Nov 29, 2011 | A Repat, An Expat, The Good Word
It was way back at the end of June when we packed those Eighteen Boxes and Mr. Potato Head and took off for wintry Bloemfontein and two months of unforgettable memories. As we drove back from Thanksgiving in Atlanta Sunday evening, sun setting, sky deep blue, and yellow near the horizon, the branches of a wiry tree silhouetted there reminded me of that morning we got up, the stars still in the sky and made our way to the Kruger National Park to watch the bush wake up with the dawn.
As my heart started down the familiar path of longing, missing a season that’s gone, a land that’s now far away, the wise words HH spoke to me a few weeks ago welled up with a reminder: Just be thankful. We needn’t be sad for what’s gone, even though we do miss it, and perhaps there is a grieving, but how much better to frame this too, with thankfulness.
{Morning in Atlanta}
Here now another change comes, a door opens — we’ll move from my Mom’s house (where much has been well and comfortable for these two and a bit months since our arrival) into the house which has come about by the amazing provision of God — a mountain which became a molehill for us when we were preparing to return to the States.
We might actually live in the same place for a while. Like more than two months. Wow!
I am still occasionally missing the forest of God’s incredible provision for the trees — the little things I’m concerned about, which I think we “need”. I opened the Word to read today’s excerpts in my Bible reading plan and after a few chapters of Genesis, these words from the Gospel of Matthew greeted me:
“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life — whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? [ … Look at the birds… Look at the lillies…] Seek the Kingdom of God, above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need. So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” {Mt. 6: 25, 33 – 34, NLT}
So this weekend we’re moving again, and things might be a little quiet around here this week. But thankfulness is the song I’m continually learning to sing, and trust is the rhythm I’m aiming to dance to.
I’d love for you to join me.
xCC
Hey! Extra Special Woo Woo News: I have a couple of guest posts coming your way, right here this week! After this post about {in}convenience sparked some great conversation, I thought we could all use a little practical inspiration. We’ll specifically be sharing tips and recipes that steer away from processed and packaged and are geared toward getting more wholesome, unadulterated stuff on your table. {If you have a recipe or tip you’d like to bring to the table, get in touch!}
Nov 15, 2011 | A Repat, An Expat, Hometastic Goodness
I am loving being back into the kitchen — now that I’m beginning to get the hang of navigating the local grocery store. {How weird is it to feel like a foreigner in the grocery store you’ve been going to since you were a kid?} I’ve almost completely stopped converting prices back into Rand in my head, but I still do it every once in a while.
{I’m looking at you, strawberries. Why are you so expensive?}
A few nights ago I made a tasty little dinner that I was happy to discover works just as well in North Carolina as it did in South Africa and in Scotland. And if it’s that foolproof I thought you might dig it too!
I also took pictures of it ages ago and forgot to share.
It’s a Sausage Stir Fry that I started making in Scotland because I had it down to a science and it fed the Hubs and myself for around Three Quid — £3 = $4.75 = ZAR 38.50. {But it is slightly more expensive in the US and in South Africa because food is DERN cheap in Britain. I miss it!}
Here’s what you need so that you, too, can enjoy this hometastic goodness. What? Yes, of course I’ll make notes beside every ingredient. I haven’t hit my word quotient for the day.
Sizzling Sausage Stir Fry — Serves 2 (and a half)
- Sausage. As long as it’s not ground (minced) it seems to work fine. But I try go for something a little bit spicy. 1 lb/500 grams — decide how much you need for your crew.
- Three small bell peppers (Or more. A bag of frozen peppers is faster and works, but fresh is a little betta.)
- 1 small onion, sliced (If onions give the baby you’re still nursing gas, skip this step.)
- 1 medium carrot, thinly sliced (I use a peeler and just zoop that baby into nice and thin strips.)
- 1 TSBP + 1 tsp olive oil, separated (A vegetable oil or sunflower oil will do. I suppose.)
- 2 – 3 cloves of fresh garlic, minced (If you want to use the stuff from the jar, go ahead wid dat, but last month’s Consumer Report said fresh is better. Should I say minced or diced?)
