Especially Wasabi

God created certain foods in holy matrimony. Peanut butter and jelly. Cinnamon and sugar.  Tomato and basil.  Hummus and pita bread.  And...the shining stars of my dinner this evening: wasabi and soy sauce.  More on that in a minute.

Sometimes vacations start out rough.  Over-excited kids, over-exhausted adults...it really isn't a recipe for a swell beginning to any venture. This vacation didn't start that way. Despite all the different emotions, we spent an extremely chill morning splashing around a sunny pool. J and B each got a quick swimming lesson and our morning vanished like a mountain mist.

After a low-key lunch, we divided and conquered.  The kids tromped around the guesthome playground; the guys took on the hardware stores; Shannon and I traipsed through SM with minimal guidelines for this week's menu.  It was...*ahem*...we did not tell ourselves no about very much. Lo and behold, that is why we have leche in the fruit bowl, melon seeds in the snacks, and wasabi powder in the cupboard. Avocado season is upon us, so we scrounged around for cilantro and corn chips for guacamole.  We found a random jar of Dijon mustard...and bought it.  Same thing with a bottle of sriracha sauce.  Eggplant, lemons, a white cucumber. You get the idea.

Upon returning to the guesthome, another pair of missionaries treated the family to a barbecue dinner.  This was a great blessing to Shannon because it meant she didn't have to cook.  It was also a blessing for me because it meant I got to make whatever I wanted!  THAT is how I ended up with wasabi-sesame-soy fried eggplant and tofu over rice with a little more wasabi. My tastebuds were in so much love that I made a second batch to eat tomorrow for lunch.

As if these blessings weren't enough, I have been praying for an opportunity to talk with Shannon about the future.  The opportunity arose this evening and we were both able to share our hearts with each other.  You have absolutely no idea how great it feels to know we are all on the same page.  

One step at a time, remember? And who knows! You might even get to learn how to make wasabi paste along the way.

Beautiful Things

Imagine following a narrow footpath through cornfields climbing the sides of low mountains at an impossible incline.  The intense sun threatens to overwhelm the elements.  Where agriculture ends, jungle-like bush takes over.  Under the covering of the tree canopy, the oppressive air becomes cool and damp.  Here the ferns are the size of saplings; fiddles swell beyond the length and girth of a man's arm.  Dao trees stretch skyward around a gentle waterfall that pours out over a tremendous calcium deposit.  This water does not disappear in dry season so it is our water source, roughly 2 km deep into the bush.

Earlier this month, I was privileged to have the opportunity to see all of these beautiful things firsthand.  My companions joked that I was the first white woman to complete the trek to the spring.  First or not, my heart was in awe of creation and its Creator.  The words of the old hymn describe the feeling best: "Then sings my soul, my Savior God to thee, How great thou art!"

When Words Fail Me

 

(The river isn't visible in this picture, but during the flood, this entire area was submerged)

 

(Some of the damaged corn.  The men are attempting to salvage some of their damaged crop, but others had more than half of their harvest totally washed away in the raging water)

 

(Small beauty in the aftermath. A reminder that everything will grow again)

(A tiny glimpse of how high the river water rose) 

Picture This

 

(Just something from our walk)

 

(The blondies everyone can tell are vegan)

 

(Adobo is growing up!)

Twenty-Four Found Me

If you don't get the reference, you're not my mom.  If you are my mom and you still don't get it, we have a problem and I'm not as clever as I think I am.  The song that I'm talking about (yep, it's a song) fully embodies everything I'm feeling right now.  I was talking about it with Gracie the other day. One line in particular stood out to me: I want to see miracles, see the world change, wrestle the angel for more than a name. And it got me. Right here. 

I was going to summarize this most recent journey around the sun with a really introspective look at how God has grown and changed me, but you already know all that.  Then, I thought I would look ahead. Except God has a way of throwing my ideas out the window while He does His thing.  So today, I'm just going to share the past twenty-four hours.

A couple beautiful people messaged me at midnight, then another at 4 a.m. All of which I responded to with bleary eyes at 5.  

