What Makes Life In Beijing Unique For An American

Posted by He Said
Contributions by He Said and She Said
Inspired by Marc Tiar

All the locals speak Chinese (go figure).

There is a little fence that runs down the middle of all the streets. I think this serves two purposes – to keep people from crossing where they shouldn't (because they would) and to keep the cars from going where they shouldn't (and again, I guarantee they would).

The roads are also divided on the sides with additional mini fences on both sides which delineates an area not to be driven on by cars. This is labeled as a bike path, but everyone calls them sidewalks.

The actual sidewalks are used for parking (and they park in the bike paths too).

Bicycles are EVERYWHERE. There are three wheeled bikes, electric bikes, bikes with trailers, and bikes with built in gloves on the handlebars. You can usually tell when one is coming up behind you by the rust induced squeaking and the rattling of the loose chain. The electric ones will quietly sneak up on you and run your ass over.

Bikes also park on the actual sidewalks in every space that the cars can't fit.

McDonalds tastes the same. BUT THE MENU IS IN CHINESE!

The buildings have no 4th or 14th floor. BAD JUJU (ok, my words, but the numbers are bad luck here).

The buildings do however have a 13th floor. All I can say is that I thank the FSM I live on the 10th. At work I am on the 11th floor, which is really the 12th, so we are all good there too.

The street names and store names are all in Chinese. This makes going anywhere a challenge.

There are street vendors cooking and selling all sorts of food, everywhere. I can't say for sure, but I suspect there are not too many health inspectors.

No one wears a helmet while riding their bikes. This is particularly disconcerting because they TEXT and ride while driving on the sidewalk! I might start wearing one to walk on the sidewalk.

The major grocery store has pushers on every aisle giving samples or pointing you to the more expensive brands. I haven't found one that samples alcohol, but I haven't given up on that yet.

Government buildings and 7-Elevens have marble steps and entryways. Have you ever walked on polished marble in a snowstorm? Neither have we, we but slid faster than Apolo Ohno.

They don't have wine in a box, but we make up for it by drinking out of a paper cup.

The public restrooms are called Water Closets.

You can buy coagulated blood. To eat. Don't worry, you cook it first.

They have live turtles and fish in the grocery store. These are NOT in the pet section.

Some people like to eat dog. Some restaurants serve dog, but don't worry, I am told they don't eat any of the cute ones.

They don't appear to eat cat. But I am working on changing that.

You can buy almost anything on the streets. "Rolex" watches, DVD's of movies that are still in the theatres, "Gucci" bags and more. But not drugs. They execute you for that.

You know all that cool stuff at home that says Made In China? You can't buy it here.

McDonalds delivers (on a bike btw) if you call in to place your order, which doesn’t help us because we DON’T SPEAK CHINESE.

The public restrooms have a communal roll of toilet paper at the entrance with a sign (yes, in English and Chinese) that says “Conserve Use”.  It’s always empty.  The soap dispensers if they have any are usually empty. I have yet to see a paper towel dispenser or air hand dryer.  I guess this makes sense because if you didn’t wipe ,then didn’t wash your hands, what do you need a hand towel for?

After using the restroom I understand why and am glad that people don’t shake hands here.

You can watch pirated movies all you want and the government doesn't seem to care. They just don't let you post it on Blogger, Facebook or Twitter.

Several of the public men’s restrooms have had an employee just standing there.  I don’t understand why, and that’s why I keep telling myself they are employees. It makes it easier to stand there and pee with a total stranger watching me for no apparent reason.

Everyone we have met here is generous, kind and helpful. It's like the opposite of New Yorkers.

There are lots of stations on the TV here, but only the Bloomberg Channel is in English. This makes watching our shows a challenge.

Hickory. Dickory. Dock. Greg Needs to Get Around the Block.

Posted by She Said.

Greg is such a wimp. I know, he looks all big and strong with his 6’3” height and his shaved (OK, stubbly head) and goatee. But don’t let him fool you. He’s a big scaredy cat. Let me give you an example. Oh, and don’t worry, I can feel the retribution coming my way for telling you this through a blog post about how I am having nightmares about losing one of the kids on the subway I HAVE YET TO TRY in Beijing.

So anyway, Greg has been eye-balling these twisty breads every day on his way to and from work. He comes home and tells me all about this little hut that slightly moves position in the alley on his way to work. How this little hut has the most amazingly good smelling bread for sale. How he would like to try one.

And did he try one? Yes! But only because I BOUGHT IT FOR HIM. Apparently in my life, and in particular in my relationship with Greg, I am the one willing to ask for directions, and most recently, the one to ask for twisty bread from the woman in the moving hut. (There is a story about my teen years and Jeremy Miller in there, but I’ll save that for another day.)

I held up one finger and then pointed to the bread. She held up two fingers. I gave her two yuan (roughly 30 cents), and she handed us a twisty bread. Or shall I say a twisty bit of heaven? Maybe a twisty bit of savory goodness? Whatever. We all devoured the scrumptiousness thanks to my willingness to use my mad charade skills and look like a fool. Susanne – 1, Language Barrier – 0

(The hut used to be where Greg was standing to take this picture.)

Twice at the market, I have called Greg at work and asked to speak with Chang. I desperately wanted some of that satay-like sauce we had at the hotpot restaurant, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. Once Chang was on the phone, I found an employee of the market, smiled a “please forgive me for being an idiot and not knowing this on my own” look and thrust the phone to her. She reluctantly took it from me, but after a very brief conversation with Chang, she directed me to the sauce. Susanne – 2, Language Barrier – 0.

The second time I used this phone technique was today when I was looking for the special vinegar we put into the satay-like sauce we had at the hotpot restaurant. (Yes, I am profoundly determined to recreate what we had!) However, as I stood in the vinegar aisle with its dozens of different kinds of Chinese-labeled vinegars, there was no market employee. Chang was ready on the other end of the phone, but there was no employee in sight. But wait! There was a customer! Yup, that’s right. In my quest for this culinary masterpiece, I put on my best “please help me” smile, thrust the phone at this gentleman (a complete stranger), and as he looked at me like I was crazy (zip it), he took the phone from me. My pink Motorola Razr, by the way. He nodded, repeated something to his wife and then they both started looking in the vinegars. AND THEY FOUND THE RIGHT VINEGAR! Susanne – 3, Language Barrier – 0.

Greg thinks this is hilarious because it is not anything he would ever dream of doing. But hey, I am a woman on a mission.

Today’s trip to the market was the same as our other trips there in several ways. Both kids had their cheeks gently stroked by strangers, and we had one woman bring her adorable little 16 month old baby boy over to say hi to the kids, who were completely zoned out in the cart with their iPods. I told them I would take them away forever if they didn’t stop playing for two seconds and be polite and say hello. Damn iPods, they are a blessing AND a curse.

