The Other Georgia

It's the end of this blog as we know it

2007-07-24T22:07:00.000-07:00

and I feel fine!

We've moved. Literally. And a new country deserves a new blog. Join me over at Muscat Love. Update your bookmarks, ladies and gents, as I will no longer be posting on The Other Georgia.

Love,

Jen

Happy Birthday Blaine!

2007-06-13T15:44:00.000-07:00

Today Blaine is 5 years old. He woke up this morning and held out his arms and said "look mom! My arms and my skeleton are SO.MUCH.BIGGER!"

He is awesome. He is 5.

Happy Birthday Blaine. I love you!

And so it's done

2007-05-24T13:54:00.000-07:00

The moving company arrived on Monday. By the end of the day, our entire house was packed in white boxes. Tuesday they arrived with the sea freight containers and loaded all the boxes in. Wednesday we cleaned and unpacked the "welcome kit" from the Embassy that we will live off of for the next week.

It's done. Our time here in Georgia is finished. We have a going-away bar-b-q this weekend with our close friends (thank you Juan Carlos and Stan for organizing and hosting.) We are in the process of saying our good-byes, preparing for our vacation in the US and looking forward to our new post.

Oh, and another thing that is done is my computer. Again. Less than 4 months after I got the damn thing back from the repair shop, the hard drive died again. Luckily this time I didn't lose any pictures or important documents, but I did, once again, lose email addresses. So, if you have written me recently and have not received a reply (Lynn, if you are reading this, please email me again) that would be why. Words of wisdom from me to all of you reading this: never, ever buy a Toshiba laptop. Once I have the thing repaired again (thank goodness we bought the extended warrenty on the craptop), I am going to sell it and buy a new laptop. A non-Toshiba laptop. Hopefully a laptop that won't need the LCD screen replaced 2x, the hard drive replaced 2x and the battery replaced once all in the first 3 years I own it.

Princessa Hooliganka

2007-05-18T01:01:00.000-07:00

Also known as Dancing Queen. Check her out on YouTube.

Once again, in the category of "you can't make this stuff up"

2007-05-08T15:47:00.000-07:00

Did you think the Smoking Genie was good? It was a little slice of how life in Tbilisi is different.

Well, I've got an even better one for you.

This is a Lada

These are cows

These are cows in a Lada.

This was filmed just a few blocks from where I live in the Sabartelo district of Tbilisi. The video quality isn't that great, but c'mon, it's cows in a Lada, filmed on a cell phone. You can't make this stuff up.

Strawberry season

2007-05-04T14:15:00.000-07:00

Finally. Strawberry season is upon us. And just in time, too, since we will be leaving Georgia in about 4 weeks. The strawberries here are remarkable. So sweet and delicious. I buy a half-kilo at a time, and I tend to eat about half of that just while I'm washing and hulling them.

Kyra has been introduced to strawberries now. Last year, she was still far to young for them, but this year, I let her try one and she loved it. She and I have strawberries for snacks almost every day. Blaine used to love strawberries as well, until I made the mistake of telling him that the little specks on the outside of the strawberries were seeds. Now Mr. Picky won't touch them (even though he had just consumed 5 or 6 strawberries when I told him this. Note to self: don't mention seeds ever again).

In a few weeks, the strawberries will be gone and cherries will be abundant. I was never a huge fan of cherries until we moved to Georgia. Now, I'm am anxiously awaiting the cherry harvest. Hopefully it will be in full swing before we leave.

This is one of the things I will miss most about Georgia. When fruits and veggies are in season they are the best I have ever had. The tomatoes, cucumbers, the melons and the strawberries. They are fantastic. I am gorging myself on them now because I don't know when I will ever taste such delicious fresh produce again. I can't begin to describe the difference between the produce here and the produce that you get in the US. You would just have to take a trip to Georgia and see (and taste) for yourself. Come during strawberry season, I guarantee you won't be disappointed.

Kyra, the spider monkey

2007-04-19T02:12:00.000-07:00

Don't let the sweet face fool you. Kyra's new nickname is Princessa Hooliganka, which, roughly translated from Russian means Princess troublemaker. She is a sweet, lovely child, but she is a climber. Blaine was not. Don't get me wrong, Blaine kept me on my toes - he was a full-speed ahead BOY from the moment he could move. I spent many, many hours chasing him from one place to another. But he did not climb. He did not seek out things to get into. He never looked for that next desk, table, or stair to conquer. Thank goodness, because he was not a careful boy. He was always going at top speed, so whenever he took a spill, it was usually accompanied by injury. He had road rash on his face more times than I can count, and that was all from falls on a even surface. I can't imagine what kind of damage he would have done to himself if he had been into scaling things.

Kyra is completely different. She is careful. Very, very careful. She watches where to step. She finds a good strong hand holds. She rarely falls when she walks and can easily navigate short series of steps by herself with no problem. So, she has decided to take it up a notch:

As you can see, she is quite pleased with the results. Me, not so much. Princessa Hooliganka.

Lovey

2007-04-05T12:20:00.000-07:00

Most of my friend's kids have lovies. You know, a blanket or doll that they carry with them everywhere. Something they like to have when they go to bed. Something to snuggle, cuddle and love on (hence the term "lovey"). My kids aren't like that.

When Blaine was a baby, David and I tried, and failed, multiple times to get him to attach to something, anything, and make it his lovey. The thinking was that if he had a lovey, he might sleep better and not have to be attached to one of us all the time. We were his lovey. As long as he had the tip of a finger or toe touching us, he slept. When he was really small, he would just sleep on us - chest to chest, he would slumber peacefully. The sleep was great for him, but not so great for us (especially if you had to go to the bathroom - oh the drama if you moved while the baby slept).

We have tried again with Kyra to introduce a lovey. Dolls, blankets, toys, anything. She likes dolls, but throws them forcibly from her crib. She looks at the dolls in her cribs like "who are these interlopers in my sleeping space?" and then tosses them and shakes her head as if saying "Be gone with you evil crib hoggers!" We content ourselves with the fact that she at least sleeps in her crib - a feat we never quite managed with Blaine. The crib was the most expensive, yet unused, piece of furniture we had ever owned prior to Kyra. She sleeps quite contentedly in the crib - and she sleeps through the night now. She's almost 15 months old, so some say it's well past time that she sleeps through the night, but her brother did not sleep consistently through the night until he was three. Yes, three.

Some mornings, after a solid 8 or 9 hours of sleep, Kyra will wake early - around 5:30 or 6 and will be ready to be up for a few hours. David and I trade off who gets up with the early bird and Monday it was my turn. We got up and hung out playing in the living room. After David had left for work, around 7 am, Kyra started looking around and yelling "BA! BA!" Ba is her name for Blaine. And, in Kyra's world, nothing is better than her big brother. Ba is the be-all, end-all of her existence and she wanted her Ba. A few moments later she's off to Blaine's room to get him. I watch her chubby little run/walk as she heads for his door, knowing that she won't find Ba in there. When I got up with her that morning, Blaine got up too. But only long enough to climb into my warm spot in my bed and snuggle his dad (see! we are still his favorite lovey!). She comes out of his room with a concerned look on her face and looks at me and says "Ba?" I point to my bedroom and her face lights up and she runs to my door, shoves it open and sees Blaine curled up in the middle of the bed. "BAAAAAAA!" In that one word, she expresses her delight at finding her brother. "BAAAAAA!" She runs to the bed and tries, without much luck, to climb up and get to him. I give her a boost and she immediately crawls over to him, curls up around his head, patting and kissing him and sighing softly "Baaaaaaaaaaaa". That's when it hit me. Blaine is Kyra's lovey.

Lucky girl.

Why go to Yerevan when you can have dental surgery?

2007-03-26T13:00:00.000-07:00

This past weekend was supposed to be a fun, exciting, much-anticipated trip to the capital of Armenia. David and I had planned for 2 weeks, we had gathered our passports, obtained the necessary visas, prepared the kids, alerted my son's school that he would be out on Friday. We were ready. Hotel reservations made. Car gassed up.

And then? And then my tooth, the one that has had not one, not two, but three root canals done to it started hurting again. Badly. So very, very badly. After the last root canal my dentist, a wonderful man named Gigi, told me that if the tooth was not better, I would have to have it surgically fixed. They would have to cut open my gums, drill out my jawbone, cut the roots inside the jaw, refill the jawbone with prosthetic material and sew me up. (For the record, the first root canal was done in Washington, DC and lasted a little less than 2 years before it started bugging me, the second was done in January of this year here in Georgia, right before we went on vacation, and the third was done by Gigi when I went to him for a second opinion after my first Georgian root canal didn't fix it.) I called Gigi and told him about the pain. About how I could not sleep. And his answer was "Come on Saturday at 3 and we will do the surgery".

So much for Armenia.

On Saturday at 2, I took a Xanax because Georgian dentists don't give you any gas to make you floaty and happy while they hammer away in your mouth. At 3 I was in the dentist's office being prepped for surgery. I had a lovely surgical cap with matching blue drape, a pair of snazzy amber glasses to protect my eyes from any splatter and to lessen the glare from the overhead lights. By 3:45 the surgery was done and I was on my way home with a mouth full of stitches.

I would have much rather gone to Armenia. Instead, I went here:

Yes, that is where my dentist's office is. See the purple door on the right side of the derelict-looking building? That's his space. And, you may find this hard to believe, but inside this building it is beautiful. And Gigi's offices are state-of-the-art. He has all the latest and greatest technology, from digital wireless xrays, to drills with fiber optic lights on the ends. Living proof that you never judge a book by it's cover.

11 weeks

2007-03-20T12:42:00.000-07:00

Well, a little less than 11 weeks, actually.

We are moving. The Other Georgia will be no more. We will be saying good-bye to our favorite little post-Soviet struggling republic.

I have so much to do. So much junk to sort through to get ready for the move. So many decisions to make about what to take, what to sell, what to store, what to get from storage.

Oy.

I will continue blogging, but will probably start a whole fresh new blog for our whole fresh new country.

Oh, Georgia, how I love thee

2007-03-19T16:44:00.000-07:00

Georgia. You just can't make this stuff up.

So Georgia has FINALLY finished construction on the new airport. The much talked about airport. The airport that was supposed to open last November. Then December. Then early February. Well. They did open it. And a few days later? The roof started leaking. The official response? Well, we couldn't test the roof to see if it was water-tight because we built it during a dry spell. Then, a few days later, a huge wind storm came through and blew off part of the roof. Ah, Georgia. One step forward and two steps back.

David had to fly to Germany a few weeks ago. He sends me a text message "Wow! I'm flying out of the new airport!" An hour or so later I get another message "Will email you later about flying out of new airport". Turns out that he checked in at the new airport. Waited for his flight at the new airport. But when it came time to board his flight, he didn't get to walk down one of the new fancy jetways (the airport has 4, count 'em folks, 4 whole jetways!). Nope. Instead, David got put on a bus and carted over to the old airport where he climbed the steps to the plane, just like it has always been done. When he came back a week later, they landed at the old airport and then bussed him over to the new airport to pick up his bags. It took a while for the bags to make it over. Really, you have to love Georgia. You have to.

But the best, most hysterically, typically Georgian thing that we have experienced this past month has to be the birthday party. Blaine was invited to a classmate's 5th birthday party, which was held at a local children's entertainment place called Bao Babi. Bao Babi (I might have mentioned this place before, but I'm much too lazy to search right now) is like Chuck E. Cheese, it has a large indoor play area, video games, and they host parties. No big rat, but they have these (I'm guessing here) Aztec warriors called Bao Babi that come to the party. You can also hire Spiderman, Batman, a clown etc. to come and entertain.

Well, this party really topped all others. The mom hired the clown. And with the clown came a Genie. Or a Sultan. I'm not really sure what he was supposed to be. He was a bubble blower. Yes. A bubble blower. He had a bubble machine cobbled together out of old fans and frayed wires. I actually asked one of the other parents there if he thought they were in the middle of repairing the air conditioning or if he thought that the fans were going to be part of the entertainment. His response was along the lines of "this is Georgia...I'm banking on that being part of the entertainment".

But wait, it gets better. The highlight of the bubble-blowing genie/sultan's act was not the big fan blowing hundreds of bubbles here and there. NO. NO. NO. Remember, this is Georgia. The highlight of the act was when the clown came over and lit a cigarette for the genie/sultan. And then? And then he smoked and blew huge smoke bubbles! Bubbles filled with cancer! Fun for kids of all ages to pop and play with!

Don't believe me? I have pictures. And video. Oh yes I do.

Love and Loss

2007-02-26T14:45:00.000-08:00

Yesterday my grandma died. She was, and will remain, one of the coolest people I have ever had the grace of knowing. And I'm not saying this just because she was my grandmother, but because she was. I could give you a million examples of just how incredible she was, but I don't know if I can find the words. She was, in no particular order, stubborn, loving, contrary, devout, funny, talented, opinionated, accepting, strong, moral, and the best damn cook.

She taught me many things about life, about living, about how to be, or how to try to be, a good person. I don't think she ever realized that she was teaching me these things, but she led by example. She had 4 children, her oldest is my mother and her only daughter. My mother and my grandmother remained close their entire lives, even when miles separated them. My grandmother taught my mother how to be a parent, a damn good one, and in turn, my mother taught me. I can only hope to do as well by my children as she did by hers. I can only hope to have the relationship with my children that she had with hers. I can only hope to have the respect that she had up to the end.

My brother and I used to love going to spend summers with my grandmother and grandfather. Fred and I loved traipsing off into the woods with her, looking for a freshwater spring so we could have the best water to make sun tea. We hated going to the fields to hoe, weed and plant the fruits and vegetables they grew, but we loved to eat the finished product. I loved watching her cook. A pinch of this, a cup of that, she had it down to a science and didn't need any recipes, yet she had recipes by the hundreds, if not thousands. Written down on the back of notecards, scraps of paper, cut from newspapers and magazines and held together with rubber bands, stuffed in every drawer in her house. I remember joking with her that when she was gone, I wanted her recipe collection.

The tradition of vacations in Alabama continued even when I was in college. When other classmates were taking off for booze and beaches, I booked a plane ticket to Alabama to spend my spring break hangin' with the grandparents. There was no place I would have rather gone. I could just sit and talk with her for hours (and many times did). If my mom and dad were there when I visited, my mom, grandma and I would sit up talking until one of us started to fall asleep sitting up (usually me) and then we would call it a night.

Up until the last year or so of her life, my grandmother remembered dates and names like no one else I have ever met. She knew everyone's birthday, who they married, who their children were, what their birthdays were, when they died, how they died. She was like a walking census for her corner of the world. She kept detailed journals. Some days she wrote nothing except who came to visit or called her and what the weather was like, but other times she wrote detailed entries about her life and what was happening. On the inside cover of each journal (front and back) she would write down every time someone she knew died. She lived so long that she was running out of people she knew.

When grandma was in her late 70s or early 80s (obviously I'm not as good at dates as she was) she changed her name. She had never had a birth certificate, so she went to get one. When she filled out the paperwork for her birth certificate, she changed her name. She made the name she had gone by her whole life (either Lorene or Lorraine, depending on who you ask and how they pronounce it) her middle name, and created a whole new first name for herself. Gelia. From that day on, I called her Gelia. I think I'm the only one. She used to joke that she always knew when I mailed her a letter without looking at the return address because I'm the only one who addressed envelopes to Gelia.

God, there is so much more I could say about this woman. About how important she was to me, about how much I loved her. About how incredibly sad I am. About how much I want to be there with my mom as she buries her mom. But I'm here. And I can't go. There is no way to get there from here in time. So I send my love and thoughts to all of my family gathered in Alabama who are paying their respects to my grandmother. To one of the coolest women I have ever known.

Oh, those words will come back and bite you in the ass

2007-02-16T13:55:00.000-08:00

Oh, how silly I am. In my last post on this blog, I typed the fateful words "Hopefully by next week we will all be back on schedule." How could I have been so stupid? That was like inviting trouble.

Saturday morning Blaine woke up with a mild fever. A little Motrin and he was fine for the rest of the day. Until bedtime that is, when the fever came back and gave us all a little reality check. Then, in the middle of the night, so technically Sunday, Kyra woke with a fever. Monday, Dave got the fever. So far I've been the only one spared the fever/runny nose/cough/general miserableness that has hit my house this week.

Blaine's fever finally broke on Wednesday, Kyra's on Thursday, and we are hoping Dave will take a turn for the better today. But they all have rivers of goo from the nose, they cough like barking seals and, generally feel like crap.

Even though I'm the "healthy" one in this scenario, I'm exhausted. The kids are whiney and very clingy (especially Dave - kidding!). This has proven to me something I already knew - that I am not cut out to be a nurse. After day 3 of the house of misery and sick, I was DONE. I dream of running away, to a place where everyone is happy and healthy and there are no noses to wipe, no fevers to medicate and no children who lie on the floor and cry outrageously because "I DON'T FEEL GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD". Sometimes I feel like lying down beside Blaine when he starts falling apart and crying with him, but that's not really in the job description of "mom". So, I pick him up, snuggle his feverish body against mine and tell him "it's ok".

Hopefully (knocking wood furiously here) next week will be better. Hopefully these words won't bite me in the ass like last week's did.

Back from vacation

2007-02-10T02:58:00.000-08:00

But it wasn't much of a vacation. It's hard to relax and unwind when you are spending all of your time running from place to place, from family to family, trying to pack as much "visiting" in as you go along the way. We did take a few days for ourselves and went to Universal Studios and Islands of Adventure with the kiddos. Kyra didn't get a whole lot out of it but Blaine? Oh, how he loved it. It was the best time of year to go - no lines, no waiting, it was like we had the parks to ourselves. Blaine rode the SpiderMan ride 4 times and pretty much every other ride at least twice. He was quite bummed because he is still too small for the big roller coasters like The Hulk and Deuling Dragons (he gets the roller coaster thrill gene from his father because his mother does not do rides that drop her from great heights or turn her upside down). Hopefully next time we go he will be the required 48 inches and he and his father can ride to their hearts content while Kyra and I ride the more sedate things like One Fish Two Fish (which still gets my adrenaline pumping because, hey, it goes up in the air pretty high. I don't care that it only goes 2 miles an hour - I'm still in the air. And there is water shooting at me from the sides. And the song - it stays in your head forever.)

While we were in the states, a few cool things happened. First, Kyra turned 1 year old. We celebrated in style with 3 parties for her. One at my mom and dad's house, one in the hotel we were staying in on her actual birthday, and the last time at David's parent's house. She had quite the cake sugar high. Blaine thought it was cool too. He loves cake. Doesn't need a reason.

Kyra also decided it was time to let go and walk without assistance from the couch, table, chair or whatever else she could get her chubby little hands on. She walks like a little drunk man, it's hysterical to watch, but she gets a little better every day.

Now we are back in Georgia, trying to recover from the worst jet lag EVER. Kyra and Blaine got all whacked out of schedule and it has been quite hard to get them back to their great sleeping patterns. Doesn't help that Kyra is also teething. Ugh. And Blaine got a stomach bug they day after we came back. Wheeee. We already had a ton of vacation laundry to do and we added a ton of towels, clothes and bed sheets that acted as vomit catchers. Fun fun fun. He's better now and back to school. Hopefully by next week we will all be back on schedule.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and all that jazz

2007-01-11T11:28:00.000-08:00

I had thought about doing a post reflecting on the past year but then decided not to bore everyone.

Instead, pictures!

The best thing that happened to me last year:

The other best thing in my life this past year:

We all had a very Merry Christmas in Tbilisi. It was nice to be together since last year I was pregnant with Kyra living in Florida with Blaine and David was in Georgia. Our new year looks promising already. We are heading to Florida on Saturday to visit family and friends for 3 weeks. Hope to see you there!

SUPRA!

2006-12-08T02:23:00.000-08:00

I went to my first Supra last week. A Georgian Supra is a celebratory feast - tons of food and usually wine in obscene amounts - and throughout the feast toasts are made and wine is drunk and everyone celebrates and has a great time. The Supra I went to was exactly like that, except substitute vodka for wine. Lots and lots of vodka.

One of the people that works with my husband, Rachel, is leaving the country this week, so the Georgians in their office decided to hold a Supra in her honor. We all met up and climbed into a rented marshutka. Marshutkas are one of the most popular forms of transport in Georgia, cheaper than taxis or buses, these little vans can hold 15-20 people and they are all over the city and you can always find one that will get you where you need to go. The marshutka was rented because we knew that there would be quite a bit of drinking and therefore, should not be any driving.

We end up at a dacha about 20 minutes outside of Tbilisi up in the mountains. A dacha is a summer house, when it gets hot in the city in the heart of the summertime, the Georgians retreat to their dacha and enjoy the cooler mountain air. Of course, it is not summer here, it is winter, so the cool mountain air? It was more like freezing cold mountain air. The dacha had no heat, just one little portable electric radiator that put out very little warmth. We all kept our hats, gloves, and heavy coats on - well at least until we had consumed enough vodka to warm up from the inside out. Which happened quicker than you would think. I've never been a big fan of vodka. Not really my drink of choice, but when in Rome...or in this case, when in Georgia. I probably consumed more vodka in the course of the afternoon during the Supra than I have in my entire life. After the first few shots of vodka, it's really like drinking water. It doesn't even burn going down anymore. I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Our "tamada" or toast master was Sascha, who started the toasts by making the men stand on their chairs and toast to all the ladies present:

We also toasted to Rachel, to the men present, to friends, to family, we had toasts for everything it seemed. During the toasting we were also eating. Oh.My.God. The food. The shashlik - which is Georgian bar-b-q, was incredible. Chicken and pork cooked on an open fire, a fire that was built in a small pit on the cement back porch of the dacha:

Of course, we had more than just shashlik, we had salads, and bread, and khatchapuri - so much food. We did not run out of food. We did, however, run out of vodka at one point in the festivities, so David and Phillip walked to the corner store and bought two more bottles to help keep us warm until the marshutka came to pick us up and take us home.

As you can see, we had a great time:

If you are so inclined go here, scroll down the page and you can read a fairly good definition/explanation of a supra.