- 2 tsp fresh grated ginger (Did you know you can peel ginger, drop it in a sandwich bag and keep it in the freezer for ages? Take some out and grate it and slap the rest back in the icebox! Your mouth will thank you. Make sure you say icebox.)
- 4 TSBP Soy Sauce (Because I said so.)
- 1 TBSP honey (Or more.)
- 2 TBSP orange juice (A different citrusy juice will probably be okay. I think I even tried apple juice once. But not lemon or lime juice. That’s pushing it.)
- 1 TBSP Cornstarch (Add a little more if your sauce don’t wanna thicken in the pot.)
- Egg Noodles (You can read the package and decide how much you need based on how many you’re serving. I trust you with this important task.)
Optional Extras for K.I.U.A.N (Kicking It Up A Notch):
- A generous shaking of crushed red chill flakes (1 tsp)
- A not-so-generous shaking of chili powder (1/4 tsp)
- A moderately generous shaking of Paprika (Unless Paprika is the name of someone you know.) (1/2 tsp)
Now here we go.
Start by slicing your sausage with a bias cut because prettier food tastes better. My Mother-in-Love and I often talk about how true that is.
Your garlic doesn’t have to be so pretty. Mince it up and remind me to show you a technique for that later.
That’s my old cutting board, back in South Africa somewhere…sigh…twas a weddin’ gift…
Grate your ginger while you’re at it.
That little zester with its handy backside for catching stuff is in a box in SA waiting to come this way. I hope.
Slice your bell peppers and zoop your carrot till they look good enough to eat.
Slice an onion if the comment next to the onion ingredient doesn’t apply to you.
Getcha a good pan or a wok and warm up a teensy bit of olive oil over a medium-high heat. Give the garlic a little head start. Then brown your sausage with an occasional stir. When it suits ya. But don’t make your sausage feel neglected.
While it’s browning, mix together the soy sauce, ginger, OJ, honey, and cornstarch. Stir in the optional extras for K.I.U.A.N. if you want your stir fry to be ssspicy.
Get in there with the strength the Good Lord gave you and work out those cornstarch clumps with a fork.
How’s your sausage? If it has browned nicely, then move on to the next step. If not, wait a while, stir a while, wait a while, then move on to the next step.
Dump your sausage on a plate for a minute and set it aside. Tell the sausage it hasn’t been set aside, it’s been set apart.
Add that last TSBP of olive oil to the pan. Give the onions a minute head start if they’re joining your party. If not, let the bell peppers and carrots crash right in.
If you like your veg to stay crunchier, sauté for 3 to 4 minutes. If you like your veg softer, 5 to 6 minutes. If you don’t care whether it has any nutritional value at all, just let it go as long as you fancy.
During this interlude, while occasionally stirring, it’s a good time to cook your egg noodles. Feel free to listen to music at the same time. U2’s How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb
remains one of my all-time favorite albums if you’d like a recommendation.
When the peppers feel close to achieving your crunch factor, move them to the side. Give your sauce one last stir/cornstarch clump hunt, and dump it into the centre of the pan.
Wait for your sauce to begin to thicken and bubble, then stir it through the veggies.
{Note to self, and maybe for you, too: set aside some sausage for the Bear, who won’t eat it all spicy & peppery}
Add the {remaining} sausage back into the pan, stir until it’s all heated through and the sauce is nice and thick.
Put a generous helping of egg noodles in bowls for serving. Top with a generous helping of your magical Sausage Stir Fry.
Stick a fork in, because it’s done.
The final product is much prettier in person. My South African kitchen had dim lighting.
And there it is. Simple enough to work in three countries, and we enjoyed it every time. Dinner will be on the table before Bono sings “Yahweh.” But wait for it, because that’s an amazing song.
If you give this a bash, I’d love to hear how it goes. Hope you enjoy it! Born Up A Tree!
xCC
Extremely important notification: If you click that link to the U2 Album and buy it on Amazon, I get a tiny kick back. Just though ya should know.
Nov 14, 2011 | A Repat, An Expat
I know the smell of the fall in this place. The air, so crisp I wish I could bottle it and drink it right up all year long. The moon high and white — sky full of stars, sometimes you think you can see them all, sometimes you wonder where they’ve gone.
