Church

I was organizing my computer files yesterday and came across this description of a church service back in Nice. It clarified for me why it will take me a good long while to feel at home in our church here. 

Here it is:

Scott and I were in charge of the Sunday service today, which means everything but the sermon and a scheduled baby dedication--order of service, Scripture reading, songs, prayer, and announcements.

We decided that Scott would read Hebrews 1:1-4 as a meditation. I chose music and scheduled a time to meet with the worship team, 5pm on Saturday evening. We got started at twenty till six, and our pastor joined us with his violin. I finished up the Powerpoint Saturday evening, and we talked through the service one last time.

At 10 pm our pastor called. He’s sick. So, Scott's doing the sermon and the Romanian baby dedication. In their tradition the woman doesn't leave the home until the baby has been dedicated. So leaving her in quarantine for another week until our pastor is healthy would have been harsh. Scott decided to preach on a passage in Mark.

Sunday morning--Scott gets there early to pray before the service with others. I arrive to set up music. A woman is seated near the front with two small dogs, which makes Anna very happy. She asks permission to sit with her; sounds ideal to me. The woman is friendly, and it's a great child care arrangement until twenty minutes into the service when the dogs decide to fight. Anna finds another place to sit.

A large group of family and friends have come out for the dedication--more than once their phones go off--one for about 15 seconds of a rousing Gypsy Kings-like song.

Besides the occasional outbursts form the dogs and cellphones, the service is running smoothly, until we were to transition directly from "Devant le Trone" to "Entre tes mains". Inexplicably, our only instrumentalist takes off his guitar and walks away--saying he'll be right back. Caught like a deer in the headlights, I lead an impromptu moment of prayer until he returns.

Baby dedication time--Scott reads through some comments that the pastor sent him and invites the father to speak briefly. The father does for about twenty minutes--most of what he says is good, though there are some not so orthodox thoughts. Scott is looking cheerful and encouraging, and I know is trying to figure out whether to interrupt or not. The dogs fight again.

The baby finally gets prayed for. We sing "Jesus Sois le Centre" and go to announcements. Suddenly, I the song suddenly starts playing again--one of our guests is checking that it recorded on his telephone. They then leave en masse.

Scott preaches his sermon.

We end with an upbeat "Je ne sais pourquoi dans sa grace"--I notice that Jeanne--who is probably about 80--is beaming as she sings. Her husband is fading away with Alzheimer’s; she loves the old songs.

The dogs peed a couple times in the annex while we had snacks after the service in honor of the baby dedication. 

Granted, most services in Nice were not that colorful, but plenty of them were. 

It makes life here seem a little monochromatic. We are all obedient about silencing our cell phones. No one would imagine sneaking a dog into the building. No one on the worship team ever just walks off in the middle of the service. And no one will ever call us at 10pm on a Saturday night asking Scott to do the sermon. And I do appreciate these things. They make for a more peaceful Sunday morning.

I just miss the unexpected sometimes. And think it would be totally fun to bring Pepper to church.

Ball of Fur and the Cat

On a cold February day, Negra cuddles up to our much beloved ball of fur, AKA Pepper.

A Beautiful Day or Two

First, let's start with the sweet doggie pic. Here's Pepper a few days shy of her six month birthday. Her nose is off center in the picture, so we figure she was sniffing the camera.

We've had a few balmy days here in Fort Wayne, Indiana. After days of single digit temperatures, it was a welcome relief to not count the air as my enemy. 

 We walked Pepper together over to Starbucks for a mini date Monday (with each other, not Pepper). 

Pepper's first Starbucks

Scott went in to get our drinks while Pepper and I waited outside. The server, or I guess I should say, barista, noticed Pepper and sent out a glass of water for her.

Our walk back home on a lovely day

My definition of a beautiful day would usually be sunny and around eighty degrees. But there's nothing like a two degree morning or two to lower one's standards. Grey, overcast, with a temperature of forty-five or higher is now lovely, and anything over fifty is beautiful. Yesterday's sixty-three was stunning. Don't mind the fog or rain. 

We're back to winter today. It's seventeen or so with a wind chill factor that drags it down to five. So, I'm back to inside life and grateful for cars and heat and hot drinks.

