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.

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...

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.

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.

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!!

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.

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.

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.

Beach days with friends and summer sunsets...

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.

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!

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.

Life is beautiful!

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

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!

Valeu Rio!!

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.

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.

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!!

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.

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.