Giving thanks, Georgian style

2006-11-28T14:20:00.000-08:00

First, I hope you all had a happy and healthy Thanksgiving. We had a great celebration here in Georgia, and the planning and preparation for the holiday really brought home what we have to be thankful for. So, in no particular order:

I'm thankful that the Commissary worked overtime to find turkeys for us. Granted, they had to send 2 people to Armenia with a truck to haul back frozen turkeys, but they did it. And then I got to stand in a line in the parking lot to get my turkey as soon as the truck arrived. The Commissary didn't have storage room for all the turkeys that were purchased, so if you wanted one, you had to be there to get it as soon as the truck arrived. I commented to the man standing in the line next to me, as we huddled together in the cold and the rain, waiting for them to open the back of the truck and start handing out turkeys, that we were getting the full "Russian" experience.

I'm thankful that my husband had to go to Moldova the week before Thanksgiving. The good part of his trip to Moldova was the return, as he passed through Turkey (the country, not the bird). He spent the night in Turkey, visiting with some friends who were on holiday there and introducing them to our extended Turkish "family". I asked David to find out from our Turkish family if it was true that you could get actual celery in Istanbul, as it cannot be acquired in Georgia. The answer was "Of course!" and then Adam (David's "avi" or brother) sent one of his employees to the market for celery for us. 4 Kilos of celery.

I'm thankful that my mother was able to email me her "approximate" recipe for the corn bread dressing - it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without the corn bread dressing. I skipped the giblet gravy though. I love you mom, but giblet gravy is gross.

I'm thankful for our friends, Ella, Bill, Anna, Carla, Wally, Castillo, Rachel, John, Colin, Hazira and Scott (plus all the assorted children) who came to celebrate with us. If you can't be with your true family on Thanksgiving, it's great to be able to spend the day with your good friends.

I'm thankful for the leftovers. Isn't everyone? That's the best part of Thanksgiving. Turkey for weeks! Turkey noodle soup! Turkey sandwiches! Turkey pot pies!

Happy holidays to you all!

Band-Aids and Old MacDonald, with a little Santa Claus on the side

2006-11-13T16:45:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I think the only reasons I make it through a tough week or day are my kids. I had a really bad week last week with Kyra. Very sick. How sick? Sick enough that I braved a Georgian ER at 12:30 AM. Dave was out of town (naturally) and, thank the gods for my friends Carla and Ella, I was able to take her in. Long story short, it took 2 more days to get a decent diagnosis, get her on medication, and get her on the road to recovery. Through it all, when I thought I was going to lose my mind from lack of sleep or stress, something would happen - something Blaine would say or do - that would make me laugh, relax, and appreciate the fact that even when it's bad? It's really good. Really, really good.

So, without further ado, the latest "Blaine-isms" that have had me cracking up.

Blaine: Mom, I want to watch Band-Aid
Me: HUH?
Blaine: You know, the movie. Band-Aid.
Me: I don't know that movie. Can you tell me what happens?
Blaine: Mooooooom (insert eye roll here) you know what movie. Band-Aid. In the forest. With the deer and skunk.
Me: Oh. Bambi
Blaine: That's what I said. Band-Aid.

Another gem, from when we were visiting our friend's house:

Blaine: I'm all done eating now.
Me: Please say "excuse me" then go give your plate to Castillo. Oh, and tell Castillo "obrigado".
Blaine: Why?
Me: Obrigado means thank you in Portuguese. Castillo speaks Portuguese.
Blaine: Ok. Hey Castillo, OLD MACDONALD!

And last, but not least, Blaine is all about Christmas. He knows it's coming. He's trying to be good. But sometimes? He has issues. Like the 2 days in a row at school that he had 2 time outs. The second day I pick him up and we have the following conversation:

Me: So, 2 time outs again today, huh.
Blaine: Yeah. I wasn't listening and wasn't behaving
Me: So, do you think I should call Santa? You know he keeps track of all the good things and the bad things. I always call him when you are good. So do you think I should call him and talk to him about the time outs?
Blaine: Hmmm. No. Don't call Santa. He's very busy.

How can you not smile when you have a kid like Blaine? I think it would be impossible.

Busy, busy, busy

2006-10-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

Life continues at a hectic pace - which is surprising since Georgia is a laid-back country. We all joke about being on "Georgian time" which can mean anywhere from 10 minutes to 2 hours late for any event or appointment.

For example, when my kitchen floor, which was a beautiful wood floor when we moved in, rotted and warped from water seeping in through the concrete subfloor, it took weeks to get it repaired. The fix-it guys came to see the warping one day. The decided they would only have to pull up a few square meters of floor. Then they decided to come back the next day to start the tear out process. They told me they would be at the house by 10. They arrived around 11ish. They started working, then took off for lunch right around 12 and said they would be back in one hour. The came back around 2. They started tearing out the rest of the damaged section and realized that the rot and resulting mold was underneath the entire kitchen floor. This required a supervisory evaluation. Of course the supervisor wasn't available until the next morning. They said they would be in at 10. Once again, it was after 11 before they showed up...lather, rinse, repeat. Ultimately it was decided that the whole floor would have to come up and tile would have to replace the wood. This required a different crew, a different supervisory evaluation and also separate crews to remove the electronics (dishwasher, stove, fridge, etc.) and to remove all the lower cabinetry. So, a job that should have taken at most 3 or 4 days - really my kitchen isn't that large - took about 3 weeks. We ate out a lot.

But I digress. Ah, yes. Hectic pace. Today was a busy day. David went for a motorcycle ride with his buddies, they are trying to get in as many rides as they can while the weather holds out for them. Soon it will be too cold and icy to be safe on the bikes. As he was getting ready to go, I was getting the kids ready to go out to Bao Babi, the Georgian answer to Chuck E. Cheese (minus the big smelly rat-costumed minimum wage shlub). As I'm strapping the kids in the car, David says "Oh, I am going to have some people over for a bar-b-q at 4 PM. I look at my watch and it's almost 1. I said "Well, I'll try to be back by then". Nothing like last minute party planning.

I take the kids to Bao Babi, then we hit the vegetable market on the way home. I get home at 3:20 and David is still not back from his motorcycle ride. I work on getting Kyra to take a nap and David comes home at almost 3:40. He fires up the grill and I decide that, since it was his last minute brilliant idea to have people over, he can handle it. I am going to call my mom and chat a while. While talking to my mom, Kyra wakes - it's only been 30 minutes since I put her down. David's first set of guests have arrived, a bunch of Marines, and he is busy chatting and charring cow flesh on the grill. I take Kyra to him and notice that there is no food other than a bag of Tostitos, a pack of hot dogs and 6 pounds of steak. I decide to be a good hostess - Dave may have poorly planned things, but that doesn't mean guests at my house should be handed a piece of beef and a beer and call it a day- and I head into the kitchen and start working. While cooking and chopping and mixing, I also fed Kyra her dinner.

2 hours later I finally get a chance to sit and socialize. I had added a big dish of grilled veggies to the meal, potato salad, tomato and cucumber salad, chips, dips and had a pan of brownies baking in the oven. By the time I was able to join the party, almost every bite of meat was gone. I ended up eating mostly side dishes (thank God I had made them). As everyone was leaving this evening, I was busy putting Kyra to bed. David gives Blaine a bath as I head downstairs to the total destruction in my kitchen. I have just finished cleaning all the dishes, taking out all the trash and mopping the kitchen floor. Come upstairs and where is David? Already in bed asleep.

He must be tired from all that hard work grilling the meat and opening the beers.

OMG! An update!

2006-10-19T22:56:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I have been neglecting the blog. Not intentional, I assure you, more like unavoidable. Life has been crazy busy in the past few weeks, and that, combined with a lack of computer (yes, it is still in the repair shop getting a new hard drive) has made updating this blog a bit difficult.

But now, I will summarize my life these past few weeks.

To start, I will say my daughter - she crawls. And stands. ON EVERYTHING. She's a climber, God help me. She finally learned how to get her fat belly up off the ground a few weeks ago and the same day she figured out (after crawling over to her brother and using him for leverage) how to get to her feet. After that, there was no stopping her. By the next day, she was climbing the stairs. Yes. Really. She can now manage 2 flights of stairs unaided. I hover behind in case she slips but so far, she has been pretty rock solid in the climbing department. Exhibit A:

This morning she decided to push her toy piano over to the bookcase and stand on top of that so she could pull books off of the shelf. No pictures of that, however, since I was too busy getting her down and could not take the time to stop for a photo op.

Also, I finally bit the bullet and left my children. You see, I have not spent a night apart from my kids since the day Blaine was born. The only 2 nights I have ever spent not under the same roof as my son, I was in the hospital for Kyra's birth. But the opportunity came for me to join David in Istanbul for 3 days at the end of one of his business trips and, since I have someone I trust unconditionally with my kids, I decided it was time to stretch the apron strings. So with a freezer full of milk (Kyra is still nursing) and assurances to the boy that I would be back to tuck him in in 3 days, I flew to Istanbul. And I'm so glad I did. Dave and I had a fantastic time - Istanbul is an amazing city and I fell in love with it. The kids did just fine without me (which is good, or so I keep telling my mommy-guilt-ridden conscience). The sights were amazing, the people wonderful, the food was a delight. And, the cherry on top? Istanbul has Starbucks. Oh yes. I will be going back.

There is more, but it's late, I'm tired and my bed beckons. I will try (but won't pinky swear) to update more tomorrow. Don't hold your breath.

The in-laws and the plague come for a visit

2006-09-24T13:30:00.000-07:00

Not that I think the in-laws brought the plague with them. It seems if you come visit us you, and in turn, we, will be struck down by illness. When my parents came back in March my mother got hit with a horrid cold which, by the time she returned to the states, had morphed into bronchitis. Lovely. My poor in-laws were hit with an intestinal virus during their stay with us.

The virus started with Blaine while we were in Armenia - he woke up one morning and told David "I have to cough" which is his code word for vomit. He then proceeded to cough all over the hotel room floor as David ran with him in his arms to the bathroom. After "coughing" for a few minutes, he pronounced himself cured and we went to breakfast. After just a few bites of his cereal, Blaine looked at us and said "Um, I have to cough again". This time I hustled out of the breakfast room with Blaine and we made it as far as the elevator before the coughing began. Luckily there was an ashtray right next to the elevator. I hope to God no one tried to put out a cigarette in there after Blaine was done with it. Blaine then proceeded to have diarrhea. He and I stayed in the hotel that morning with Kyra (she needed a nap) while Dave took his parents around town. Blaine was feeling so blah (and we had run out of clean underwear for him) by the time David returned that we loaded up the kids and headed to the Embassy in Yerevan. We took Blaine to the Health Unit there and hit the laundry room to clean his clothes. The doc said Blaine probably had an intestinal virus or had eaten something that "disagreed" with him (an understatement if I have ever heard one). He was fine the next day.

The next day I woke up with the beginnings of a head cold. Thank God for the head cold, because it made me keep my distance from the kiddos so that they wouldn't catch it. This distance-keeping thing worked in reverse for me as well, because by the time we returned home the next day, Kyra had developed the stomach bug. 24 hours of vomiting and diarrhea from her. You know what's fun? An 8 month old hurling on you at 3 AM and then laughing hysterically. She wasn't bothered by the stomach bug at all, she would, to use Blaine's term, cough, and then would be fine and happy.

The day after Kyra's bout with the stomach flu, my mother-in-law came down with it. She thought she had gotten it from something she had eaten but it was too coincidental to be from food. The day after she got it, my father-in-law had it. And our housekeeper got it as well. The only people spared? Me and Dave. Me, because as I said before, I was staying away from the kids so they wouldn't catch my cold. And Dave because he has a constitution of iron, I suppose. Probably from traveling to so many different countries over the past year.

Other than the round-robin of plague, my in-laws had a grand time here. Of course, I think they would have a grand time anywhere as long as their two grandchildren were there. My father-in-law walked Blaine to and from school every day, sometimes my mother-in-law joined them. Kyra was immediately enamored of my father-in-law, which was surprising because she is in the clingy "mom/dad" baby stage. The first morning they were here, Kyra went right to him and she stuck to him like glue during the visit. She slowly warmed to my mother-in-law, but babies are mercurial by nature. Who knows, next time she sees them, she may be attached to my mother-in-law and be slow to warm to my father-in-law.

Friday I took my in-laws to the airport - David had left early that same morning for two weeks work in Turkey. They made it back home, safe, sound and a bit wrung out from all the travel and from the plague. So, if anyone is coming to visit, please make sure you have a clean bill of health and a full supply of immodium with you.

Car repairs - Georgian style

2006-09-08T18:12:00.000-07:00

It always seems to happen that whenever David is out of town, something that he is usually "in charge" of needs to be taken care of. This last trip was no exception. The battery in our truck died. It had been showing signs of illness - there had been 2 prior instances of battery suckage. Both times we were able to have the truck jump started and it worked for a week or so after, lulling us into the fantasy that we must have done something to make the battery die - leaving lights on, doors open...something. Alas, it was not so. The battery was just old and tired and needed to be replaced. Of course it decided to demand replacement while David was out of town. And, even though my father is a mechanic and insisted that I know the basics of car maintenance, his tutelage extended to only checking fluids and changing tires. I mean, really, who needs to know how to change a battery when the nice people at AutoZone or Discount Auto Parts will do it for you if you look sufficiently helpless?

On Tuesday Blaine and I hop into the truck for the drive to school and it won't start. I call the local guard force to bring out the handy dandy jump start machine and they are at the house within 5 minutes. We open the hood of the truck and they take one look at my sad, corroded battery and the first words they utter? "Ma'am, do you have any Borjomi?" Jeebus. Borjomi mineral water is the miracle cure for EVERYTHING in Georgia. When I was pregnant and having excessive morning sickness? Drink Borjomi. When you have heartburn? Borjomi. Have a mosquito bite? Dab some Borjomi on that sucker. When your car battery is covered in green gunk? Clean it with Borjomi.

I had no Borjomi. Which seems to be a cardinal sin in Georgia, or so I imagined from the looks on the faces of the two guys sent to jumpstart my car. I mixed some baking soda in water and, even though it was, in their opinion, clearly inferior to the exalted Borjomi, it did the job. They jumpstarted the car and I let it run for 20 minutes or so while trying to get in touch with David. I sent him a bunch of text messages along the lines of "The car battery is dead. I'm a girl. Help!"

David called me and told me to call his buddy who owns the motorcycle shop, Khaka, and ask Khaka if his mechanic, a man named Gocha, can help me buy and replace the battery. I call Khaka, he tells me no problem but it will have to wait until Wednesday at 11 because Gocha had been in his village over the weekend at a friend's wedding and is still recovering (which is a common thing in Georgia, so I was not shocked at all).

Wednesday morning the car started with minimal protest and I drove to the motorcycle shop. Gocha showed up exactly at 11 as promised, which did surprise me because time is a really abstract concept here, and I tried to explain to Gocha (who speaks no English) why I was there. Eventually I was able to bust out the necessary Russian phrase that my housekeeper taught me before I left "Ya hachoo novee accumulator na machina". Which means "I want a new battery for my car." Gocha seemed a bit perplexed why I was asking him, a motorcycle mechanic, for a battery. Gocha knows who I am, so he wasn't perplexed in the "who the hell is this chick" manner, but more in the "why is she asking me to do this when I know she has a husband" manner. I explain that he should call Khaka. He does, Khaka explains the situation and Gocha immediately morphs into my rescuer. He tells all the men milling about the front of the motorcycle shop waiting for him to work on their bikes that he will be back in a while and he locks up the shop without another word and hops into the car with me. We leave the crowd of men standing there looking a bit disgruntled.

We go to the battery shop and Gocha negotiates the purchase of the battery for me and then he and the man who runs the shop begin the installation process. You know you are in Georgia when the installation of a car battery involves the use of a hacksaw. I know little to nothing about installing car batteries, but I know that hacksaws are not usually employed in the process. Nevertheless, the battery is replaced, I'm given a 1 year guarantee (which, when I told David, made him chuckle heartily) and we are sent on our way. I take Gocha back to the motorcycle shop and ask him how much I owe him for his time and effort. And like a true Georgian, he refuses to accept any money from me at all because I am his friend's wife and it was his pleasure to help me.

Dave came back into town the next day and we headed over to the shop with a bottle of good vodka as a thank you. That was not refused.

While my internet is working well and my husband is at the office...

2006-08-24T15:58:00.000-07:00

I thought I would take this opportunity to post an update on life in Tbilisi because who knows when I will have the opportunity again. You see, our internet connection? It sucks. Dial-up is blazingly fast compared to our home connection. I don't know what happened, the connection used to be fairly decent, but in the last few weeks our speed has been slow. How slow you ask? Well, just to open my homepage it can take anywhere from 2 to 5 min. I usually type in a web address (say, oh, Google) and then open up a game of Spider Solitaire, play the hand, then click back over to the internet window and maybe, maybe, the page will have loaded.

And if that were not bad enough, I have tried 2 times to post an update to my blog in the past week. The first time the power went out in the house while the update was uploading and in the 2 seconds before the generator kicked on and restored power to my house, and consequently to my internet server, my post was lost somewhere in space. The second time? Well, see the post directly below this one about the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH.

So third time's the charm. Or so I hope.

Things have been going well in Tbilisi - Kyra is trying to crawl, trying to get more teeth, laughing all the time and generally keeping us all on our toes. She learned to clap last week and takes much delight in clapping all the time. For no reason other that it seems to amuse her. I fully expect her to have her two top teeth in the next month or so and to be walking, like her brother did, around 10 months. She wants to stand and only stand. Don't try to sit her down on the floor - oh the screaming horror. Help her stand? Laughter abounds. The only thing that worries me about her walking so soon is that we have stairs. When Blaine started walking we lived in a single-storey house in Florida - everything was flat and even. Here we have a long flight of stairs. Yes, we have gates, but we also have a 4 year old who is not so great about keeping gates locked. Constant vigilance is in my future. Ah, the joys of parenting.

Speaking of joys, Blaine is great - 10 more days until he goes back to school, but who is counting? Not me. Heh. He's my little magpie - he never.ever.ever stops talking. The only time he is silent is when he is sleeping. And he has learned the magic of "Why?". I thought hearing "mom" 2000 times a day was annoying but I would gladly take that over the why why why why why why. He is also the king of circular arguments. It's exasperating. Example:

Blaine: Mom, I peed a little in my pants
Me: Why didn't you pee in the toilet?
Blaine: Because I peed in my pants.
Me: Why did you pee in your pants Blaine?
Blaine: Because I didn't pee in the toilet.
Me: But you are a big boy who knows how to use the toilet, so why didn't you use the toilet?
Blaine: Because I just peed in my pants.
Me: Why did you pee in your pants? Did you not make it to the bathroom in time?
Blaine: No, just because I didn't pee in the toilet.

It's like a Laurel and Hardy routine. He could continue like that for hours. I would be insane, but it makes perfect sense to him.

So that's the excitement here. Blaine is back to school soon, David's parents are coming for a visit, Kyra is getting big (7 months old already - really, how did that happen so fast?) and Tbilisi is, well, Tbilisi. Hot, crazy, fun, exciting, exasperating. You should come visit. And babysit Blaine for me. Why? Why not?

The Blue Screen of Death

2006-08-23T10:02:00.000-07:00

Or so Dave calls it. My laptop died last night. One minute was working, the next minute I had nothing but the blue screen. My harddrive seems to be fried (I'm posting this from Dave's laptop). So, in addition to our internet completely sucking wind now I have no computer to even TRY to access the internet on. I will, of course, be able to use David's computer but now I have to share. I'm not so good at sharing - that's why we each had our own laptop.

Bottom line? Expect even less frequent updates from me. Oh, and if those of you who are reading this will drop me an email, I would appreciate it. When the harddrive bit the big one, it took my address book with it so I don't have anyone's email address anymore. I have a few committed to memory - very few - so drop me a line and I will add you to my new address book. And I will write them down on a trusty old piece of paper and try not to lose it.

Well, now it gets interesting

2006-08-03T22:42:00.000-07:00

Kyra has been able to roll over from her back to her belly for quite a while now. About 2 weeks ago, she finally was able to get from her belly over to her back.

2 days ago? She put 2 and 2 together and realized that if she keeps going from back to front to back...she can get across the room.

There's a toy over by the couch? Well, let's just roll on over there.

There's a brother playing with Hot Wheels cars? Why, I should join him.

My mother is trying to leave the room? I shall follow her, one little roll at a time.

Rollin' rollin' rollin'.

Let the child proofing begin.

Survey Says...

2006-08-01T10:49:00.000-07:00

A few answers to a few questions posted by Zoot. Before I answer, let me state that I don't necessarily consider myself a "mommyblogger". I mean, I am a mom, and I do occasionally blog, but I don't just blog about my kids - though I have been posting more about them and less about Tbilisi in recent months. But that's just because my kids are so damn interesting and cute. So, anyway, on to the questions:

1. Do your kids know about your blog? If they're too young to know, do you plan to keep it open to them as they get older?
At ages 4 and 6 months, I don't think they have any clue about what a blog is. Yes, I plan on continuing to blog and yes, I will keep it open to the kiddos. I think it will be neat for them to be able to read about the different places we have lived and the cool things we did in those places.

2a. If so - do you worry they may get embarrassed later? What would you do if they asked you to stop writing about them? What would you do if they wanted you to take it down all together?
I don't think they would be embarrassed, but I will cross that bridge when I get to it.

2b. If not, what are you doing to make sure they never find it? What if they do find it?
I hope they do find it someday.

3. Do you think our kids will appreciate the archive of their childhood? Do you wish your parents had done the same?
I hope they do. I am better at keeping track of milestones, funny moments and other bits of childhood ups and down on my blog than I am at updating the baby books or scrapbooks. Heh. Scrapbooks. As for my parents, I can't really say that I wish they had done the same since the internet wasn't around. My grandma journals old-school with pen and paper and she starts a new one each year. I find them fascinating, even though there are some days where she just notes who came to visit and what the weather was like.

4. Do you go back and re-read your past parenting milestones? Do you realize you forgot a lot?
Sometimes I do go back and read and marvel that I am still sane - especially after the international pregnant travel with a child covered in hives. I haven't forgotten much. Yet. But I'm sure I will. I have only so much room in my exhausted brain.

