Hope in Duben

It's a little bit silly to say that March slowed us down, since I spent most of it within a block of our house or a doctor's office. But it's done. And we learned so much about making decisions and loving each other and being a family and letting others love us. Good lessons came out of long, humbling days and for that we are thankful. And on this final day of March, we have glimmers of hope: The first morning in a month where I can see that change may be brewing in these angry joints--and that's a lovely way to transition to April. 

We are going to have SO much fun in April.

Unlucky rice

This good idea was very bad.

Although it was indeed a delightful surprise when P took the lid off the St. Patty's day rice cooker and found green coconut rice a-steaming, it was not a delightful dish to eat. We could not get over the toothpaste hue, and when blended with our mango chicken, bad textures and bad colors collided. It was so disconcerting of a dish that P asked for leftovers of the previous night's polenta pie. And if you know P, you know that polenta, quinoa, bulgar, and cous cous all fall into the same category for him: not foods. Added to that list? Green rice.

Robots, Aliens, and Birthdays

Preliminary inking for the Gus-is-one art. No ducks this time. 

Abandoned sketch 1 for Gus turning 1

I've been practicing for a happy-you're-one picture for Gus. I'm learning about the results of too much black. And how to use my new markers. And bad color juxtapositions. And how (so I'm told) dinosaurs = cool. Ducks = uncool. The next sketch will be more manly. And less streaky. 

Should one want to enjoy real art that uses black in amazing ways, one could drool over Julie Paschkis's work. Especially the paintings. 

Robots and Openings

Every now and then I find myself in an unfortunate doodling phase. Usborne inspired, it's all robots this week. And poor Neighbor B is a recipient.

Neighbor B is a recipient because we live in weird times. When one starts imposing her child on the Hip Childless--then one is pretty low down. Smart and always eloquent JB wrote me a beautiful email earlier this year quoting the Chinese proverb, "May you live in interesting times." My proverb is more like, "May you endure humility, oddities, and all lack-of-pretense and come out relatively unscathed." We continue to rely on our community to cope with random bouts of strangeness, and we continue to find nothing familiar in what life throws at us in Prague. It's not all bad, but it's all difficult. Asking for help is not one of our spiritual gifts in this house. 

Just to keep me in perspective, I had this little calling card arrive today from Henri Nouwen: "Have a sense of compassion for your own journey, for your own leaving and returning; a sense of, 'yes, yes, I'm loved when I take a risk. I'm loved even when I make a mistake because somehow, it's an expression of my desire to claim myself. I did it in a wrong way, but I didn't have any other way to do it at that moment'." This family is learning to give and receive love in new ways. We have shaky legs about it, and if we're going to do right by Henri, ourselves, and the good Lord--then we need to temper our folly with compassion. So hard.

We also need to find less awkward transitions in our blog, but since I can't today (and I'm all about compassion for my inadequacies....)--here's a dismal segue to something delightful. We're searching for silver linings, and mine came in the form of Easter Advent calendars this week. I'm in favor of things with doors for every season. How exciting are these? As melancholy as we've been about things, we really are big big fans of a country that celebrates their seasons so well. Easter farmers' markets fire up this weekend, and yes--even Easter brews hit the pubs soon. Unfamiliar--but welcome.

 

Lions and Tigers and Bears. And Gus.

This week, after Gus and I flipped through Joelle Jolivet's Zoology for our daily dose of animal noises (Amazing art. AMAZING art!), I crawled in bed and finished The Woman at the Washington Zoo and The Zookeeper's Wife. And since the temperature is blissfuly above freezing, we've big plans to holler at the gorillas at the Prague zoo as often as possible in the coming months (we're not practicing for nothin'). Wildlife themed adventures abound. Naturally, flora and fauna find their ways into my sketchbook.

Dekuju

This family is blessed. Get well dinners and desserts and overall spoiling continues.

Where to begin

Fantastic things arrived in the mail this week. One-hundred-and-fifty-six fantastic things!