Lies and Dog training

Very soon after getting Pepper, we enrolled in a six week puppy training class at the local pet store.  Pepper learned to sit, walk without pulling on the leash, shake, and other life skills important for any dog.

This month we signed up for the intermediate class. Different group of doggies, but once again, Pepper is the teacher's pet (in the words of the teacher).

There are stories to tell about doggie class, but I wanted to tell today about my first, failed effort at dog training long, long ago in Ohio...

At the time, my family lived in Montpelier; a small town in the upper northwest corner. I was about Anna's age, ten. We had a dachshund puppy named Ardy (or Arthur Hamilton when he was in trouble), and I signed up to do dog training through 4-H. It was to involve a small group of kids training their dogs and occasional 4-H group meetings with all the kids of our age doing 4-H projects. The regular 4-H meetings involved cookies and Kool-Aid.

Unfortunately, the dog training group was cancelled due to lack of interest. But, I loved the meetings with the cookies and Kool-Aid. This was the beginning of my descent into a scandalous cover-up. To go to the meetings, you had to be involved in a project. Nothing on the project  list looked interesting to me, so I signed up for embroidery.

Unfortunately, I knew nothing about embroidery. And knew no one who did. So, I blithely continued attending the Kool-Aid meetings while stringing the first string in my web of lies. When asked how my project was going, I would proclaim that it was coming along swimmingly (or more likely, mumble, "Fine," in between sips of Kool-Aid and mouthfuls of cookie).

This became increasingly problematic as the dates of the 4-H fair loomed ahead where our projects were exhibited for the community to see.

Our group met up during the dates of the fair and my leader asked me about my non-existent project. You see, she hadn't been able to locate it. So, now I had to either 'fess up or describe a non-existent embroidery project.

So, what did I do?

Well, I, um, described it. My non-existent embroidery project was apparently a picture of a house.  I never did come clean.  And I totally get how things like Watergate spin out of control.

The Christmas tree and reliving toddler days...

Justin put this picture up on Facebook the other day, showing the Facebook world that our tree is about twice as big as any that we've ever had.

When we were signing for our house, the previous owner asked if we wanted to buy their twelve foot Christmas tree for $50. I blithely agreed without taking into account some logistical factors--like needing a ladder, lots of lights, and more ornaments to add to our eclectic, but meager supply. Btw, we're pretty sure that the tree is ten foot, not twelve. But we're not mad about it, especially when we saw the price tag on the box for $299.

One benefit of adding the ladder to the setting up of the tree was that Justin was fully involved. He is usually at best ambivalent about helping with the decorations, but he LOVED getting up on the eight foot ladder and was truly helpful for the first time ever. I should  figure out a way to incorporate tools into dinner prep or mundane household tasks...

Putting the lights on the tree took a lot more work, and we ended up missing a chunk in the middle with the colored lights (from Justin's shoulder to elbow in the picture) which I finally fixed this morning.

On another note, our house looks like a toddler lives here. Toys are strewn across the floor-- bones, balls, plastic toys, and empty water bottles (Pepper likes to chew on them) instead of Fisher Price, but the effect is the same. We say, "No," all the time followed by a redirect.  And the Christmas tree's bottom branches are misshapen and bereft of ornaments. Fortunately, the top eight feet are out of reach. For now. 

Here are some random photos from the last couple weeks... 

Post-Halloween version of after school snack found on living room end table.

We had lots of Halloween candy left after discovering our street is not heavily visited on Halloween night. No sidewalks.

Our stuff from France with someone's stuff from Australia perched on top in the white boxes.

We waited over four months for our boxes to arrive. The winter clothes are welcome, but unpacking is slow. Most breakables made the trip fine (I had my doubts when I saw the verticle stacking). I averaged only one broken piece of Harris china per trunk (a couple dessert plates, which are superfluous anyway and a bowl that Scott's great-grandmother painted for him when he was a baby. He had a brief time of mourning over it, but the matching cup and saucer made the trip and it's not like we ever used this bowl). 

Artsy photo of Poochie Woochie (one of her many nicknames).

