Picture of the Week: Bake Sale

Alison and I accomplished a lot on Saturday morning. We got our kids out at the park (the "frog park": the one with no frogs but potential to have them because it has a small area of standing water, and some grass...that you cannot walk on). We met neighbors and realized we actually know quite a few people in our community. We ate baked goods (and sold them). We made 1800 rupees (about $30).

Clearly, the money wasn't the driving force.



Our little community hosted a "flea market"...which basically means you can rent a table and sell whatever you want. Alison and I baked. Pumpkin bread and cookies are kind of an oddity here. So in between the pani puri (look that up) and embroidered elephant purses, we were the sellers of exotic imports: things-baked-with-butter. Our cinnamon rolls and snickerdoodles sold quickly. Our kids found interesting caterpillars and flowers. And we felt like part of this community. Despite our uncommon goods ("Sooo, the snickerdoodle doesn't have Snickers in it?"), I dare say we didn't feel so uncommon.

I am starting to love this city. There are good many days I don't. But Saturday was a day that God gave me joy in where He's called me.

And all that butter didn't hurt. 

Isabella's Birthday Party (Video)

Isabella's ONE year old Birthday Party from Brian Stock on Vimeo.

Picture of the Week: Syrup

Far from the maple trees of Canada (and the even the factories of high fructose corn syrup), we must survive on whatever waffle toppings we can find.

Today, for Brian: cream cheese and green olives (which by the way, both are considered "gourmet imports" from our grocer). I was pretty excited just to get a waffle maker. We bought in Thailand while on a visa run. I forgot about the syrup.

My girls "settled" for peanut butter (another "gourmet import") and a dusting of powdered sugar.

I ate mine plain. Not because I'm trying to make a point. I just like plain waffles. And bland food in general. But that's off topic.



Just a note. Yes, we can find syrup. It is $7.50 a bottle (for the imitation stuff). I consider it a sacrifice to support our ingenuity (and my love of plain).

When in Sri Lanka

In case you, dear reader, ever travel to Sri Lanka, I'd like to give you a some things to frame your expectations.

 There will be baby sea turtles, that you can hold...on a random shack-like rescue project on the beach. Adults pay $2.50. Kids are free. The turtles are pretty awesome. 

 Your hotel will have the normal toiletries: toothbrush, shower cap and this random fun one - a "lady kit". I was hoping it was a chocolate bar and lavender body lotion. The mystery box contained two q-tips and a nail file. 

 Your bathroom may have a bottle opener in between the toilet and sink. You never know when you need to pop open a cold one. 

 There may be cute babies. But in my opinion the cutest are when you travel with us. 

 The sunset is beautiful. 

And if you have any ordained travelers, they will get to sick on comfy white seats partitioned off from the rest of the airport. I mean, if they want to. 

I know, I could be a travel agent. Let me know when to book your flight!

Picture of the Week: Urban Fun

What this blog is mostly about these days is the vast differences between living HERE and living THERE. And yes, it's about three cute little girls. That too.

I attempt to show you the surprising, odd-becoming-new-normal, fun and bothersome ways we live as foreigners here. Despite my irregular blog-posts there is quite a bit to write about. But sometimes I forget some of my culture shock doesn't come from this country or people, but from the fact that I live in a city. Brian spent most of his life in the suburbs. I grew up on an Air Force base, then in pseudo-countryside, finally to settle down in the just-barely-metro-Atlanta suburbs. This 11-million-people thing is new to me.

When you live in a city, at least our city, there are not many wide open spaces. The pools are...well, let's just save that for a different blog post. The grass is non-existent. We only have one store in the city with a parking lot. I'm not exaggerating.

So, when my friend Alison and I were on my apartment building's rooftop watching our kids ride scooters under the laundry lines and the water pipe flooded (how could I make this up?) we let them play in the puddles. "Urban fun," said Alison.

