Thank goodness for my sister-in-law’s birthday. I was trying to figure out what to give her and decided to bake her a cake. We’ve been trying to avoid over-comforting ourselves with food while we’re on our long wait, so I haven’t been baking as much. But I love to bake; I always feel better after making something, and Emma joined in saying, “Baking calms me.” I enjoy watching the batter change and take shape as each ingredient is added, and my kids laugh at me when I call them over to look at how “beautiful” it is. I need the creative process and cooking is just that, a way to create, with the best part being you get to share it with someone else. Plus I get to lick the bowl.
When I was growing up my dad was the same way. Often on Sunday afternoon he would get baking, making various cookies, cakes, and desserts. I remember trying to help, but he loves the process so much that I would barely start to stir, when he would grab the spoon from me and finish it off. I had to laugh as I baked with Emma, because I caught myself doing the same thing a couple of times. Well, I guess I’ve earned the right, and when Emma bakes with her kids she can have first dibs on the spoon.
So, following is the recipe that Emma and I invented. We didn’t have cream, so we used sour cream, and we added raspberry syrup because it sounded like it would be good, and it was. We put it on a layered white cake, with raspberry jam between the layers and it turned out pretty good. But like I said to Don, I felt better and more relaxed even before I got to try it. That’s what baking does for me, just like for my dad, and I’m glad to pass on the tradition to my own children. Thanks, Stephanie, for giving us an excuse to bake a cake.
Raspberry Ganache
1 12 oz. bag chocolate chips
4 Tbs. butter
¼ cup light corn syrup
¾ cup sour cream
¼ cup raspberry syrup
Melt chocolate, butter, corn syrup and sour cream in microwave on high for about 2 minutes, or until soft. Stir with a wisk until smooth (microwave for more time if chocolate is not melted enough). Add raspberry syrup and stir. Cool till slightly thickened and pour over cake, or cool completely, whip lightly, and spread like a frosting.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Our dilemma
All of this process has been hard and time consuming. We’ve been at this for most of a year, and have yet to leave for China. We have the jobs, we have the visas, we’ve sold our house. And yet what is one of the most difficult things about this process? Getting rid of the stuff.
We started really early on, disposing of our things. Don and I have never been shy about throwing things away or giving them to charity, but we’ve never done it on this scale. We happily took load after load of donations to Goodwill, and it felt great. The house and garage looked sparser and cleaner, and we were getting closer to our goal. When we were ready to put the house on the market, we had gone through cupboards and the garage and we felt that we had done a good job of culling the unnecessary chattel.
Then we moved. While friends helped us load the moving truck, I looked on and told Don, “I don’t even want most of this,” but it was too late to do anything about it. When we got to Don’s parents and unloaded everything into their shop, it was depressing and, frankly, humiliating. There sat most of our life’s possessions, in one humongous pile for everyone to see. It’s impossible to know how much space an entire household of items will take up, but to have them there together in one mass was humbling and very, very frustrating. How could we possibly need everything we had moved, and what would we do with it now?
The dilemma is this: If we only go for two years, won’t we need most of this? And if we go for ten years, why would we want to store all of this? To replace an entire household will be expensive, yet will we even want most of it when we get back? It’s impossible to answer these questions, so we’ve agreed on a couple of things. One is, we really hope we can live overseas for a long time, so if that is our goal, we’re going for it, in every way, and that includes getting rid of most of our things. Second, we agree that we want to live more free from material things, and this is a way to start. As our friend Karl says, “Everything you own owns a piece of you.”
So in the end, we’ve kept some favorite furniture, books, photographs and mementos, some kitchen items, and the things the kids wanted to keep. Will we want even that when we return? Who knows? But at least for now, we feel a lot less encumbered by stuff, and hope that it is the beginning of a life focused more on experiences and less on possessions.
We started really early on, disposing of our things. Don and I have never been shy about throwing things away or giving them to charity, but we’ve never done it on this scale. We happily took load after load of donations to Goodwill, and it felt great. The house and garage looked sparser and cleaner, and we were getting closer to our goal. When we were ready to put the house on the market, we had gone through cupboards and the garage and we felt that we had done a good job of culling the unnecessary chattel.
