, secretly, to bring this picture back with her to Rio and tape it inside MY coffee cupboard! I had NO CLUE! I don't even know when Sierra accomplished the task. It wasn't there yesterday. She went to bed before me last night and woke after me this morning! Somehow that little trickster, with the coaching of her Gramma, pulled it off! And I just left a message for my mother on her answering machine that she will probably not understand because I couldn't stop laughing long enough to speak!

2008-07-27T14:45:00.002-03:00

Sierra meets Baby Oliver

Our friends Julie and Gustavo welcomed their second child, Oliver, to their family shortly before we left Rio for the US for holiday. With all the end of the year hoopla, Sierra and I never had the chance to get by to visit and meet the new baby. It was the first thing we did once we returned.

Here is Sierra holding the now 2 month old Oliver Simpson Soares. He is a super gentle (giant) baby with a full head of dark hair, which you can't see too well in this photo. His big sister Camila is adjusting well and so far seems to be enjoying being the big sister.

Congratulations Julie and Gustavo on your new blessing!

2008-07-25T16:39:00.001-03:00

Back in Rio, safe and sound, almost entirely unpacked and settling back in after a wonderful U.S. holiday!!
Off to the shower...

2008-07-21T15:42:00.003-03:00

It's all about making memories!
I can't do this in Rio! I'm a country girl at heart, and I have grown up with guns and gun safety. I'm a pretty good shot too, so when one man at my dad's cowboy shoot offered a stage for some target practice, I jumped on the chance. And Mom was there to make sure we had photos of the fun. After shooting at the range that day, I was determined to learn how to shoot a pistol with only my left hand, so a few days later Dad and I took his guns out behind the house to try. Uh, not so easy. I definitely need both hands to steady the revolver enough to hit the target.
So after being in the Wild Wild West, I jumped several decades to the 80's!!

Vicks, Auntie Burnsie, Me, Colette--80's style

Vicki and Chad threw an 80's party last weekend. I learned two very important things: #1 My hair can still be ratted beyond the allowable height, and #2 No matter the year, big hair and blue eyeshadow makes you want to party like a rock star!

It's all about making memories!

2008-07-20T16:52:00.002-03:00

I LOVE this Girl!!

2008-07-17T17:47:00.002-03:00

Beach BABY!

Does it get any better than this?

Or this?

Or maybe this?

It is GREAT to have had such beautiful weather for so many great outside, summer fun times with family and friends!!

2008-07-17T17:02:00.003-03:00

Wild Wild West

My dad is a country boy at heart. He grew up in the country, farming mostly. The home he and my mother have lived in for the past 39 years is in the country, although not a farm. He is a hunter through and through. In retirement, he has taken up a rather interesting hobby, and I was able to watch him last Sunday at a real Cowboy Shoot!

There is a national organization called Single Action Shooters Society, to which Dad belongs. There are local chapters or other local organizations that are similar who hold monthly shoots at ranges designed specifically for Wild Wild West reinactment. He had a shoot last Sunday, and I was able to check out what it's all about. It was a beautiful, cloudless Sunday afternoon, watching Dad participate and enjoy this hobby. Here are some pictures from the day.

As you can see from this picture, he dresses in costume for the day. He crafted the cart next to him from scrap wood he had laying around the garage. It is used to carry your guns and ammo from stage to stage throughout the day. The stages sometimes require the use of a rifle, a shotgun, and two pistols or any combination of the three firearms. The shot here at Piona's Pleasure Palace required all three.The instructions of this stage were to sit on the bed, ask the time keeper, who was playing the school marm, for a big wet kiss, then stand up and start the shooting. From inside this structure, he had to shoot the rifle 10 times at various targets out to the right in the picture, then each pistol from the same position five times at other targets, come out of the "building", grab the rifle sitting in the middle of the staging area, and shoot that 4 or so times. The directions at each staging area were actually quite elaborate. Several times during the day, my mom commented on how many steps to each scenario and how could they remember what to do, especially Dad who has a hard time remembering what she tells him to do at home. I think her appearance at Sunday's shoot called his bluff on the whole poor memory thing. Hmmmm...

I was overall impressed with the safety precautions taken throughout the shoot. These guys are using REAL bullets and there are approximately 125 shooters there with 4 guns each; that's a lot of possibility for accident; however, there are very specific guidelines for how to approach each stage and how to handle the guns all day. There is a loading table, where there is always someone there to help count live bullets going into the guns, there is an unloading table after each participant takes his/her turn where there is also a second set of eyes making sure no live bullets leave the stage, and at all times while carting guns around or carrying guns back to their respective gun carts, the chambers are open. It is a well run competition. And these guys and gals are INTO IT!

There is one man, who goes by Jack Pine Bill, who insisted that I have a little turn at some target practice when the groups broke for lunch. Being my father's daughter, I was happy to comply. I went to one of the ranges and shot two pistols and a rifle at some targets in an order prescribed by Jack Pine. When I was finished, having missed only 1 of 40 shots, Jack Pine was ready to sign me up for next month's shoot. In all honesty, I think I would consider joining my dad in this activity if I lived closer. Until then, I'll have to live vicariously through his cowboy boots!