I don’t remember the leaves turning such a brilliant shade of yellow. I never saw a hummingbird do a dance like the one I saw last week. Back and forth in swoops that might’ve made infinity symbols in the air if he could paint it along the way — he must’ve been trying to impress somebody. He got me.
The fields look different from how I remember them. Tufts of white, stalks of brown — they inspire photos in my heart I’d never have thought to take before.
From seven thousand miles away to the backyard of the house I grew up in, and here I am showing my little boy how to whistle with an acorn top.
{From Thanksgiving 2010}
Cold Friday night I hear the announcer, the crowds at the football field — the high school’s not far from my house. I remember this sound from a walk with my brother when I was a kid. The familiar sound of fall.
We stand outside in the cold night air with the moon high and bright, waiting at the door for two tickets to a movie, just us two. I can see my breath a little and my arms are snuggled into the coat my sister bought me last Christmas.
I see a familiar face behind me and say hello and how are you, but when I’m not sure I’m a familiar face I promptly introduce myself — I’m Dodi’s little sister.
Things have changed.
Things have stayed the same.
I watch life from the inside and the outside at the same time.
I like calling this place home.
xCC
Just a little note I want to be sure to add: I saw Courageous this past weekend. It was excellent and I really enjoyed it. I highly recommend it. I also highly recommend bringing tissues. I enjoyed it so much I forgot I’d snuck two brownies into the theatre in my purse. Never even touched em. Don’t tell on me. Do see the movie.
Nov 3, 2011 | A Repat, An Expat
I didn’t learn to cook until I left the country. If I’m being honest. I could do a mean twice-stuffed potato, I could fry up some bacon (of course), and I could open a can of green beans, cook the heck out of em and hope for the best. But the majority of my skill was limited to adding rice, water, chicken breasts, and the contents of a seasoning packet to a bag and popping it in the oven for however long it said on the box. And when it came to baking, I probably wouldn’t do it if more than three or four ingredients had to be added to the contents of a package.
It worked for me, and it was convenient.
One of my favorite courses in all my years at university was Economics. I know that sounds weird, but lemme e’splain. The professor who taught my economics class was very good at explaining things in a way that I understood them.
{Does this photo relate to this post or do I just like it? You decide.}
You know that lovely feeling when something’s complicated, but you get it? I love that feeling. He used a class exercise in making paper airplanes to explain the intricacies of the supply chain in a lesson on supply and demand. He was quality.
But the discussion of opportunity cost — which I also remembered from a ninth grade Civics class video where a girl decided to buy a new blouse instead of fixing her brakes and then got into a car accident and ruined the blouse — just really made a lot of sense in my brain.
When you make a choice, there’s another choice you haven’t made. Every choice has a consequence. And the opportunity cost measures the value of the choice you made in light of the best alternative that you didn’t choose.
There is always an opportunity cost.
— My University Economics Professor, Whose Name I Can’t Remember. But he had a mustache. And not just in Movember.
So the writer who makes about 50 bucks for an hour’s work can pay someone else 20 bucks to mow his yard. He’ll come out ahead. Unless, of course, he finds mowing his lawn therapeutic, in which case perhaps it’s cheaper to mow his grass than to go for therapy.
The reason I learned to cook when I left the States was because the opportunity cost for not learning — paying for expensive convenience food — was too high. I couldn’t keep turning packaged muffin mixes into beautiful creations without breaking the bank.
Fortunately, there was a gentle learning curve. During my four years in Scotland I gradually eased into learning to come up with new ideas, still convenient in terms of the amount of time it took to make them, but not expensive because I wasn’t paying for the convenience of a pre-boxed meal.
When I arrived in South Africa and began to long for more of the comforts of home (while finding less of them) I really worked at learning how to do things myself. Want some good southern buttery biscuits with Sunday lunch (not cookies, mind you)? Make em from scratch. Need some taco seasoning or salsa for Mexican night? Find out what’s in taco seasoning and mix it yourself, find a good recipe for salsa, and make it yourself.