Ah, but today’s trip home from the market had a pleasant (not) little twist on it. As I shifted groceries from the bags into my backpack to make the bags lighter for the walk home, Emily started to scream. We have mentioned Emily’s screams before, I’m certain. They are ear-shattering and I swear could wake coma patients. And the thing is, WE DON’T NEED ANYMORE ATTENTION AT THE MARKET, thank you very much. However, there is she is, tears popping out of her eyes and hitting her shirt and the floor, uttering a scream that each second increased in volume and pitch.

AND WHY????

Because she just remembered she had A PAPER CUT. Not ANY paper cut. A paper cut that happened HOURS AGO. In the States when something like that happens, you can tell instantly the people who have kids and give you the “oh, honey, I have BEEN there” look, and those that don’t have any kids and give you the “oh. my. god. could you be any more annoying” look. Here, I don’t know what people were thinking, but I do know this – THEY WERE WATCHING. I thought we got a lot of stares before; it paled in comparison to my walk home today. I SO wanted to crack open that 50 cent drink labeled “Plum Juice” that I bought and try it, because I was suspicious it was actually plum WINE. I just wasn’t sure if I could plead “stupid” getting caught breaking some (unknown to me) open container law.

I will save our pizza ordering experience for another post, but I’ll leave you with this hint. Susanne – 3, Language Barrier – 1.

Oopsie

Posted by She Said.

Guess I needed to learn the Chinese character for “permanent” before buying those markers for the kids today.

Give That Man a Truck

Posted by He Said

Each and every day I walk down a small alley on my way to work.  It’s not really an alley, but more of a small side street.  If it weren’t for the small bottled water shop (with its army of electric bicycles and attached flatbed trailers) on one side and on the other a restaurant (which at first, second, and third glance I will likely never enter) and finally the “Stemed Dumping Shop”, which I hear has tasty dumpings, this would be any other dirty side street in any other town.  Well, not really, this is Beijing after all.

Just past the Stemed Dumping shop the smell hits me.  Not the powerful smell of Asian food, but of garbage.

This is the next visual attraction that I pass each and every morning.  Piles and piles of garbage on the side of the road. The first few times I walked past it, it was quite early and I was just surprised and frankly a little grossed out by the volume of garbage piled so high directly across from the restaurant that was now so aptly named.

It took several passes through the alley before I noticed a man hanging around the garbage, then another few times before I noticed him sifting through the garbage. 

My first American impulse is that poor man, scrounging for what he can find.

After a few more passes through the alley a new picture emerged.  This was not a homeless man looking for a bite to eat.

This was the garbage man. 

Each and every day that pile reappears, and each and every day he is seen sorting, sifting and bagging the garbage.  On cold days I have seen him wearing gloves, but lately he has been doing this barehanded.  He sorts, flattens and stacks the cardboard.  He separates the bottles and cans.  He bags the miscellaneous garbage together.

And he stacks it onto his bike.

This is the life of the Beijing Garbage Man.  Once his bike is loaded, he then takes it to a central collection location.  There are no garbage trucks (at least in this area).  There is an army of men on bikes.  Men who have meticulously sorted the trash and loaded it on their bicycles which they then climb on and pedal to the “dump”, wherever that might be.

You have a hard life, sir, and I suspect you don’t get the respect you deserve. Thank you.

I’ve Died and Gone to Cilantro Heaven

Posted by She Said.

 

I had my dream meal last Saturday after our visit to The Summer Palace. Chang was very excited to take us to one of his favorite places to eat. But first, we took the kids to McDonald’s for a cheeseburger before we went to lunch so they would actually EAT SOMETHING. I’m not thrilled about feeding them McDonald’s, but I have to say, not having to bribe our children with 99 cent iTunes games to TASTE SOMETHING NEW is kind of nice. And, well, the cheeseburgers taste just like they do back home. Hooray for them. Ewww for me.

I couldn’t begin to tell you the name of the restaurant we went to, and sadly (for Greg and me) there was no English on the menu, making it hard for us to go back without someone who speaks Chinese. Based on my experience with this place however, I will be begging people to take us back.

The table has a built in “hotpot” in the middle of it. The waiters bring over a huge pot of water that is divided into two sides, one flavored with hot spices and one spiced regularly. A dial on the table allows you to control the amount of heat that goes to the pot. Chang then ordered a plethora of items for us to cook in the boiling broths.

(the hotpot)

(the veggies, tofu, and an egg)

(the meats and fresh noodles)

(the calamari and… squid balls?)

And then, as if it were created for me personally, you dip all of the cooked goodness into a bowl of peanut sauce, called satay in the States, and if you wish, you can add cilantro to this. IF YOU WISH. Hello? Anyone who has been around me long enough knows that I would bathe in juiced cilantro and lick myself clean if I could. I risked the whole fresh herbs thing because IT WAS CILANTRO IN PEANUT SAUCE!

(Greg’s peanut sauce, minus the cilantro and with spicy oils added)

 (Greg’s blood tofu ready to take the plunge)

This was seriously one of the best meals I have ever had. In addition to the mouth-watering food itself, the very nature of cooking your meal together has a very intimate feel to it. Even though language can be a hurdle at times, there’s nothing like cooking food together and then dipping it in CILANTRO LADEN PEANUT SAUCE to bring people together.

Can You Hold that Thought Until I Get the Fish Bones out of My Teeth?

Posted by She Said.

 

Our much anticipated dinner with Greg’s coworkers was on Friday night, and we had a great time. And what is the phrase? Getting there is half the fun? As far as our kids go, I would say that was true. Why? There are no car seat laws here. I did some research prior to coming and could not find any significant reference to car seats in China. There were plenty of references about car seats MADE in China, but not necessarily using them while you were here. We figured most of our transportation would either be on foot or public transportation anyway, but tonight, Jason and Sinny, Greg’s coworkers, offered to pick us up and drive us to our big group dinner. Four of us, including the kids, sat in the back seat of Jason’s car. UNBUCKLED! *GASP* At first I tried to put Emily in my lap and put the seat belt around both of us. Greg turned around and said, “Well, THAT’S a good way to crush your daughter.” I gave up my battle with the belt. Hey, at least I tried.

The kids thought the free reign in the car was pretty cool and were quite rambunctious until I pulled out the tranquilizer, AKA iPod Touches, to calm them down. I have mentioned the traffic before, but we got a serious dose of it during Friday night rush hour traffic. It took us 2 hours to get to dinner (1/2 hour on the way home), making us about an hour late meeting the rest of the group. They were graciously and patiently waiting for us, and they all stood up and waved hello to us as we came in.

And then we started eating. Have I mentioned that my kids are picky eaters? OH YEAH, IN EVERY BLOG POST ABOUT FOOD. Well, it was no different tonight. I honestly believe they would enjoy some of the food if they would stop freaking out about what it looks like. Just ignore the fish head, Braedyn! Try the fish! Speaking of which… This amazing fish dish was placed on our table. Everyone uses their chopsticks to take pieces from the plates placed in the center of the table. I took one piece, and it was savory and scrumptious! As the fish was making its second pass around the lazy susan, I skillfully used my chopsticks to take another piece. As I put it in my mouth, I realized the piece I took was FULL of fish bones. As I scrambled looking for one of the two napkins they must have placed on the table for the ten of us, one of Greg’s coworkers stood to propose a toast. “Welcome!” he said, smiling at us. “Welcome!” said all the others, glasses raised. And there I am with a mouth full of fish bones and no napkin. I smiled, my teeth glinting from the shimmer of fish bones, and lifted my glass, toasting with the group. I then used my mad charade skills to get the one napkin left on the table. I SO did not want to be rude, but HELLO!? I had a mouth full of fish bones! I did my best to get them into the napkin and moved on.