What to say about this puppy?  We will have her second puppy training class at Petco this Saturday. Out of the six dogs in her class, she is the one who fell asleep during her first class--which we feel is a sign of her calm, good-naturedness, and not that she's exceptionally lazy. Her ability to sleep through noise has been put to good use as Justin has been drumming a lot lately. There is a drum set in the basement now that merits its own post. For now, let's just say that it gets really, really loud around here.

Poochie Woochie's ratty, Dr. Suessy tale.

 Pepper is cute, but her tail is kind of ratty looking. More photos to come.

Do African musical metal figures go well on mission-style mantel? Probably not. This and myriad other decorating quandaries abound as I unpack our African, Colombian, French, and American stuff.

Figuring out where to put things on the walls is going to be a challenge. When we received our shipment, I was thinking that I would have everything up by Thanksgiving. I have hung up one clock so far. Paintings are not unwrapped yet and piled up in a trunk. These walls may stay bare for a while.

Poochie Woochie practically disappears into the floor. Works in fall leaves as well.

That puppy smell

This is me, once again, not letting the pup sleep peacefully. That's why she looks mildly irritated in all these pictures.

I'm trying to capture Pepper's eyelashes. They're super long.

I'm finding that I like that distinctive puppy smell. But am also noting that certain articles of clothing, like my jean jacket, are smelling very puppy. And although I love the smell of puppy on a puppy, I am pretty sure I've never met someone smelling like a puppy and thought to myself, "Oh, I love that smell." So, I need to be diligent about not smelling like my pet.

We love the wavy ear bottom hair.

 On another note, I'm experiencing an unexpected bout of reverse culture irritation. In France, dogs go everywhere--grocery stores, cafés, restaurants, etc. One day, as I walked down the street to get Anna, I saw a couple and their two small dogs all seated at a café table. One chair for each. Four chairs. People usually don't go that far, but still.

And there have been many animated discussions at our French church about whether people should be allowed to bring their dogs. Pretty sure this doesn't come up regularly in committee meetings at our Fort Wayne church.

That's just dirt on the end of her nose. But notice the cuteness of the around-the-mouth fur tufts.

So, I now have a dog, and as I walked her Friday, I found myself mildly resenting that I could not take her into the grocery store or library. Although, if we trained her to be a therapy dog, we could theoretically get in on the read to a dog program at the library on Monday nights. Hmmm.

I never in France thought, "Oh, I just love how dogs can go everywhere." It didn't bother me. But I was neutral on the issue. Mildly amused and ambivalent.  So, it's somewhat ironic that I'm irritated here about something that I didn't value there. Though perhaps I would have if I had had a dog in France. Perhaps I would have been vehemently defending our French dog's right to come to church. Or go out to eat. Or help with grocery shopping.

I'll end with this...

mouth tuft close-up

Puppy pics

We're on day five of puppy ownership, and my life seems to revolve around when and where puppy goes pee. We were at a 100 percent success rate today until about 11am when she got a little too excited after playtime, which took us down to 80 percent for the day (which started at 3:30 am when she had tummy troubles). I'll spare you the details.

Instead, here are the pictures of our first days...

Negra and Pepper meeting for the first time. Pepper sees Negra as the Big Scary Black Thing in the house and will not pass if the cat is blocking  a narrow pathway. "You shall not pass," comes to mind every time I see this happen.

Pepper taking her first walk with Justin and me to meet Anna at the end of her school day.

She made it halfway before she needed a lift.

Anna observing a moment of silence as she held her new puppy. She  cried a little.

Anna "walking" her back home.

Reading time.

Dress-up time.

Pepper chewing on a toy in her happy place (her crate).

Me not letting a sleeping dog lie. Notice the curly end of ear fur. You can't quite tell here, but she has super long eyelashes.

Croissant Shock

This weekend, Anna and I went to Jefferson Pointe, a nearby upscale shopping center that feels a tiny bit European. We were hunting for a scarf for my mom's birthday. As we were hunting for stores likely to carry scarves, I spotted a bakery that I recognized from my Houston days--Madeleine's Bakery.