2008-07-08T12:17:00.004-03:00

Fun with cousins!
Sierra and I are having a wonderful visit, catching up with family and friends. Here are a few shots of her with others from the last week or so.

Sierra with Veronique and Buttercup (the chick).

Sierra and cousin Taylor.Sierra and cousin Bailey.Sierra and cousin Emily.

Summer in the states is always relaxing, refreshing, and enjoyable!

2008-06-26T11:43:00.002-03:00

Give a kid a camera and let her play...And among the 20+ pictures that need deleting, you just might find a masterpiece!

Photography by Genevieve Marin, age 3

2008-06-23T13:10:00.005-03:00

One more thing for the day....

Hairdos! Sierra and I treated ourselves last week to new hairdos! Girls like to live on the wildside. Both of us made pretty severe changes and it feels GREAT!!

Here I am! Scroll down to the picture of me in the truck. That one was taken two days before this one. I know the background on this shot isn't ideal--nice garbage can behind my head!--but you get the idea!

I guess it's kind of hard to see what Sierra's new do is...hmmm, let me find another shot...
Here we go. This is a great shot of Sierra with Amelie--the sixth Marin baby--I LOVE this haircut on Sierra. It is a little girl cut for my little girl.

2008-06-23T13:00:00.003-03:00

Old Blue!

My dad has this truck. It was my grandfather's pick up. I think the first truck my grandfather ever bought. It became my father's truck when my parents were newly married. It never had a working radio that I can remember. Instead, we would sing, "I've Been Working on the Railroad" at the tops of our lungs all the way to town--Mom harmonizing to the tune her children produced. My brother, sister, and I all learned how to drive in this truck--3 speed on the tree. We drove mainly through the fields, but my brother and sister both took turns driving this truck to school during their high school years. We hauled a LOT of wood in the fall in the bed of this truck. I spent hours as a little girl behind the wheel while it was parked in the yard, pretending to drive that truck all over the continental United States.

Old Blue had been parked in the woods for many years until last summer when my dad got a wild hair up his you-know-what and called the country mechanic. In turn, Old Blue is road ready! Nothing has been done to restore the body, but the shifter was moved to the floor instead of the steering column and our trusty country mechanic did whatever country mechanics do and got Old Blue purrin!

Well, I insisted Dad drive Old Blue last week to retrieve my car from storage. And let me tell ya, I had a permanent smile the whole while!!

Here's Dad getting ready to go! (He has a permanent smile behind the wheel too.)Here's my self-portrait while riding in Old Blue! My brother arrives for a visit next week. I can't wait to take a picture of him driving it!!! I only wish my sister was coming too. Can you see the photo-op now--all three of us in Old Blue. I can hear "I've Been Working on the Railroad" as I imagine it! Ahhhh, the glory of childhood memories.

2008-06-23T12:45:00.006-03:00

SugarLoaf Mountain

One of Rio's busiest tourist attractions is Pao de Acucar--Sugarloaf. Last week, before venturing to the north of Brazil to visit family, my friend Tania stopped for a few days in Rio to see me and Sierra. It was a busy bunch of days with the end of the school year activities and preparing to travel to the states for holiday. However, we managed a morning visit to Sugarloaf while she was with us. Seems ironic actually, we have lived in Rio for two years and this was the first visit up the mountain for me and Sierra. It is amazingly beautiful!

Here are me and Sierra with the statue of Christ behind my head. You can barely see the little outline of Christ's figure in this photo.But, I think you can make it out a little more clearly in this one of me and Tania.This is the marina of Botafogo. The landscape--my my my--always amazes me. It doesn't matter how many times I see the awesome landscape here; it takes my breath away.

2008-06-07T18:00:00.003-03:00

Festa Junina

Festa Junina(Portuguese: June Festival) is the name of the annual Brazilian celebrations which take place in the middle of winter (in the southern hemisphere June and July) and are most associated with the Brazilian Northeastern area, but celebrated in the whole of Brazil, mainly on the days following the Catholic feast of Saint Anthony, John the Baptist and Saint Peter.

The Brazilian north-east is largely arid or semi-arid. These popular festivals not only coincide with the rainy seasons of most states in the north-east but they also provide the people with an opportunity to give thanks to Saint Peter and Saint John for the rain. They also celebrate rural life and feature typical clothing, food, dance (particularly quadrilha, which is similar to square dancing), and music.
Usually taking place in an arraial, a large, open space outdoors, men dress up as farm boys with suspenders and straw hats and women wear pigtails, freckles, painted gap teeth and red-checkered dresses, all in a loving tribute to the origins of the music, and of themselves.

Luisa and Sierra during their festa junina party at school.Giulia, Luisa and Sierra during the party.Sophie, Sierra and Luisa during the party.