Then we moved. While friends helped us load the moving truck, I looked on and told Don, “I don’t even want most of this,” but it was too late to do anything about it. When we got to Don’s parents and unloaded everything into their shop, it was depressing and, frankly, humiliating. There sat most of our life’s possessions, in one humongous pile for everyone to see. It’s impossible to know how much space an entire household of items will take up, but to have them there together in one mass was humbling and very, very frustrating. How could we possibly need everything we had moved, and what would we do with it now?
The dilemma is this: If we only go for two years, won’t we need most of this? And if we go for ten years, why would we want to store all of this? To replace an entire household will be expensive, yet will we even want most of it when we get back? It’s impossible to answer these questions, so we’ve agreed on a couple of things. One is, we really hope we can live overseas for a long time, so if that is our goal, we’re going for it, in every way, and that includes getting rid of most of our things. Second, we agree that we want to live more free from material things, and this is a way to start. As our friend Karl says, “Everything you own owns a piece of you.”
So in the end, we’ve kept some favorite furniture, books, photographs and mementos, some kitchen items, and the things the kids wanted to keep. Will we want even that when we return? Who knows? But at least for now, we feel a lot less encumbered by stuff, and hope that it is the beginning of a life focused more on experiences and less on possessions.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Leaving our Home
It’s been over a week since we sold and moved out of our house. This was a huge project for us, as it involved finishing some projects, replacing carpet and countertops, re-painting all of the kitchen cabinetry, etc. It sold fast; we got two offers only 5 days after we put it on the market, and we basically got our asking price. People were shocked, but we weren’t; we priced it to sell, and we had it looking super sharp.
People kept saying to us, “It looks so great, you’re not going to want to leave,” but this is what we want to do. However, when it came to actually leaving, it was incredibly hard. Not because of the new carpet or kitchen, but because we loved living there, and have some great memories. Our kids all went to the elementary school across the street. We had a lot of good events there, for holidays and birthdays. We had our exchange student, and now dear friend, Emily, live with us there for a year. We cooked a lot of great meals there for friends and family. There are just so many good memories for us that involve that house, and we felt really at home there.
When we left, it was heart-wrenching, and we stood in the entry, hugging each other and crying. It was physically hard to walk out the door and leave it behind. So the funny thing is, all of us are feeling relief now that that part is over. In fact, after so much time spent working on and thinking about that house, Don and I are enjoying the freedom of not worrying about it. Our daughter, Emma, just told us today, that she likes living here, where we are now. And our son, John, said, “Everyone is nicer to each other since we’ve moved.” After all those months of preparation, we’re spending a lot of time together, enjoying each other’s company, and we don’t have many responsibilities right now.
So, I guess this is our vacation, from home-ownership, from working on our big move, from our jobs, from everything we had. And right now, it feels pretty good.
People kept saying to us, “It looks so great, you’re not going to want to leave,” but this is what we want to do. However, when it came to actually leaving, it was incredibly hard. Not because of the new carpet or kitchen, but because we loved living there, and have some great memories. Our kids all went to the elementary school across the street. We had a lot of good events there, for holidays and birthdays. We had our exchange student, and now dear friend, Emily, live with us there for a year. We cooked a lot of great meals there for friends and family. There are just so many good memories for us that involve that house, and we felt really at home there.
When we left, it was heart-wrenching, and we stood in the entry, hugging each other and crying. It was physically hard to walk out the door and leave it behind. So the funny thing is, all of us are feeling relief now that that part is over. In fact, after so much time spent working on and thinking about that house, Don and I are enjoying the freedom of not worrying about it. Our daughter, Emma, just told us today, that she likes living here, where we are now. And our son, John, said, “Everyone is nicer to each other since we’ve moved.” After all those months of preparation, we’re spending a lot of time together, enjoying each other’s company, and we don’t have many responsibilities right now.
So, I guess this is our vacation, from home-ownership, from working on our big move, from our jobs, from everything we had. And right now, it feels pretty good.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
On Leaving America
Pictures are views from our temporary home.
I’ve been looking forward to living someplace other than the United States. There are all the reasons for living abroad: opportunities, travel, adventure. But I have to admit, there are some reasons I want to be away from America right now, and it’s not the usual, “I hate the current administration” stuff. It has nothing to do with politics. I’ve become disillusioned with our consumer culture and the accompanying complacency.