In Houston, La Madeleine was a large French bakery/café with lots of French pastries and breads, and I remember that real French people worked there. This was back when I was first taking French night classes and trying not to be freaked out by the language.

A lovely pain au chocolat

So, I pointed out the bakery to Anna and said that maybe we would find a pain au chocolat there. She was enthusiastic, and we were hopeful. We miss our French pastries.

We entered, I glanced at the menu..brownies, biscotti, croissants...but, sadly, no pain au chocolat. However, on the other side the counter, a tray of just-baked pastries had come out of the oven, and on it there were croissants and our much beloved pain au chocolat--plenty of them.

But now I was in a quandry. How does one say pain au chocolat in English? The translation would be chocolate bread, but that doesn't sound right. And it wasn't on the menu above the counter. So, figuring French bakery people might speak French (silly, I know), I asked, "We would like a pain au chocolat please."

The response was a baffled look, which led to me saying in English what I'm sure I said countless times over these last nineteen years as a foreigner in French, "I would like one of those, please." Accompanied by pointing, of course. I never thought I would have to resort to this in the English language.

Here's where things got dicey. The response was, "Oh, a chocolate croissant."

Well, here is a croissant...

croissant

And here is a pain au chocolat...

me again

I think we can all agree that a croissant and a pain au chocolat are not the same thing, non? N'est-ce pas? 

In spite of my internal battle, at this point I had little choice if I wanted to actually buy one for Anna. So, in defeat, I said, "Yes, a chocolate croissant."

Highly, highly annoying. This would be like going to a restaurant in France and being forced to say that you wanted a hotdog in order to get a hamburger. Or asking for some mustard in order to get ketchup. Same food group family, but completely different food.

I have since researched, and La Madeleine and Madeleine's Bakery are not the same thing. And anytime that we have a hankering for a pain au chocolat in Fort Wayne, we will have to go and ask for a croissant.

Painful, this reverse culture shock thing.

Puppy

When we talked with the kids months ago about moving to the U.S., we told them that we'd be getting a dog. Partly as a compensation for leaving everything they know, and partly because we've always wanted a dog. With the pace of our lives and the apartment living in France, it wasn't an option.

From the 10th to the 14th of October, we will attend a debriefing conference as a family, and after that, the door is open for the acquiring of the dog.

So, I've been researching, and I finally we finally decided on a golden retriever/poodle mix.

Yesterday, Scott and I took a road trip while the kids were in school to choose a puppy. It was a secret trip because the plan is to wait and surprise the kids with the puppy when they get home from school on the 15th of October...

So, here are some of the puppies. Which one would you choose?

sleepy puppies

"Puppies, cute or ugly?" is our favorite quote these days. Name that sitcom character. 

Puppy pre or post snore

We held several puppies, and I'm pretty sure that these are pictures of our pup. Pretty sure. It's really fun to hold puppies. We chose ours because she and I bonded when she snored on my shoulder.

What are they thinking?

I love how seriously this pup and Scott are checking each other out. This picture is crying out for thought bubbles above their heads.

I was able to keep the secret from the kids until about 8:30 last night. I can't keep a secret to save my life. Justin is thrilled in his very low-key-thirteen-year-old way. And Anna is just plain old thrilled.

Scott and I found a dog crate at a garage sale this morning, we have a book on training your dog, and we have informed both children that the dog will not sleep in beds. So, preparations are underway. We also have informed Negra that she is going to have a little sister. She is thrilled, in a low-key kind of way.

Earthtones

We've been in our house for over a month now, though it still doesn't really feel like home to me. Mostly, this is because most of our personal belongings are still on the way--paintings, wall hangings, and probably all kinds of things that we will look at and say, "Why did we think this was important enough to ship?"

When we moved into our apartment in Nice, we were inundated with colors. The main areas of the house were covered with an unfortunate light green sponge paint. Our bedroom was some kind of light gold wallpaper, the kids yellow and light blue, with sea animals and jungle animals lining the walls. The bathroom tile was light with horses prancing against a sunset here and there. Lamentable, but the kids thought the horses were beautiful. The doors were all white.