It didn’t take long for my next blunder. Mere seconds, actually. I moved from the fish to the soybeans. I asked, “Are these soybeans?” “Yes!” I heard enthusiastically. I calculatedly used my chopsticks to pick one up from the community bowl and put it in my mouth. The instant it hit my tongue, I heard, “No, no, no, no, no!” Panicking, I pulled it out of my mouth with my fingers. They laughed and said, “Not the whole thing.” Then they showed me how you squeeze the pod to get the soybean into your mouth.

The night wasn’t all full of silly blunders on our part; in fact, we were complimented on how well we used our chopsticks. Score!

Many thanks to the gracious and patient localization team for a memorable evening! (Oh, and if you are wondering where Braedyn is in this shot, he is asleep in the chair behind me.)

Brangelina Visits The Formerly Anglo Ransacked Beijing Summer Palace

Posted by He Said
Today was a surreal day for us. It was a long day for us.  I wish I could convey all that happened in our 8 hour day, but this will have to suffice. If you have not read Susannes prior post, I recommend you do that first before reading any further.
Our gracious and wonderful hosts Chang and Lydia met us in our lobby at 9am to take us to the Summer Palace.

Entering The Park

We have had a bit of a shortage of Chinese cash (yuan) because I have I been too lazy to head over to the bank to exchange my last few American $20 bills. We had a total of 73 yuan (about $10 bucks) in our pockets when our hosts arrive and we were immediately informed that they wanted to take a cab (they had already walked 20 minutes to meet us at the apartment) because the bus would be too crowded (in Beijing, really?).  I was expecting to pay $1 yuan for a bus ride.  The cab ride is going to cost us $20 yuan and we are going to have to take two cabs. Ok, but um we are a little short on cash?  “Don’t worry about it” I am told from the newly married Chinese couple who JUST got back from their honeymoon and love to eat “very cheap”.  I know these people are not flush, and so this puts me in a very uncomfortable position as you can imagine.  They assure us that it is ok, we can pay them back. I felt like an ass.  A total ass, let me tell you. It was not the first time I would feel that way today.
For those of you who are members of the Chinese Cultural Moron’s club like me, this is a very expansive and grand palace that was created in 1750 (Reign Year 15 of Emperor Qianlong). I cannot say how amazing, beautiful and awe inspiring this place is. One day is not enough to take it all in. Take a moment to read the wikipedia page about it.  Go ahead.  I will wait.

Yes, we Climbed up this high and back down.

When we arrived alive, once again after a carseat free taxi ride for the children (kids fun 2, Mom’s Heart Attack Scoreboard 42) we learned that it was going to cost us another 60 yuan to get into the park.  There we are with a whopping 43 yuan and our hosts insisting they pay for it and that we could pay them back.  I hoisted my “I am an ass” flag, swallowed my pride and we moved on.  But we didn’t actually get to go anywhere.
A women with only two more teeth than Walter Brennan but a smile that lit up her classically wrinkled Chinese face swooped in on us and began what I can only describe as a chant.  Over and over again she was saying (we were told) how beautiful Emily was.  Now this elderly woman who in retrospect likely stood only a few inches taller than Emily (no exaggerating), locked onto her target and would not back off.  The dance between Emily who was hiding on the opposite side of my legs and this Chinese cheek pinching grandma made me dizzy. Round and round they went till finally I just had to scoop her up and walk away.
And she followed us.
She followed us into the park.
She followed us past the ladies who threw a traditional Chinese dress on Emily (wanting to sell it to us and charge us for pictures).
She followed us on to the bridge where we were taking pictures, and she was IN our pictures when I realized she was tracking us like Susanne can track her way to a Starbucks store in Beijing (it is uncanny really).  At that point Chang said something in Chinese and she explained that Emily was just so beautiful that she wanted to be near her. 

That pink arm, there on the left, that is Emily’s Summer Palace Stalker.

It didn’t stop there.  I cannot begin to describe how constantly we were chatted to, smiled at, asked to have pictures with, and in once case a “grandpa” positioned his family with the camera then walked over to me saying in Chinese what only could have been “Come to grandpa” while he patted his chest for me to hand my daughter over to him as though we were family.  I declined as gently as I could.  Maybe I should start charging picture fees myself.
The attention, the chatter, the reaching out and stroking of the cheek was (and I am NOT exaggerating here) non-stop. In fact, it is so constant that I can guarantee that I can capture a video of it while it happens before the week is out.  Seriously.
I just hope she doesn’t let all this fame go to her head. 
Do you see how I am holding my precious little AMERICAN PRINCESS.  I carried her like that for almost the entire day.  And this is no Disneyland, let me tell you.  It’s BIGGER!.
This huge palatial compound was interestingly attacked and nearly destroyed twice by “Anglo” forces.  Now lets get this out of the way.  Yup.  The Brits and the Americans were tearing it up over here for two reasons on two different occasions.  The first was our united attempt to legalize Opium drug trade (no, the irony is not lost on me here) and the second was a battle to keep out the religious right (ok, my words, but we were here fighting to keep them in, and again, the irony is not lost on me).
Now don’t get all political in your comments.  I get to be political here because it’s my blog, and you read it if you can get through all my (subtext) and weird cultural (Walter Brennan) references.  I, on the other hand, don’t have to read your flames on my blog.  That’s just how it works.  Besides, I do bring this up for a very good and relevant reason. 
Every sign (and I mean EVERY sign, and I NEVER exaggerate so don’t look at my pictures to see 0 examples of this) describing this Buddha statue or that temple or this courtyard did not fail to point out that the “Anglos” had damaged them during one of the two wars and they had to be restored. Chang mentioned several times (completely in a conversational way to his credit) about the restorations required of areas of the grounds after the Anglo caused damage.  There we are.  Me raising ANOTHER ASS FLAG because of American actions that took place before my ancestors even CAME to America. What a Charlie Brown I am. I realized this also makes me a member of the American History Morons club because I don’t remember any of this from history class.

What is this? "I don't know in English."

I get it, history is history and we cannot change it.  So on one hand I have this constant reminder that we destroyed not once, but twice a historic and significantly cultural icon of the Chinese people, and on the other, I don’t even have money to pay for my taxi ride home.  Bad American, BAD.
It’s ok.  I made up for it by bringing my little piece of Brangelina to the Beijing Summer Palace and don’t you forget it.

Gotta GET Me Some Of Those

 

I walk past this shop every day on my way to/from work.  Now I LOVE the steamed dumplings around here, but the idea of eating here is rather difficult for me.  I bet you can see why.

