I've been avoiding the blog. So many critters came along this week that I've been avoiding dredging up memories of them. Oh well, here goes.
Note a week later: Can't upload pics due to an "upgrade" on my computer. This is what I've got. Text and a few snaps. More next week, ok? Read on...
Sunday, May 12 Mothers Day
It was a good day. We celebrated our moms at the international church with 2 videos made by one of our pre-teens and her dad. They did a good job of combining interviews from last Sunday: the first video was children talking about their moms. The second was moms talking about being mothers.
Calling my mom is bittersweet. It would be easier to be close by - to give her a hug in person.
I hear clicking at night - W's gone upstairs to read with lights on, so he's not around. I flick on the light in our room. Yup, a roach is doing laps on the bedroom floor - from the night table to the foot of the bed, under the bed and around to the night table. When it comes around again, I wack it with my flip flop until it stops moving, but leave the cleanup until morning. Sweet silence. (I stick in my earplugs to make sure of that.)
Monday, after meetings and a study, W and I go to our favorite chicken restaurant (rotisserie, the only one we know of its kind). I squish two 2.5" roaches while walking in the entry. They are our warning of things to come.
Here, shops pull a metal sheet down from the ceiling at night. During the day, the metal wall rolls up and the store is open. One roach scrambles up the wall beside us. I reach down for my shoe to crush it. Before I can smack it, it falls onto the table, scrambles under the menu, and runs to Waldemar's side of the table. My shriek brings an employee around, who grabs it in his hands and tosses it outside before squishing it under his shoe. Ugh ugh. Well,
we see 8 big roaches in all, by the time an employee grabs the anti-bug chalk and draws a deterring line across the storefront. Their waddles and scooting across the floor are so off-putting. I draw my feet up and hope they don't climb a chair leg.
"They must be coming from next door," explains one server helpfully. Ok. Maybe there is an open garbage bin at the neighbor? Whatever. Not cool. One right after the other, until the chalk line.
Yes, we're acclimated. We eat our chicken behind the curtain that restaurants pull over the entry during Ramadan. With most people fasting food and drink from sunup to sundown, we wouldn't want anyone to be tempted by seeing someone eat or drink during the day. Our servers are Muslim kids though. Most restaurants are quite empty ... until they get packed out for evening meals.
Most women seem exhausted. Our helpers and the shop attendants move slowly. They're getting up to make breakfast for the family before the first call to eat (3:30am). The chanting and readings by adults and children resound in a rhythm of day and night. There are firecrackers as well. The dogs are going crazy.
There are two more weeks before the last week of Ramadan. That will be the loudest week, with almost no break in sound. Most people will go home to their villages to spend time with their families then. It's a time for extended families to eat together, to celebrate the end of the fasting month, and to renew their religious commitments. This year, Indonesia has declared 10 days off to wrap up the holiday month - to give people time to travel back to their jobs.
Tuesday
I hear something thumping around in the back kitchen at night so I ignore it. In the morning, W finds the rat that's been plaguing us. It has jumped into the glue trap atop the oven, bouncing around until it landed on a washcloth near the sink, and finally has fallen off the counter to stick to the rug on the floor. W kills it and dumps the sticky mess - rug, cloth, rat and all - into a plastic grocery bag. When the helpers come, they sweep up all the junk that got tossed around by the athletic rodent and toss the whole bag in the garbage.
W sweeps up a few roaches in the mornings. We never leave food out, but they must be coming in with all the rain. Rainy season is usually over by April, but we still have a daily afternoon and night downpour. The little strands of Spanish moss we hung around our deck loves the weather - it's grown longer, even in the last week.
Our morning team meeting is at Josh and Clau's. Good food, sweet company (tho missing 2 people), and a relaxing home. Wonderful. Waldemar heads out in the afternoon for a short working trip to Medan (on another island - a few hours by plane, 45 hours by car). He'll be back before I know it.