One of the biggest reasons we’ve pursued this course is that we worry about the influence that the consumer culture is having on our kids. We feel that they see examples in our culture and with their peers that promote the idea that you don’t need to worry about your future, and that everything you want is easy to acquire. By living in a culture in which failing to do well in school literally can mean you lose any chance of landing a decent job, we believe our children will appreciate the opportunities our country has to offer, and see the value of hard work and perseverance.
So during this process, I’ve been feeling no regret about leaving the US for a time, maybe a long time. That is, until about a month ago. I was attending the funeral of my step-grandfather. He was a WWII vet and had a military funeral. The ceremonial unfolding and folding of the flag was very impressive to me, and as they displayed the flag I started crying, really sobbing. I couldn’t help it; the sorrow of leaving my country was totally overwhelming. I’m sure people thought I was mourning my step-grandfather, but at that moment I was mourning the loss of my country, both in a real sense by leaving, and what I feel is a loss of the strength and resolve of its people. I love my country, and I hope that I’m wrong, but I’m worried about where we are headed, and it has less to do with our elected officials, and more to do with the people electing them.
One of the biggest reasons we’ve pursued this course is that we worry about the influence that the consumer culture is having on our kids. We feel that they see examples in our culture and with their peers that promote the idea that you don’t need to worry about your future, and that everything you want is easy to acquire. By living in a culture in which failing to do well in school literally can mean you lose any chance of landing a decent job, we believe our children will appreciate the opportunities our country has to offer, and see the value of hard work and perseverance.
So during this process, I’ve been feeling no regret about leaving the US for a time, maybe a long time. That is, until about a month ago. I was attending the funeral of my step-grandfather. He was a WWII vet and had a military funeral. The ceremonial unfolding and folding of the flag was very impressive to me, and as they displayed the flag I started crying, really sobbing. I couldn’t help it; the sorrow of leaving my country was totally overwhelming. I’m sure people thought I was mourning my step-grandfather, but at that moment I was mourning the loss of my country, both in a real sense by leaving, and what I feel is a loss of the strength and resolve of its people. I love my country, and I hope that I’m wrong, but I’m worried about where we are headed, and it has less to do with our elected officials, and more to do with the people electing them.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Enjoy the Process
Ok, I need to write in this more, not just once a month. Let me tell you why I started this blog. I don’t intend it to be just a travelogue. I guess I have a lot to say about why I’m doing this, what it really means to do something big that I’ve always dreamed of doing, and whether it all turns out as I imagined.
I had already been thinking about writing a blog, but my friend Mary encouraged me to start. I was having a particularly stressful day at work, just before school got out, and I stopped by her office for some support. She listened to everything I had going on: finishing the school year, getting ready to move, selling the house, etc., and she said, “Lee, you know you really need to write all this down so you remember. This part is important, too. You need to remember how you got to China, not just what happens when you get there.” This reminded me of my dad who more than once has told me to enjoy the process, not just the end result.
So my intent over the next few weeks, while we wait to leave, is to write about the process. Why did we decide to do this? What went into the decision-making? What were the steps? Hopefully someone will find it interesting, helpful, or maybe inspiring in following their own dream.
And many thanks to Mary. She’s currently a little sidetracked from her own dreams, while she recovers from a car accident. But she’s a great friend and mentor to me, and one of the people I turn to when I need a sane word or two to get me back on target. Mary, you are the best and my thoughts are with you.
I had already been thinking about writing a blog, but my friend Mary encouraged me to start. I was having a particularly stressful day at work, just before school got out, and I stopped by her office for some support. She listened to everything I had going on: finishing the school year, getting ready to move, selling the house, etc., and she said, “Lee, you know you really need to write all this down so you remember. This part is important, too. You need to remember how you got to China, not just what happens when you get there.” This reminded me of my dad who more than once has told me to enjoy the process, not just the end result.
So my intent over the next few weeks, while we wait to leave, is to write about the process. Why did we decide to do this? What went into the decision-making? What were the steps? Hopefully someone will find it interesting, helpful, or maybe inspiring in following their own dream.
And many thanks to Mary. She’s currently a little sidetracked from her own dreams, while she recovers from a car accident. But she’s a great friend and mentor to me, and one of the people I turn to when I need a sane word or two to get me back on target. Mary, you are the best and my thoughts are with you.
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