Now back in North Carolina, I’m in the land where convenience seems really cheap. Plastic carrier bags had a cost at grocery stores in South Africa, so, like we did in Scotland, we brought our own bags. They’re free here, so I could fall back into the habit of just using the ones they have at the grocery store instead of bringing my own bags.
Especially when the cashiers sometimes seem annoyed that they have to help you pack your random bags.
On the surface it seems like there’s not too much opportunity cost — we’re not paying for the bags, so what’s the problem? But like my professor said, There’s always an opportunity cost. And part of the cost associated with using the grocery bags that might be recycled or might end up in the trash is a cost that we might not have to pay.
But will our kids?
If we continue to use up our resources at the rate that we’re going, and if we continue to create waste at the rate that we’re going — won’t it be a problem for the Bear and the Tank’s generation? Or maybe for their children?
Will they be paying a price for our dependency on convenience?
Many people say they have reusable bags (I saw some on sale for $1.99 at Food Lion today) but they don’t remember to bring them in from the car. It would be inconvenient to have to go out to the car and get them before checking out. I promise if you make yourself go to the car to get your bags once or twice, you’ll stop forgetting. If you make yourself drive home to fetch them before heading to the store, you might never forget again.
In the land of convenience to which I’ve returned, Fast Food is incredibly convenient, and the price is very convenient, too. It would often be cheaper for me to feed my family from the Dollar Menu at Wendy’s than to make some of the meals I make.
But — there’s always an opportunity cost.
What exactly am I feeding us if we’re eating at Wendy’s instead of eating a good home-cooked meal? How processed are the fries and hamburger buns? How has the meat been handled and what’s in it? And does a wilted portion of iceberg lettuce and a slice of tomato count as “vegetables” for the evening meal?
And further down the rabbit hole, how will regularly eating this type of food negatively or positively benefit our health? Will we save enough money to cover the medical bills if it gives us a heart attack or high cholesterol? {Last week a friend of mine talked about the expensive program she’d joined, trying to lose weight, and simultaneously mentioned eating out at least three or four times a week.} And, once again, how much trash will we create, at the expense of convenient fast food?
I won’t for a moment say I’ve got this thing figured out. Example 1, my family drinks a ton of juice, and I’m concerned about the tons of plastic involved in getting that juice from its source to our door. Even recyclable waste is still waste. And it takes resources to recycle.
What’s the lesson I’m trying to apply as I navigate life in a new place? The price of convenience — though it would seem cheap in this neck of the woods — is still very high.
I left the grocery store with a small handful of goodies this morning. I stuck to the list except for orange juice. At the checkout someone commented on it being a good idea that I’d stuck all of my random reusable shopping bags inside one bag. {The bags are from South Africa and Scotland so they make me happy.} I smiled as I stuffed my wallet back into my purse and all I could think of to say was,
“I’m worried about what this world is going to look like when my little boys grow up.”
What do you think?
xCC
Oct 11, 2011 | A Repat, Scotland, South Africa
Our plane touched down nearly a month ago and it is still strange and wonderful and topsy-turvy and weird, all wrapped into one. And that’s somehow a good thing. Like a salad with strong-flavoured greens, sliced strawberries, toasted egg noodles and bacon. Who knows why, it all gets together and it’s good. Splash some olive oil and white wine vinegar on top and invite me over, please. Partay in the mizouth.
Life has had a few new things to teach me in this fortnight and a half. If you’re organizational by nature, you might qualify some lessons as more important than others, but I don’t think it’s necessary to create categories and put these thoughts in boxes. They all have the potential to lead to positive growth, and for that reason, they’re valuable.
Here are a few highlights from the schoolbook of re-entry:
- Country music makes me sad. There, I said it. I didn’t realize it until now. I suppose I didn’t listen to it a lot before now, but country has morphed from what it was when I was a kid to almost-rock without some of the pretentiousness and cool, and I like that about it. But it makes me sad. I almost wept as some fella crooned about how I was gonna miss this season when it’s gone, staring at the boys in the backseat, the Bear making his baby brother giggle while we waited for the doors to open at preschool. Seems the sad stuff makes me sad, and the fun and happy stuff makes me sad because it’s usually about misbehaving and I just think all that misbehaving can only lead to bad consequences.