5. What about your children's friends/teachers/moms-of-friends? What if they found your blog? Do you tell your child not to tell anyone about it or are they free to talk about it? Do you worry their teachers or other parents will think it's weird?
I'm pretty circumspect with regard to what I blog about. I initially started the blog so that friends and family could keep up with what was happening with us since we are so far from "home" (in quotes because the reality is my home is here with my husband and children. The US is now just a place I used to live). The blog was a way to update everyone without having to send out a bajillion emails every week, but is has slowly morphed into more than that. It's really more of an online journal - one that is sometimes not updated regularly enough - but if you would care to come hold my daughter (provided she doesn't scream at being taken from her mother's arms) while I type, I would get right on that.

And on a completely different note, I find it hysterical that blogger's spellcheck doesn't recognize the word "blog".

Teeth, motorcycles, and Spanish - random updates from Tbilisi

2006-07-30T21:52:00.000-07:00

So much is happening, and since I have a few moments to myself, I thought I would hit the highlights of the past week.

We'll start with Kyra. By Monday she had her first tooth - the lower right. By Friday she had her second tooth - the lower left. As soon as she allows me to get a good photo of them, I will post it. She's much happier now that the teeth are in, she's sleeping better at night, napping better during the day and is generally less fussy. Ah, if only it will last.

Moving on, let's talk about David's motorcycle. David is off to Armenia for two weeks of work and decided that while he was gone, he would have his motorcycle painted. A friend of his had a bike painted by this guy a few weeks ago and he did a great job (and a cheap job compared to US prices). We dropped it off at the shop on Saturday and then took the kids out to lunch. About an hour and a half later we are outside the restaurant, getting the kids strapped in their carseats when David exclaims "well, there goes my motorcycle" and sure enough, his motorcycle goes flying past us with two guys on it, one of them is the painter. We get the kids settled, hop in the car, and follow in the direction the bike went but can't find them. David shrugs philosophically, you see, he has a phrase for stuff like this happening in Georgia. Whenever anyone complains about traffic, food, housing - pretty much anything at all - David puts his left hand up and makes a little circle and says "you used to live here" and then he puts his right hand up and stretches it as far as he can from the left makes another little circle and says "and now you live here". In other words, just go with the flow.

So, we decide to let it be and we head out to the park with the kids. After about an hour of running around the park with "super hero" Blaine, we load up and head home. On the drive home, believe it or not, we see David's motorcycle go flying past us again. I tell David to turn the car around and follow him, so he does. Turns out the guy was headed back to the paint shop. We pull in about 2 minutes behind, the guy is already off the bike, with his helmet in his hand. He sees us and immediately adopts the universally understood "OH SHIT" face. He speaks very little English, David doesn't speak nearly enough Russian to convey his unhappiness with the guy joyriding on his bike, so David calls a third party to interpret. All is resolved and we drive away. But David and I took bets on whether or not I will see his bike around town over the next two weeks.

And finally Blaine. Sweet, funny, adorable Blaine. I thought Kyra getting teeth would have been the highlight of my week vis-a-vis the kids, but Blaine trumped her. Friday was his last day of Spanish-immersion summer camp. For the past month he has spent all day during the week speaking, thinking and learning Spanish. But, as David and I found out on Friday, not everything translates.

Blaine came home from school on Friday with all of the papers, art projects and miscellaneous crafts he had done during the past month. He and I were looking through them and he was describing them to me. One particular picture he made showed a man, a woman and a child. I asked him who the people were - the conversation went as follows:

Me: Blaine, who are these people?
Blaine (pointing to the woman): That's Mami
Me: And the man?
Blaine: That's Papi
Me: And the little boy?
Blaine: That's Joe
Me: Joe?
Blaine: Yes, Joe

David and I looked at each other - we had expected him to say either "That's Blaine" or his other favorite "That's super hero Blaine". Neither of us had a clue who Joe was. I decided to ask again:

Me: Who is that little boy?
Blaine: I told you, is Joe!

And then my college Spanish kicked in and the light bulb went on.

Is Joe = Es Yo
Es Yo = That's Me!

That's us. Mami, Papi and Joe. And the drooly toothy girl named Kyra.

Why I never seem to have time to update my blog

2006-07-23T12:30:00.000-07:00

She's teething. And that means my sweet, adorable, happy baby has been replaced by a monster. A monster that doesn't sleep. That has to be held 24/7. That acts as if you have abandoned her to the gypsies if you let someone else hold her.

I'm exhausted. I'm sometimes incoherent from the lack of sleep. She went from taking 2 great naps every day - usually a 2 to 3 hour nap in the morning and at least another hour nap in the afternoon - to maybe taking 3 half hour naps each day. Maybe. At night? She alternately sleeps and screams for an hour at a time.

We've tried Tylenol. Doesn't work. Tried homeopathic teething tablets. Don't work. Tried ambesol/orajel. Just pisses her off more. We busted out the bottle of Motrin the other night since she has attained the magic age of 6 months. It worked for about 3 hours of blissful sleep.

This is one of the few downsides of being a nursing mother. No one else will do. David can go in to her at night and try to soothe her, but 95 percent of the time she will scream even louder when she realizes it is not me picking her up. And she doesn't even want to nurse. She just wants me because she associates me with the comfort. Usually I can just hold her and soothe her back to sleep. But you do this 10x a night = exhaustion.

But relief may be in sight. Today I noticed that tooth number 1 has started poking through the gums on the lower right. Let's just hope the next eleventybillion teeth are easier. It's always hardest the first time, right? RIGHT???

It's the most wonderful time of the year

2006-07-11T11:25:00.000-07:00

Oh, if only you could be in Georgia right now. Summer is here. We still have relatively cool evenings, hot days and the best part? It's fresh fruit and veggie season!

I had been led to believe, before moving here, that spring and summer brought an abundance of fruit and veggies but during winter, the pickin's were slim. Not so much the case these days now that Georgia has fairly reliable trade with other countries with warm climes during our winter, but spring and summer are still the best for fresh produce. Grown locally - anywhere from Tbilisi to Batumi and all places in between, if you are a fruit and vegetable lover, this is the time to be here.

Not only is the produce abundant, fresh and outrageously delicious - but it's also dirt cheap. I can go to the veggie market and buy enough vegetables to feed my family for a week or more for less than 10 bucks. A kilo of tomatoes, some salad greens, fresh basil, green onions, garlic, purple onions, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, cabbage, cauliflower, eggplant - so much for so little. And so damn good. The tomatoes and cucumbers in Georgia are some of the best tasting I have ever had. I missed Georgian cucumbers while I was in the U.S. earlier this year - here they are almost sweet. I can eat a whole cucumber (or two) as a snack.

Fruits are a bit trickier, because the seasons here for some fruits are very definite. Strawberries, for example are "done" now. In May, you could get a kilo of strawberries for 2 or 3 lari almost anywhere - at the bazroba, at the grocery store, on the corner by your house. Everyone had strawberries for sale. Perfectly ripe, juicy and sweet. But when the season is over it is over. You cannot buy a strawberry now if you wanted one (lucky me - I froze a bunch). Once strawberries are done, cherries start appearing. And apricots, and peaches. Apples are available, but won't really be in peak season for another month or so. And melons.

Oh, if you like watermelon, Tbilisi is the place to be during watermelon season. They are becoming available now - and quite decent, but in another few weeks? I cannot even begin to describe how incredibly awesome the watermelons will be. Right now, the prices are at a premium - 1 lari per kilo, an average of anywhere from 8 -10 kilos for a small watermelon, so 4 to 5 bucks US. But when season is in full swing later this month through August? Watermelon will be about 20 tetri per kilo. That's works out to about 10 cents per kilo. For less than a dollar I can have some of the sweetest watermelon in the world. And I know watermelon, believe me. My grandfather used to grow some of the best watermelon on his farm in Alabama - summers there were spent picking the ripe ones for market and a few to eat until our bellies would pop. Blaine is now experiencing the joys of fresh watermelon - he begged me to buy one yesterday at the market and I did - we both ate quite a bit as soon as we got home.

The best part of the fresh produce here is that the timing is perfect for Kyra. We are just starting to introduce solid foods to her. She had a little taste of watermelon at the 4th of July celebration and liked it. This past week we started offering her banana (not Georgian, usually imported from South America) which she quite likes. And then carrots, which she prefers over banana. Yesterday she had her first taste of apricot and I think she loves that best of all. I have peaches waiting to be tried - if I don't eat them all first. I have also cooked up some pears for her to try later this week (I cook and freeze it in ice cube trays with a dash of lemon juice to keep them from turning brown). When apples come into season I will do the same. I could buy jarred food - but why would I when it's so much cheaper (and tastier, in my opinion) to offer her the fresh fruit and veggies.

Now if you will excuse me, I have some watermelon calling my name. Yum.

4th photos

2006-07-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Where are we going? Croc-Oh-Dile Lake!

2006-07-03T19:47:00.000-07:00

Or so says Blaine, who has obviously watched way too much Dora the Explorer. In reality, we went to Turtle Lake on Sunday for the annual AMCHAM/Embassy Fourth of July Celebration. Surprisingly, it turned out to be a nice cool evening and it made the celebration more enjoyable since we weren't battling stifling heat and bugs.

We went to the same celebration last year but the big difference was that last year this time I was in the early stages of pregnancy and was exhausted and sick most of the time. This year I was able to relax and eat and drink and generally be merry the whole evening.

Even though it was cool, that did not stop Blaine from taking a dip in the lake - as a matter of fact, I had to force him to get out even though his teeth were chattering as he said "I'mmmm nnnoootttt coooooold". After his swim and a bite to eat, he played on the playground, going down the "twisty" slide about 400 times. Kyra had her first taste of watermelon and quite enjoyed it and after a while she fell asleep snuggled up against me in the sling. She woke in time to enjoy the fireworks. I thought she might be afraid of the explosions, but she was fascinated by the light show. Blaine loved the fireworks - all night long he kept asking when the fireworks were going to start and I kept telling him "after it gets dark".

All in all, we had a lovely 4th of July (even though it was only the 2nd of July). We hope you all have a lovely 4th as well.

Boxes of joy

2006-06-29T16:55:00.000-07:00

Ah, I love getting mail. It didn't use to be such a big deal, back when we lived in the states and everyday the little truck stopped in front of our house and unloaded flyers, bills and assorted catalogs interspersed with a few interesting things. But here? Mail is the bomb diggity, baby. I always get a little tingle when I go to pick up mail and see the little yellow card in my mailbox that means there is a box waiting for me. I shiver with anticipation while waiting for them to retrieve my box, or even better, boxes, because I know that no matter what is actually contained inside, I'm gonna like it.

We have had a bonanza of boxes these past two weeks. Packages for Blaine, mostly, for his birthday. I can't express to you how much it means to me that our friends and family back in the states take the time to shop, box, fill out customs forms and mail my little guy presents (and the girly got some nifty stuff tucked into most of the boxes as well.)

Now that we have an APO mailing address, I am trying to return the favor and ship stuff out from Georgia back to the states. I have been shopping at the little art markets, the wooden toy store (where the guy carves and paints everything by hand) and the bazroba, looking for little gifts to box up and send back as a thank yous to everyone who takes the time to send us things.

Just last night we opened a big box from my friend Donna. In it were great Spiderman gifts for Blaine, an adorable 4th of July outfit for Kyra, as well as other great stuff - including a fairly recent People magazine. I read the People magazine from cover to cover before bedtime - trashy gossip is in such short supply here. I will be passing along the People magazine - that's what we do here. We share the trashy gossip -even if it is weeks, months or years out of date (like the GQ with George Clooney on the cover that I just read that was about 2 years old).

So to you all, a hearty thank you. Georgia is much nicer with a side of Angelina and Brad and baby Shiloh.

Cool and Cute

2006-06-28T14:42:00.000-07:00

Can you stand it?

Cool:

and cute:

And so it's summer

2006-06-27T17:35:00.000-07:00

And Blaine is out of school for one week. Just one. Then he goes to summer camp for the month of July at the same place he regularly goes to school. Then he will be out of school for all of August.

And in just two days of him being out of school this week, I have seen what August will be like, and it terrifies me. Seriously, this child is so busy and inquisitive and exhausting. God, I love him, but he is at warp speed for 12 hours each day. In the past two days, he has gone from chanting "mom, mom, mom, mom, mom" to throwing in an occasional "Jennifer" if he doesn't think I am responding quickly enough to his 8 millionth request to play Candyland or Dora or Thomas Tank or any one of the hundred games, puzzles and activities we have here for him.

Yesterday was Day 1 of his being home rather than in school. It was, for me, an exhausting day, but I'm also dealing with a bout of stomach flu that is wearing me down. Today I feel better, but now Blaine is wearing me down. So far today we have played outside on the swings, played outside with his remote control truck, filled the pool and played in the water for close to 2 hours, played the new Dora game, played Candyland and made thank you cards for everyone who came to his birthday party (which we are quite proud of, full of stickers, stamps and Blaine's handwritten Thank You - probably not quite up to some crafty card making standards, but we like them).

Now I only have a few more days to fill with activities that keep him away from the TV and the computer before I get to stick him back in school for another month. And I will need that month to plan what I am going to do with him in August - for his sanity and for mine.

The Party's Over

2006-06-19T01:07:00.000-07:00

Saturday we had a party for Blaine's 4th birthday. It was a great day for a party - the weather was hot, but not unbearable, we had the pool set up for the kids outside by the swingset, the grill was manned by David who served up hot dogs and hamburgers and I think everyone had a good time.

Last year we had only been in Tbilisi for a short time and didn't really know that many people, so Blaine's birthday was a real low-key affair, just David and I celebrating with him at the house. This year we had a bunch of friends come over to help us celebrate. The theme for the party was, of course, "Hot Wheels". Blaine is still obsessed with Hot Wheels - as a matter of fact, out of all the really lovely gifts he received at the party, the first ones he wanted opened and he has played with the most were the 3 Hot Wheels cars that David picked up in the Vienna airport on his last trip. Honestly, I don't think anything is as cool as Hot Wheels in Blaine's mind. He has Hot Wheels shoes, sunglasses, underwear, movies, and now, he has had a Hot Wheels birthday party. I ordered all the supplies from an online party supply store, so we had plates, cups, napkins, decorations all with the Hot Wheels logo. Oh, and we had a Hot Wheels pinata. What could be cooler than that?

Blaine didn't quite "get" the concept of the pinata. He knew that it was filled with candy and toys and that everyone would pull the strings* and the stuff would eventually come flooding out. He was very excited about it. But when the right string was pulled and the bounty of goodies poured onto the ground and all the kids dived in to collect the loot, Blaine just reached in, helped himself to one piece of candy and then ate it while watching everyone else make piles of candy and toys to put in their gift bags.

Of course, he is ready for another party and pinata. But, he tells me that he is done with Hot Wheels. This time he wants an airplane party and an airplane pinata. I've told him that he has to wait a whole year for his birthday to come around again. I don't think he quite "gets" that either. I think he would be just fine celebrating his birthday every weekend. I wouldn't be fine with that though. Not because of all the planning and effort required in putting together a party. But because I hate that he is growing up so fast.

*It was a non-violent pinata - no blindfolded kids beating at it with swinging sticks. Just a simple ribbon pull is all it took to open it. You just had to grab the right ribbon.

The Boy is Four

2006-06-12T22:24:00.000-07:00

Tonight is the last night that I will snuggle my 3 year old son before bedtime. Tonight is the last night that I will read stories to my 3 year old boy. Tonight is the last time I will kiss my 3 year old goodnight and tell him I love him. Because tomorrow morning he will be 4*.

It's been an amazing year for Blaine. He spent 4 months in the US with me, he became a big brother, he finally gave up diapers, and he started school. So much growing up and so many changes in one year. And he has handled it all amazingly well. He constantly surprises me with his adaptability and his compassion. He is a very mature kid most of the time. Then there are the times when he makes me (as he says) "crazy crazy crazy". I tell him that no matter what, even if he does make me "crazy crazy crazy" that I love him to pieces. And he answers, with a knowing look in his eye and his best Austin Powers voice "yeah baby yeah".

We waited a long time to have children. We waited a long time to have Blaine. He was worth every minute of the wait. I can't wait to see what the next year brings for him and for us. He makes every day an adventure and I can't imagine a better way to see the world than through a child's eyes.

Happy birthday Blaine. I love you.

*Blaine agrees that he is going to be 4 tomorrow. But, according to Blaine, his alter-ego, known as "Super Hero Blaine", is going to be 5. I'm only throwing one birthday party however. Super Hero Blaine will have to have his imaginary friends throw him a party.

I've been meaning to post this

2006-06-09T22:50:00.000-07:00

We went out to a dinner party the other night at one of the nicer restaurants here in Tbilisi. It's a Russian joint called Matroyshkas and the food and drink (vodka, of course) are superb. Smoking is allowed. But guns are not. This place actually has a gun check. You know, like a coat check, except for weaponry. You give them your fire arm, they give you a claim check, and you get it back when you leave. Fascinating. But they are serious about this no gun policy, as evidenced by the sign on the door to the restaurant:

I am an addict

2006-06-09T11:47:00.000-07:00

This post is very personal and heartfelt. I've been struggling with an addiction and I feel like I should talk about it. I've fallen off the wagon, so to speak, but I cannot help myself. I am a Mocha Frappachino junkie.

Georgia has a lot of great things going for it. Beautiful mountains, wonderful food, incredible hospitality, an abundance of fresh fruits and veggies. But one of the biggest drawbacks is the lack of a Starbucks or anything remotely comparable to a Starbucks. I'm not a coffee drinker - can't stand the stuff actually - but I was addicted to mocha frappachinos. Frozen chocolatey mocha goodness. Bliss. My addiction started when we moved to DC. There are Starbucks every 5 feet in Virginia and DC. There wasn't a shopping center, mall, or dirt path up there that didn't have a Starbucks barista willing to offer me a fix.

I gave it up cold-turkey when we moved. Had no choice. You can get great coffee here (or so I'm told) but no frozen coffee. In a country where so many Western things have been adopted and copied (we have a mini-fake-dunkin donuts for goodness sakes) you would think that some enterprising person would cash in on the American fascination with double soy latte with a shot of skim blah blah blah. Or in my case, just a plain old Grande Mocha Frap no whip.

When I was getting ready to head back to the states for Kyra's birth, my pregnancy cravings overrode my logic and I spent one afternoon surfing the websites for the various airports where Blaine and I would be having layovers. I was mapping the locations of food shops, restaurants and, of course, Starbucks in each airport relative to our arrival and departure gates. I was a woman on the edge. I needed my fix. Like a junkie, I made my way to Starbucks in Heathrow airport and fed my addiction. I even went Venti because it had been so long. Blaine got a Vanilla Bean Frap (no caffeine for the 3 year old before international flights thankyouverymuch) and we blissfully drank our frozen concoctions before take-off.

But now we are back. And in the 4 months that I was gone, sadly no Starbucks or generic equivalent has popped up here in Tbilisi. I mourned the loss of my Frappachinos. I don't need one every day (truthfully I don't need one at all, but that is beside the point) but once a week? I would love to have one. I found these little packets of "IceCaffe" at the supermarket here. It's powdered mix and I was putting it in the blender with ice and milk and a heavy dose of chocolate syrup but it just wasn't the same. I equated it to giving methadone to a heroin junkie. It's close, but not the same "ahhhhhh". And then, thanks to a bake sale, my Mocha Fraps were given back to me.

Let me explain. We have many bake sales here. Fundraisers for various charities, committees etc. This particular bake sale was to help raise money for the playground that we are building for the kiddies. I donated a tasty lemon pound cake (really, it's divine) and I went to help out hawking the goodies for sale. The "gimmick" for this bake sale, because we have so many that people tend to get a bit bored with them, was the mocha frappachinos. Now, I figured someone had figured out my trick of doctoring the "IceCaffe" packets, but to my wonder and delight these were REAL mocha fraps. REAL. Like Starbucks real. How I marveled at the first sip. Oh, joy. Hallelujah! I was alive again! One of the bake sale participants, Amy (oh, how I love thee) had donated the mocha frappachino mix. I begged her for her secret. Where did she get this stuff? How can I get some for my very own? I.Must.Have.Some.

Amy must have thought I was crazy. But, c'mon, you are dealing with an addiction. There is no logic with addiction. She kindly explained that this lovely mix, called Frappe Freeze , was available on the internet. I rushed home and with shaking, caffeinated hands, whipped out my laptop and credit card and purchased my very own 4.5 pound tub of the mocha Frappe Freeze. And it arrived yesterday. I'm drinking one right now. I'm an addict. And I'm ok with that.

True love

2006-05-31T18:19:00.000-07:00

Blaine and Kyra, brother and sister, best friends.

Testing

2006-05-30T23:31:00.000-07:00

Blaine and Kyra, May 2006. I finally decided to start posting pictures on my actual blog. I don't know why I haven't before. Just too lazy I guess.

The Consumables World Tour! Next Stop: Uganda!

2006-05-25T10:56:00.000-07:00

When Dave joined me in the states for Kyra's birth we decided to put together a consumables shipment - non-perishable items that are either hard to come by or ridiculously expensive in Tbilisi. Paper plates, oriental cooking sauces and spices, Kraft EasyMac, diaper wipes, etc. The government allows us 2 consumables shipments during our first year at post, and seeing as we had never done one and our first year was almost up, we decided to take advantage of it. We were so far under the weight allowance for the shipment that we put in a few birthday presents for Blaine and an Exersaucer for Kyra, figuring that with the 3 months shipping time they would arrive a few weeks before Blaine's birthday and right around the time that Kyra would have the head and neck control necessary for the Exersaucer.

That was the plan. But, as we are learning, nothing in Foreign Service life goes according to plan. And such is the case with our consumable shipment. It should have arrived here this week. David contacted the shipping department to ask about the expected arrival date. Well, they couldn't find our shipment. The way it works is that the shipment goes on the slow boat from the US to Antwerp. It gets logged in at the warehouse in Antwerp and put on the next available truck headed in your general direction. From there it takes 3 or 4 weeks overland in the truck to arrive in Tbilisi.

It arrived in Antwerp. But from there? Couldn't be located. They "researched" it and found out that at some point after it arrived, our name was crossed off the shipping container and replaced with the name of the US Ambassador to Uganda. So it was sent to him, where it was opened and the realization came that this was not their stuff. I'm picturing this Ambassador looking at the boxes of EasyMac and Exersaucer and fish sauce, etc. And saying "Yeah. I don't think this is my stuff. I'm an Ambassador. I don't eat EasyMac."