In my new house, absolutely nothing is tacky or too bright. It's all earth tones. Here, I'll show you...

bathroom tile

more bathroom tile

beautiful dark wood six panel doors

brick all around the fireplace(s)

bamboo laminate flooring (which we are quickly scratching up)

more brick in the kitchen

backsplash in the kitchen

And tile in the kitchen (which hides dirt way too well--I'm still in a mopping learning curve--is it dirt? is it the tile?)

Like I said, it's all tasteful, but oh my goodness, it's a lot of brown, tan, gray, and cream for me. When buying bathroom towels, I even caved to the pressure and bought tan and cream towels for our bathroom. I'm now wishing I'd stood my ground and bought red.

For now, we do have the view out the windows for a little color. Until the leaves turn...brown. And then fall off the trees leaving...gray. Yikes.

Hopefully, our wall hangings arrive before the outside of the house matches the inside.

Stumbling along

Disclaimer:  Today's pictures have little or nothing to do with the actual post. They're just some snapshots from our lives these last weeks.

Justin using his pilot skills at the Fort Wayne air show.

A few days ago, Anna and I were in the car. She made a circle with her thumbs and pointer fingers and said something like, "We are kind of settled, but we're this much not settled." I knew exactly what she meant. It's how I've felt lately. The big pieces are in place and the work of getting the big things in place is done. Things like moving, finding a house, a car, and setting up. But things at the center, important things like friends, church, and routines are all in process.

Case in point--Roasted Vegetable Lasagna.

I usually cook with cookbooks or look for recipes online. I like to flip through and try new things. My cookbooks are still somewhere between Nice and Fort Wayne, so I checked out a couple cookbooks at the library this week, chose our menu, and wrote out the grocery list. 

Our grocery store, Meijer, is gigantic. The last time I was there it took me an hour and a half of soul-numbing backtracking and hunting and to get everything on my list. So, this time, I meticulously recopied my list into subcategories in the hopes of making just one trip down each aisle or even skipping some aisles altogether. And definitely to avoid backtracking.

Unfortunately, when I recopied the list, I didn't recopy what recipes I was planning to make. So, when Thursday rolled around I wasn't quite sure what I had intended to make. I remembered lasagna and enchiladas but could find no enchilada recipe matching my ingredients (I found it later online and bookmarked it). I did find the lasagna recipe in the Cooking Light cookbook.

So, I got to it. I roasted red peppers under the broiler, roasted yellow squash and onions, whisked up the white sauce, mixed the cheeses, cooked the noodles, sprinkled fresh basil here and there, got out the pan...and,,,um...I could not locate the 9 x 13 pan. I looked again. In with the cookie sheets and muffin tins, no. In the drawer under the oven? No. I looked in with the pots and pans on the left side of the oven, on the right side. I was sure my mom had given me a pan, but I finally gave up. 

My kitchen is a constant source of low level annoyance, by the way. It's really just fine as kitchens go, but it's not my kitchen in Nice--no pull out drawers for pots and pans, just dark cabinets where I root around for what I need. I have kitchen culture shock.

Anna at the Grabill Country Fair.

So, after nixing the idea of stuffing the lasagna into two bread pans, I walked down the street to a neighbor's house to borrow one. She wasn't home, which in the end was ok. Borrowing a cup of sugar is one thing, but a pan is a commitment. . 

At this point I was sure a five minute drive to the store would do me in, so I moseyed over to Scott. He was in the street talking with a lady who was walking her golden retrievers. Dog walking time is a good time for chatting in these parts. So, after we finished talking about training dogs (we'll be getting a dog soonish), Scott drove over to Kroger and acquired the 9 x 13 pan.

We eventually ate our dinner, and it was delicious. The kids even liked it, except for the vegetables, which they separated out. Their loss, our gain--Scott took Anna's; I ate Justin's. I don't usually clean the kids' plates, but it was too good not to.

So, today, I met my mom and sister for lunch. I told them about the roasted vegetable lasagna and the pan problem. And my mom says, "But I did give you a 9 x 13 pan, a glass one, maybe two." And I remembered in an instant the pan(s) and exactly where they are in the kitchen. 

