Slow days, fast weeks

"The days are slow but the years go quickly." I've thought this many times while raising children, whether working from home or job sites, or when reflecting on memories.

The dogs watch from the porch as I work at my desk. I close the office door so I don't have to wear a mask while the helper sweeps outside.

Gypsy casually walks over. He stands on hind legs, leans on the lever, and reopens the door. He lays down again and gives me the stink-eye. He doesn't take his eyes off me for quite a while, like "I dare-you-to-do-that-again!" I put on my mask.

The helper closes the door so she can sweep behind it. Gypsy tolerates it for 5 minutes and then opens it again, slinking back to collapse in a watchful heap. He makes me laugh. Sure knows what HE wants.

The third time he opens the door, he circles around a few times, giving me "the look." Don't mess with me, is what he seems to say. And when he lays down, he never takes his eyes off me through the doorway. I love that dog. He's funny and willing to get what he wants. The door is open - for now.

Friday, April 24, 2020

After a half-hour walk with the dogs, I make myself tea. Today I don't just steep a teabag in a mug.

I heat a clay pot the way WuJin taught me, first rinsing the green tea leaves brought from China from Chen. I dump the water into the sink.

After the next infusion, the water is boiled just a little warmer than the right temperature and stored in a pre-heated thermos. I can't keep running back and forth to refill the little clay teapot, can I? There's work to do!

Each time I fill the pot with hot water, the leaves unfurl a little more. I fill the pot, steep the leaves, and pour tea into the cup, overflowing into the tray.

"You can do this many times, not just 2 or 3," WuJin told me. The leaves offer up a subtle new taste with each infusion.

This morning, it's just me and the tea, looking over my computer to the orange bougainvillea that drapes the neighbor's entry. Vines are swallowing his gate. Beautiful.

W is wrapping up a 2-week class for Singapore. The college asks if I'm willing to do a class with 3 weeks of night school and long Saturdays. Oh my.

Our internet is sometimes flaky at the house. I'm not walking a few blocks alone at night to and from the office. However, tech offers options. I may pre-record a video for each hour. Students could watch and then discuss it instead of a live info-class that may skip in and out.

I slather bug lotion on my feet this morning. The mosquitoes ignore it and bite my ankles anyway. How annoying. The tea is soothing though.

--

One of the rewards for training kids to cook when they're young is their creativity when they grow up. At our house, cooking was an ongoing chemistry experiment and part of homeschool. Sure, W learned to make basic meals.

But our 3 boys and Kirsten? They experimented with food combinations. Some lab trials may have been more successful than others, but  the kids learned to find their way in the kitchen beyond starvation to inventive meals. (Our daughters-in-law are also fantastic cooks. Lucky sons!)

Last night, Kirsten made a mean taco combo that W and I practically inhaled. I don't think I've had a hard-shell taco for years. (Maybe on our annual trip to Seattle?) The homemade pineapple salsa, with a hot pepper from our garden, tasted perfect.

Saturday and Sunday
It's been a quiet weekend. We do BIC Online (replays here), which saves a lot of going back and forth.

W made pizza in his pizza oven yesterday - and that was good. He's getting the hang of it.

On our Sunday night, the grandkids are up early, 14 hours behind us. They call before 9pm (our time) as we wind down for bed. One snuggles in her blanket and talks to us from there. Her brother takes us on a tour of the house, his books, and what he's doing.

Their little brother is building as usual. He shows off his marble runway and gets right back to work with intent focus. Meanwhile the toddler demonstrates her new jumping skills, learned from the bouncy house inflated in the living room. (Now that was a wonderful useful-for-4-kids!-gift from friends.)

W drifts off to sleep, but I'm awake and reading for another hour. Happy.

Monday
It's the end of rainy season. Ramadan has begun. There is chanting day and night, reading the Koran and saying ritual prayers. After 7 years of the holiday cycle, we hardly hear it most of the time. Muslims are fasting set hours, food and water. The sick, the aged, and the youngest are exempt. The feasting begins in the evening; you can hear the wake-up call about 3am, when women start to cook breakfast for their families. As you can imagine, most people are exhausted during the day.

The first year we were here, Ramadan fell during the driest part of Dry Season. We were in hot hot hot Jakarta (90o+ every day). People moved slowly and minimally, conserving body hydration. It's cooler in Bandung and we're still in wet season so it's easier on the body.

Some areas of Indonesia have lifted the fast entirely. In general, Indonesians are not healthy or resistant to illness. The government has banned domestic travel by train, plane, and in some areas, cars and motorcycles to slow the spread of the virus that leads to Covid-19.

The 12' (4 meter) hedge by the gate has burst into 1' flower plumes. Quite spectacular though few people stop to admire it. That kind of beauty is everywhere - sometimes I pluck a few huge clusters for the house.

"Bloom where you're planted" takes on a deeper meaning here. At the sides of the roads, I spot multiple beds of "weeds" (impatiens, philodendrons, and others) that would have delighted me years ago when trying to grow houseplants.

The fairytale cottage is still empty. I admire it every time I pass but we have a 3-yr lease already ... the property is as big as our yard but it's surrounded by restaurants (= extreme noise from loudspeakers during events). It's falling into disrepair. The tropics are hard on a house and yard. You need to do constant maintenance as things fall apart, are eaten away, or baked by the sun.

Most larger houses have a tower for water storage talks. City water is turned off most of the day, coming on only in the morning. The city has long ago outgrown its infrastructure. We shower when we have water pressure.

In the office, the paludarium plants get a trim. They are growing well - all the little-leafed weeds and ferns that I plucked from the side of the street.

The fish seem to be doing just fine with a daily feeding and water change. Mind you, the one fish that jumped out during the night lies very still. It misses the morning food.

Read more:

*“I pledged myself to you and entered into a covenant with you,” says the Lord God, “and you became mine.” Ezekiel 16:8

*I called to the Lord out of my distress, and he answered me. Jonah 2:2

*Then one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus came and, when he saw him, fell at his feet and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live.” So he went with him. Mark 5:22-24

*In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. Galatians 3:26

*You have been born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God. 1 Peter 1:23

Moravian Prayer: Heavenly Father, you are a comforting presence. Let us feel you ever beside us, going with us into situations that cause us pain and fear. In darkness, let us find your light; in death, let us find your life.

Great God, as we remember our covenant with you, let us covenant with one another to love and serve you. Bless your followers wherever they gather today in fellowship and faith. Amen.