So now the powers that be are trying to figure out the best (i.e., cheapest) way to get our stuff from Uganda to Tbilisi. We have been told not to expect to see our shipment for at least another 3 weeks but it will probably be about another 3 months. It looks like Blaine's birthday presents will be more like Christmas presents. And the Exersaucer? Well, I will probably be able to sell that to someone here since they are not available in any store here.

Hey, at least our stuff didn't fall off the ship.

Well, at least the scenery was great (or How I got lost in Armenia for a few hours)

2006-05-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

Two weekends ago I loaded up the two kiddos and headed for some R&R in Armenia. It wasn't a well-planned trip, more of a spur-of-the-moment deal. David was in Yerevan for 2 weeks working and since the Friday was a holiday here in Georgia (i.e., no work or school) David said "Hey why don't you bring the kids to Armenia to visit me? Oh and why don't we invite the XYZ* family to come along since they have never been to Armenia?" The only problem with this scenario is that (a) I don't know how to get there and (b) I don't know how to get back.

Problem (a) was solved by sheer luck. There was an Embassy employee scheduled for a border swap on Friday. Essentially this means a Georgian driver from the American Embassy motor pool drives the person to the border with Armenia, expedites all the paperwork through customs and border patrol, drives them to the other side of the border, then an Armenian driver from the American Embassy in Armenia picks the person up and takes him or her the rest of the way into Yerevan. We tagged along behind the Georgian driver to the border, he took care of all the paperwork for us, and then we tagged along behind the Armenian driver the rest of the way. The only downside to doing this is that the Armenian driver was possibly a little old lady in disguise, because we rarely went over 40 miles per hour. In other words, a 5 hour trip took about 7.5 hours. We arrived in Yerevan happy, but car weary.

We all had a fabulous time - great dinner on Friday night, shopping and sight-seeing on Saturday, a late breakfast on Sunday, and then it was time to drive home. Now the trip home was a bit more complex because we did not have anyone to follow who actually knew the way back to the border. But my enterprising husband had mapped the route on his handheld GPS on a previous trip so he handed that over to Mr. XYZ with explicit instructions on how to operate the GPS and follow the little arrow on the screen. Should be easy, right? David rode with me to the edge of town, got us situated on the right road to the border then caught a taxi back to his hotel. We were going home a different route than what we took to get to Yerevan, supposedly we were going the "easy" way home.

Since we were in 2 cars, we had brought along a pair of 2 way radios to keep in touch with each other since our cell phones don't work in Armenia. I radioed Mr. XYZ about 15 min into the trip out of town just to check on how the GPS was functioning. Everything was a-ok. Another 15 or 20 minutes into the trip, he radios me and says "Hey - Mrs. XYZ's phone just popped up with the message "Welcome to TurkishTel!" should we be worried". Yeah. That would be a problem. We shouldn't be anywhere near Turkey. Our route was supposed to go through the center of Armenia. I asked him what the GPS showed and he said we were right on track still. So, like lambs to the slaughter, we kept going.

Another 10 or 15 minutes into the drive, I radioed him and told him I thought we should stop and check the map because I had traveled this route 2x before on trips to and from Armenia but was not seeing any familiar landmarks. We pull over in a little town and I grab the map. It shows that we are on the M1. We are supposed to be on the M6. "But...But...The GPS" I sputtered. Well, it seems that Mr. XYZ was following the wrong track on the GPS and we were now over an hour off course and had little to no idea how to get back on course without backtracking. There was a group of people in front of a little restaurant, so Mr. XYZ headed over to ask them how to get from the M1 to the M6. The only problem with this scenario is that he speaks no Russian or Armenian and the group of men spoke no English. I head over to try to help with my limited Russian. We are told that yes, we can get to the M6. We have to go through town, hit the M7, go for about 90 kilometers, then get on the M3, which will eventually turn into the M6.

Should be easy. Well, if you don't concern yourself with small things like a complete lack of any kind of road signage along the way, an inability to speak the language, dying batteries in the 2-way radios (and no replacement batteries!) and a lack of local money. Yes, I had spent all my Armenian dram and only had Georgian lari and American dollars with me.

Since there was a taxi driver at the restaurant, I asked him how much it would cost for him to take us through town from the M1 to the M7. He told me it would cost 2 American dollars. Hot damn, it's a deal. We followed him through the town, he got us headed in the right direction and gave me more instructions in Russian, of which I understood about 2/3.

We finally found the M6, the GPS picked up the track we were supposed to be on and all looked great. But (and, really, by this point you should have foreseen another "but" coming in this tale) then the batteries in the GPS died. We had replacement batteries for that but (there's that damn but again) once the batteries were replaced, we could not pick up the satellite again.

Here's where I am forever grateful for my 8 weeks of Russian language instruction. In every town and village from that point on, if I saw a person on the side of the road and I had ANY doubt that we were headed in the right direction I would stop and ask, "Gdeyh Groozia? Priama, naleva, naprava?" which translates to "Where's Georgia? Straight, left, right?" and the person would point me in the direction I needed to go.

Obviously we made it home in one piece. Exhausted, car weary once again, but home. And we saw some beautiful scenery along the way that we would have otherwise missed had we not gone off track. I would like to do that trip again and actually be able to enjoy the sights rather than thinking "The mountains here will be such a beautiful backdrop for my panic attack!"

*XYZ is, obviously, not their real family name. But in the interest of their privacy and possibly not wanting to be associated with us after dragging them through various villages in the wilds of Armenia, I will not use their real name.

Sharing

2006-05-03T10:39:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was David's birthday, so we took the kids and headed out for a celebratory family dinner at a local place called Batonebi's. This restaurant serves Georgian food as well as western-style food (tex-mex egg rolls, burgers, etc). The place is a mini-model of the Cheesecake Factory -it's like the owners went to the U.S., ate at a Cheesecake factory while surreptitiously taking photos of the decor and menu, and came back to Georgia and recreated it on a much smaller scale.

We go to Batonebi's fairly frequently - once or twice a month on average - because it's nice to get some food that is not covered in coriander, dill, or sulguni cheese. We also go because the wait staff there adore children - as most Georgians do. They will bring our food and take Kyra and hold her so that we can eat without having to be "bothered" by the baby. The waitresses play a game Dave and I call "pass the baby" and they all take turns holding her and cooing at her and making silly faces. We think nothing of letting them hold her and play with her and they don't think twice about just plucking her out of our arms.

The culture here is so completely different when it comes to children - I'm not saying that Americans don't love kids - but in the U.S. there is a hesitancy on most people's part when it comes to touching, holding or even smiling at another person's child. People don't trust each other when it comes to their kids - most are afraid of kidnapping, not to mention other even more horrid outcomes. Not so in Georgia. Here children are celebrated and loved without suspicion or fear. It's disconcerting at first, but after a while you get used to people opening their arms to your child. You get used to the lady who cuts your son's hair giving him a kiss on the cheek when she is done. You get used to complete strangers wanting to bounce your baby on their knee and sing them a song.

When my parents came here, I had told them about the openness of the culture here regarding children, but they were still surprised the first time we went out to dinner (at a different restaurant, not Batonebi's) and the waitress scooped up Kyra the moment she started to get fussy and walked around the restaurant with her while we ate dinner. My mom kept saying "Can you see her - where did she go?" and David and I kept saying "She's fine...she's fine". Toward the end of their stay here we went to a souvenir shop and while haggling over prices one of the shop workers came over and took Kyra from me and walked around singing her a song in Russian. My mom didn't even blink. She had gotten used to it by then.

So, last night at Batonebi's we didn't even notice really when the waitress took off with Kyra. But Blaine? He showed how Americanized he still is. As soon as the waitress started to walk away Blaine looked at David and I and exclaimed "Hey...mom! dad! We don't share baby Kyra!"

I had a really great dream the other night

2006-04-27T10:26:00.000-07:00

It was about this blog. I came up with the best, most fantastic, most interesting post ever. People were emailing me about how GREAT the post was.

Obviously, this isn't that post.

Damn dreams. I can't remember what it was.

The 3 (5) things you always see while driving in Georgia

2006-04-24T23:44:00.000-07:00

The other day I was having lunch with a few friends and, inevitably, the conversation turned to driving and traffic in Georgia. There is no way to describe Georgian traffic - it defies all logic and sense. I have tried on many occasions to explain it but unless you come here and go for a ride, you just don't get the full effect. I had told my parents countless stories about the Georgian drivers and the crazy traffic, but until they came here and we tooled around town for two weeks, I don't think they fully understood. I remember once a friend of mine was surprised that I drove myself here in Georgia - most people here with the Embassy hire drivers - and she said "you must be very brave" and I replied "brave or crazy, I haven't decided".

So, during this conversation about driving, one of my friends mentions the "Five Things You ALWAYS See While Driving In Georgia" and the other two started laughing. Not having been privy to the previous conversation I enquired about the five things. They started filling me in, but could only remember three of the five. I left them that day, still chuckling about the three things and, damn it, if I didn't see all three on my drive home. And I have seen them every single day since then. In no particular order, here are the three things you will see every time you go for a drive in Georgia:

1. A car pulling (towing) another car with a rope.
2. A car either going the wrong way on the road or going in reverse on the road. Bonus points if the car doing this is towing another car with a rope (oh yes, I have seen this many times).
3. A car with no side view mirrors. This one is the easiest of the three to spot, because every third or fourth car in Georgia has no side view mirrors. It's not like they would use them if they had them anyway.

I was at a party the other night and I was telling someone about the three things. He was laughing with me and we put our heads together and came up with two more.

4. A car, usually a Lada, that will come all the way from the back of the line of traffic waiting for a light to change, who will drive toward incoming traffic (see number 2) to get to the front of the line of traffic so that he can be first when the light changes. And then usually, he goes about 20 mph. Ladas aren't known for their blazing speed.
5. Cars that will stop in the middle of an intersection while making a left turn. Because, even though they had the green light when the started making the left, once they get out in the intersection to go the other way the light is (obviously)red. So they stop. Because now they think that light is for them. It's bizarre really.

I think that the Georgian government should emulate Disney World - there should be signs at the airport that say "If you are pregnant, have high blood pressure, a bad back, etc. We advise you NOT to go on this ride". But if you do, you are guaranteed a hair-raising good time.

One year in Georgia - Random stories and events

2006-04-19T16:57:00.000-07:00

April 6th marked our 1 year anniversary of living in Georgia (if you don't count the 4 months I was in the US for the birth of Kyra). In the past year we have seen some of the most beautiful places, eaten some of the most delicious food, met some of the most wonderful people and have generally enjoyed our first foray into living and working overseas.

We've met the President of the US (and his wife and Condi Rice and other assorted Congress-people), we've partied with the finest Marine detachment, formed friendships with people from all over the globe - Australia, Dominican Republic, Nepal, Belize, Honduras, Wales and Switzerland just to name a few.

We have welcomed a new child into our life - a surprise blessing that we are ever so grateful for. She has (and I hate to be sappy here, but dammit, it's true) "completed" our family in the most amazing way. We have watched while our first born has matured from toddler to confident young man at the tender age of (almost) 4. We are thrilled with our two kids on a daily basis - even when life gets hectic and kids are cranky - they always do or say something that makes us stop and appreciate them. With Kyra it may just be a big smile or the beginnings of a giggle (she is just now starting to laugh - it still startles her a bit when she does it). With Blaine, it could be any one of the hundred times he is doing his "mommymommymommymommymommy" chant, and, exasperated, I say "WHAT" and he replies "I love you!". (Which also has the power to make me feel incredibly guilty for getting exasperated with him).

Every day during the week Blaine goes to school now. He loves his school and is so happy there. It is an amazing little place that has just opened a block from our house. I walk him to school every morning when the weather permits and home again in the afternoon. Our little walk has allowed us to meet more neighbors and, though our ability to speak the language is limited, we enjoy "chatting" with them all. There is one lady in particular who we see every day - she makes and sells fresh bread from her home. There is a little window in the door facing the street and for 50 tetri (about 25 cents) you can buy a fresh (usually still warm) piece of "poulri" - Georgian flat bread. Blaine has learned how to ask for bread in Georgian "Erti poulri" (one bread) and how to say thank you (Gmadloba). The lady adores him and thinks it is so cool that this little American kid is trying so hard to assimilate. We stop every day on the way home and buy bread from her - it has become our ritual. She looks forward to seeing us and we look forward to seeing her as well.

When my parents were here visiting my mom said to me "You will come back here someday, won't you?" I hadn't really thought about it prior to her saying that, but after thinking about it, I know that I will. I have fallen in love with this country, with the people, the crazy traffic, the odd buildings and houses, the supras and the crumbling infrastructure. I can't imagine the great things the Georgian people will accomplish in the next 10 or 20 years, but I can't wait to see what happens. A small part of me feels "Georgian" - no time more evident then during the winter Olympics this year as the lone Georgian athlete, a female figure skater, competed. I cheered louder for her than I did for any of the Americans competing and was so proud when she did well. She embodies the Georgian spirit - fearless and determined. If you don't believe me, come to Georgia and go for a drive here. No where are the Georgians more fearless and determined than when they are behind the wheel of a car.

Boy, this seems familiar

2006-03-25T11:41:00.000-08:00

A quick synopsis of the past 3 weeks of my life:

Arrived in Georgia - hooray.
Saw more of Tbilisi while showing my parents around in the first two weeks than I had the previous 8 months I had lived here.
Blaine started school, Monday thru Friday from 10-4. He loves it. I love it. We all love it.
Re-upped my prescription for Diflucan for another 2 weeks (I didn't mention this previously, but, as is my luck, Blaine got a double ear infection the week we were leaving and the baby girl and I got thrush! Blaine is better. The baby and I? Not so great, but slowly getting better.)
Said goodbye to my mom and dad who headed to London for a quick sightseeing visit and then home.
And I also said goodbye to my husband, who is off on a business trip for two weeks.

So now it's just back to me and the kiddos. It's amazing how quickly we just fell back into our solo routine this past week (with the addition of Blaine going to school during the day and Ella here to help out with Kyra).

It's nice to have a good routine with the kids. But I would much prefer David to be here and be part of that routine as well. Alas, with the job he has and the responsibilities of his work, he often has to travel. We knew that going in to this and just because we have a new child it doesn't change his job description. Dammit. LOL

I'm surprising myself with how well I'm handling the two kids solo. I guess you have to do what you have to do. It's interesting to me how much calmer I am this time around with Kyra, how I'm not nearly as stressed out. I've learned to handle (mostly) Blaine and his quirks and stubbornness (where he got the stubbornness from, I'll never know*) and Kyra has just eased right into our lives like she's always been there. Now, I'm not saying it's always easy. There are times when I'm trying to get Blaine dressed for school, or cook his breakfast etc and Kyra NEEEEEEEDS to nurse. Oh, she NEEEEEEEDS it. And she will WAIL until she gets it. But it doesn't fray my nerves like when Blaine used to cry. I just talk to her and tell her that I'm doing the best I can and she's next on my list of kids to care for. Usually just talking to her as I'm buttoning Blaine's jacket or flipping the pancakes calms her down. Sometimes it doesn't. But my blood pressure doesn't rocket out of control because I know, eventually, her needs will be met. And she will smile at me and coo and all will be well.

And that's my life. Eventually, all will be well.

*that's sarcasm, for those of you who can't tell.

We made it

2006-03-05T23:06:00.000-08:00

And thank God I had my parents with me.

Why?

Because of the stuff. So much stuff. All this stuff for 2 kids and 1 adult. I had one suitcase and my purse, everything else listed here was for the children.

2 carseats
1 travel crib
3 suitcases
1 diaper bag
1 carry on bag
1 purse
1 stroller

I carried Kyra through the airports strapped in the Baby Bjorn carrier, while pushing Blaine in the stroller. I hung the diaper bag over the stroller handle, carried my purse on my back, and dragged the rolling carry-on suitcase behind me. I felt like a pack mule. My mom had her rolling suitcase, a bag full of sippie cups, all of our jackets. My dad carried the carseat that we used on the plane for Kyra, which is a huge beast of a seat (we checked Blaine's carseat. He is big enough to ride without one, thankyoujesus). My parents deserve a medal for all the schlepping they did.

But we made it. From Miami to London with a 3 hour layover - which you need at Heathrow just to get from one terminal to the next - then a stop in Yerevan to let people off the plane and refuel, then a short hop, 30 minutes total flying time, from Yerevan to Tbilisi.

My parents are already experiencing the joys of this part of the world. As we were taking off from Yerevan for the short flight to Tbilisi, the pilot comes on the intercom to inform us that the first 15 or 30 seconds of our take off run will be nice and smooth, but then will get VERY bumpy and that the plane will start shaking. But we are not to be concerned, you see, it's not a problem with the plane. The folks in Yerevan have only finished repaving the first 1/3 of their take-off runway. Needless to say, it was an interesting take-off.

When we landed in Tbilisi, my dad looks out and asked if we really had to haul all of our crap down the stairs to the tarmac. He assumed there would be jetways like there are at real airports. Oh, no no no, I informed him. We aren't fancy shmancy like those people in Yerevan (who actually have 2 or 3 jetways, unbelievably). We do it the old fashioned way, down the stairs to a bus to the terminal. The lovely flight attendants helped us carry all of our stuff down from the plane. I'm not so sure they were just being nice. I think they just wanted us OFF the damn plane so that they could go home. Naturally, with all the stuff we had, plus the two kids, we were always the last family off the plane.

Once in Tbilisi, David met us at the airport, we cleared immigration, grabbed our luggage and headed home. David, Kyra, Blaine and I in one car, my mom, dad, a driver from the embassy and all the luggage in another car. Once we got to the house, my mom asked me if we had taken the "senic route". It was after midnight - why would I take the senic route at a time of day when there is nothing for them to see?? They just figured that because the trip from the airport was so long and seemingly circular, that we had decided to go the long way. Nope. That's just the way home.

And that's where I am. Home. It's great to be here.

Home again, home again, jiggity jig

2006-02-28T17:56:00.000-08:00

We go home on Friday. Hopefully I will have more time and energy to post and update this blog when I get home. Blaine, Kyra and I will be flying with my mom and dad, who will be staying with us in Tbilisi for 2 weeks, then going on to London for 4 days before heading home. I am almost as excited for them as I am for myself. My parents have never been overseas before. I can't wait to show them Tbilisi and I hope they fall in love with it like David and I have.

Things to do...

2006-01-25T11:52:00.000-08:00

You know, you expect your life to become a bit more complicated when you add another child, but you don't really realize JUST how complicated until the second child is a reality. Now that Kyra is a living, breathing, eating, crying, peeing, pooping reality I am slowly beginning to understand that having just one child - even a high-energy 3.5 year old boy - was so darn easy. I'm very lucky that Dave is here for 3 weeks - he can take Blaine and do the grocery shopping, errands etc. while I stay home with Kyra. But once he leaves and heads back to Georgia, I will have at least 3 more weeks of solo parenting of 2 kids before I rejoin Dave in Tbilisi.

So, I'm currently trying to make lists of things I want to do before Dave leaves. I need to do some shopping for clothes for the kids and for myself. Clothing in Tbilisi is expensive so it's better (and lots cheaper if you hit a really good sale - such as the 98 cent onsies I snagged at Old Navy the other day) to do it in the states and then ship to Georgia. I need to start packing stuff up that we have accumulated and ship it back to Georgia. I need to find and purchase a train table for Blaine for his birthday in June. Then I need to pray that I can convince the movers that a train table is a "consumable" and have them include it in my consumable shipment - ditto for the exersaucer I want to purchase for Kyra. Not to mention all of the consumables I need to buy. Dave and I have a trip to Costco in our future. I have to think about how many boxes of diapers I am going to need and in what sizes. How do I judge how quickly Kyra is going to grow? Currently she is still in newborn, but I'm getting ready to switch her to size 1 because of her chunky thighs. I need new shoes. I need, I need, I need. But it's hard to shop with an infant - she's only 8 days old for goodness sakes. My body is not back in any sort of shape for clothes shopping. I can't leave Kyra behind and go hit the stores solo because I am nursing her and if I'm not around, she can't eat. Which would be bad.

But even with all of this, I can't imagine a better, more incredible, more wonderful thing than my family. I have a fabulous husband, an adorable, smart, funny, and loving son and a tiny, sweet baby girl. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

A short update

2006-01-20T20:21:00.000-08:00

My computer died a few weeks ago and I just now got it back from the repair shop. During my downtime, I was reduced to checking my email via computers at Kinkos with my 3 year old in tow. Not exactly an ideal situation when it comes to updating the blog, so it was necessary to neglect updates until now.

So, what has happened in the last 2 weeks? Well, David arrived safely from Georgia. Blaine and I were overjoyed to see him and it's nice to have him with us even if it is only 3 weeks.

Oh, and I had a baby. Less than 48 hours after David got here, we added Kyra Eleanor to our family. She was born Monday night, weighed a dainty 8 pounds, 12 ounces (compared to her brother's 10 pounds at birth) and was 21.5 inches long. She has a full head of hair and is just as precious as can be. We are all head over heels in love with her - even her big brother thinks she is "cool".

Happy New Year - Updates from Florida

2006-01-01T09:55:00.000-08:00

I haven't been in the mood to write much recently. I also haven't had a ton of time. Being on my own with a 3.5 year old is a challenge - trying to find things to occupy him without resorting to excessive amounts of television is hard. Especially if you add in the fact that I am at the waddling, lumbering, please-God-don't-make-me-have-to-chase-him stage of pregnancy. We spend a good deal of time at the small playground here at the apartment complex, or at the indoor mall play areas. Oh, and at Chuck E. Cheese. I have always hated Chuck E. Cheese, but this one was recently remodeled, so it doesn't seem as nasty as others I have been in. Besides, I can sit and he can climb up in the tunnels and go down the slide and run around and burn off steam. Bonus!

I have been very lucky that good friends (Heidi, Karen, Julie) have been willing to watch Blaine for me during doctor's appointments and also once to get a hair cut. Who knew getting a hair cut could seem like a luxury? My mom and dad also came down this weekend so I got a chance to go browse at the library for an hour or so, go grocery shopping without hearing "Blaine wants that!" and I also had planned on getting a pedicure. The pedicure plans fell through due to the overwhelming STINK in the nail salon. I guess everyone was getting acrylics and I just could not take the smell, it gave me a headache. I will have to find another place, preferable with better ventilation.