I drank coffee and (separately) apple cider vinegar water and put hemp powder in my oatmeal. It's protein. Not drugs.  Pinkie promise.  The girls and I went through the school day mostly hiccup free.

Our Até made biko for my birthday cake, which I feel was the proper way to celebrate a birthday in the Philippines.  Lunch was leftover lentil curry, because leftovers are my love language, okay? The rest of the afternoon was, dare I say it, uneventful.  There were no existential epiphanies or life changing experiences.

Today, I existed.

Today, that was enough because I know beyond the shadow of a doubt God has me exactly where He wants me.

Today, I purchased homeward bound airplane tickets.  

Tonight, I'm praying because it isn't enough to want miracles and change.  I want to be a part of them.

To infinity and beyond!

A Day Late and A Picture Short

 

(J's repaired bowl)

 

(Pretty sure this is called Biko in Tagalog.  No clue what they call it in the local language, but it's my favorite dessert by far.)

 

(Our daily helper and another lady making a new bread recipe together. Sorry for the poor lighting; I was trying to be artsy without being creepy.)

 

(Some pink foliage in the early morning sun. A few weeks old, but worth sharing.)

Did I Mention Callao Caves?

 

(This gentleman kindly ferried part of our group to a lovely spot along the river.)

 

(Yes, I did jump.  Thanks for asking!)

 

(Thanks for the breath of fresh air, God! I think we all needed it!)

 

(One last view)

The Lining Is Silver

Or the lining is golden.  Or orange.  Maybe it's pink.  In my personal experience, it depends on the sunset.  Or the sunrise.  One thing's for sure, the lining is almost always beautiful.

My plan for this update: culinary misadventures, God's goodness, some awkward encounters, and a request or two for prayer.  Those of you that want to bail now are hereby excused. (Except you, Mom.  You have to stay so I don't look like a loser.  It's your fault I'm writing anyway.)  Alright, hands and feet inside the vehicle?  Here we go...

Roasted garbanzo beans are a lie. I also might have made them incorrectly.  They did, however, start popping like popcorn in the oven without actually making anything fluffy and flavorful.  I ended up with chewy, kinda-sorta-salt-and-vinegar, traumatized chickpea pebbles, which I ate because waste is a sin.  Thankfully, I only made one serving, so they're gone now.  The remaining beans got falafel-ized in our new (to us) food processor!  Of course, I didn't have all the "real" ingredients to make falafel, so I made a recipe up that I fondly call Maybe Falafel.  It's going to go down as a secret family recipe, but I'll give you a hint, it let me use up some left over sweet potato.  I know my Jewish ancestors are rolling in their graves. (Is Dad crying over your shoulder, Mom?)  It tasted good, okay?  In recompense for my desecration of falafel, I also concocted a carrot-ginger hummus that totally redeems my aforementioned chickpea mistakes.

Apparently, God stretches us most when we are in His will.  We recently attended a regional conference, at which I was asked (read: told) to share my testimony.  One on one, I can share my testimony fairly coherently.  Throw me out in front of a bunch of missionaries who share God's word for a living and I'm about ready to have an anxiety attack.  I won't tell you my heart rate before I stood up, but it could have won the Kentucky Derby.  Despite my social anxiety and regrettable tears, I did share some of my journey with the group and no one fell asleep, so go team!

Coming back into the quiet village life, I've picked language study back up and Saturday hikes have resumed.  This Saturday, we accidentally tromped right through a neighboring village, only to realize we were going the wrong way, so we had to tromp right through again.  Ahh, have I mentioned social anxiety?  Thanks for growing me, God.  Thanks.

Now I come to the part where I don't want to share too much information, but I'm going to try to share what I can.  One of my little students has been having some health hiccups.  A couple visits to a lab and some discussions with the doctors let my host mom know that her little girl is going to keep "hiccuping" and there really isn't anything we can do except wait for her to grow out of it.  Of course, no parent or child wants to receive that news, so my prayer (and hopefully your prayer) is that the Lord would heal her.  If He won't heal, then that He would hold them closely through this trial.

TTFN

Ta-ta For Now!

Level: Legendary

Slayer!

Killing spree!