Urban fun comes in walking to the store, seeing the usual street dogs (we named them after ice cream flavors: Vanilla, Caramel, Chocolate). In eating a custard apple for the first time (slimy seeds...). In seeing a rat steal from the local market. In "pool parties" on our balcony.

All this everyday life, all this urban fun.

Picture of the Week: Hotdogs

It was a Friday night and I planned to make a simple American dinner at home. One of Brian's (and my kids') favorites: hotdogs and potato salad. Easy. But this is where the blog post comes in. Nothing catastrophic happened to mess with my dinner plans. It was just the little things, the unexpected but not "out of nowhere", the disruptive annoyances (or adventures...depending on how you look at it!) that made this dinner not so simple.

Friday morning: My girls and I walk to the store that has the hotdogs we all like. It's called "Village". They have the good cheese and scotch tape. It's pretty much the go-to place.
Anyways, despite the plentiful hotdog inventory, Village does not carry hotdog buns. Not a one. Basha (the other store down the road that sometimes carries the good pickles) is out as well. So, hotdogs, no buns. It's ok. I'm sure I can make a modified pigs in a blanket situation.

Friday lunchtime: I look online to figure out the right dough for pigs in a blanket. I get depressed at the amount of crescent roll recipes ("it's just so easy!") due to the lack of said crescent rolls in this country. Then I get a tinge angry ("this is not a recipe! crescent rolls and hotdogs...why are people giving this stars?"). Then I find some down-home mom that has justified pigs in a blanket "homemade" is somehow healthy for her growing kids. Whatever. I have the dough recipe.

Friday afternoon: I wash, cut and boil the potatoes. Twenty minutes later I check the stove and the flame is gone. Gasp! The gas went out. We have a propane tank that lasts usually 6-8 weeks and then with no warning, poof...gas is out. No more cooking.
I call the "gas guy"...I honestly don't know his name. "Gas guy" is how he's listed in my phone.
He is "out of station" (out of town) and won't return until tomorrow. Fortunately, the potatoes are cooked and I can make the potato salad. And I have a loving husband who has a restaurant up his sleeve he wants to take us to. He's not willing to eat starch with a side of starch for dinner....though I might be.

Friday evening: The restaurant, Connies, is a weird mix of plaid table clothes, diner feel and Bob Marley music. They don't have Coke. We order steaks (pretty good here!) and my kids dance to "We're Jammin'" in front of a random full length mirror they have set up.

Saturday: Make the pigs in a blanket. Serve up the potato salad and green beans (cut, destringed, frozen 3 days before!). Brian asks if there is coleslaw. I shoot him an angry look. He wisely compliments the potato salad.

And we live to eat another dinner. Simple, American dinner. 

Picture of the Week: Real Life (part 3)

This is real.

Sometimes your toddler wakes up from a nap (wearing only a diaper) and wants to (no, insists on) playing bunny-house with your Hindi tutor. 

Picture of the Week: Real Life (part 2)

This is real.



















Sometimes a mosquito is left undetected (unzapped) in your baby's room. You wake to find a smiling, bitten baby face. 

Picture of the Week: Real Life

This is real.

Sisters can stay focused on art projects when the other is under the table eating your (paper) scraps. 

Picture of the Week: High chair

First time in a high chair. Eating puffed rice. Looking quite cute. (This is blog-talk for complete sentences.)

Molly moved into a "big girl booster seat" as Isabella sequestered her chair. Mealtimes don't involve Isabella on my lap attempting to pull my plate off the table anymore. Hooray for progress!

Picture of the Week: Adjusted

People want to know how are kids are adjusting. From what I can tell that's about all kids do. They adjust. New playmates? Later bedtime? No, you can't go outside right now. Yes, you have to wear clothes today. We're having that for dinner? Move to a different country? Adjust, adjust, adjust.

I picked up one of Lydia's sketchbooks and found this drawn inside.


"Lydia," I said, "what is this a picture of?"
"It's our flag Mommy."
"Our flag?"
"Yeah. This flag is our flag."




Whatever else it means, I think it means these little girls are adjusting quite well.