David will be here in less than 2 weeks! I'm very excited to see him again, but I don't think my excitement will even come close to Blaine's. Blaine "calls" his dad every day on the phone, just to chat. He misses him very much, but overall he is dealing with the separation well. He seems very excited about the new baby, proudly showing off her carseat and travel crib to everyone who comes to visit "Come look! This is baby sister's bed! It's pink. Blaine's too big for it, but it's just right for baby sister!" I hope his excitement and fascination continue after she is a permanent, crying, laughing, cooing, smiling addition to our lives. I think it will. As he says all the time "Blaine LOVES babies!"

My due date is 3 weeks from now. Everything is going well this pregnancy. At this point with Blaine I was starting to measure really big, my blood pressure started going up and my feet, by the end of the day, looked like sausages. This time I'm measuring big, but within the normal margin of error, my blood pressure is still fantastic, and I have little to no swelling. Baby is moving good, heartbeat sounds great (according to Blaine, it sounds like a choo choo train "BOOM BOOM" and is "really cool" or so he told my midwife at my last office visit). I'm uncomfortable, but that's to be expected at this stage. I've had discussions with the baby and have told her that she has to wait until her dad gets here, but as soon as his plane lands, she should feel free to give me a swift kick and break her water so we can get that whole labor thing started. We'll just have to wait and see if she is paying attention.

Oh, and we still don't have a name for the baby yet - which you might have picked up on reading this as I refer to her as "the baby" or "baby sister" throughout. We are settled on a middle name, but the first name is a real challenge. We have 2 or 3 possibilities, but nothing has been decided and probably won't be until she is born. Nothing like waiting until the last minute, heh.

I've disabled the comments feature

2005-12-30T11:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I was checking my blog and found a pretty nasty comment left for me on one of the posts here. The comment didn't bother me, per se, just some random internet freak who has too much time on his or her hands, but still, not something that I need to subject my friends and family to. So, for the time being, I have gone through my blog and have disabled comments on my previous posts and will continue to disallow comments on future posts.

Those of you who I know and care about know how to reach me to comment in other ways. Feel free to email me.

Love to you all in the new year.

A sudden, unexpected tragedy

2005-12-28T17:17:00.000-08:00

In loving memory of Eric "Big Ric" Weinmann. 10/10/1970-12/21/2005

I usually can blather on about things important and unimportant in equal measures. But for this, I am speechless. You will be missed and you were loved.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

2005-12-10T14:42:00.000-08:00

We have our tree.

We decorated today.

Presents wrapped.

Only thing missing is David.

Finally, in more ways than one

2005-12-07T09:43:00.000-08:00

Finally:

I'm in my apartment.

I'm unpacked.

All my laundry is done (for now, but we are working on potty training, so I expect to do another load ASAP).

I passed my 3 hour gestational diabetes test

And, most important, I got to see my baby girl's face. Every ultrasound, she has always been turned away and wouldn't roll over, but today she gave me a peek. And if I wasn't in love before, well, I am for sure head over heels now. The midwife and I just stared at her while she practiced her breathing and yawned a few times. Then she rolled over and went back to sleep.

6.5 more weeks (give or take) and I get to actually meet this fascinating human being. I can't wait.

Long-Overdue Update

2005-12-03T13:03:00.000-08:00

Did you think we didn't make it?

We did. And let me tell you, if you EVER have to travel for 24 hours with a hive-covered 3.5 year old while 7 months pregnant, well, you should travel with my son. He is the coolest of the cool. The world's best traveling companion, bar none. 3 airplane rides, 4 airports, 2 layovers and nary a complaint or a whine. I fell in love with him all over again. He really just amazes me with his adaptability and his maturity (at times).

Blaine still had hives when we boarded the first plane in Tbilisi, but by the time we were getting ready to land in London, they seemed to be clearing up. Then, right before we boarded in London for the flight to JFK, he had another flare up. People were looking at me like I was bringing a live chicken with the avian flu on board. I had my handy-dandy doctor's note at the ready, but no one asked me for it. I doped him up with more antihistamine once we got on the plane and within an half an hour of being airborne, he was out cold. The hives receded once again, due to the antihistamine, and by the time we got on the plane in New York, he was almost completely clear. We haven't had another outbreak (knock wood) but I did take him to our American pediatrician to get his opinion on the Monday after we arrived.

I'm doing fine. Just hit 33 weeks pregnant today. Getting LARGE. But, that's to be expected. I failed my 1 hour glucose test again (I was repeating it because we thought there might have been a screw up at the Georgian lab). So, I go on Monday to do the 3 hour glucose challenge test. YAY. My mother-in-law is coming over from Sarasota to watch Blaine for me. I don't think he would enjoy hanging out at the doc's office for 3 hours. Keep your fingers crossed that I pass the 3 hour.

I'm still not in our apartment yet. So far, since landing in the states, we have moved 4 times. First stop was at a hotel, then after we did all our doc appt's (mine and his) we moved on to my mother-in-laws house for a few days. After staying with her, we moved into my parent's home for a little over a week, and now we are in another hotel. Our apartment was supposed to be ready on the 1st, but due to the hurricanes everything in South Florida is delayed or damaged it seems, and the apartment won't be ready until the 6th. Once I move into the apartment though, I'm unpacking and I'm not going ANYWHERE besides the hospital to give birth. I've already told both families (mine and hubby's) that if they want to see us, they can just drive on over. We are about 4 hours from Dave's family and about 1.5 hours from my family. I don't plan on packing my suitcases again until it's time to get on an airplane and head back to Georgia.

So that's the news for now. Hopefully I will be able to update more often once I get settled in the apartment.

HIVES HIVES HIVES

2005-11-11T15:29:00.000-08:00

As the prednisone shot has worn off, the hives have started to return. Blaine's face, arms, legs and back are covered in small hives - they look almost like chicken pox. Thanks goodness I have a note from the doctor which states that he is not contagious, because otherwise I don't think we would be allowed on the airplane.

We called the pediatrician this morning and she said the return of the hives is normal as the prednisone wears off, but to keep an eye on it and if he keeps getting worse, to get him another prednisone shot. YAY. So, our flight leaves at 11:30 tomorrow - what are the chances that I am going to end up giving Blaine a shot before we leave? Well, I won't, but David might (I can hardly bear to watch Blaine being given a shot, much less sticking him myself). You can buy prednisone over the counter at the pharmacy here, so we don't have to go back to the hospital. We just have to purchase it and purchase a syringe and BAM, we are a home health care agency.

I just hope we make it back to the states with no further incidents (though I told David this morning that at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if one of us broke a bone before boarding tomorrow).

I don't need luck. I have skill.

2005-11-10T17:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Blaine and I were sitting in the kitchen having lunch and I noticed he had little red bumps on his elbow. I checked his other arm and, sure enough, bumps on that elbow too. I asked him to stand up and I lifted his shirt. His torso was spotted with hives. I carried him upstairs and stripped him down and watched as this rash spread across his body, down his legs, arms, up his neck. I called the health unit, got an emergency appointment with the Nurse Practitioner (N/P) and immediately started getting Blaine redressed for the trip. As we headed out of the house our nanny/housekeeper, Ella, gave Blaine a kiss and said "Good luck at the doctor". He turned to her, and in a very serious voice said "I don't need luck. I have skill."

I really don't know where he comes up with these things.

By the time we got to the Embassy Health Unit, the hives had doubled all over his body. The N/P diagnosed him with a viral exanthem rash based on the fact that he had a cold over the weekend and his fever had broken on Tuesday. I was skeptical because it looked more like hives than a viral rash to me, but I have no medical training other than CPR, so I took her word for it. We treated Blaine overnight with Benadryl to stop the itching and, hopefully, clear up the rash. No luck. This morning his eyes, hands and ears were swollen with rash and 90 percent of his body was covered.

I took him back to the health unit and flat out told the N/P that I thought she was wrong, that it looked liked hives from an allergic reaction. She agreed, but wanted me to go to the local Georgian Pediatric Hospital to get another opinion. So, Blaine and I headed out with Mirena, the health unit administrative assistant (who went along to interpret for us if needed). We ended up in the emergency room of the children's hospital with talk of an IV and infusions of steroids and fluids. Needless to say, I was freaking out. The pediatrician, who was an awesome doctor (and spoke flawless English) decided to give the staff allergist a call for consult. The allergist came down and checked him out and concurred with me that it was an allergic reaction and that Benadryl was not strong enough. So, Blaine ended up with a shot of prednisone in his bottom and 2 different prescription drugs.

He already looks a million times better, thank God. But now we have to figure out WHAT caused such a serious reaction. We've not changed soaps, foods, drinks or anything else that we can think of. So, until I can get him to his pediatrician in the states, I am going to be carrying an epi pen with me, just in case. We are still scheduled to fly out of here Saturday morning, so I will probably have him at the doc in Florida on Monday or Tuesday. Then I have a feeling we are going to get referred to an allergist and Blaine will have to have testing done.

Wish me luck, because when it comes to stuff like this, I don't have skill.

Milk

2005-11-02T23:53:00.000-08:00

I went grocery shopping on Monday. I just wanted to get the basics: milk, bread, butter, juice, water and the like. I decided to go out to Goodwill, the large (and only) "super" market in Georgia. I could have gone to the local grocer on the corner near my house, but I figured that I would be getting enough stuff to justify a trip all the way out to Goodwill, since they will take off the VAT tax if you show your diplomatic ID card (and the local grocers look at you like you have 2 heads if you try that).

So, I make the drive -it's about 15 to 20 minutes from my home when there is no traffic, 30 min when there is - and start to shop. Now, this is almost like a regular US style Supermarket. It has a frozen food section, a deli, a bakery, a dairy and produce section and even a little cafe in front. I hit the frozen food section first, as it is at the front of the store, then I move on to the dairy aisle.

At this point, let me interject something about buying milk in Georgia. You cannot get a gallon of Vitamin D enriched, homogenized milk. There is no MacArthur Dairy here. You could, if you were brave, get fresh milk from a local farmer. But I have seen the cows grazing in dumpsters here, so I tend to pass on most things cow-related (beef included). In the stores, the only types of milk that you can find are the ultra-pasteurized cartons of milk such as Parmalat. You know the kind, the milk in the little box that can sit warm on a shelf for a year or more. That's the milk I buy. Blaine and Dave don't seem to mind it and, as I don't care for milk, my opinion doesn't really matter (though warm milk on a shelf for a year squicks me for some reason). If the store is out of Parmalat, I will buy another brand. Boxed milk is boxed milk, I guess.

So, back to the story. I hit the dairy aisle, intending to pick up some cheese, sour cream, butter and, of course, 3 or 4 boxes of milk. One small problem. There is no milk. None. No Parmalat, nothing. Nada. Zip. I think maybe my Russian is failing me and I am just missing it and misreading the labels. I cruise the aisle a second time. Nope. No milk. There is creamer for coffee, there is "Malochko" which is like a milk-type product mixed with flavorings such as strawberry or banana. But no plain ol' milk.

At this point I conclude that "they" must have moved the milk out of the dairy section and onto the shelves with all the other drinks. So I cruise over to the drink aisle. I pick up the water and juice that I need and I look, in vain, for the milk. Up and down I go, scanning labels printed in German, Russian and Georgian looking for anything that resembles milk. Nope. Not here either.

I head back to the dairy aisle, you know, just in case the milk fairy has come and magically restocked the shelves in the 5 minutes that I have been gone. Nope. Still no milk. But there was an employee stocking the dairy, so I asked (in flawless Russian, I might add) where the milk was. Her answer? They have no milk. None. Not any brand or any type. All out. Don't know when they will be getting more.

How the hell does that happen? I can understand running out of some types of milk. Or running out of some specialty or seasonal item. But all milk? Every brand of milk? Who screwed up here? Did someone decide not to order milk this week? Was there a run on milk? Is there a milk shortage that I had not heard of? Really, I'm perplexed by this.

In the end, I still had to stop and shop at my local store. To buy milk. Which they had plenty of.

Stress. It's What's For Breakfast.

2005-10-30T17:18:00.000-08:00

How stressed am I? Where should I start?

1. In less than 2 weeks I will be leaving Georgia. I haven't even begun to think about packing.

2. I will be 30 weeks pregnant when I leave.

3. I have to travel 22 hours to get to Florida. 17 hours on planes, 5 hours in layovers.

4. I have to take 3 different flights. I hate to fly. Especially take-off. I have to do that 3 times. And I can't drink or take any kind of pill to help my anxiety.

5. I will be traveling with a 3.5 year old, who I love dearly, but can be trying at the best of times. Not to mention 22 hours of travel. Without his father to help out.

6. When I arrive in Florida, I will have to adjust myself and my three year old to an 8 hour time difference. That will take a few days at the least.

7. I arrive at 12:30 AM on Sunday. Monday at 8 am I have my first OB appt. with my midwife.

8. I failed my preliminary gestational diabetes test in Georgia. The doctor here thinks the lab screwed up the test. I happen to agree. But I need to either (a) retake the test as soon as possible when I get to the US or (b) take the 3 hour glucose challenge test. I'm not looking forward to either possibility.

9. After being away from the US for almost 7.5 months, I have so many people, family and friends, who want to see Blaine and I. It's hard to accommodate everyone and I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. But I am going to be in my last 10 weeks of pregnancy and I have to think about my health and my son's wellbeing before thinking of who I can visit today and who I can visit tomorrow.

10. I have to spend Christmas without my husband. Who is the love of my life. My son has to spend Christmas without his father. Who is his hero. (Well, Buzz Lightyear is also his hero, but dad still ranks number 1). We've never spent Christmas apart.

11. I'm concerned that David will not make it back to the states in time for the birth of our second child. But babies come when they want and we can just hope that our timing works out well.

12. I haven't finished purchasing souvenirs and Christmas presents for everyone.

13. I need to figure out how to reorganize all of the furniture in the office (which will be the baby's room) and the living room/playroom (which will now be an office and a living room). Oh, and the furniture in Blaine's room has to be reorganized so that the playroom stuff can move into his room. Gah. I won't have time to do all this. I will have to leave my "plan" with David and he will have to do it all.

14. I have to figure out what I can ship back to Tbilisi for the baby and what will be too big and will have to be checked into baggage on the plane when we come back.

Is it any wonder I'm feeling a bit on edge these days?

Barter and Trade

2005-10-15T11:51:00.000-07:00

There are things you just can't get in Tbilisi. You want a sub sandwich? Especially a roast beef one with provolone? Not gonna happen. You can't get decent cheddar cheese. No ricotta at all. Cream cheese? You can get it, but it's not "real" cream cheese. It has a funky taste and the texture isn't good for cheesecake. Lettuce? They only have one kind. We call it Georgian lettuce because it's not a type I've ever seen before. Forget about romaine or any other fancy shmancy variety.

But there are also things you can't get in Yerevan, Armenia. No broccoli. No lighter fluid. No spicy ketchup.

Big deal, you may be thinking. You don't live in Armenia. Who cares? Ah, but see, David goes to Armenia every 4 to 6 weeks to work. And he stays for a week or two. And he has gotten very friendly with the people at the Embassy there, friendly enough that when they found out we were going to Yerevan last weekend for a little vacation and shopping, they started emailing him and asking him to bring the things they can't get there.

We headed out to Yerevan (a 5 hour drive) with a cooler packed full of frozen broccoli from the supermarket for some of Dave's coworkers and a bag with spicy ketchup and lighter fluid for the Marine Guards. As we were passing along the goodies to the grateful folks they uttered the phrase "If there is anything we can get for you..."

Weeeeellll, according to my sources, you are supposed to be able to buy "Philadelphia" cream cheese in the grocery stores in Armenia. David and I hauled ourselves to at least 6 or 7 stores during our 2.5 days there and never found it. So, when we got back to Tbilisi, David emailed the broccoli recipient and asked if she could find us some cream cheese and he would bring it back on his next business trip. She emailed him back and told him she had scored 8 boxes of cream cheese for me! YAY!

Also available in Yerevan (and brought home in the cooler on Monday): decent cheddar cheese, romaine lettuce and, I almost fainted, OKRA. Holy cow. We had fried okra last night with our dinner and it was damn good.

Oh, and Yerevan has a new sub sandwich shop called Mr. Toaster. While we were there I was able to get a roast beef sub (the one I have been craving since I got pregnant). Unfortunately, they don't have provolone either, so I had to make do with cheddar cheese on the sub. But still. A sub. Hallelujah!

I won't even mention how I have been online researching the airports that Blaine and I have layovers at when we head home next month to see what kind of food and drink they have available. I'm gonna get my hands on a mocha frappachino in London. I can already taste it.

Preparing to Leave

2005-09-28T22:41:00.000-07:00

We are really finally settled here in Georgia. Everything is unpacked. Everything has been designated a "spot" in the house, from toys to kitchen gadgets. We've been buying local art pieces, pottery, paintings, baskets and more to decorate with. The walls are finally displaying more than just paint. Family photos have been hung upstairs, paintings from Yerevan and from the local Georgian art market are gracing the walls downstairs. This is now our home.

And in a little over a month, I have to pack up myself and our 3 year old and leave. To go back to the states so that I can give birth in a safer environment than what is offered by Georgian hospitals. I want to leave and go to the states for the birth, but at the same time, I don't want to leave my home and my husband for 3 (or more) months. I just don't.

David and I will be celebrating 10 years of marriage in January. In those 10 years, we really haven't spent a whole lot of time apart. A week here or there when I would travel to Alabama to visit my elderly grandparents - but most of the time he was able to swing the time off of work and go with me. Since we have been in Tbilisi, he has gone to Yerevan on business 3 times. The first time was a 2 week visit and Blaine and I went with him. The second time was from Monday to Friday, so it was over in the blink of an eye. This last trip was another 2 weeker and Blaine and I did not travel with him.

It sucked. I missed him terribly. Blaine wanted to know where daddy was - every time we would go to the Embassy to pick up mail Blaine would light up "we're going to daddy's office!". I would try to explain that daddy wasn't in his office, he was in Yerevan, but Blaine just doesn't grasp the concept of that yet. How the heck am I going to explain that he isn't going to see his dad for upwards of 2 months? How do I tell him that? How do I prepare him to leave the man he absolutely adores and hero worships? Hell, how do I prepare myself?

Hospitals from Hell

2005-09-14T16:55:00.000-07:00

During my pregnancy here in Georgia, I have been doing all my prenatal visits through the US Embassy Health Unit. I was very lucky because a Navy doctor, who was here to do med support for the SSOP Marine operation in Tbilisi, was coming into the health unit every Tuesday to help out while we were waiting for our new Nurse Practitioner(NP) to arrive. The Navy doc was trained for OB work - he was even certified to do C-Sections. Unfortunately, his tour is up this month and he is headed back to the states. So, since I have at least 2 more prenatal checks before I head back to the states I just assumed that the NP would take over my care. I assumed wrong.

The NP is a lovely woman but she has little to no OB experience and she doesn't seem quite keen on gaining any. As a matter of fact, one of the first things she has done since arriving here was to find a local Georgian OB/GYN who speaks English. When I went to visit the NP last week to discuss some issues I was having with this pregnancy, her response was to make me an appointment with the Georgian doc.

So, on Monday I went to the Georgian doc, with me was Dr. Levan, who is the Embassy's Georgian staff doctor. He is fluent in Russian, Georgian and English and I figured if I needed anything medical translated, he would be my guy. Dr. Levan picked me up at 10:45 and we headed to a local hospital where the Georgian doc has his offices. When we pulled up in front of the building, the OB's nurse was waiting for us. She asked us to follow her inside and, a bit nervous, I did so.

First stop was the elevator. Normally the elevator ride to a doctor's office wouldn't really merit a mention. But this was a special elevator ride. You see, when we approached the elevator, I noticed that the door was propped open with a stick. It seems the elevator operator had to run out and no one is allowed to go anywhere in the elevator without her. So we waited a few minutes and finally she comes back. With a bag of pears. I guess she really, really wanted a pear. She takes the stick out of the door and then puts her hand out and everyone in the elevator gives her money. It cost 20 tetri (about a dime) to ride the elevator to the 6th floor. Once everyone had paid up, she pushed in the buttons and the door closed and the lights in the building all went dim as the electricity was sucked up by the elevator. At this point, as you may be able to imagine, I was about to pee my pants. I'm not a huge elevator fan in the first place - due to my claustrophobia. We arrive at the 6th floor and the doors open. And then the nurse cautions me to watch my step. You see, the elevator does not actually line up with the floor. So I have to step up and out of the elevator to actually get to my destination.

Relieved that the elevator ride is over, and thinking that the worst is behind me, I follow the nurse and Dr. Levan into the waiting room of the Dr.'s office. This waiting room consists of 2 metal chairs, a sink, and a closet that holds all manner of operating gowns. Privately, I am questioning the sterility of the gowns in the closet when the door to the inner office/exam room opens and the Georgian doc comes out and invites us in.

Now, I am expecting an actual exam room. I am mistaken. In this inner office there are 2 desks with chairs, an extra chair and a leather (or possibly vinyl...I didn't look too closely) couch with rips in the cushions. I sit in the chair on the other side of the desk from the doc, Dr. Levan takes a seat at the other desk and the nurse has a seat on the couch and we discuss my pregnancy. Eventually the doctor decides he wants to examine me and he invites me to lay down on the ripped sofa. I know I must have had a look on my face like "you have to be shitting me!" because the doctor motions to me again, more insistent. I get on the couch, cringing inside as I lie back. The doc pokes at my belly a little and tells me everything is normal and helps me sit up. He refers me to a cardiologist for a consult (I have mitral valve prolapse and the way this baby is lying is pushing everything up into my chest, thus making my heart prolapse much more noticeable) and as we are saying our good byes, he is called into the delivery room. He reaches into his desk and pulls out a surgical mask from a pile he has there, puts it on his face and dashes out. I just hope he stopped at the sink in the waiting room and washed his hands.

Don't misunderstand me. I think the doctor is qualified, intelligent and he seemed to be quite a decent guy. But the quality of his surroundings leave a lot to be desired. I won't even describe the pictures I saw of women in the delivery room. I just couldn't do them justice.

