Sunday, December 10, 2006


My favorite posts are the ones that have no true point, the ones that are random and unrelated tidbits of information.

This way, if you read because you love Haiti, you might like something. If your read because you want to hear how your grandchildren are, you could possibly be pleased. And, if you read because you have nothing better to do, well, you were not expecting much, so you’ll be satisfied too.


I woke up so crabby - I hated myself for it. By noon things got a little better, then mom called and I was bawling because it sounds festive there and it does not feel like Christmas here. Dumb. The girls did not want to go to the beach. I took issue with that. It meant we had to clean.

BUT, We rocked the house all the way down in the cleaning department. It looks amazing. For now. Ten minutes of satisfaction, is still ten minutes of satisfaction. You cannot take that small victory from me.

Troy called us before he was going to lose signal. The mule’s did not show up. What I mean is, the man who was going to arrange the mule’s forgot to pass the info along to the mule’s . Troy walked six hours straight up a hill (some call it a mountain) on three hours of sleep. The girls are feeling good about their decision not to join him on his adventure. SIX HOURS! Sa pa bon.

Because all the people who usually work "security" (the term is used loosely) are gone with Troy, Adam is here taking care of us. There is not a soul anywhere that would mess with him. I've never felt safer.

Except, when Paige and I went out to shut the generator down, we did not know he was sleeping at the bottom of our steps. That caused a little bit of a stir. We were comparing heart-rates, too fast to get accurate counts. He did not understand what the ruckus was about and just laughed at our spazy behavior.

To all friends in Haiti, we have multiple seasons of the best show ever. If you are looking to liven up your evenings, find us and we will get these to you. You won't be disappointed. If you are, we cannot be your friends.

Season 2 of LOST - anybody have the last four episodes? We have a crisis, disc six was missing from the box. Paige needs to know what happens.

There is odd weather happening tonight. It got suddenly cool and now it is throwing rain tantrums. Two minutes of crazy-bad-wild-loud-tantrum-like rain, followed by two minutes of soft-calm rain, it is fascinating.

Britt and I have run on the dreaded road to Highway 1 every day for the last five days. Each time we set out with the goal of not feeling annoyed by the time we return home. Unfortunately for us, we never achieved our goal.

I do not know why it is fun to tease the blans, or mess with us by bringing a motorbike too close for comfort, nor do I understand why it is the village children think I run with a pocket full of crisp Washington’s.

The day we run four miles without some kid yelling “GIVE ME ONE DOLLAR!” will be the day I come home to see if the world has ended, and maybe you have all been raptured and I got left-behind or something.

If this sounds like complaining, then it sounds the way it is intended to sound. It is indeed complaining. I just get so annoyed that my favorite hobby has turned into a big bummer. It is not that I feel afraid, I don’t. Heck, we’ve come to think of ourselves as intrepid. It is just that I don’t like to feel angry with my neighbors. I want to be all calm and nice. I don’t want to find their teasing annoying. I want to just smile and ignore it. But, the Tara with a little sass comes out and instead I am muttering under my breath and calming myself down so I don’t stick my arm out and knock the guy on the moped on his butt, or plow into the kid that jumps in front of me. As it turns out; I'm not really all that much like Jesus.

That is the true missionary in me. Impressive. I know.

We found out tonight that Noah is not the big tough boy he thinks he is. He cries like a little nancy-boy during the scary part of Snow White. He cannot watch it through to the end.

Paige wrapped up the few Christmas gifts we’ve gathered in recent months. When the little ones saw them in our bedroom, Isaac said, “OH OH OH how many sleeps till Christmas?” I told him 18 -- he clucked his tongue and said, “18 is not so many!"

Noah asked, “Can I have them?” I said, “No, don’t touch them, just look at them, we have to save them.” He said, “I’m lookin at them and they look goooood.”
Hope just stood by with hand on hip, ready to enforce rules if necessary. Her wisdom and maturity are infinitely greater than that of her brothers, and of this, she is well aware. She also reminded them that BEFORE they ever lay their mitts on a Christmas gift, she will be having a birthday, gifts included.

Last random thought- Learning to say "Pale dousman pou mwen" is key to learning Creole for me. The only thing better would be "Pale nan Angle pou mwen." But that seems unlikely, and proves that I am a cruddy language learner.

(Speak slowly for me/Speak in English for me.)
Sunday, these kids are going to the beach OR ELSE. Troy is not expected back until after dark.