Pumpkins

Last year, we celebrated Halloween without real pumpkins. There were a few bright orange, traditional pumpkins in the grocery stores...but with a price tag of a whopping 700,000 rupiah (that's $70!), we passed. I considered carving watermelons last year, since they are cheap and in great abundance here. But we didn't actually get around to doing it.

This year, however, I found some small orange pumpkins at the local Hero grocery store in September. They were more reasonable priced, and so I snatched them up, and kept them in our fridge until today.

Then during our trip to Puncak a few weeks ago, we found some large pumpkins for sale at a roadside stand. So this year, we resumed a very fun tradition.

Sorry for the nudity - but this picture just makes me smile. CJ loved being right in the middle of the carving action. She had no problem pulling out the gooey innards.

I still love all our new experiences here in Jakarta, but I sure find comfort in family traditions.

Autumn

I miss Autumn.

Long runs with the crunch of leaves under foot. Rust, gold, orange on the trees and bushes. Cold, clean air that makes my nose tingle with each deep breath.

There are lots of things I can't change about living here overseas...like the lack of seasons.

But I'm trying to do the best with what I can. 

For example, this past weekend our family transformed our house into a celebration of October!

CJ stood on the ladder giving directions to her siblings. 

(I don't know where she gets her bossiness. Ahem.)

 

(Or her dramatics.)

Soon the yard was filled with spiderwebs, ghosts, and a huge spider.

The garlands, the pumpkins, the cobwebs. They all help me feel a little more festive...a little closer to home.

Friday night the kids made haunted houses out of construction paper. Behind the paper door flaps and window flaps they drew bats, ghosts, candles, and spiders. Then I made a big bowl of caramel corn and we watched Harry Potter 3 (which is our favorite). I cuddled next to CJ, and she held my hand during the scary parts.

.

Demonstration

On September 17, 2012, demonstrators became violent outside of the American embassy in Jakarta.

I was in my car on Cipite Raya, coming home from teaching school when my cell phone rang. It was my friend, Cherylyn. "Turn on the TV," she insisted. "You are not going to believe what you see."

As soon as I got home, I turned the TV to the metro-1 channel, a local Indonesian news channel.

 With the kids cuddled next to me on the couch, we watched as demonstrators yelled, burned an American flag, and attempted to cross the police barrier. 

Disbelief. Fear. Sadness. And gratitude. These are some of the feelings the kids and I experienced.

 My husband was inside the embassy. I called him on the phone. He described how he could see the smoke from the fires from his office window and hear the gun pops as police shot tear canisters into the crowd. He said he never felt in any real danger. But this is the closest he had ever been to witnessing such vehement anti-American behavior.

 The Indonesian police did their job well, and I am grateful to them.

Perhaps even more unsettling for me than the actual demonstration was at school the next day. I showed footage of the demonstration to my students and asked, "Where is this?" Their answers were quick: Egypt, Libya. It wasn't until I asked them to look closer that they asked incredulously, "Is that in Indonesia?" The discussion that followed revealed a mixture of misinformation, prejudice, and ignorance. Ingredients for perpetuated confusion.

I wanted to be sure to record the events of this day somewhere. Because someday, I will want my children to remember. Remember the day we watched our flag burn on television knowing that Dad was in the building right behind the crowd. And remember the day we watched brave policemen protect people not even of their nationality.   

Butterflies and Birthday Cake

Four is a big deal. And for this big four, all other activities came screeching to a halt so we could celebrate. It helped that soccer games for Tman and Madi didn't conflict. So CJ had us all to herself.

Butterfly sandwiches.

Bug hunt in the back yard.

Not one, but two butterfly cakes.

Much too often, CJ is the one left behind. As the baby of our family, she will be the last to do most everything. But that hasn't stunted her cheerfulness. She's a kick of joy. A blast of fieriness. A challenge, no question. But a girl with a laugh that melts my saddest heart.

Everyday I am grateful I chose to have just one more...because my life is so much better with her in it. Happy Birthday sweet girl!

My Day

Time is running away from me. Days seem to tumble into weeks. And while nothing monumental is happening, I know I'll look back at this time in my life and long for the small, seemingly insignificant moments.

So here are the "insignificant" moments of my day - the small details - the ones I don't want to forget.

My iphone at my bedside table plays a tiny melody at 4:30AM telling me it's time to wake up. The world outside is black and starless. Only the orange hue from infrequent street lamps colors the pavement. But I am not alone. As I jog (in a somewhat zombie-like fashion) the morning call to prayer from mosques throughout the city greets the darkness with haunting melody, like a banshee's mournful cry.