Market Tales

I can see after our trip to the grocery store today that much of my education about Chinese culture and people will come from those aisles. I have learned a few things to help me out when it is just the kids and I going to the store. First, let them turn their minds to mush playing their iPods while I shop. They are sitting quietly in the cart, and I’m not worried about losing them among the sea of people. This gives me more time to stare blankly at the Chinese characters on the food packages. Second, I bought a backpack. This allows me to put their jackets in it while we are in the store, and some of the heavier items (like our Dynasty white GRAPE wine, can I hear a WOOT!) in it for the walk home.

At the store today, it was a tossup as to who got more stares, the kids or the kids’ iPods. I felt like such a privileged American with my TWO children, both with expensive toys. But, again, it was worth it for my peace of mind while I shopped. Those things are seriously better than Benedryl when it comes to chilling out my bundles of energy.

I’ve mentioned the attention Braedyn and Emily get from the locals, but I must spend a little more time explaining just how much and how often this attention gets directed their way. I feel like Angelina Jolie walking with her kids down a New York City street. OK, without the full lips. Or Brad Pitt. Or the commanding jaw line. Seriously though, I must be experiencing a little bit of what those stars feel like walking around. I bought ice cream for the kids yesterday and a group of people came in, sat down next to us and watched them eat, all the while chatting and smiling our way. The thing is, they didn’t order anything! The little blonde white kids were the attraction! Then today in the store, a woman said “hi” to us in English, followed by “how old?” as she pointed to the kids. Oh, did I ever want to stick her in my pocket to be my personal food translator, but instead we chatted through our limited shared vocabulary. Then she asked if she could have her pictures taken with Braedyn and Emily. Since she explained how to cook the rolls I was staring blankly at in the freezer section, I figured it was the least I could do. It’s a good thing we are only going to be here three months; any longer than that and this star status might go to their heads.

Napkins? Paper towels? These are words I need to learn in Chinese because I have scoured the aisles in the super market THREE times, spending extra time near the Kleenex and toilet paper, and I can NOT find them. We’ve noticed in restaurants, they will give one or two napkins even though there will be five or six of us. In America, the waiters see children, and they bring over a palette of them. The fact that I can’t find them in the store is even more puzzling than this newfangled Chinese math. Are we just messy Americans? Is it that it is considered wasteful?

The last few times I’ve gone to the market, I get home and realize I am missing something that I know I had in my cart. Where are my bananas? I even remember putting them on the conveyor belt. I bag my own groceries, so I figured I must have left them on the counter. Today I spent more time in the fruits and vegetables area. I have been a little nervous about buying any because of the safety issues with fresh foods, but as I dig my heels into the culture more and more, I figured I have to at least give the foods I can peel a shot. I found a beautiful avocado (hooray for good fats!), an enormous apple wrapped in a special bubble wrap to keep it from bruising, and several bananas. While checking out at the store, I kept a watchful eye on my precious fruits, making sure I didn’t leave them on the counter. Only this time they didn’t make it past the checker. She left them on the conveyor and gave me the universal no movement with her hands. Then she pointed to a sticker on a set of knives I bought (because I was tired of trying to cut cheese with a plastic knife).

Ding! <—the sound of the light bulb going off over my head.

Doh! Fruits and vegetables work the same way as the rice did for me the last time! You must have a worker weigh them and price them, or else? No apples for you! Braedyn was very sad about not getting his bubble wrapped apple, but I promised him I understood now and would be able to get them next time. Honestly, I was equally disappointed about not getting that perfectly ripe avocado.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Jacob skyping me when I got back from the market. Our conversation went like this:

Me: We just got back from the market!
Jacob: What did you get?
Me: Food for dinner.
Jacob: What are you having?
Me: Ham!... I think.

Mystery Meats and the American Food Aisle

Dinners have been a bit of a challenge here. Well, they are back in Reno too, but that’s because our kids have some super-strong mutated form of Greg’s picky gene. Here, we have that to deal with along with several additional hurdles to jump over before dinner is even served. First hurdle - what to serve. Second hurdle - how to make it.

We were told there was silverware in the apartment, but upon arriving we realized that it was the Chinese version of silverware – chopsticks and soup spoons. So after stirring my coffee with a chop stick the first morning, we decided we needed some supplies. During our first trip to Carrefour, we found the “American” section of food. Similar to the American version of Asian or Latino food sections, it’s a short aisle with various things like pasta, pasta sauce, pancake mixes, ketchup, and (insert choir chorus here) macaroni and cheese! Picky eaters unite! We grabbed some spaghetti and sauce, a couple boxes of macaroni and cheese (kraft!), and some peanut butter and honey.

After opening up the can of spaghetti sauce with a wine foil knife because the apartment had no can opener, we all devoured our simple, one-pot spaghetti dinner. We have one pot and one fry pan, so if I can do it all in one, I’m going to. I even used a potato peeler to cut off bits of cheddar cheese to put on top. Hey, adventurous times sometimes call for creative measures.

I know it doesn’t seem possible, but I feared we would tire of things like spaghetti and hot dogs with mac and cheese, so I thought I would try a couple of new things at the store. So, on our second trip to the big mega-mart grocery store, I went up and down some different aisles. I stood in the bulk rice section for about 10 minutes watching other shoppers until I figured out how to get, weigh, and price your rice before I actually tried it. It was fascinating to watch people maneuver around these huge bins of rice. They would run their hands through it, inspect it very closely, and then sometimes walk away with about 10 pounds or so (after getting it weighed and priced by the store worker nearby). It took some of my famous (infamous?) hand gestures and pointing to get it weighed appropriately, but I did it! I proudly placed my little bag of rice among my other items, and as I continued on, there was a little spring in my step.

Then in the freezer section, I found these:

Yeah, your guess is as good as mine as to what these are. Mystery meat at its finest! And to be honest, these yummy little, um, pita pockets stuffed pizzas, things looked nothing on the inside like they advertise them in this picture. It was more like a little monochromatic sausage patty. Frankly, I bought them because of the back of the package:

Hot damn! The one piece of English on the package told me how to cook it! For dinner tonight, I made the rice, which honestly turned out to be some of the best rice I have ever had in my life, and these, uh, things. Of course, the kids didn’t eat anything but a few bites of rice. This inherited picky gene must be something that loses potency with age because Greg finished theirs off, no problem.

We also found one other little gem. These:

 

We each had one last night. Greg, Braedyn, Emily, and me. That’s four. Oooh, there are two left, and the kids are in bed! Gotta go!

But Wait! Have Those Dishes Been Through the Ozoninator?

Water is a BIG HUMONGOUS issue here in Beijing. There are bad, microscopic things living in it. Things I can’t even pronounce. It’s so bad, even locals boil their water before drinking it. Every website I read while researching our temporary Beijing move warned of the dangers of the tap water. The nurse who did our vaccinations emphasized the importance of using bottled water and of not eating any fruits and vegetables you can’t peel. Other tips gleaned from health professionals and travel websites:

• make sure you always get new chopsticks with your meals when dining out (in case the previous user had something you didn’t particularly want to share),
• do not get ice in your drinks (in case it came from the dreaded tap water),
• make sure your food is served PIPING hot so as to kill any pesky little critters like e.coli living in it (to make sure it hadn’t been sitting around for a long period of time before being served to you).