This is Justin running a cross country race. It captures     the perseverance and work that I put into making roasted  vegetable lasagna.

My sister and I drove back together. We went into my kitchen, I opened the cabinet, and there they were. I took the lasagna leftovers out and served her up a couple pieces of lasagna to take home because it's too good not to share. 

So, I now have three lasagna-size pans, which makes me think that it would be fun to make three different kinds and invite gobs of people over for a lasagna party... 

Here's the recipe...roasted vegetable lasagna. It took me three hours to make it. It would likely take you less. Just find your pan before you start.

Catch up

The last month has been a whirlwind--moving in, kids starting school, housewarming party, Negra losing a tooth, etc. All is mostly under control, and as there is too much to tell now, I'm just posting some random pictures (since I located my camera cable today) to share bits and pieces of the last month.

 This is the kids, plus cousin, plus cat playing in the new driveway. 

 This is random, likely taken by Anna. The deck is one of Negra's favorite places, and I'm including the picture because it is where she is currently laying by me as I type. She just narrowly avoided two acorns which I'm assuming our squirrels are hurling towards us to make us go inside.

 These are the shoes/boots (shoots, booes?) that Anna wears most days to school. Not one for blending in and being non-descript.

 These are the trees in the back yard holding all manner of loud and angry squirrels. 

 Justin with his housewarming present from grandma. It's actually mine, but as he is the resident smoothie-master, it's his, and he knows it.

 This is my brother who was fixing our light. I thought I had broken it. We went for two weeks with a very dimly lit dining room until he figured out we needed to flip the switch on the opposite wall.

 S'mores out at the backyard firepit.

 Part of our basement of too much fun. My cousin and husband's kids have gone off to college, so we get the basketball hoop and...

 ...the foosball table. It truly is the basement of fun. Come and see.

 Anna earning some money for her "Cheer Camp" day coming up in a couple weeks.

 Some very dry flowers I discovered on the side of our house a few weeks after moving in. Now that I know about them, I do water them occasionally.

Last night we walked/biked to the library where the kids read to a dog. Every Monday one can go to the library and read to a dog.

And with that, I will consider the blog up-to-date and will endeavor to share our settling in process more over the coming weeks and months.

Wednesday, Justin and I went to Registration Day at his school. Before going, I printed off the following Registration Day information. I am pretty sure that all of this will look perfectly normal to all Americans reading this blog. It is clear, concise, and friendly. But for us, returning from the south of France, it felt like entering an alien universe. A friendly and inviting one, mind you. But, nevertheless, foreign territory.

So, here goes.

Step 1:  Enter Door 11 and see information table for SMS Registration Checklist and applicable forms if needed.

Step 1. We are given instructions about where to go and told what we will see when we get there. I think this is delightful. In southern France, in most new situations, you are expected to figure it out once you arrive by observing what others do, asking questions, or trial and error. You might find others who are trying to figure it out too, in which case you both do the preceding steps together. No one gets mad about not being told in advance, because figuring it out is part of the challenge of being new. In my experience, this applies to just about every place and institution.

Step 2:  If you have visited the SMS website to print and complete registration paperwork, and you have updated your child’s information on PowerSchool, then proceed to Step 3.  If not, then proceed to room A108 to access PowerSchool, update student information, and print applicable registration materials.  A108 is down the 6^th Grade Hallway off of the commons.  Once completed, proceed to Step 3.

Step 2. We are given the option of doing some paperwork in advance to make the registration process easier. If you haven't completed the task ahead of time, you are allowed to go do it on your own without anyone scolding you or sending you back home to do it. Cool.

Step 3:  Enter the line near the main office to see School Nurse and submit paperwork.

Step 3. We met the school nurse. There is a school nurse. Cool.

Step 4:  6^th Graders, enter line in 6^th grade hall to:

1.     Receive VISA/Handbook and sign name

2.    Receive schedule, locker number and combination

3.    Submit order slip and pay for purchases

 7^th/8^th Graders, proceed to cafetorium and see grade level table to:

1.     Receive VISA/Handbook and sign name

2.    Receive schedule, locker number and combination

3.    Submit order slip and pay for purchases

Step 4. Our first hiccup in the process was here. Justin doesn't  have a student handbook. There was a computer glitch the day he was to take the math placement test, so he took it yesterday. They will work out his schedule by Monday afternoon after he's done a French placement test (which he is excited about acing). Because the high school is across the street from the middle school, some students go over for advanced classes. 