I make breakfast still wearing my running clothes. I flip pancakes while the windows brighten with the rising sun.

CJ tumbles down the stairs. She is a mass of tangled blond hair, sleepy eyes, and blankets which she has dragged from her bed.

The hair is going to be a challenge. And yep, she runs to hide at the first sight of the hair brush. Rapunzel hair (or Perpunzel hair in CJ jargon) has its price.

Preschool is giggles, glue, songs, recess, pink lemonade and zoo phonics. Book time is my favorite preschool moment, when all four little girls cozy up on the couch and I read aloud "Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus"...twice.  

After school begins the whirlwind/marathon of snacks, multi-tasking with homework, and getting to and from soccer practices. Tman, Leasie, and Meya are flushed and warm from the non air conditioned bus ride. If all homework gets done, we catch an episode of iCarly together. I love to laugh with my children.

Evening slips into night. We assemble lunches in the kitchen together. I slice carrots while each child makes a sandwich. The kids remind me to avoid using plastic wrap - we're trying very hard to have garbage-less lunches. A small step toward green.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I go to tuck CJ in bed. My eye-liner is smudged. I look old and tired.  

I sing funny "light" song from My Turn on Earth (CJ's current favorite lullaby). Oldest four gather on my bed and after squabbling about who gets to sit where, we settle in for a few pages of Peter Pan (such a lovely, funny book).

Lights out, earplugs in at 9:30.  Only to start over again in 7 short hours.

My Grandma's Gift

"Have seconds," my Grandma would urge. And I always did.

Her table was set with the most delicious food. As a young child, when I would come visit during summer, her table held seasonal favorites like zucchini bread, watermelon, orange jello salad, and blackberry pie. I remember dinners outside on her back patio. The snapdragons in bloom. The corn on the cob piping hot.

But my favorite times with her were during my college years, when I would make the four hour trek from Provo to Idaho Falls, ID to spend a precious weekend with her. She spoiled me, and I loved it. Little peas and potatoes in white sauce, a Hormel ham baked until jerky dry, homemade macaroni and cheese, and if I was lucky (which I often was) chocolate icebox dessert.

I hadn't thought about chocolate icebox dessert in a long time. And I hadn't made it for years. Then a few weeks ago my Uncle Lee mentioned it on facebook, followed by a comment from my cousin Nicole.

I immediately put in an amazon.com order for vanilla wafers (since there are none here at the stores in Jakarta). The vanilla wafers arrived a few days ago.

I opened my recipe book and made the dessert. And I thought of my dear Grandma who always encouraged me to have seconds (and thirds), and had an incredible way of making me feel loved.

Here's her recipe:

1 cup butter
1&1/2 cups powdered sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 box vanilla wafers
1/4 cup water
4 squares of Bakers semi-sweet chocolate (or 1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips)
4 eggs, separated

Separate egg yolks from whites. Beat whites until stiff and set aside. In mixing bowl, cream together butter, powdered sugar and vanilla extract. Set aside. In pan, mix together egg yolks, water, semi-sweet chocolate, and granulated sugar. Bring mixture to soft boil, stirring often, and cook until thickened. Remove from heat and add creamed sugar and beaten egg whites.

Spray bottom of 8X8 glass dish. Cover bottom of dish with a single layer of vanilla wafers. Cover the wafers with 1/3 of chocolate mixture. Repeat three times so there are three layers of wafers and chocolate. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours (overnight is even better). Serve with dollop of whipped cream. Chocolate heaven!

Running with a crowd

Near the end of my Saturday run, I rounded a street corner and found myself in a crowd of about one dozen young Indonesian boys. They stopped what they were doing to let me run past.

They called out "Hello Missus!" and one started to run with me. Then one by one they all joined. Soon I was surrounded by the boys running, laughing, darting, sprinting. One boy at my elbow grinned as he ran beside me. "Anda capat," I said. (You are fast!) In response, he pumped his scrawny arms more vigorously. The boys called out to one another, and I was swimming in a sea of smiles.

Their flipflops slapped the pavement. Those that were barefoot had soles as black as the asphalt. Soon they trickled off, stooping to rest with hands on knees. Even the boy at my elbow slowed to a walk. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

When I turned around and encouraged, "Detang" (Come on!), he shook his head and said "Capai" (tired). But he flashed a smile as he waved me on.

It was the best few moments of my Saturday run.