It seems to me bad water is treated as a nuisance by the locals but nothing to freak out about. So, my new mantra is, “Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.”

WAIT! Did you just get water in your eye? Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

OH MY GOD! Did you just WASH YOUR FACE with tap water? Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

EEK! Is the steam from the shower going into my lungs? Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Companies have even created devices to work around the bad water. Things like the ozoninator in our apartment. OK, that’s our nickname for it; technically, it is the “utensil sterilizing cabinet”. I thought it was a dishwasher at first but couldn’t figure out where to put soap or how to turn it on. Then Greg found the apartment’s “Operation Manual”. Turns out this handy little machine sterilizes your dishes AND can even sterilize your fruits and vegetables. It does this through UV light and “ozone”. The description of this unit in the manual says:

“Thru the utilization of ozone and PTC heat circulation, this cabinet dry, sanitize, defrost and keep fresh tableware, fruits and vegetables.”

Hooray! We have something to kill all the germs on our washed dishes! Oh crap! We figured out this handy little fact on our third day here. How many dishes had we washed and used already? *sigh* Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Here’s the ozoninator in action:

So, we learn and move forward. Don’t freak out. Right?!  That is exactly the approach I am trying to take as my stress level with this whole water thing gets tested - over and over again. My first real test came yesterday when Emily comes to me, smiling proudly, with her toothbrush in her mouth. She barely got the words out her mouth, “Mommy, I am brushing my teeth!” before I sprang from the bed like a lion on its prey and yanked the toothbrush out of her hands. “Where did you get the water, Emily? WHERE?!” Poor thing didn’t understand; she was doing a good thing, right? “Where, Emily!” She pointed to the cup, the same cup we put bottled water into for our teeth brushing. “But Emily, what water did you put INTO the cup?” Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Then she pointed to the faucet. THE TAP WATER. FREAK OUT! FREAK OUT! FREAK OUT!

OK, deep breath. It’s too late. I can’t throw her into the ozoninator, so we’ll just have to hope for the best, hope that those Olympic websites that claimed the water was improved prior to the Olympics were accurate and we’ll be in the clear.

My stress with the water quality met its second and third challenges today when we went out to lunch. Chang, an uber kind coworker of Greg’s, showed us some more restaurants in a different mega-mall several blocks from the apartment. It must have been six or eight stories, but Chang insisted it was not big. Can’t wait to see what makes up a big mall around here! We picked a noodle restaurant, and Chang helped translate our order to the waiter. No ice in the kids’ juice, we said. No ice. No “bing”. When their mango juices were delivered, they were in these huge carafes with gigantic straws. AND ICE. We repeated to Chang, no ice please. He called the waiter over, bantered with her in Chinese, and then she scooped the drinks away. I noticed one of the carafes had a memorable chip in it. Moments later the same chip came back to us. No ice this time, but I had to wonder, did they just scoop the ice out? Was it the same juice with bits of melted germy-ice in it? Oooh, and what did they use to scoop it out? Had it gone through an ozoninator? *sigh* The kids drank their juice. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out.

Next, the waiter brought over our super yummy noodle dishes with reusable chop sticks. Chang dug right into his dish, so I did too. When in Rome… I noticed later that some of the other patrons had been given sets of disposable chopsticks with their lunches. You know, the kind you have to break apart? I asked Chang why we got one type of chopsticks while others got the disposable ones? He just stared at me and shook his head. OK, moving on.

So, in less than a week, we’ve managed to break several food and water rules. It’s hard enough with kids, but throw in the language barriers, and it is an ultimate challenge. 

Making The Sacrifice

The second day that we were in Beijing and shopping at Carrefour and my daughter has to go to the potty.

If you have never heard stories of the bathroom facilities in china then you have no understanding of the dread that washed over me.  I had been told stories of bathrooms with just simple holes in the ground with ledges on the side for your feet.  Public bathrooms lacking toilet paper and garbage cans full of used tissue because you cannot throw them in the hole.

Now perhaps my fears were a little unfounded as I was not in some far flung remote village in the backwater of China.  That did little to prevent me from having visions of urine soaked paths leading up to a dirt hole lined with ancient crumbling tiles to balance on while I held my 4 year old daughter over the gaping hole to pee as she screamed in fear of being dropped in as a human sacrifice.

But first I had to find it.

I asked our kind host how to say bathroom in Chinese.  I practiced the word he told me over and over until he smiled and nodded.  “Great, I’ve got it,” I thought and headed off to be directed to the nearest sacrificial pit.

I found the nearest employee and asked where the bathroom was in my new well practiced Chinese phrase and was presented with a blank stare.  I asked again and simply received a shaking head and a string of Chinese phrases I cannot even begin to comprehend.  You see at this point my vocabulary is limited to hello and thank you, and I THOUGHT bathroom.

She pointed me around the corner to a desk with a sign in both Chinese and English. “Customer Service”. Here we go again.

When my turn at the counter came I simply said “English"?” and as the soundtrack chorus sang she said  “a little.”

Small important detail to keep in mind here.  I am carrying my now squirming 4 year old daughter who REALLY has to pee at this point.  Every second that passes I can hear the second hand of my mental clock ticking and bringing me closer to the brink of a urine soaked arm and shirt.

“Bathroom?” I ask in my newly learned phrase.  A phrase that has apparently already mutated.

More blank stares and a shaking head.

I am more fearful of being peed on as every second passes and my mental facilities begin to leave me. A brilliant stroke of genius hits me. I signal for pen and paper (thank the FSM for universal hand gestures) and draw the universal symbol for toilet.

Now as I finish this drawing I realize that the fear of being pissed on as made me completely retarded. Now maybe that SHOULD be the universal sign for toilet, but it isn’t and at this point I am in almost in a panic.

Incredibly though, this works and I see the light go on in this very kind woman who is trying to help me. “AAAH,” she says, “dubbaya see’. I am slightly baffled by her response and seeing this she draws a picture for me.

Now many of you readers may get this, and in HINDSIGHT it makes perfect sense, but I am in a HAZE of fear of being peed on AND hanging my daughter over the bog of eternal stench WITHOUT toilet paper.  Yes, at this point I realize I forgot to bring my public toilet paper with me, but a flash of inspiration hits me and I draw this.

She smiles brightly and says “Yes, yes, dubbya see” and I realize she is saying W C and is referring to Water Closet.  At this point I wish we had not only driven the British off the North American continent but pursued a worldwide campaign to wipe their sordid snobby language off the planet. Water closet, loo, restroom, bathroom.  How many names do we need for a TOILET.

After a very quick but gracious “shea shea” (谢谢 – thank you) I am sprinting as fast as you can while holding a squirming 4 year old through a crowd of people in the direction she points. Sprinting to the pit of doom.