Step 5:  Do the following in the cafetorium in no particular order (shortest line!)

o Receive P.E. shirt, if purchased

o Get picture taken (cheese!) for yearbook

o See athletic table for information and spirit wear

o Deposit money in lunch account

o See any other table of interest – welcome back!

Note:  You may also visit your locker at any time.

Step 5. P.E. shirt stand was manned by students, which was useful because the boy was the same size as Justin. We asked what size he wore, Justin held it up,  and it worked. The shirts cost five dollars.

Brilliant idea to do school pictures on registration day. Nobody has to get their picture taken after gym class.

Lunch. Oh my goodness. Justin had to try hard not to laugh here. The lady at this table explained the lunch menu. There are two main dishes each day, but if you don't care for the main dish, you can take a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a turkey sandwich, or a large yogurt as your main dish. 

What? You get to choose? And it's only $1.65. I paid for the semester, and Justin said in the car that he's been deprived all these years. In fairness to his school lunches in France, the quality was excellent, but you don't get much choice, and it was seven dollars a day.

I wonder if, at some future point in my cultural re-adaptation to American life, I will find all of this annoying and will long for the challenge of figuring things out the French way--observe, ask, trial and error. 

Next--Anna's reactions to her school visit.

Cedar Campus

Just wanted to share some pictures of our very last-minute vacation at Cedar Campus, InterVarsity's camp in the upper peninsula of Michigan. We were there for a family camp, and this could very easily become a family tradition for us.

Besides going off (in our own car, no less) for a week of vacation, we have found our house. We close this Friday and will move in a week later.

The kids are signed up for school. Justin started cross country practice yesterday (six miles!), and we will go for his registration this morning.

Anna and I will go visit her school sometime before it starts on August 15th. We bought most of her school supplies yesterday.  

There are a few odds and ends to find before moving in--a couples mattresses and some dishes. But, the vast majority of what we need is stacked up in the garage waiting for moving day thanks mainly to my generous downsizing parents who have seriously good taste in furniture. No orange and brown plaid recliners to be seen.

Back to yesterday's school shopping--Anna's feet were measured before we chose her gym shoes, and we found out the her right foot is a full size larger than her left foot. And, when we were all examining her at home, we discovered that one leg is longer than another. Pediatrician visit is imminent.

Next post--Registration day at Justin's school or Why Americans Freak Out in France.

The cat is ready to go...

We measured her (again, just to be sure), bought a new, larger cat carrier, scanned pages from her passport, and sent all the information off in an e-mail. Now I'm waiting to see what the quote will be to transport her.

I'm not one hundred percent sure that I got the measurements right. Measuring a cat's shoulder blades is tricky. Same as distance from head to floor. It's kind of subjective.

I'm ready to be told that we need a bigger carrier. Some websites say the distance between the top of the animal's head and the top of the carrier needs to be 10 centimeters, but I'm hoping for some French flexibility here. I think she'll be happy and cosy in the this one. And cats don't jump up or down like dogs do. I think.

By the way, yes, even our cat has a passport. She was born in Spain, and needed a passport when she moved here with her previous owner. Given her ability to adapt to new cultures and languages, I'm sure she'll integrate well into American life.

So, as she sleeps, I am back to work. Almost everything we are taking in the kitchen is packed, and I'm doing Anna's room next. The girl has a serious amount of stuffed animals that take up a whole large suitcase...

Going...