- You can’t trust Walmart to have the lowest prices. I depended on Pick n Pay 100% back in SA for all my grocery needs {except diapers} because we got such sweet discounts there through our health insurance. But now I have to shop around. Ouch. #Walmartfail
- People assess themselves as lovable or unlovable based on the way they are treated by others. And people are largely able or unable to receive the love of God based on how lovable or unlovable they feel, how deserving or undeserving they might assess themselves to be. So it makes sense on a whole ‘nother level that Jesus consistently instructed us to love one another. Love our neighbour. Love our enemies. Love, love love. Because the ability of many folks to receive God’s love, and the sacrifice of Jesus, can largely depend on their ability to believe that God could be loving, and if He is, He could love them.
- The Pirates are not looking to deliver on a promising season this year. Translation: my beloved alma mater’s football team is Trifling. Yep, that’s a capital T. However, they are still worthy of love and I hope they know that.
{that’s the Bear, but it looks like the Tank, hey?}
- I am no longer confident of my ability to use of the English language. I have three and a half sets of English swirling around in my brain. {The half set being reserved for Afrikaans speakers of English in South Africa, who usually have slightly different word choices than the native English speakers. Or maybe it’s for people from Glasgow.} If requested to get a band-aid or a plaster for the Bear’s eina or boo-boo or owie, I might say I’m coming soon, in a wee while, or just now, after I go to the loo or toilet or restroom to fetch it. I struggle to decide which word to use to communicate something with my own mother. What?? I have now decided whichever word comes first is the one that’s coming out of my mouth so if you haven’t a clue what I’m blethering about, nae bother, just ask.
I rather think one especially lovely thing about life is that we get to keep learning. And this season sure has me off to a good start.
xCC
Oct 2, 2011 | A Repat, Stories
One of the books I’m reading at the moment, which I quoted the other day, ya know, while I was looking for my ferret, is speaking some really life-giving words to my soul at the moment. I’m adding a little Amazon link right here right now, in case you would like to read the life-giving words, too.
You might enjoy this book if you 1) are breathing 2) ever feel like saying “I’m fine” when you don’t feel that way or 3) find yourself avoiding confrontation like the Black Plague.
Anywho. Here’s what I feel like I needed to hear this evening that you might need to hear, too.
It is okay, and even good, to be honest about your emotions.
It is good to be honest with God.
It is good to be honest with the people around you.
{An honest dog, who’s visiting with my brother, who just met his second nephew for the first time!}
If you’re hurting, angry, sad, disappointed, confused, or something else, hereby receive the permission you may or may not have realized you already had to speak freely. Feel free to practice in the comments, but I also recommend speaking to other people in real life to talk about what you’re going through.
Speaking freely and honestly, I personally don’t do very well with speaking freely and honestly. I would rather you perceive me as having it all together than take a chance at letting my guard down and change those perceptions.
Right now, for example, life feels kind of confusing for me — as if there’s a fog over my head and I’m watching my life through one of those viewing windows you look through when people are being interviewed by the police in those intimidating rooms that just have a table and two metal chairs.
I’m confident that this is all a part of the process of re-entry, and I’m not planning to start worrying about how and when the fog will lift. In the meantime, it’s here with a little sadness, a bit of feeling disconnected. Even a bit of wishing I was somehow more in control. Transition is weird.
Sometimes unpleasant…like the air biscuits my brother’s dog is laying as I type this right now.
Fear encourages us not to be honest about how we’re feeling. But these emotions are a part of this glorious human experience. And I don’t know whether there’s supposed to be a ‘u’ in glorious anymore.
But it’s still glorious.
The next time someone asks how you’re doing, I hope you’ll think twice before just saying “Fine.” {And thanks, Emily, I needed the reminder.}
xCC
{A point I think I’m suppose to add down here: Grace for the Good Girl by Emily P. Freeman is 1) a great book 2) available on Amazon and 3) if you click that link up there and go buy the book at Amazon, like the little carousel to the right, a small portion of the sale will come my way. Kind of like commission. Which is nifty. So there ya go.}
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