The floors were tile, the floors were wet (and I don’t think it was water), the hole was porcelain and it was at floor level, and my daughter did scream like she was about to be sacrificed as I held her over it …. and the toilet paper?  Let’s just say nobody noticed that my knee was a little wet and I washed my pants as soon as we got home.

Flying Solo Part II

We thought this video of Braedyn deserved his own post notification, so here it is. If the video is rotated sideways, please forgive.  Still working remotely via LogMeIn and things can be technically difficult.

The moment before Braedyn’s dinnertime crash.

Flying Solo

After yesterday’s lazy-fest, we hit the ground running today. Literally, at 5 am. We have Braedyn and Emily to thank for that, by the way. At least it was better than their 4 am wake up time yesterday.

We hit Carrefour again and browsed the isles, bought the kids a couple of great knock-off Lego toys (just as good as the name-brand, I might add), and picked up some various types of alcohol to try. Apparently, we are on a side of Beijing that isn’t very touristy, which may explain why the kids (especially Emily) get so many stares, waves, and smiles. If we can actually get them to say hello in Chinese, it generally elicits some claps and giggles. We are our own walking circus act!

Tonight I was determined to go out to eat. Every block in this city seems to have several restaurants. The question for us was, would we be able to find one with menus that either had pictures or some sort of English translation? We felt we would score big if we could find one with both. So, we hit the streets. I saw a place nearby yesterday that I thought looked nice, so we thought we would try there first. We walked in, and we were immediately ushered toward a private room. Um… Then I started playing charades with the hostess, which I’m certain made me look like a chimp in a circus act. Through the hostess’s limited English and my grandiose gestures, we learned it was a tea house. We were allowed to bring in our own food, but they didn’t serve any there. So, we left, looking overly gracious in our smiles and gestures as we backed out the door.

We passed several other places that didn’t have very many people in them, which I didn’t take as a good sign. We forged ahead. Then we found one that was in tandem with a Dairy Queen. Yes, a Dairy Queen. There were a lot of people in there, so we thought we’d give that a shot. We found a printed menu with no English on it but it had pictures, so hooray for the ability to point! However, we could not tell what the heck anything was and decided to try another place. I saw a Japanese restaurant along the route and decided to give that a try. We hiked back toward the restaurant, crossed a busy street (safely - yay!), and walked in. We hand signaled, yet again, for a menu. This time, although a picture menu, we still weren’t sure what anything was, so we smiled and backed out to the street once again.

Greg noticed a place up a little way with bright red decorations on the outside, so we headed toward it to check it out. We walked in, and one of the several hostesses at the door held up four fingers (for four guests in the party), and I nodded. The kids were tired of walking around, and I figured we were just going to go for it. We were out for an adventure after all, right!?

Turns out we made a very good decision. It was a nice sit down restaurant, and we were attended to by at least 5 people. One promptly brought over a kid’s plate and spoon for Emily, while another brought her a high chair. We opened the menu, and as if a choir of angels started to sing with its opening, it had pictures and subtitles. Greg ordered beers for us (since for the time we are avoiding Chinese white wine), and left the food to me. Thanks, Greg. So, I picked a scrumptious fried shrimp and cashew plate and a sweet and sour chicken and beef plate. I was feeling so confident, we even ordered fried rice!

When ordering juice for the kids, we have noticed they always bring over a whole carton. This particular time they received a carrot and orange mixture (100% juice – yay!), and it was amazingly delicious! As we ordered, or should I say pointed, the guy taking our order touched Emily’s hair and smiled. She is such a novelty around here.

Before our food arrived, both kids looked like they were about the pass out on the table. We barely had time to put several bites on their plates before they actually did pass out. Greg and I scrambled to finish our savory meals and down our two enormous bottles of beer before they fell crashing down from their chairs.

So, chow we did. Imbibe we did. Then, when we were ready to go, we had no idea how to ask for the check. Greg scrambled to find something that would help on his Mandarin iPhone app, which will speak phrases for you. He found something close, and then when I flagged down someone to use it, I pushed the wrong replay button and lost it. So, I resorted back to my glamorous charades skills to ask for the check. We must have had four people at our table all trying to figure out what the crazy lady (me) was trying to say.

I think it was the kids’ drool on the table that finally tipped them off, and they ran over with our bill. Several hostesses helped me get the coat on dead-weight Emily, since Greg had his hands full with dead-weight Braedyn. Then we stepped outside. In the snow. We couldn’t do anything but laugh about it, and we headed on our way home.

If I had known I would be carrying our kids as much as we have so far on this trip, I never would have only brought one pair of shoes. Which shoes? Sketchers Shape-Ups! The ones that work out your muscles when you walk. Like I needed the extra help.

To Starve Or Not To Starve, That Is The Question?

Let’s get this out out of the way. For those of you who don’t know me, if there was a catastrophic planetary die off of all animals on this planet, I would be one of the first humans to die of starvation. That’s right, I am the one of the world’s pickiest eaters.  Right after my two youngest children.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love Chinese food.  AMERICAN Chinese food. American Chinese food that I can identify the meat products. American Chinese food with identifiable meat products and vegetables that are easily avoided or removed.  That pretty much leaves me eating sesame chicken or sweet and sour chicken.

As you can imagine the thought of moving to a city across the planet where the term “silverware” means bamboo chopsticks, mystery meat (because I can’t read the menu) and vegetables are the norm had me TERRIFIED of either starving to death or living on noodles.

Chinese Silverware Department at Carrefour

With this knowledge you can imagine the fear that gripped me as our hosts came to take us to dinner on our second night in Beijing.  We were assured we were going to an authentic local Chinese restaurant as we walked several blocks to dine.

We were greeted by hosts in traditional Chinese attire and seated, and I was handed the menu first.  There was an attempt to westernize the menu with English subtitles below some, but not all the items.  I perused the usual fare like pig intestine and duck’s blood but simply told our hosts to pick something for me with chicken or beef and no vegetables.  Johnny laughed at this because he and I had discussed my limited diet earlier in the day.  Combine this with two kids pickier than me and a wife who doesn’t like spicy foods, and we were the ideal guests.

In the end we let them select our dinner, and we were served several dishes to choose from.  One was fungus (black mushrooms which appeared pickled and had an interesting crunch), sleeve fish, schezwan chicken, and several dishes that I couldn’t begin to tell you what they were.  Stand back dear reader because I TRIED THEM ALL. Ok, I tried all the dishes with mushrooms or meat!

I may have left out the reason for my exploratory culinary mood.  I was drinking “Chinese White Wine”.  I can tell you it was white, as in clear like vodka and smelled so strongly of pure alcohol that I believe now that I may have found a new fuel source for our vehicles, because when I saw it in the store I realized it was cost effective too.

Chinese White “NOT” Wine – 54 Proof for about a buck a bottle.

Between myself and three other gentleman we finished the bottle. They had refills, I did not, and I still felt like I was doing shots at a bachelor party.

But I digress.  The food was fantastic, our hosts were spectacular and we all had a great time. 