Wednesday
I arrive in the office at 8, but get a phone call from the helper at home. "Remember, you had an 8-10 meeting at the house? She's waiting for you here."
Nope. I forgot. I race home. That lasts until almost 11.
When I near the office, a member of our leadership team is waiting at the gate. He's building a disability-access ramp. Looking at the plans and talking about how we want that to looks takes almost until noon.
My 11:00 appointment is late, but she still has to wait for me. When she leaves at 1:30, my breakfast toast with PB is still in my bag. Haven't had time to eat yet.
I'm feeling a bit peckish. I speed through the toast, wash it down with tea, and am in another meeting by 2pm ... about media marketing. My guest helps me think through the future with good suggestions. When she leaves at 4, the driver comes by: I’m on the way to the dentist for tooth cleaning.
A day. I'm happy to be home before 7pm. It takes a while to unwind, but when I do, I sleep until sunup. That's a surprise! A good long night.
Thursday
I've been in the office every day this week. I start early in my home office. By 8, I'm deeply into my work. So I call the admin that I'm working from home. It's a 7 minute walk - so I can be there in a jiffy if I need to. I don't need to.
I putter a bit in the morning, mashing together quinoa with:
- aging broccoli from the bottom of the fridge (cut off the black edges),
- soft crushed hazelnuts (80% humidity will soften any nut)
- red pepper flakes (also sticking together in the package)
- 1/2 cup of grated Australian cheese (still from December's trip)
- good Italian olive oil
- fresh-squeezed lime juice. A new recipe, wonder if I'll like it .(I do.)
The salad has to sit until tonight - so I eat a piece of pumpkin pie for a mid-morning meal instead. I feed the crust to the dogs - I just like pie fillings, not the dough.
Around lunchtime, I'm ready to stand up and take a break from the computer. I've had a few cups of tea plus the pumpkin so I'm set.
It's a 15-minute uphill walk in the hot sun - in the 90osF (30sC.) I'm wearing a light windbreaker to ward off the noon sun. A jacket is cooler than bare arms while I'm walking, but as soon as I stop, sweat and heat pool under its long sleeves. I tear the jacket off my body at the destination and when I get home.
I'm popping in to visit a friend in a nearby hospital. D is not impressed with the care and says her room is noisy: her bed is next to the hall and across from the nursing station. "Visiting hours
end at midnight, so there are people talking until they leave." (What?!) I call our office admin to ask him to deliver earplugs for her so she can sleep tonight. Hope that helps her. Maybe she can sleep in her own bed tomorrow night!
D is heaving when I come in so I torture her with the quick cure someone taught me years ago. (Didn't expect that on a pastoral call, eh?) I squeeze the muscles between her thumb and the first finger HARD for 3 minutes on each hand. "Focus on your hand," I ask her. She does.
Yup - she quits heaving and the nausea is gone. Is it because pain refocuses the brain? Whatever. It's a pressure point, not a scientifically proven method. I move an unappetizing food tray from beside her to the wall at the foot of the bed. That probably helps, too.
Her sister comes in - there's no mistaking the resemblance. E has brought some hot tea to settle D's stomach. Here, relatives bring food and take care of most of the patient's personal needs.
After prayer together, I walk back home - the descent always seems gentler than the walk up. (There's not one uphill on the return. Good! I always prefer to tackle the hard part first.)
Over the kitchen sink, I water the flower bouquet that's still going strong from Sunday. Even the rose heads are still up - wait, is that a caterpillar in the mums? Yup. I grab it with a tissue and toss it into the garbage. An hour later I come through the kitchen again. There's a second caterpillar halfway across the kitchen floor. Or is that the same one? I
don't lift the garbage lid to check ...
Friday
W's back home - he's happy because he was helpful. That's his fulfillment.
Mine is planning and setting people loose. Anyone remember the line from
the A-Team's Lieutenant Colonel John “Hannibal” Smith? "I love it when a plan comes together!"
(The A Team '83-'86.) Yeah, me too. Haha