In the last two days, I've given away...

my food processor (which meant pounding out Oreos with a mortar and pestle tonight for our Oreo crust, mint chocolate chip ice cream birthday dessert),

my mixer (beaters are permanently attached since Anna and I made a cake together a few months ago and the wooden spoon got in the beaters while beating--so I just wash them attached to the mixer),

bowls that we got for our wedding (not in good enough shape to ship, and not precious),

soup bowls,

plastic picnic-ware,

all of my spices--except for cumin and chili powder, which I am bound to need in the next two weeks,

our stock of peanut butter (Scott stocks up in case the Asian food store runs out of it--which it does sometimes),

all of my baking pans--muffin tins, roasting pans, cookie sheets, cake pans, pie pans (except for the one that the Oreo/ice cream pie was in),

the yogurt maker, which we haven't used for at least a year,

the waffle iron, which we've used a lot,

a sheet set which we bought from friends in Gabon when they left,

a sheet set which I actually bought,

a duvet which a team member must have left us as I have no recollection of ever buying one,

two towels,

Christmas lights,

lots of plastic containers,

any kitchen utensils I thought we could get along without,

and plenty of other miscellaneous stuff.

I'm very glad that we got a head start on all of this getting rid of process a couple months ago. But, it's still overwhelming and so concrete. We really are leaving and starting over in a new place. Very soon.

On moving

When I was a kid, my family moved frequently. Once or twice a year until we moved to Fort Wayne, Indiana.

In my upper elementary years, moving always had a hopeful side to it. Maybe in this new place I would be less awkward and shy. Maybe I would able to chat easily with friends at the lunch table. Perhaps I would even develop athletic ability in gym class.

It never really worked out that way. The shyness and awkwardness increased steadily, right up into my teenage years.

As we prepare to move to Fort Wayne this time, I have no wish to reinvent myself. I'll always be a little shy and awkward, and am very happy that athletic ability will play no part in my capacity to make new friends this time.

My struggle is more that I wonder how long it will take me to be myself in Fort Wayne.

I've been overseas for about twenty years. I'm a mixed bag of cultures and cuisine. I haven't lived in any area remotely resembling an American suburb for a very long time. In fact, if I count up the years that I've lived in different cities, I think I've lived in Libreville, Gabon, longer than in any other place. Crazy.

There's a sense of relief in some of this move. Household space, barbecues, corn on the cob, and family (not in that order, mind you) will be wonderful as we return.

But we've built up real community here in this place, and rebuilding that community will take time and effort.

Sold!

The paperwork took an extra day because of some interesting typos. We were Scoot Harris and Michelle Serena in the contract. Scoot is kind of cute and chipper as a name, and I can imagine my life with a slightly Latino flavor as Michelle Serena, but now we're back to boring Scott and Michelle.

We are keeping the 10th of July as our departure date. If the closing doesn't happen by then, Scott will stay on a few days for the final signing.

Loads to figure out and do in the coming weeks. Initial cat vaccinations are done though (never mind that not one piece of furniture is sold yet), and we found out that we'll need to travel to Valbonne to have the vaccination record certified a few days before we leave. I'm sure those last days will be calm and relaxed and that we'll have plenty of time to borrow a car and make the trip. Fortunately, the cat doesn't have to come.

Forty Days

We're reserved a flight to the U.S. on July 10th, so we have forty days left. Yikes.

Initial signing for the sale of our home here will likely happen tomorrow, and we'll see how long it takes for closing.

Today, I have questions floating around in my head about what to do once we get to Fort Wayne.

What kind of cars do we buy? It's been over twenty years since I've bought a car in the the U.S. (we had two during our time in Gabon, and don't have one here). Woo, they're expensive. We need one big enough to be a family car with a place in the back for Oscar/Pepper (our future dog), but we want something economical. The other can be small, but how small do we go? Do we buy new or used?

What kind of house do we look for? Once with a basement with plenty of room for visitors and guests or one big enough just for us? One with trees or without? Older or newer?  Why do the yards have to be so big?

Do we transport our bedroom set and the buffet or does it cost more to transport than to replace?

Will the cat transport cage from the pet store with the plastic fasteners work, or do they really have to be metal?

When will we have to move out of the apartment?

We're mostly figuring things out one step at a time, but it is a strange feeling to have so many important decisions within a pretty short period of time. And some of them are big decisions .Whether or not we transport the bedroom set is not a life changing decision, but we as a family will potentially build life-long friendships with people in our future neighborhood.

I intend to blog frequently during the next forty days so people know what's up.  More later...