The children? Emily fell asleep on the walk to the restaurant and Braedyn followed suit after his first two bites of noodles.

I can tell you the schezwan chicken and a spicy beef dish that was served cold were amazing.  I guess that means I have found at least two dishes I can eat, problem is I don’t know how to order them.

I may starve after all.

First Time to Market

Before I tell our market tale, I remembered something about our drive from the airport that I had forgotten yesterday. I’ll chalk it up to jetlag. I think I’ve got at least a couple of weeks of playing that card before it gets old. The kind driver, whose name I have sadly forgotten, said to us, “You have one boy and one girl. Nice.” I asked if he had children, and he said just one. He reminded me of something I would have remembered if my mind hadn’t been so mushy after our long day. In China, people are only allowed to have one child. I’m such an advocate of personal choice that this is difficult for me to imagine.

On a lighter note, I asked him if he had ever been to the USA, and he said, “I have a dream.” He continued that he wanted to visit New York one day and “the other city, California”, where that actor was in charge. After Greg and I offered several Terminator impersonations, we were on to a different topic.

We are very fortunate to have such a helpful, kind, and generous friend in Beijing already. Johnny, a co-worker of Greg’s, has really helped us figure things out. Things like paying the power and hot water bills and how to get to the market. And I’m talking MARKET! We met Johnny in the apartment lobby our first morning here, and he guided us to a huge indoor mall/super market/gala! And thank goodness he was with us the first time. He translated food items for us. Everything is in Chinese! Go figure.

On the walk to the market, it was very cold and very windy, which was both a blessing and a curse. Braedyn was one big, teeth-chattering bundle and insisted on being carried. Curse. The wind cleared out a lot of the pollution and I could see blue sky! Blessing. Something else became abundantly clear on this first trip out on the streets. Emily, little blonde-haired, blue-eyed Emily, is a novelty here. We get lots of stares, grins, and points in her direction.

In the store, you grab a cart and guide it through the indoor mall. Our first stop? STARBUCKS! The kids devoured a chocolate-glazed doughnut, just like the ones at home. I slurped up a Venti coffee, while Greg enjoyed his mocha. We didn’t spend any time in the little shops that were selling clothes, shoes, Disney products, etc. We headed straight to the two-story grocery store for some apartment supplies and food.  To get from one story to the next, you go on an escalator type thing. It is a moving ramp without stairs. And the carts magnetically stay put, so there is no chance of getting wiped out from a runaway cart.

You all have seen my diatribes about food and struggling between quality and price and all that. Well, that all goes out the window here. I’d like to say I didn’t have a brief “Oh, CRAP” moment when these two Carrefour workers gave the kids a sample to try in a small cup. They looked at me briefly for permission, and I gave it!!! Johnny came to the rescue and told us it was drink yogurt. I was relieved. FOR A SECOND. Then I started panicking as I wondered if they pasteurize their milk and juices over here. Eeee gad. This is going to take some getting used to.

 

(Under the red and yellow sign are dehydrated ducks!)

We are in Beijing!

We made it! We are in Beijing, China! It has taken a few days to figure out how to blog from here, so we have a little catching up to do.

The flight actually went very well, far better than parents of two young children could possibly hope for. The short flight from Reno to San Francisco was actually more of a problem than the 13 hour flight from San Francisco to Beijing. Why? What was our secret for the 13 hour flight? No, we didn't dose them up with Benedryl. Shame on you for thinking that. Even though the international flight had free white wine (even from a bottle!), that was also not the reason that part of the trip went so smoothly for us. Our secret was our "surprise" for the kids of iPod Touches. Greg loaded them up with games and gave them to Braedyn and Emily prior to boarding in San Fran. Then they completely zoned out most of the flight playing video games. We are such good parents.

A huge relief on the trip came from Emily. Her ears did not bother her at all! Even though she had another ear infection diagnosed at the post-surgery follow-up, she did not have any problems on the flight.

We arrived at the airport in Beijing around 4 pm the next day, and I have to say that the first thing I noticed about Beijing, something I had been warned about, was the pollution. We couldn’t see anything out of the airplane windows, NOTHING, as we landed due to the thick “haze”, as the flight attendant called it. Once through customs, we were greeted by five of Greg’s co-workers. Five people and two cars for the four of us. They insisted on taking care of all our luggage and even took turns carrying the kids, who were little zombies (thankfully not the flesh-eating kind) after being awake for nearly 22 hours.

If I weren’t so exhausted during the hour drive from the airport to the apartment, I would have given the driver a panic attack with all of my shrieks of horror at the traffic on the road. Lines delineating lanes on the road? Sure, they are there, but I’m not sure why. No one pays attention to them. And how do they pull right in front of you when they need over? With those pesky blinkers? Nah. That’s what the horn is for. The horn is also the method of getting those damn pedestrians out of the crosswalk you are trying to drive through. I’m not sure why Greg put ME in the front seat, but at one point I felt his had squeeze my shoulder, so I assume he was having the same heart attack from the back seat. You would have thought Emily had just watched Dustin Hoffman in Rainman, because she repeated over and over again, “I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.” This was most certainly from being severely over-tired, but it nearly had me in tears nonetheless.

We made it safely and unscathed to the apartment, which although needing a heavy date with a scouring pad and some bleach, was very nice. I got the beds made, and we were out cold by about 8 pm. That didn’t last long though. The kids were wide awake at 1 am (9 am in Reno), and by wide awake I mean running around the apartment squealing like kids in a candy store. We finally got everyone back to bed around 4 am and slept until a luxurious 7 am. And that, my friends, was the end of day one.

(We even drove on the shoulder for several miles.)

China Here We Come

It has been a rather crazy roller coaster for us leading up to today.
The coordination, planning is reaching a pinnacle.  I sit here on the couch in the early morning getting ready mentally to start packing for our flight to China.
I think we have everything lined up.  Family members have moved in and will be living in our house (stay away bad guys, the dog is still here, family has been trained to use the alarm and spike the turtle bites HARD), the “documentation” for taking care of all the animals and the house have been prepared and research on Chinese wines & beer is complete.  Now we have to actually PACK!
I have setup three picture albums for the next three months and (fingers crossed) uploads should get synced up automatically.
Right now there is a picture of our couch in its more creative configurations (thanks to Braedyn and Emily) as a placeholder in each album. We will update these as we can.  I have never lived in Beijing, so I don’t know exactly what our limitations will be.

March

March 2010

April Part 1

April 2010 - Part 1

April Part 2

April 2010 - Part 2

May Part 1

May 2010 - Part 1

May Part 2

May 2010 - Part 2

We will be doing our best to blog our adventures or mis-adventures as the case may be.

A Day to Remember

Today is a day to remember. Not so much because of what we did today, but because of the amazing response from our friends and family. We had to take Emily to the hospital this morning, EARLY this morning, to get a second set of ear tubes put in and to have her adenoids shaved back. Between Braedyn and Emily, this was the fifth surgery for ears/adenoids/tonsils we’ve been through. Although there is a familiarity with the process, it never gets easier seeing your child wheeled away for surgery. With leaving for our three-month trip to China in less than a week, I think it is relatively safe to say that stress was at an all-time high.