The next day, Dr. Levan picks me up again and we head to the cardiologist. If I had thought the OB hospital was bad, well this one was worse. We pull into a small dirt courtyard - I asked Dr. Levan where we were as I did not recognize any of the surrounding buildings. When he tells me we are going to the cardiology hospital I am taken aback. None of the buildings look habitable, much less like hospitals. We walk across the courtyard to a concrete entrance way, once inside, the smell of mold and mildew, a deep mustiness, fills my nostrils. We climb 2 flights of crumbling stairs, all the while I'm marveling at the dirt and mold crawling up the walls and the people smoking on the landings. I ask Dr. Levan again if he is SURE this is a hospital. He tells me to wait and see.

We enter the building on the second level, make a quick right and walk through a set of double doors and I am astounded. This whole section has been remodeled. It was like walking out of the middle ages and onto the set of ER. New flooring, walls, ceiling. All brand new state-of-the art equipment. Everything is fastidiously clean. I am amazed that this actually exists in this building which from the outside seems to be held up by dirt and mold.

I meet the cardiologist, who is a highly credentialed doctor and quite a nice guy to boot. He does an echo cardiogram of my heart and tells me that everything is fine. The only real cure for my problem is to delivery this baby and get the pressure off of my esophagus, thus lessening the acid reflux that is making my mitral valve so much more noticeable. I thank him, pay my 30 Lari (about 16 bucks) and we leave.

When telling friends about my experience with Georgian hospitals, I like to joke that it's like an episode of that documentary "Scared Straight". If you recall, in "Scared Straight" a bunch of teen trouble makers were taken into a maximum security prison to meet with inmates who were on death row or who had life in prison sentences. The goal was to, as the title implies, scare them straight. I say visiting a Georgian OB/GYN hospital is like being scared celibate.

Booze, Bread, Baskets and Pottery!

2005-09-04T21:54:00.000-07:00

David, Blaine and I took a trip out of Tbilisi today - we had no particular destination, we just wanted to head down the road towards Poti and shop along the way. David went to Poti on business a week or so ago and he took his GPS along and marked all the cool little shopping towns along the way, the ones that you won't find in a guidebook. There was the little town where Gomi Vodka is made, a small village where sweet bread is sold at stands every 5 feet, there was the basket shopping district and the pottery district. We also lucked into a boiled corn section of town (no I'm not kidding).

The first stop was at the Gomi Vodka factory store and restaurant. Mainly because I had to use the bathroom and we figured the restaurant would have something better than a squatty potty, which in my pregnant state is just not a feasible thing to try to do. The store itself is small - once Blaine, David and I were inside, there wasn't room for anyone else other than the cashier. We really had no intention of purchasing vodka as neither one of us are fans of the stuff, but we changed our mind when we saw how much a half-liter bottle of the stuff cost. It was 3 Lari and 60 Tetri. Which translates roughly to 2 bucks US. How can you turn down a 2 dollar bottle of vodka? Especially when they come in such nifty flavors? We purchased 5 bottles: Pepper, Honey, Lemon, Mint and regular vodka flavor. We also ended up getting some khachapuri in their restaurant to munch on before we hit the road again. Oh, and our assumption was right, they had quite a nice bathroom.

We left the vodka stop and headed down the road, on our way to pottery, baskets and bread. We decided to pass by the bread and baskets and head all the way out to the pottery town and then work our way back. The pottery place was just amazing. I had no plans to buy any pottery (I was planning on spending most of my cash on baskets) but once I got there, I changed my mind. We bought vases, wine pitchers, wine horns, keti pots, and a little piggy bank for Blaine. The stuff was amazing and amazingly cheap. I plan on going back an buying more.

After pottery, we turned the car around and started working our way back toward Tbilisi. Our next stop was for baskets. The basket stands had some very beautiful things and some really crappy things. This is where it pays to be careful and inspect what you are buying, especially as the baskets are not all that inexpensive. I did end up with a nice basket to put all my crafty cross-stitch stuff in and a basket for baby blankets for when the baby arrives. I also got a neat little basket for the kitchen to toss fruit into.

Along the way back we stopped to check out the corn stands. Now, we have tried buying corn at the farmer's market here in Tbilisi and it's not sweet and kind of tastes blah when boiled - even if I add sugar to the water. But this stuff? It was delicious. It only costs 1 lari for a boiled ear of corn on the cob and it's some of the tastiest corn I've ever had. We stopped and bought one ear from a little old lady on the side of the road and after David and I both took a bite, we decided to stop again and bought a few more ears from a young boy tending the fire a few blocks down the road. It's hard to explain, but literally this corn comes from people's private gardens and they just build a little wood fire on the side of the road and set a pot with corn on to boil. Then they sit and wait for someone to stop and buy from them. If it weren't a 2 hour drive away, I would go there at least every other day to get fresh boiled corn. Seriously.

A little further down the road we drive into what David refers to as "the Colonial village" and what I called "bread town". As far as the eye can see lining each side of the road are little stick and mud shacks, each a little bigger than the size of an outhouse, where bread is made. Regular Georgian Lavash bread and also "slotkey hleb" which translates as "sweet bread". The little shacks each house a raised, round concrete oven in which the breads are made. We stopped and bought a sweet bread from one of the stands, which tastes like it was made with honey and cinnamon. It was delicious.

Our last stop on the way home was at a small farmer's market on the side of the road. I bought a kilo or two of delicious tomatoes (Georgia has some of the best damn tomatoes I have EVER had). I also bought some apples and peaches to make a crisp and a cobbler, respectively. Oh, and we got Blaine some bananas and a small watermelon for me.

All in all, it was a great day in Georgia.

From a world away

2005-09-03T12:27:00.000-07:00

I watch.

I watch when hurricanes start forming off the coast of Africa.

I watch as they move closer to Florida. Closer to my parents, my family, my husband's family, my friends.

I watch as they grow stronger or weaker and I breathe a sigh of relief as they pass by, sparing the ones I love.

But this one? Katrina? She missed my family and friends in Florida, but she hit my family in Alabama. My friends in Mississippi and Louisiana. And thousands upon thousands of people I do not know but my heart breaks for.

I watch what little news we get on our one news channel on the Armed Forces Network. An hour or two of CNN, then an hour or two of MSNBC, then and hour or two of Fox news (if I can stand the hype and hysterics of the anchors on Fox, which is, by far, the worst news channel in the history of the WORLD. Bill O'Reilly. Enough said, yes?).

I watch stories unfold online. I look at pictures of the devastation, not just to the landscape, but on the faces of the people who are caught up in this tragedy.

And my heart breaks.

And now for something completely different

2005-08-27T14:04:00.000-07:00

I've talked about my son; how wonderful, entertaining, exasperating, loving and perfect he is. I can't imagine not having this child in my life. Every day is a new experience with him. To see the world through the eyes of a three year old is a truly miraculous thing.

And I've talked about my pregnancy. Not much, but I've mentioned it here or there. What I haven't really mentioned is how incredibly different this pregnancy is from pregnancy with Blaine. When I was pregnant with Blaine, I was truly the pregnant woman in bloom. I loved it. I had slight morning sickness, but never really was pukey. I didn't have any weird food cravings. I enjoyed almost every minute of my pregnancy and couldn't wait to do it again.

Now that I'm doing it again, I know that this is my last pregnancy. Discounting all the problems I have just getting (and staying) pregnant, I know without a doubt, that I cannot and will not put myself through this again. This pregnancy is HARD. Really, really hard. First came the debilitating morning sickness that didn't confine itself to the mornings. It was more like all-day sickness. I couldn't eat. If I ate, I threw up. You know it's bad when you start planning your meals based on what will be easiest to puke back up a half an hour later.

When the morning sickness started to wane, I got the stomach flu. And if you think morning sickness is bad, well, the stomach flu is ten times worse. In 7 or 8 weeks of morning sickness I lost about 10 pounds. In 4 days of stomach flu, I lost 10 pounds. It was horrible. At one point the health unit here was considering hospitalizing me for dehydration - which I think scared my body into keeping fluids down. (If you could see Georgian hospitals, you would understand.)

Now that the morning sickness and the stomach flu are gone, I am dealing with intense food cravings. And not just normal "boy I'd like a sandwich" type cravings. No, I'm craving dill pickles slathered with mustard. Or dill pickles on Dorito Nacho Cheese chips. I can eat a jar of dill pickles a week. I don't care for chocolate - which is seriously odd since prior to this pregnancy, I lived for chocolate. It's just weird.

But the biggest, most unexpected difference with this pregnancy? This baby is a girl. We just found out yesterday. A girl. How delightful and surprising and amazing all at the same time. There hasn't been a girl in David's family (on the paternal side) in generations. It's going to be great. I can't wait to meet her.

The Dollar Store

2005-08-22T11:49:00.000-07:00

In the US, there is a "dollar store", or a variation of the dollar store in almost every town. You know what I'm talking about - the "99 Cent Store" or the "Dollar Plus!". I generally never shopped at the dollar stores - unless I was looking for cheap coloring books for my son the scribbler or Search-A-Word books in large print for my grandparents. Apparently the dollar stores do high volume business in those two items, because it seems they always have them.

When we moved to Georgia in April, our second day here our friend Gina took us shopping. We were headed to Goodwill, the large German supermarket, and there was road work and we had to detour. As we took the detour, through a section of Tbilisi called Didube, we came across the "Dollar Store". Gina immediately stopped and we got out of the car and went in to check it out. The store had just opened and Gina was shocked. After living in Georgia for 2 plus years, she stood in the middle of the store at one point and said "I'm just so overwhelmed! I don't know where to start!".

You see, almost all the products in the Dollar Store are American products. Mostly off-brands, much like you would find in a US dollar store, but some name-brand products as well. Dave and I were not so shell-shocked, since we had just come from the states, but for the expats who have lived here for a while, the Dollar Store was BIG news. You could get generic pop-tarts, cookies, mustard, mayo, etc. all for a dollar fifty-five. (I don't know why they call it the dollar store when everything is a dollar fifty-five AND you actually pay in Georgian Lari, so everything is really almost 3 lari. Maybe because it would make the sign on the front of the store too complicated.)

Anyhow, I now adore the Dollar Store. After living here almost 5 months, it's nice to be able to go into the Dollar Store and shop. It's small, about the size of a 7-11 store in the US, but all the products are labeled in English and they are all kind of comforting and familiar. I buy Tom's brand peanut butter crackers by the boxfulls (they were the only thing I could keep down in the first few months of my pregnancy). I buy Gatorade for David. I buy birthday cards and wrapping paper.

They just opened a new branch of the Dollar Store in the Gldani section of Tbilisi. We got an email last week about the "Grand Opening" and it claimed it was much bigger than the original store in Didube. Dave and I set out on Saturday to find the store. 2 hours of driving around and stopping for directions (with our bad Russian skills and their poor English skills, it's amazing but we were able to get decent directions) we found the store and had to stand in line to get in. The store is big, almost twice the size of the original Dollar Store. And the selection - well, they have quite a bit more stock (Sunny Delight juice! David was in heaven - he loves that crap. Blaine, on the other hand took one taste and declared it "yucky".) and quite a bit more selection. Now that I know how to get there, I see many more trips to the Gldani Dollar Store in my future.

Happy Birthday Fred

2005-08-17T11:08:00.000-07:00

Since you never respond to email (subtle hint there for you bro), I decided to post your birthday wishes here, in public blogging land.

So, for those of you who are not my OLDER brother, let me tell you a little bit about him; think of it as a birthday homage to my OLDER brother. Did I mention he is OLDER than me? He is. OLDER that is.

As I may have pointed out, my brother is OLDER than I am. And, growing up, you would think that he would have looked out for me, taught me things, been a shoulder to cry on. Right? Wrong. We HATED each other. Really, until high school (and even sometimes during high school) he and I fought on a daily, if not hourly, basis. My mother, I am sure, wonders how she ever survived.

But as he got OLDER and matured some, he turned out to be a pretty decent guy. (I did not need to mature. I have always been wise beyond my years. If you don't believe me, I don't care. This is my blog. Get your own blog and you can make up your own version of the truth.) He went from being a punk, pain-in-my-ass brother to being a pretty stand-up guy. I give a lot of credit to his wife, Kathy, for putting up with him all these years. I think his meeting her and settling down had a lot to do with his growing up. That and their son, Warren, who is now (God help me) 19 years old. I used to babysit this kid - change his diapers, rock him to sleep, play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with him - and now he is in college. Freaky.

Back to Fred. He decided he wanted to be a cop. Interesting choice of profession for a young man who had always been *just this side* of the law throughout high school. I think it would be safe to call my brother a teenage hooligan, yet he decided he wanted to enforce the law. And he does a damn good job of it. I was very proud of him when he graduated from the police academy. I remember the night he graduated was the same night the first college theatre show I ever directed was opening. I made it to his graduation and had to skip out right after he was handed his diploma to make it over to the theatre in time for the curtain to go up.

I'm still proud of him. He and Kathy have had 2 more kiddos, Elizabeth and Erin, who are just the coolest girls that I know. They have just bought a great house in the same town our parents live in. In the same town that we went to middle and high school in. The same town that he has worked as a cop for more years than I can remember. Some of us need to move on and move out (me) and some of us are happy building a great life where they are (him). I'm happy for him. He also has a very generous spirit and is a pretty cool guy*. You know, now that he is OLDER.

And I still need him to pick me up from the airport in November, so how about you respond to your damn Email bro? (Unless you are suffering from Alzheimers and keep forgetting, which, given your age, wouldn't be shocking.)

*Unless you take long (over 12 hour) car trips with him. Then all bets are off. He and I cannot travel together by car EVER again. EVER. But the airport is only a short trip, so we should survive.

I do not know why

2005-08-12T17:10:00.000-07:00

The formatting is so screwed up in my previous post (Georgia - it's SMOKIN'). I have diddled around with the HTML trying to figure it out, but the problem eludes me.

I will have the resident web guru (AKA, David) take a shot at it tonight when he gets home from work.

Georgia - It's SMOKIN'

2005-08-12T14:20:00.000-07:00

Let me start this entry with two quotes from Georgia with Armenia: The Bradt Travel Guide, Second Edition by Tim Burford:

Georgia has among the highest levels of tobacco use in the world with most men
smoking most of the time, as well as 28% of pregnant women and 35% of
breast-feeding women. An average 8,900 million cigarettes are consumed every
year in Georgia, 2,200 per capita, against a world average of 1,600 per capita,
and smoking-related deaths will soon account for about 20% of male deaths.

And another little gem from the travel guide:

However, when the Ministry of Health tried a poster campaign in Tbilisi all the
billboard sites were bought up at once by Philip Morris, manufacturers of
Marlboro cigarettes.

So, as you can see from the above quotes, Georgians like to smoke. They smoke all the time. They smoke while eating, driving, talking, walking. The smoke where ever they want, when ever they want. They can buy cigarettes very cheaply from black market dealers, and, if they are short of cash, they don't have to buy a whole pack. You can buy just one cigarette at a time if you would like.

One of the reasons I actually LIKE to go to McDonalds here (I normally loathe McD's) is because it is a SMOKE-FREE environment. It's almost like blasphemy to the Georgians to have a smoke-free environment, but for some reason they honor the ban at McDonalds. They also don't smoke while shopping in Goodwill, the large supermarket here, but the do smoke while sitting in the front of the store at the little coffee and soda cafe. They might not smoke in church, but I have not been in a Georgian Orthodox church yet, so I cannot say for a fact that they don't.

Baskin-Robbins ice cream shop? It's like walking into a fog. "Yes, I'd like some chocolate ice cream with some sprinkles and a layer of nicotine!"

Local grocery stores? "Look honey, each package of potato chips comes with a free side of ashes!"

Taxis? Forget it, your taxi driver smokes and he doesn't care if you don't like it.

Doctor's offices? Of course they smoke in there. While sitting under the "NO SMOKING" sign.

Restaurants? I have yet to go to a restaurant (with the exception of McD's, not that I really count them as a restaurant per se) that bans smoking. Usually David, Blaine and I are the only three in the restaurant that are NOT smoking. Waiters and waitresses look at us like we have 3 heads when we hand them back the ashtray and tell them "we don't need this".

Hotels? Smoke central. The Sheraton, where the US Embassy has their health unit, is a smokers paradise with ashtrays every 5 feet. Hell, people smoke in the elevators.

Now, I used to smoke. I loved smoking. LOVED IT. Miss it like mad. And I would smoke again in a heartbeat if I (a) didn't have an impressionable 3 year old with me almost all the time (B) wasn't pregnant and (c) didn't know how incredibly bad for me smoking is. But being in Georgia is almost like not having to be a reformed smoker. I passively smoke so much - I probably inhale more smoke here than I did when I was actively smoking. Scary, but true.

I get by with a little help from my friends

2005-08-02T21:02:00.000-07:00

When David and I* decided to join the ranks of the Foreign Service and move every two to three years to countries/cities that most people have never even heard of we knew we would be giving up many of the creature comforts of home. What we didn't expect was the support, love and care packages that have been sent to us. So, please indulge me for a few moments while I blog a big ol' thank you.

My first letter after we arrived here came from a dear friend in Seattle. It's seems slightly funny to call someone you have never met a dear friend, but I do consider Kristin as such. She is an "internet" friend. Someone I have never talked to face-to-face, but have poured my heart out to via the magic of computers. Her letter brought a huge smile to my face and touched my heart.

Another internet friend, Nicole, has sent me care packages of oreos, books and most importantly, videotapes of crap reality TV. She and I joke that we share a brain - and our taste in reading material and television shows is proof of that. She taped so many shows that she thought I might like and she was dead on right about every single one of them. I'm now addicted to "Hell's Kitchen" and cannot wait to receive my next care package from her with more videotapes. Once again, Nicole and I have never met in real life, but it really doesn't matter. When she had her third child (her first girl!) earlier this year, I couldn't have been happier for her.

Mary. What can I say about Mary. She amazed me. She read my blog entry about trying to make chocolate chip cookies and went out and made up an amazing box of goodies for me. Cookie sheets, flour, brown sugar, vanilla, various bags of chips, spatulas - so much stuff. I was so overwhelmed when I opened the box I just sat down and cried at the thought that went into it. Now, Mary and I have met, once, in the real world. But she and I would never have known each other if it weren't for the internet.

My parents and my husband's parents. Well, obviously I have met them in real life. They continuously send the most delightful packages full of love. I adore getting mail from them. Not to mention the magazine subscriptions they have signed us up for (though I'm still not thrilled with David's subscription to "Stuff" magazine. LOL)

Our friends back in the states who sent packages for Blaine's birthday this year. Donna, Randy, Katie, Lukas and Heidi, Scott, Nicholas and Julie & Claire. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You helped make a little boy's birthday so wonderful.

And there are others who have said they will send things or have packages in transit to us - I just want you all to know how much just the THOUGHT means to David and I. We love and appreciate you all. Sometimes getting mail is the highlight of our week and it's because of all of you. Thank you so much, from the bottom of our hearts. We will never, ever forget your generosity.

*Yes, I said David and I. Even though he is the one with the official paying job, it's not a job he would have taken without my full support and I had an equal say in the decision making process. Once again, you can see why I love this man so much.

All the Gori details

2005-08-01T22:30:00.000-07:00

On the 4th of July, David, Blaine and I set out on a trip to Gori. Gori is about an hour and a half from Tbilisi and is the birthplace of Stalin. There is a museum in Gori dedicated to Stalin and everyone who had been there told us it was a must-see, just based on the pure creepiness factor.

The road to Gori was quite good, by Georgian standards, very little bumping and swerving to miss pot holes, which is how I judge most trips these days. The scenery was breathtaking. Seriously, if you head out of Tbilisi 15 minutes in any direction, you encounter some of the most beautiful land in the world. It really is just gorgeous. Everything is so green, and even though we are in the hot summer months, everything is still in full bloom.

As we enter Gori, we notice that it is quite different from Tbilisi. Where Tbilisi is always congested with cars and people, Gori looks more like a ghost town. We passed very few cars on the road going into the center of town and saw very few people out in front of shops and homes. It almost felt like we were in a cheesy horror flick - you know the kind, where the clueless couple pulls into an obviously spooktacular town but they think it's all just jim-dandy until the zombies come out and start eating them? Yeah, that's kind of what it felt like. We located the museum with no trouble at all. Considering it is in the center of town and all roads lead to it, well, it would have been kind of hard to miss.

We get out of the car and head to the museum. There is a lady in the lobby of the museum who informs us of the cost of entry - I believe it was 2 lari per person (about a dollar US) - and then points at our cameras and tells us that if we want to take pictures it will cost more money. Every 2 pictures would cost us 1 lari. Then she points at the video camera that David is holding and tells us that if we want to take video, it will cost 20 lari more. David tells her that we won't video but gives her 5 lari extra for pictures. So, now we can take 10 photos of the museum. And to make sure we stick to this, the lady follows us through the whole museum watching what we do and keeping a tally of every time the flash goes off.

The museum itself was quite creepy. Stalin's death mask, enshrined on the second floor, was cast only 6 hours after he died (as we were breathlessly informed by the picture-counting museum lady). The place was dark, dusty, and everything was in Russian or Georgian. Now, I can passably read Russian, but it takes me a few minutes, and when you are trying to translate and keep track of your wandering 3 year old at the same time, well, things get difficult. The only light in the building came from the high windows - many of our pictures didn't turn out because it was so dark. Once we were finished inside the museum we were led outside by the picture counter so that we could visit Stalin's original home, which is on the grounds of the museum. It was small and not that interesting to be completely honest. After visiting the house, she led us over to Stalin's personal train car. Much more interesting, especially considering that they had Stalin's favorite chair in the "living room" portion of the train car and the museum lady practically begged David to sit in it and have his picture taken. He did sit, and Blaine crawled up on his lap, and I snapped my tenth and final photo.

I'm back and I'm exhausted

2005-08-01T09:15:00.000-07:00

We finally have internet again. Of course we have gone from a high-speed (well, high-speed by Georgian standards) wireless set-up to a DSL line that is almost like having dial-up service again. Ah, technology. But at least we can connect, get email, touch base with friends and, most importantly for me, shop Amazon.com for books.