Allowing community

There is much for which to be grateful. Meals and Gus watching and concern and calls and cookies and community. When we left Singapore, one of our prayers was to land in a place where we could help and give and know people in real ways. We did not know that meant learning to also receive. It's not easy for us, but it is good. And we are thankful.

We got a little serious on Saturday

We've had a few artistic set backs lately, what with the ER visits and all. Should we choose to pick up our writing pens, there's much to record: nurses who broke their arms, attendants that were out of breath due to "too many Cuban cigars at lunch", doctors who ate ham sandwiches right-in-front-of-me (in the same room as the stirrups!), very comforting and detailed diagnoses like, "You have a disease. I am sorry, but that is all the English I know". The very good news is that with the help of some high school German, I learned that the "disease" is something else entirely that is none too serious. A few days of bed rest. A few gigantic antibiotic pills. 

And it's on this bed rest that I read Donald Hall's Life Work and then naturally reread Jane Kenyon poems. What goodness. They echo another good book for me this winter--Tinkers. And, as my bookclub reminded me, if Tinkers is your style, then you really should read Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking. All these folks have words that slow me down in the best possible ways, and I am needing to be slowed down. 

When I'm not reading, I am juggling humility and sorting out this weird year. We Greens like to be reliable and predictable. Boring treats us just fine. Schedules make our day. But the Prague Greens seem to be always sick and we're always missing work and we're always canceling and we're always having something odd happen--random bouts of vomit or hives or whatever, and we're always a little flighty, and we can't find a rhythm, and we don't finish what we start, and we're a little messy. I'm sure there's some good quote about surrendering to times like this, but I don't remember it. I have gone from lady-with-the-baby to lady-always-with-some-drama. And that's wayyyy too close to high school for this girl. Sure makes one appreciate being known only for diapers. And perhaps that's the point. Appreciate what is. 

(A shout out of thanks to the amazing neighbors yet AGAIN for taking Gus for two days, making meals, and treating us like we are normal. Wow.)

 

Happy Tuesday Fragments

Can't connect the thoughts, though they all are happy ones:

Unor is gone. Brezen is here:

Baby Gus slept through the night (all eleven hours of it) as if it's something he does all the time and woke up really nonchalant about it. If I were him, I'd rub that in my folks' faces all day long. "What do you mean I can't have a third banana? I slept through the freaking night!"

This is not how he looked. But it's what I think was warranted:

I always miss my sister, but I especially do today. I made the mutha' of all cupcakes, and she would enjoy the cooking and eating of them. 

How they are so good without a drop of alcohol in them is beyond me. I also made the Kaye Syrah pea soup, and it's well worth the effort, though P would like us to know it's not your grandmother's pea soup. Don't think thick and smoky. It's high society soup. Glam soup. As pretty as it is tasty.

Great peeps came over to share in a cake from which the leftover batter made aforementioned cupcakery.

There was a good, good birthday to celebrate followed by language lessons. My brow stayed knitted through most of the lesson (Czech language studies are not for sissies!), but inside my heart was happy because everyone tolerated little Gus and his new, only-cute-to-his-mother antics.

Lastly, and most shallowly: The push up drills are working*. It's ridiculous, but we are insanely proud of ourselves around here. I keep hoping strangers will stop us and ask how many push ups we can do. I wonder if it will get woven casually into conversation. I try to think of ways to politely drop phrases without sounding like I'm boasting or like I'm mimicking David Sedaris. It's impossible:

"No really, let me get the dishes. After all the push ups we're doing, it's hardly an effort." "What's that? How many can I do? Oh, well, it's ridiculous really." "Well, it's stupid--but we're at about 90 a day right now in our repetitions." "How many can we do all at one go?" "Hmmm...Well, I'd say we're at about 50. Nearly at 50. It's no big deal, really. Can you believe we're wasting time on this? I'm embarrassed to even talk about it." 

*I should note that I have gained three pounds. Since exercise has only increased and cookie intake decreased (despite what today's post may imply), I worry that this is all bicep and shoulder. And as someone who has had many a well-intentioned date tell her she is "built like a swimmer", this is not good news.