Our insurance recently changed, a result of which landed us at a different hospital this time. And let me tell you, the staff was fantastic. They were all so attentive and caring to Emily, who was holding her own, but to a trained mom’s eye could see she was a little unnerved by the whole process of getting checked in, getting her blood pressure taken, wearing a silly hospital gown, etc. She did great, actually, until the following exchange with one of the nurses:

Nurse: Emily, your mommy and daddy are going to spoil you today!
Emily: <dimply grin>
Nurse: <with much enthusiasm> Tell them, Emily, today is all about me. Say, today is all about ME!
Emily: <with some hesitation> Today is all about… her! <pointing to the nurse>

The laughter that burst from all of us at the adorable misstatement put Emily into tears. She is very sensitive to laughter and always, ALWAYS feel that it is directed AT her. After much cuddling from Mommy, she calmed down, just in time for another nurse to show up with the wagon, literally a child’s wagon, to wheel her to the operating room. She went in one direction, and we went in the other, toward the waiting room.

Simply stated, waiting SUCKS. Big time.

Once the surgery was successfully completed, Greg and I were brought back to the recovery area, where Emily was still out from the anesthesia. Only moments after our arrival, our little 28 pound princess turned into one helluva strong kick boxer. With unparalleled determination, she kept trying to rip out her IV, and any attempt to stop her resulted in her uttering a guttural growl, throwing a full-arm swing to your face, and angrily and powerfully kick at you. That shocking stage took about 20 agonizing minutes to get through. It’s surreal to watch your child in that state. Somewhere between sleep and alertness. Somewhere between sane and crazy.

After another hour and a half or so in the recovery room, we were sent home. Phew.

Upon our arrival home, we found out Braedyn had been the best big brother he could possibly be today. (So much so that even typing it is bringing tears of joy to my eyes. Proud Mama!) Every day at school that Braedyn is good and follows the class rules, he earns a “green card”. After earning 30 cards, he can turn them in for a prize. Today was the day for him to turn in 30 green cards, and let me tell you, the excitement from him about this is palpable. It is truly a treat for the kids to get to pick something out of the prize basket.

We left for the hospital this morning before Braedyn woke up, so we hadn’t yet seem him today. When we walked in, he was absolutely beaming and happy to see us. Then he handed Emily a present, a present that he used his 30 green cards to pick today. That’s right! He selflessly used his cards to get her a Strawberry Shortcake Frisbee. He made me and his Dad unbelievably proud today.

Another thoughtful friend dropped off a yummy coffee for me and coloring books and markers for Emily and Braedyn. Our loving friends and family have showered us with a deluge of good thoughts, whether on Facebook, the phone, or via email, and it has been so very appreciated. On a day like this, where your emotions are on overdrive and your energy is zapped, I was reminded of just how lucky we are.

Mommy trying to comfort a distressed and unhappy Emily.

Emily’s toe glowing from the pulse oximeter. 

Smearing Fat On Your Face and Endearing Cowboys

Two Christmases ago, I got a lovely facial cream that I use daily. It was purchased in Hungary during one of my in-law’s worldly excursions. I love it. Love it!! It makes my face feel luxuriously smooth, and living in a desert, that is seriously a very difficult feeling to achieve.

Oh and then Mr. Bubble Burster (aka my husband) shared one of his profound news stories with me. Check this out. So, now as I dig out the final remnants of this cream-of-the-gods (um, yes, I am still using it), I can’t help but wonder if I am smearing some human fat, fat melted off of bodies with candles, on my face. *shudder*

So, off of the yuck and onto the cool. If you have kids, you have to check out the preview of this awesome new website and show, Johnny Saddles. My kids really get a kick out if it, and its approach to educational topics is refreshing and straight forward. I guess I have a soft spot for the cowboy; I *am* from Texas after all. Just don’t hold that against me. I need all the love I can get after feeling like I have been moisturizing with Pedro. Not with Pedro. WITH Pedro.

Crashplan+Drobo+Workaround=Data Redundancy Love

UPDATE: 4-9-2015 It appears that updates to Crashplan over the last year have broken this method as well. I have since abandoned my Drobo for this and am using a esata drive plugged directly into my backup server.

I have had my Drobo for over a year now and have been very pleased with its reliability.  Several months ago I discovered the free backup utility Crashplan. 
If you are not familiar with Crashplan (regardless if you have a Drobo or not) you should definitely check it out).  Think of it as a peer to peer encrypted backup. 
The issue with it is that it does not natively support mapping to network drives.  There are workarounds on the forums for mapping a network drive to a drive letter, adding batch files to run from a task scheduler on login, blah blah blah, that JUST DON’T WORK consistently or easily.
This one does.

1. Map your network Drive to a Drive letter.  In my case it is the S:\ drive and assign it to be persistent. (right Click, Map Network Drive and choose Reconnect on Logon).
2. Download and install Crashplan (available for Windows, Mac and Linux)
3. Click on the Destinations Tab on the Left.
4. Click on the Folders tab on the top.
5. Click the Select Button next to Select a backup destination folder.
6. Configure it to backup to a LOCAL file location. Use something simply like c:\temp.  It should look something like this.
7. You can also select the name from the Available folders and then rename it in the Name: field on the right if you wish.

Crashplan runs as a service and a gui application.  You must shut down both for this next step.

1. Close the application, and if the icon is still in your taskbar, right click and close it as well.
2. To close the Crashplan service find Services under Administrative Tools in your Windows Control Panel.  Find the service named CrashPlanService and stop it or from a command prompt enter “net stop CrashPlanService” and you should recieve a message saying it was shutdown successfully.
3. If you installed Crashplan to the default location then open the file
   c:\Program Files\CrashPlan\conf\my.service.xml
4. Search the xml file for (if you are following my example)
   c:/temp/
   and replace with the network url for the drive and folder path you would like to map it to. In this example my Drobo is
   //DroboShare/Drobo/Shared/Backup/Crashplan/
5. NOTE: The slashes are reversed and you must include the closing slash and is likely case sensitive.  Test your network url with correct slash marks first (Start->Run->\\DroboShare\Drobo\Shared\Backup\Crashplan)
6. Replace all instances of the c:/temp/ throughout the XML file.
7. Save and close the file and reboot.

On completion of restart, your Crashplan will properly map to your networked drive AND reference it via the Drive letter you mapped in the first step. 

Enjoy your networked storage with Crashplan integration!
UPDATE: I have moved my Drobo from my DroboShare and attached it to my TonidoPlug (LOVE IT).  This is a permanent move for me as the Tonido seems much faster than the DroboShare.  I configured my Windows 7 laptop as a test to point to this location in response to Anonymous comment below.  It works in this configuration as well. Interestingly it does not show the mapped drive letter as my Windows XP box does (image above with Drive S:) but it is working.
IMPORTANT: You will NOT be able to use the Browse button in Crashplan.  The problem is Crashplan has issues with networked drives, hence this workaround.