We almost were not able to get back on-line. For 3 days the internet company kept coming out and "working" on our DSL and could not get it to connect. They even (or so they claim) went to the phone switch here in town and checked our phone lines. After 3 days of this jockeying around they told me that "tomorrow" they would have someone from the phone company come out and test our lines in the house and run a test line for the DSL. I told David about this when he got home from work and Dave decided to try to tackle the DSL problem himself. Dave is an expert (in my not-so-humble opinion) on all things computer and networking. Heck, this is what he used to do for a living for almost 10 years so he should be, right? Well, once again he proved himself smarter than the average bear and managed to get our DSL line to connect after only 10 minutes of fiddling around with it. What 2 Georgian technicians couldn't do in 3 days, my husband did in 10 minutes. Now you see why I keep him around (aside from the great father, loving husband, resident scary bug killer and car fixer gig that he is so good at).

As for the exhaustion part. Well, aside from the fact that I'm almost 4 months pregnant and am constantly chasing the world's most stubborn 3 year old, we had a bar-b-que yesterday for a new family in town. It was our first big party since arriving in Tbilisi and David was pretty positive that we would have a small showing. Ha. Ha. Luckily I planned otherwise. All day Saturday I cooked, baked, and otherwise prepared. By the time the party rolled around I was ready. 10 pounds of potato salad, a huge bowl of cole slaw, baked beans, apple crisp, brownies, bruschetta, 20 hamburgers, 20 hot dogs, 30+ chicken and beef shish kebobs with peppers, onions, and garlic, 50 chicken wings (spicy hot, naturally), chips, dips, vegetable trays, green salad, cheese trays, 3 cases of beer, a few bottles of wine, more juice boxes and bottles of water than my refrigerator could hold.

Over 50 people showed up. We ran out of hot dogs, hamburgers, water and paper plates. I have no idea how the paper plate thing happened as I had a costco-sized stack of about 200 plates, but now I know to plan better next time. Running out of bottled water was unexpected - I thought we had more than enough, but it was a real scorcher of a day so people drank twice as much water as beer, much to my consternation. Now I have refrigerator full of beer plus a cooler still full. I can't drink, Dave rarely drinks and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do with all this beer. Ha. Maybe I'll have another party. I still have about a pound or two of potato salad left. Hey everyone, I have beer and potato salad, come on over!

We have cancelled our internet service

2005-07-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

We are looking into alternatives right now but I don't know when we will have something in place.

Hopefully I'll be back online soon.

When are you going to update your blog?

2005-07-20T09:46:00.000-07:00

I've been getting emails asking this. Well, let me tell you, I'm not neglecting my blog. Oh, no. But my internet connection is on the fritz and I have limited connectivity. My internet connection is up for 5 minutes and then down for 3 hours. I type an entry for the blog, spell check it and by the time I'm ready to post it, POOF, my internet is gone.

According to the Internet Gods here in Tbilisi, it seems that someone has put an unlicensed transmitter on the radio tower that we get our signal from and it is interfering with our signal. David and I were shocked that there was such a thing as a "licensed" signal in Tbilisi. Apparently, the company that we receive our internet service from has complained to the Georgian gov't. And apparently the Georgian gov't shrugged their shoulders and said "uh, what the hell are we supposed to do? Have you seen our economy? Our unemployment rate? Yeah, bootleg radio signals are just not a priority for us". So the company that provides our internet is having to change everything - from the transmitters on the tower to the receivers at every business and home. They should get to us, oh, sometime next week. I'm not holding my breath. In the meantime, I will blog it up in MS Word or Notepad or some other word processing program and post them when I can connect.

Happy Fourth of July. Send food.

2005-07-03T15:36:00.000-07:00

We celebrated last night with a picnic and fireworks hosted by the American Embassy and the American Chamber of Commerce here in Tbilisi at Turtle Lake. We all had a great time, Blaine, I think, had the best time of all.

It's an odd feeling to celebrate American Independence in a foreign country. The hot dogs and hamburgers (not to mention the potato salad and "baked" beans) don't taste quite the same. The majority of the people surrounding you, celebrating with you, are not Americans. They are Georgians, most of whom either work at the Embassy or are related to someone who works at the Embassy. They are there to enjoy the food, the drink, the music and the camaraderie, but they are not there to hold their hand over their heart and sing the Star Spangled Banner when the fireworks start.

It was a fun night. But it also made me reflect on what I miss about America. It made me nostalgic for all the things that most Americans take for granted. And I'm not talking about stuff like our freedom and the first amendment. No, I'm talking about the important stuff. Like the ability to get a sub sandwich. Sliced deli meat. Hershey's chocolate. Buffalo wings. A Frosty from Wendy's. You know, the really, really, important stuff. Well, it's important when you are pregnant and you can't get it. If anyone can ship me a sub and have it stay fresh during the three week trip, I'll be forever grateful. Roast beef, please. Provolone cheese. Lettuce, tomato, pickles and mayo. I don't care for Subway - if you can find a nice mom & pop sub shop, that would be great.

Three Year Olds

2005-06-26T08:44:00.000-07:00

Are great. I know. I have one.

Latest phrases (and, no, I don't know where some of these come from):
After picking up the digital camera and pointing it at Dave "Hey, Daddy! It's SHOWTIME!"
Seeing his new swingset (still in the box) "Daddy, get tools - put it together!"
Walking outside and seeing his swingset all put together "Oh my goodness! What's going on here?!?"
One of my favorites "You wait here mommy, I'll be RIGHT BACK"

Other fun things that he does (please note sarcasm):
-Wipes his hands in his hair. Even if he has a napkin or two. The hair is far superior when it comes to wiping off ketchup, pudding, etc.
-Making what I call the "blowfish" face when he takes a particularly large drink of milk, juice or water. And when I tell him to "swallow it...now" he laughs. Which then makes the milk etc. spill down his face and onto his shirt. Which then means we have to change the shirt RIGHT NOW. NOW. I MEAN NOW. Because having a wet shirt (or shorts) is akin to having a hot poker rammed up your nose (or at least that's the way he freaks out about it - you would think that the milk had turned to acid).

He can also ride his bike now - thanks to some help from dad, he has figured out the whole concept of using the pedals and no longer pushes his bike along like Fred Flintstone. He's also fond of jumping. Off of steps, his bed, any ledge he can find...it certainly keeps us on our toes.

Three year olds are great. Except for the potty training thing. But we're working on that (so quit asking mom, OK?)

Help if you can

2005-06-22T13:50:00.000-07:00

http://www.forkatessake.org/

I don't know these people. You probably don't know these people either. But they need your help. Please do what you can, even if it is just saying a prayer for their family.

Kiss your kids, hug your loved ones and count your blessings.

Thank you.

Does this gun go with this outfit?

2005-06-11T15:05:00.000-07:00

Much like the wild, wild west of yore, many Georgians carry guns openly on their hips. Usually the Georgian is a "security guard" at a restaurant or casino. But it's disconcerting, to say the least, to sit down for dinner at an outdoor cafe and have men with guns tucked into their belts strolling around. One of our favorite restaurants is a popular spot with expatriates and is owned by an American. She has 2 to 3 armed guards outside of her business at all times. Does it make me feel safer? I guess. Is it necessary? I honestly don't know. And honestly don't want to find out. I also find it interesting that I've only seen men with guns, but that doesn't necessarily mean the ladies aren't packing heat as well.

In another case of guns and dinner, we went to a great little Italian place for dinner the other night. It was our first time there and we went because we saw a banner hanging up in town that said "All you can drink free beer Thursday". So, I guess it's safe to say that we didn't go for the food as much for the free beer (not that I had any, but Dave and some of his buddies from work had quite a few). The food, though, was outstanding, really the best Italian food that I have had in Tbilisi. But I almost choked on my bruschetta when, out of nowhere, 2 police officers came rushing into the restaurant with guns drawn. And when I say guns drawn, I'm not talking a little handgun. Nope. One of the police officers had an AK-47 and he was, as they say in the movies, "locked and loaded". I was ready to grab my child and dive under the table, but no one else in the restaurant even looked remotely interested. Not the waiters. Not the other Georgian patrons. Not even our American dinner companions. Everybody just seemed to ignore them. They talked to one of the waiters for a few minutes and one of the officers even got a glass of water and drank it. Then they left. Who knows what they really wanted - I can't see the need for a glass of water being so great that you have to brandish an AK-47.

I wasn't even going to blog about the gun culture here in Tbilisi or about our experience at the Italian place (because I know my mother and mother-in-law will probably freak out and worry - but it's ok moms....we're fine. Really.) but David has been bugging me to post about it. So, I hope you are happy Dave. Here's your gun post. You get to answer the phone when your mom calls.

Stuff!

2005-06-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

If you could see me, you would see that I am doing a happy dance. Why am I so happy? WE HAVE STUFF! Stuff we have not seen in a year. Stuff I had forgotten about. Lovely, lovely STUFF.

Almost 1 year ago we sold our house in Florida and began our adventure. We closed on the house on the 25th of June, but did not need to be in D.C. until September. So what were we to do? We packed up the majority of our stuff and put it in storage. We rented a furnished condo on the beach and enjoyed our last few weeks in the sun.

When it came time to move, the moving company came and packed up our stuff out of the storage facility where it had resided for 2 months. We kept a small portion of our stuff to take with us in the car; clothes, a few books for the child, toys. A bigger portion of our stuff was placed in air freight containers that would arrive in D.C. and be delivered to our "home" there. But the biggest portion of our stuff went into another storage facility, not to be seen again until we were posted overseas.

Well, it arrived. As the movers were unpacking the large sea crates, I kept squealing like a little girl. "Ooooh, I had forgotten about that!" or "Ooooooh, wait until Blaine sees this!". I'm pretty sure the nice Georgian men who were working their butts off unpacking all of our stuff wished I would shut up. But I couldn't help it. I was giddy about my stuff. Giddy I tell you!

I have my Kitchen Aid Mixer. I have Blaine's toy box. I have so many towels (we had been rotating 4 towels - 2 green and 2 white). I have clothes that I had forgotten I owned. I have my stuff back. My Georgian house is beginning to feel like home and that makes me happy.

Blaine Do It!

2005-06-04T11:58:00.000-07:00

One of the joys of having a child is watching him grow and learn every day. It's also one of the toughest parts of being a parent. Tough because watching them learn something new also means it's something you no longer have to do for them. And slowly, incrementally, piece by piece, this is how your child becomes independent and then one day they think you are totally uncool and don't want to be seen with you and then *poof* they go to college and get married and out of nowhere you are a grandparent and dammit I'm not ready to be a grandparent yet...oh, wait. I'm getting way ahead of myself. Especially since Blaine is only 2 (well, he will be 3 in just a little over a week). And my oh my how quickly these past 3 years have flown by.

What inspired this? Blaine's latest favorite phrase. "Blaine do it". He wants to do everything by himself now. From pouring milk into his cereal to putting on his sandals, I hear 1 meeeeelllion times a day "Blaine do it". And if I try to argue I get the full indignant statement "Mommy no do it. Blaine do it!". Some things I am ok with, like the aforementioned shoes or cereal (though, I admit to hovering while he pours the milk because he can get a little overzealous). Other things, like putting on an oven mitt and wanting to take the broiler pan with the chicken on it out of the oven, well, that I have to say no to. Oh, and what a horrible Mommy I am when I say no. Awful. Evil. But I held my ground against the tiny tyrant and explained that it could hurt him because it was very hot. I don't think he much cared.

He loves to "cook". Putting his oatmeal bowl in the microwave and pushing the green button makes him happy. Stirring the batter for pancakes makes him feel fantastic. He loves to follow me around and imitate what I do. Then the next day, he just wants to do it all by himself. He loves to put the soap in the dishwasher now and push the buttons to make it start. He thinks it's a blast to get the toilet brush and scrub the toilet (of course I end up mopping up all the water that gets dripped on the floor). I figure a few more days and I can have him making beds and mopping floors - heck, he is already quite accomplished with the Swiffer.

The only thing that I would love, love, love for Blaine to do that he absolutely refuses? To use the potty. I live for the day he tells me he doesn't want a diaper and instead heads to the bathroom saying "Blaine do it".

Feeling 16 All Over Again

2005-05-31T16:01:00.000-07:00

Our car arrived this past week. No time to post anything in the blog, we are too busy driving all over the place.

You never realize how much you love, love, love your car until you don't have it.

More later, I have to drive myself somewhere now. LOL

The Silence of the Goat

2005-05-23T12:49:00.000-07:00

The other night Dave and I had a hard time going to sleep. It wasn't because of the neighborhood kids playing in front of our house because we have the only house with lights out front on the whole block. Nope. Dave found the breaker that turns off the front security lights and we switch it off every night at dusk...once everyone has headed home we turn them back on. It wasn't the random dogs barking. We've learned to tune that out as well. What was keeping us awake? A goat.

The people who live directly across from us aquired a goat that afternoon. We know the exact moment they brought it home because it started it's mournful bleating "mmmmmaaaaaaaaaahhhh, mmmmmaaaaaahhhhh", and it continued to bleat all day long. We figured once it got dark, it would go to sleep (logical, no?). Well, it seems this goat was an insomniac. All night long "mmmmaaaaahhhh, mmmmmmaaaaahhhh" every 10 or 15 seconds. Earlier in the day I had joked with David that the goat was probably going to be dinner one night. At about midnight, I was willing to go over and fire up my neighbor's bar-b-que.

The next afternoon David, Blaine and I were heading out to catch a cab for a little shopping and lunch downtown and as we were leaving the house it hit us - silence. No crying, bleating, annoying goat sounds. As we walked on the path next to our neighbor's fence, we heard slamming/chopping sounds - much like those I heard at the butcher shop when the butcher took his axe to the side of beef. I tried to stop and peek through a hole in the fence, but Dave just pushed me along, embarrassed by my nosiness.

When we got home that evening, there were still no goat cries, but there was a lovely bar-b-que smell in the air. I wonder if they ate him with some fava beans and a nice chianti?

All My Fears Wrapped Up in One 10 Minute Ride

2005-05-15T14:50:00.000-07:00

On Friday, Dave and I took Blaine to Vake Park. This is a beautiful park in downtown Tbilisi, acres of lawns, trees and in one corner, a small amusement park much like the one in Yerevan, Armenia. We spent the afternoon there and had a great time. Tickets for the rides are 50 lari a piece, which is approx. a quarter. Most of the rides take one ticket - it's a great, cheap way to spend an afternoon. We won't discuss the 1950's era Soviet roller coaster which Blaine wanted to go on and, against my good judgement, Dave talked me into going on with them. The only comment I have about the roller coaster is that the safety bar was a piece of rope. Yeah, a piece of rope. Anything you imagine from that point on is probably better than the actual coaster. 'Nuff said.

But the roller coaster was not the scary ride. Well, it was scary, but it was small potatos compared to what David talked me into riding on the next day. As we were leaving Vake Park on Saturday, we saw a cable car going up the side of the mountain. Dave wanted to hop on but I said no. Blaine was getting tired and it was late and I just wanted to go home. Dave agreed and home we went.

The next morning Dave woke up ready to head back to Vake Park and ride the cable car. I tried to put him off. Excuses like "It's too windy" and "It looks like it might rain" went right over his head. He even had Blaine all excited about this - Blaine was running around the house "I wanna go ride the swing up the mountain". Thanks, Dave. So, we headed out to lunch and after lunch we took a taxi over to Vake Park. Climbed the (crumbling) stairs to the loading platform and paid the man 80 tetri (about 50 cents) for Dave and I to ride. Blaine got to ride for free. Yippie.

How to describe this? Much like a ski lift that takes you to the top of the mountain, but you stand inside it. Packed like sardines with as many other people as they can get in it. I think there were (counting Dave, Blaine and I) about 9 or 10 people in the car. One of the people in the car was actually employed by the cable car company to stand in the car and hold the doors closed. Really. Safety first, that's what I always say! The car starts going up the side of the mountain, scraping tree branches as we leave the platform...this is when I start to hyperventiliate. You see, I am clausterphobic (thanks, mom) and I am also a bit freaked out by heights. So, hey, smart idea! Let's combine the two! And let's do it on a cable car in Tbilisi that is dated 1965. In a country where the power goes out on a regular basis. Basically, I was ready to pass out. I was unable to appreciate the view from the cable car and I'm pretty sure the two teenage Georgian boys who were squished in front of me were making fun of me.

I survived, obviously. And I rode that sucker back down the mountain (it was quicker than walking). I was quite proud of myself for even getting on the cable car and going for the ride. The only thing it had in it's favor was there were no roaches. I'm deathly afraid of them too. If there had been roaches on the cable car, all bets would have been off.

I'm Becoming a Chickentarian

2005-05-14T09:57:00.000-07:00

I have always been a carnivore. I love steak. I love prime rib. I love hamburgers. Meat. Yum yum. Chicken is good too. Pork, not so much. I don't really "dig on swine" (one of my favorite quotes from Pulp Fiction).

Then I moved to Georgia. Chicken is still good. I have no problem with chicken. I can buy pre-packaged, frozen chicken breasts at the grocery store and they look and taste the same as good ol' USA chicken. But the beef? Well, settle in and let me tell about my first visit to a butcher shop in Georgia. I joke and say it was like a Fear Factor episode. My father just laughs at me and says "culture shock". You be the judge.

We had not bought any beef since arriving in Georgia. Everyone here told me "You have to go to the butcher shop - don't buy it from the grocery store, it's not fresh". Everyone here also has their own opinions on which butcher shop was best. There is the Turkish Butcher, the German Butcher and the Kosher Butcher. One of my friends raved about the kosher butcher. She had tried meat from all three and claimed that the kosher butcher was by far the best. So, David and I decided on trying out the kosher butcher.

Our driver, Roland, is Jewish, so he knew exactly where I wanted to go when I asked him to take us to the kosher butcher. Blaine fell asleep in the car on the way there, so when we pulled up, Dave decided to stay in the car with him and I went in with Roland to buy the meat. But wait, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start with us pulling up to the "butcher shop". Roland takes us down a small alley - no stores or shops nearby - and pulls up in front of this decaying building with big blue metal doors which are pinned open. There is a car parked in the alley and two men are sitting in the car staring at us. When Roland and I get out of our car, the two men get out of their car and come over and greet Roland. It appears these two men work at the butcher shop.

We all walk into the butcher shop. There is no refrigeration. It is Spring here, and the temperature was probably in the 70s. Flies are buzzing around. Whole chickens are laying in rows like dead soldiers on a cardboard pallet in front of the counter. Hanging behind the counter is a huge side of beef. Roland translates for me that I would like some steaks. 2 kilograms of steak, please. The "butcher" (the man who had been sitting in the driver's seat outside) grabs the side of beef off of the hook, places it on a huge round wooden butcher block. Then he reaches over and grabs an axe off of the wall. And proceeds to use the axe to hack off a piece of beef for me. I wish there had been hidden cameras. I would have loved to see the look of pure horror on my face as this man re-enacted a scene from Friday the 13th with a side of beef. Afer he finished chopping off a section of cow, he throws it on a scale - no paper underneath it to keep it from oozing juice onto the scale, or to keep previous oozes from mingling with my hunk of beef. I pay - 17 Lari, which is about 10 bucks US - and the man wraps it up in butcher paper and sticks it in a bag.

When we got home I had to take this 4 pound hunk of cow and trim it down into steaks to the best of my ability. I have never in my life had any desire to be a butcher. I had no clue what I was doing. I have no idea what part of the cow I got from the butcher. Ass? Hips? I have no idea. All I know is that every "steak" I cut from that hunk of cow was washed competely before I wrapped it up and stuck it in the freezer.

We still haven't had the courage to thaw any of it out and cook it.

You will be happy to know

2005-05-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

I bought a jackets for Blaine and I today. I went to the local open air market, where you can buy anything under the sun, much like the Georgian bazroba. I bought a jean jacket for 12 bucks and for Blaine, I got him a cute corduroy jacket for 6. I also bought diaper wipes and bras, but you probably didn't want to know that.

How NOT to Pack for a trip to Armenia

2005-05-03T13:46:00.000-07:00

1. Don't bring any longsleeve shirts. It's spring. It's warm.
2. Ditto that for a jacket. No jackets. Don't be a sissy.
3. Don't, under any circumstances, bring an umbrella.
4. Make sure you don't pack any of the above for your child either.

Yeah. So Dave and I are idiots. Between the two of us we were not smart enough to bring anything remotely warm. Gee. It's not like Armenia is in a mountainous area where it RAINS all the freaking time. And when it rains there is no sun. And when there is no sun, it's damn cold.

Yesterday it was sunny and warm. Very little rain. It was a great day. Today, it's overcast and grey and raining. Blaine and I headed out of the hotel during a break in the rain for lunch. He wanted "flied lice" from the local Chinese restaurant which is about a mile or so away. I'm wearing a t-shirt and capris. Blaine has on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with 3/4 sleeves (the warmest shirt I packed him). I wasn't expecting the icy blast of air that hit us as soon as I walked out of the hotel lobby. I mean, yesterday it was WARM! Almost HOT! Where the hell did this cold front come from?

We went to the Chinese restaurant anyway. Everyone giving me looks like either I'm crazy for being dressed the way I am or I'm a BAD BAD BAD mother for taking my precious child out in this weather without a jacket.

I was planning on buying him a jacket while we were out (after we ate) but it was too damn cold to go to the children's store and it was starting to rain again. So we hustled back to hotel and now he is watching Russian cartoons (which he totally loves, go figure) and I'm killing time on the computer.

Next time we head to Armenia, I don't care if it is dead in the middle of Summer, I am packing jackets, sweaters and the umbrella I bought on our second day here.

Squatty Potties and other Adventures on the Road to Armenia

2005-04-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

Two weeks into our new life in Tbilisi, we pack our suitcases, put our traveling clothes on and hit the road again, this time for a two week trip to Armenia. Dave has work here, and rather than ditching Blaine and I in Tbilisi by ourselves in a half-furnished house with no car, he brought us along. We left Monday morning, Dave, Blaine and I, along with 2 of Dave's co-workers and a driver who would take us as far as the Georgian/Armenian border. After we crossed the border another driver would pick us up and take us the rest of the way to Yerevan, the capital of Armenia.

The ride to the border was an uneventful hour and a half ride. We spent about a half hour or so getting through the checkpoints and soon we were on the other side. After two hours in a car bumping around on Georgian roads (which, at their best, are not so great) I had to pee. Badly. Very, very badly. While we were transferring luggage and equipment from one vehicle to another, I asked one of Dave's coworkers (the one who had been to Armenia on several occasions) about the availability of bathrooms. He said "There is a bathroom here at the border - just over there through the white door". Yippie! My bladder and I were about to be relieved. Or so I thought.

Now, for those of you who have traveled outside of the U.S., you may have experienced the "Squatty Potty" (much thanks to Ron for teaching me this phrase). A squatty potty is basically a hole in the floor. A hole that you are supposed to pee into. A hole that EVERYONE who has ever peed there MISSES. So, basically, it is a hole in the ground surrounded by puddles of urine. This was the case with the "bathroom" at the border. Before I even made it within 50 feet of the white door, I could smell the horror that awaited me. Bravely, I thought to myself "how bad can it be?" and I went inside anyway. Folks, it was beyond foul. I have smelt barns that were better than this. It was truly horrifying.

I walked back to the car and the men just assumed I had finished what I needed to do. Tentatively I approached the Armenian driver and asked about bathrooms along the way. His only advice? That I should suck it up and go now because this was probably the best bathroom we would find until we reached the Marriott in Yerevan. And Yerevan was about 4 hours away. So, I got Dave, had him stand guard (I didn't mention that the white door did not shut all the way nor did it have anything resembling a lock, did I?) and I used my first, and hopefully last, squatty potty. Dave used the bathroom after I did - men are so lucky...no squatting involved, praying that you don't fall on your unbalanced ass in a pile of other people's urine - and Dave's only comment on the whole squatty potty was "I wish I would have brought the camera with me - that is truly foul in ways only a picture can describe".

The bathrooms at the Marriott are much nicer.

Chocolate Chip Cookies - Georgian Style

2005-04-22T22:30:00.000-07:00

I once read somewhere that if you are homesick, you should try to make a favorite dish to make yourself feel more "at home".

Well, we are not really homesick (yet) but Dave and I have both been wanting some chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chips are practically unheard of in Georgia. You can sometimes get them at the commissary, but the last time I was in there they only had white chocolate chips (ick, pooey). Luckily, our airfreight arrived, and tucked in with our clothing, shoes and assorted other "essentials" were 3 Costco-sized bags of chocolate chips. YAY.

But wait, the chocolate chips, baking soda and even a bag of powedered sugar was in the airfreight...but where in the samhill is my brown sugar? My brown sugar obviously did not make it into an airfreight box, so it is sitting on a cargo ship somewhere on it's way to Antwerp. And then from Antwerp to my house. I may not see my brown sugar until the end of June. HOW THE HELL AM I GOING TO MAKE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES WITHOUT BROWN SUGAR? (You may have noticed that I really, really, really want them now)

Last week Dave and I head out to Goodwill (the large German-owned supermarket in town) and, be still my heart, they have brown sugar! We snatch up a bag quicker than you can say "cookies!" and cart it home with us. I am giddy with the thought of baking cookies. I love to bake and I can't wait until my house is filled with the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. What a great way to make the house feel like a home.

Oh, but you didn't think it was going to be that easy did you? Oh no no no. As I start assembling the ingredients for the cookies I realize that I don't have (a) vanilla or (b) anything resembling a cookie sheet. Now my need for chocolate chip cookies has eclipsed just "wanting" them. Now the idea of having, nay of making, chocolate chip cookies has reached quest-like proportions.

Tuesday I go shopping with Roland and at the local "Continental" supermarket I ask him to enquire of the staff whether or not they carry vanilla. Oh, yes they do! But not like the vanilla in the pretty brown jar on the shelves in the states. Oh, no. This vanilla is a small packet (which only costs 10 tetri; roughly 5 cents US) of powder. How does one use this? How does the powder translate into the one teaspoon of LIQUID vanilla I need? No one can tell me.

As for the cookie sheet? I have given up searching for one. But, I have not given up on my quest for chocolate chip cookies. Tonight I decided to break out the pyrex casserole dish and make chocolate chip cookie BARS. I carefully gathered up my ingredients: chips, flour, sugar, brown sugar, butter, vanilla, baking soda and I started mixing and combining to the best of my ability (by hand, my much-loved Kitchen Aid mixer is on the slow boat. Probably nestled up next to my brown sugar). Of course, the butter here is sold in bricks - no nicely wrapped sticks that are pre-measured for your convienience. The brown sugar I bought? Well, it was sugar and it was brown, but it wasn't really American-style brown sugar. And the vanilla? I just dumped in a whole package. Oh, and I forgot to mention the flour I bought here! I have no idea what kind of flour I bought. The package was entirely in German, so I have no idea if it was all-purpose, self-rising, bleached, unbleached...no clue.

I made the cookie bars anyway, and they didn't turn out too bad, but they didn't really taste like home.

I Scream, You Scream

2005-04-21T14:28:00.000-07:00

We all scream for ice cream!

I forgot to mention that after our trip to Turtle Lake, Roland took Blaine and I through downtown Vake. Vake is the shopping district in Tbilisi, full of little specialty stores, chain stores (yet ANOTHER Nike store) and cafes. Vake connects up with Rustavali, which is another big shopping area. We were driving through downtown and I told Roland that I had heard there was a Baskin-Robbins in Tbilisi. Roland knew just where it was, of course, and we stopped and Blaine had a cup of strawberry ice cream - or as he calls it "pink ice cream".

Really, this city is charming and unique, but it also has just enough touches of home. I really like it here.

Stay tuned, we leave Monday morning for 2 weeks in Yerevan, Armenia. I can't wait!

Turtle Lake

2005-04-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

Who would have guessed that in the middle of the urban sprawl that is Tbilisi there exists such a beautiful and peaceful spot like Turtle Lake?

Today we joined other expat moms (and nannies) for playgroup for the first time - usually it is at someone's house and it rotates from person to person, but today, because the weather is so good, it was held at Turtle Lake. I trusted that Roland (our driver) would know where Turtle Lake was, because I certainly had no idea. I was expecting a small pond with a path around it in the middle of some grassy patch (which are few and far between) in the middle of Tbilisi.

Instead, Roland drove us through downtown, past the Vake shopping district and then we started winding our way up the side of a mountain. The view was breathtaking. Everything is in bloom here in Tbilisi, Spring is in full swing. We finally pull into a small parking lot, get out of the car and - surprise surprise - there is Turtle Lake. Literally tucked into the side of the mountain - to the left of the car was an overlook and you could see the whole city, to the right was the lake - it is a large recreation area, with people on the lake in paddle boats, a 2.5 Kilometer track that winds it's way around the lake (including past a gorgeous waterfall that I did not get a photograph of. But I will get one next time). At one end of the lake they have a ski jump, at the other end a bandstand and children's play area. The air was beautiful because the lake is high enough on the mountain that you are out of all of the city smog. The day was beautiful and a good time was had by all. I can't wait to go back.

Rockin' the Bazroba

2005-04-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

Dave and I decided to check out the Bazroba - the local market place - today. We called our driver (we had to hire a driver because a.)our car will not arrive here until at least June and b.)taxis are very, very, very scary. Trust me on this). Our driver is Roland, a young Georgian man who speaks Georgian, Russian and English. He is fantastic. He took us to the Bazroba and was our guide, translator and bargainer.

The Bazroba is similar to a huge flea market, but, there are a few key differences between American flea markets and the Bazroba.

1. Oh, the humanity. Flea markets in America may be crowded, but not like the Bazroba. It was like every single person in Tbilisi was there. And the crowding was made worse by
2. The aisles. The aisles at the Bazroba are wide enough for one, maybe two, people to walk down. The pushing and shoving of people trying to get by is amazing. The mad press of bodies seems to go by in waves. David ended up holding Blaine because we were afraid of him getting carried away by the crowd.
3. Unlike American fleamarkets, everything in the Bazroba is new. The quality of some items may be questionable, but it is new. We bought a mop, a broom, a toaster, some power strips. We could have bought almost anything under the sun. You name it, someone at the Bazroba sells it.

I took some pictures, I don't know how well they turned out since I was being jostled as I was snapping away. If any of them turned out ok, I will post them.

Alphabet Soup

2005-04-16T00:14:00.000-07:00

My son and I are EFMs in the FS.
We are doing good at post thanks to the CLO, the GSO and the RSO.
I'm thinking about getting a job at some point. Probably with a NGO.
I don't think I will get a job until Blaine starts QSI.
I've met many wonderful FSNs.
I'm glad I took the RAF class before coming to post.
I need to get my hands on a copy of the FAM - just in case.
I don't know much about the FSOs, but I have met the DAO and his wife.
We went to a party for a MSG who is leaving soon and I met the DCM there.
I've met the RSO's OMS and the DCM's OMS.

Crazy, isn't it. That it all makes complete sense to me.

Thomas the Tank Engine - The Steam Train to Satan

2005-04-14T21:53:00.000-07:00

Is an evil beast. Really. Seriously. EVIL. We bought Blaine a “Best of Thomas” DVD before we left Florida. We thought a new DVD would really catch his interest on the airplane trip. We got more than we bargained for. He is so enamored of this DVD all I ever hear is “Mommy – watch Thomas Tank?” He doesn’t want to watch Dora or Toy Story or any of the other DVDs we brought with us, only Thomas will do. The only thing in our favor re: the constant loop of Thomas the Tank is that they are narrated by George Carlin. There are some Thomas Tank videos/DVDs that are narrated by Ringo Starr and some that are narrated by one of the Baldwin brothers, but the ones that are narrated by George Carlin are the best, in my opinion. Why is his narration superior? Because in my head I can hear Carlin riffing on the 7 words you can’t say on TV – and that list is pretty much the list of words that run though my head every time I have to put that damn DVD in.

Finally - The Other Georgia!

2005-04-14T21:46:00.000-07:00

I’m typing this up on my laptop in my dark living room in our new house in Tbilisi, Georgia. Dave just went to bed – he is still fighting jetlag (We are now 8 hours ahead of EST time). Blaine is on the rug rotting his brain with a Thomas Tank DVD. Today is our second night here and we love it. Of course we have only been in this country a little over 24 hours, but if first impressions count for anything, we are going to really enjoy the next 2 years of our life.

We don’t have internet yet, and may not have it for another week or two – so in the meantime I plan on keeping up my blogging in Word and copying it all over once we are back on –line.

So, what’s Georgia like? My very first thought as we were going from the airport to our house was that Georgia was very similar to Naples, Italy. There is beautiful new construction next to crumbling buildings. Traffic is CRAZY. There seem to be no road rules at all. There are very few streets signs (I have yet to see a single sign, but I have been told there are a few). Even though many Americans tend to hire drivers here, Dave and I plan on driving ourselves. I am going to have to get very good at honking my horn as that seems to be the universal signal for “I’m driving here, this is my lane, get the hell out of my way”.

The people are very friendly. Blaine is a bit spooked by all the people tickling him under his chin or rubbing his head. And, unlike Italy, it is not just the older ladies who do this. Women and men, young and old, they all seem to be attracted to Blaine, maybe because of his strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes, or maybe just because he is the cutest kid in the whole world (in my humble opinion). Today we took a stroll downtown and he was either tickled or patted at least 4 times. At the airport, one of the workers ran up and scooped up Blaine in his arms as we were headed down the stairs from the plane to the tarmac (Blaine promptly freaked out and the nice Georgian gentleman put him down as quickly as he picked him up).

The food and shopping are great – much better than I had been led to believe. During our walk today I picked up some tomatos from a roadside stand and they were to.die.for good. I bought a loaf of bread from a local bakery – it was delicious. Regina (Dave’s boss’s wife) took us to the local supermarket, which is named “Goodwill”. This was a western-style grocery store. It had a coffee place right inside, carts with little plastic cars on the front that Blaine could “drive”, an ATM machine and they took credit cards! Yippie!

I’m off to change Blaine’s diaper (oh, you can buy Pampers here…I wish I had known that before I bought and shipped 8 Costco-sized boxes. I won’t even mention the shampoos, soaps, deodorants etc etc that I shipped that I did not need to.) and head to bed. Tomorrow we may walk down to the bazroba (central market) just a few blocks from here. And then we might stop and eat at the Chinese restaurant. Just like home!

Hotels, Motels, Holiday Inns

2005-03-30T22:29:00.000-08:00

Ah, this is the life. People who make the bed for you every day. Pay-per-views at 12 bucks a pop (and that's for REGULAR movies, not porn). Free "continental" breakfast. As you may have figured out, we have made our transition from tiny-apartment dwellers to tiny-hotel room dwellers.

We moved into the luxurious (note, sarcasm) Virginian Suites last night. Haul up 6 gigantic suitcases, one tired child, assorted crap from the apartment that we just couldn't bear to throw away (milk, cereal bars, percocet...not necessarily in that order) up to the 7th floor. Child wants "DORA DORA DORA". I decide, unilaterally, since Dave is making yet another trip to the car for yet another bag, that my child should be allowed to watch Dora the Explorer at 8:30 at night even though we usually don't let him watch television this late in the evening. I think "hey, this will keep him busy while I sort crap into the appropriate corner of the living room/bedroom/kitchenette".

Turn on television. Get a big blank screen with "unusable signal" flashing ominously into the living room. Cue child's chant one decible level higher "DORA DORA DORA". Frantically I prod the different buttons on the television and the remote control trying to make it work. I anxiously peer at the hotel door, hoping Dave will walk through and save me from electronic hell. Child has reached zombie-like trance chant "DORA DORA DORA". I swallow my pride and call the front desk "uh, hi, we just checked in and I can't get the television on". The nice guy at the desk tells me to put the TV on channel 4 - not using the remote - I must use the buttons on the TV. I do so. Still have the flashing screen of UNUSABLE SIGNAL doom. Nice guy at the desk's helpful answer? "I'll have to send someone up". Great. I explain to Blaine that the TV is broken. So he goes from chanting "DORA" to chanting "TV BROKEN TV BROKEN". Dave walks in and dons his superhero electronic-man cape and tries to fix it. Nope. Still not working. Finally, a full 15 minutes later, one of the hotel's maintenance staff arrives, fiddles with the remote and television and pronounces it "broken". Ends up having to splice a new cable into the wall. TV works, the world returns to normal.

Or so we thought. Then Dave tries to plug in his laptop to charge. He crawls under the desk in the living room and pushes the plug into the outlet. It promptly falls right back out. He jiggles the cord that is plugged in (that operates the lamp on the desk) and the whole faceplate falls off the wall. Repeats this same scenario with the outlet by the television. Dave comments "I knew I would be dealing with antiquated electrical systems and wiring, but I thought it wouldn't happen until we actually were living in Tbilisi."

Heh. Who knew the Virginian Suites were going to be a trial run for a post-Soviet country. I'm sure to feel at home.

A Visit with the Family - A Fun Tale of Planes and Vomit

2005-03-19T16:44:00.000-08:00

Before we head out for Georgia, Dave and I were planning on visiting my grandparents in Alabama, then driving down to Florida to say good bye to all of our family and friends there. With the graduation postponed by a week (gotta love the last-minute government changes) we had to change our travel plans, and unfortunately, that meant not being able to visit my grandparents.

I am very close to my grandparents. I adore them - grampa will be 96 this May. Grandma just turned 88 in January. They are probably not going to be around too much longer so I try to spend as much time as I can with them. I was very dissapointed by the travel plan change. This was my last chance to see them before we move and since we will be in Georgia for 2 years I don't know if they will still be here when I get a chance to come back to the states.

Dave suggested that I fly with Blaine to Alabama while my parents were there visiting with my grandparents this past week. We looked and found a decent airfare and we made the reservation. I was a bit nervous about flying by myself with a toddler - Blaine can be a handful at the best of times - and I had no idea how he would like flying. But I arranged for my dad to pick me up at the airport in Birmingham and bravely hopped on the plane with Blaine.

Blaine LOVED the plane trip. Just as we started racing down the runway for take off from Reagan airport, Blaine turned to me and said "Are you ready Mommy?". He was fantastic. The second leg of our trip - from Charlotte to Birmingham - he fell asleep just as soon as the wheels lifted off of the ground and he slept for the whole flight. I was regretting packing so much crap for him and not including a single book for myself.

Once we got to Birmingham he woke up and was super cranky - he had a hissy fit about getting into the car my dad drove to the airport - screaming "NO RED CAR! WANT BLUE TRUCK!". I tried to explain to him that the blue truck was still at home with daddy, but reasoning with a half-asleep toddler at 10PM in an airport parking garage is really futile. Eventually, we got him in the car and headed out to my grandparents' home.

The next morning (after a restless night where he slept maybe 2 hours at a time) he woke with a fever. He was sick for our entire stay at my grandparents' house which really sucked. For him and for me. Poor guy just felt like crap and I didn't get a break from him AT ALL. Usually he loves everyone. This week it was all mom all the time. Grandma wouldn't do. Grandpa was a big no no. If Dave had been there, I am sure Blaine would have let daddy snuggle him - but without daddy, I was on duty. From Monday night until we left on Friday I think I had a total of 8 or 9 hours sleep. I was exhausted. He was exhausted. We both just wanted to go home.

Friday morning our flight was at 7:55am. We had to be at the airport 90 minutes before departure. My grandparents live about 90 minutes from the airport. So we had to leave at 5 AM. That meant getting up at 4 AM. That was no problem. Blaine woke up about 1:45 and never went back to sleep. He was miserable. Eventually, around 3:30 or 4:00 (it's all a big blur now) he asked to go "rock rock" in the living room. I took him in, we settled into the rocking chair and I started rocking him. 30 seconds later he sat up, looked at me and said "OH NO" and puked all over me. And puked. And puked. Then he laid his head down in the puke on my shirt. My mom and dad came running in, and we got him cleaned up, I cleaned up and I called Dave. I was so exhausted I didn't know what to do. Do I cancel our flight? Do I change our reservation? Do I suck it up and get on the damn plane? Dave said to try to change the flight, and if I couldn't, to suck it up and fly home.

I couldn't change the flight. I had no time to shower at this point, so I gave myself a quick sponge bath, gave Blaine a sponge bath and a dose of motrin and headed to the airport. He was fine on the first flight and slept for the second flight. We both smelled a bit like vomit and we both looked like we had not had any sleep for ages. People gave us wide berth in the airport and the flight attendents took pity on me and helped with his carseat and stroller on each flight.

We are home. I am still tired but I did get to sleep last night from 9 PM until about 7 this morning. Blaine did the same. We took him to the doc this morning and he has a double ear infection. YAY. He is on antibiotics for the next 10 days. Hopefully he will feel better quickly.

As for me, I am just thrilled that my next plane trip will include my husband.

My quest not to neglect this blog

2005-03-11T15:03:00.000-08:00

Ha. Day three of posting. Take that laughing husband. Though, to be honest, I really don't have much to post about. In the interest of trying to keep this blog related to our moving to Georgia, I guess I could post about the preparations for said move. Even though I am sick.to.death when it comes to talking about the move. Not to mention the planning, shopping, doctor appointments, dentist appointments, the government changing EVERY FREAKING THING at the last minute.

Where to begin? Should I mention that my living room looks like a minature Costco? It took two trips to Costco (using those huge flatbed carts, not the wimpy regular shopping cart) to buy the "consumables" that Dave and I decided we would need to ship immediately to Georgia. You know, the important stuff like peanut butter, toilet paper, boxes of macaroni and cheese (shut up, my son LOVES boxed macaroni and cheese and if you have a two-almost-three year old you know that if they will eat it, you will fix it). We have also purchased some big stuff that is (thankfully) in our storage unit. Things like a swing set for our son because we have heard the playgrounds in Tbilisi leave a bit to be desired. Things like bathroom storage cabinets because we have heard there is no storage in Georgian housing.

Aside from all the shopping, we all have been going for final dentist and doctor visits. The car went to the dealer for a full check-up as well before we have it crated and stuck on a ship for 3 months.

And I still have to find a formal-wear type dress. Men have it so easy. Dave walked into a store the other night, got fitted for a tuxedo, they had a tailor on duty and he hemmed up the pants, and whammo! Dave is ready for any formal events at the embassy. Me? I have been to 8 bazillion stores and have tried on 12 bazillion dresses and I still have nothing to show for it. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I have resorted to online searching and I still can't find anything that I like. I never thought I would say this, but I am sick of shopping. I don't wanna try on any more dresses. I don't want to wade through racks of frightening prom gowns ('tis the season, I guess). I just want a basic black, classy dress. Why is this so damn hard to find? At this point I am afraid I am going to end up whipping up something last minute from the government-issued curtains. Just call me Scarlett.

Blogging Thoughts

2005-03-10T15:18:00.000-08:00

Day 2 of blogging. Last night as I was trying to fall asleep, I was thinking about this blog. My husband laughed at me when I said I was going to blog our life over the next few years as we move to (and live in) Tbilisi. My reasoning is it will be easier to keep everyone up-to-date on our life and adventures without having to send a million emails. When I asked him why he laughed, he said "that's a lot of work to keep up with - good luck".

So, as I lay in bed last night his words kept running through my head. Hard work? Not really. A post here and there a few times a week - it doesn't seem like much. But then I started thinking about my scrapbook habit (stick with me here as I digress). My scrapbook habit is, at this point, pretty much just good intentions and horrible execution. I love, love, love to buy new scrapbook cack. I have gazillions of stickers, papers, scissors, cropping tools - you get the picture. I also have a beautiful rolling organizer bag thingy to keep all of my scrapbook cack in complete order. How much scrapbooking do I do? Well, in the last 6 months or so, I think I have completed one whole page. One. That's it. My son is going to be 3 in just a few short months and his baby scrapbook is woefully neglected. I have finished all of the pre-baby pages but have yet to actually scrap a page with his birth photos. Not to mention his first bath, first haircut, and all the other firsts. My photos from our 3 week trip to Italy back in 2001? Yep, still not scrapbooked. Our trip to Ireland in 2002? Next to the Italy photos in the storage box. I keep meaning to do them...

So, how does this relate to blogging? Well, I just wonder if my husband is right. Maybe, like with scrapbooking, I will be gung-ho on the blogging at first and have the best of intentions. I will study other blogs looking for great ideas...but when it comes to actually updating my blog, I might just neglect it a bit.

Only time will tell. Stay tuned and see if I post anything new.