Imagine you're playing Halo (the original because I'm outdated...do kids even play Halo anymore?) and you're walking down a dark hallway.  The music is warning you that the Flood is coming out any time now.  Even with the warning, you poop a little bit when they show up.

Now, instead of Halo, put yourself in a dark bathroom without theme music and, instead of the Flood appearing, you hear the unmistakable whir of roach wings.  You can't see it, but you know it's there. Understandably, you poop a little bit.  That's okay because you're on the toilet.  Until you realize YOUR UNDERWEAR ARE AROUND YOUR ANKLES AND THE COCKROACH COULD LAND THERE AND HIDE UNTIL YOU PULL YOUR PANTS UP AND THEN IT COULD CRAWL INSIDE OF YOU LIKE IN SPOILSBURY TOAST BOY.

So now your feet are obviously suspended in the air while you wipe, because that is somehow going to prevent a cockroach from landing in your grotchies.  

Don't forget the lights are still off.  And don't watch the Spoilsbury Toast Boy.  It is unfathomably terrible in every way.

In the end, you escape sans-cockroach panties and without washing your hands.  Let's be real, no one braves the sink when the cockroach is discovered chilling out in the solitary sliver of light between you and the tap.  You know you'll meet the bugger again as you fumble with the locked doorknob.  Nobody in their right mind turns their back on a roach, either.

That was my night at some point this past week.  To be honest, I don't even remember what specific night because exhaustion and terror make everything except the fine details a blurry haze.  I can, however, report without a doubt that our rematch took place on Saturday, the eve of May.  As I stood, 100 % exposed, prepared to take a well-deserved shower, Herodias clung to the pink shower curtain with practiced stillness.  Maybe she was waiting to ambush me.  Maybe she was trying trying to hide.  Whatever the case, I had been expecting her all week.

With only minor hesitation, I took up the fly-swatter that was broken and forged anew.  I struck once.  My foe faltered, but refused to give any ground.  I struck again, this time rendering her helpless by turning her belly up. Then, as is my embarrassingly barbaric custom, I pounded Herodias into pulp with the swatted that was broken and forged anew only to be broken yet again.

Mindless death really does hurt my soul.  I'm vegan for more than one reason, you know.  Cockroaches just flip the berserker switch inside of me.  Blame my heritage.

At any rate, we head out to conference in a couple days for just a couple days.  It's building up to be a whirlwind week.  Not to mention, I officially have only five months left in the Philippines! The time, how she flies!

Pictures that Aren't of Food

 

(Helping each other with flower crowns)

 

(Waiting for the helicopter)

 

(This week's artistic efforts, to be used as thank you cards)

Lunch Lady Land

Remember that time when I was like, "Sorry, food hijacked my life but it's all good now"?  Apparently that was a lie. There is something remarkably romantic about food.  Not a boy-meets-girl romance.  It is more of a quaint romance, the quiet kind that settles contentedly in one's soul.  To be honest, it is one of the purest joys any basic creature can experience.  The amazing part is that God allows mankind to take it one step further.  We have not only been given the ability to play with flavor and elements, but we also get to share it with each other.  In short, good food lays better foundations for great relationships than anything else.

Don't argue with the facts. Jesus himself ate with his disciples and demanded they continue that tradition until his return.  Nearly every budding relationship is nurtured with well-made food. (Coffee counts.) Babies bond with their primary food source for the majority of their early lives.  Good food isn't an accident and someone sharing that food with you isn't just nice.  It's everyday romance.  Deal with it.

All of that said, good food or bad, I hate seeing it go to waste.  Imagine a house where people compete to see who can eat the oldest left overs.  (Yes, that's you, Uncle David.) But in tribal Filipino culture, waste is even more offensive and they don't have refrigerators.  One social gathering will tell you all you need to know.  Personally, rice is the only permissible choice as far as food goes at these things, but take a glance at everyone else's plates.  They're happily tucking into fried pork blood and intestines with gusto.  Get the picture?

Daily life is organized around meal times...and coffee times...and the preparation of food for those times.  There is an ongoing assessment of The Fresh: What is going to spoil first, so it can be eaten first? Is anything too far gone to be eaten that is salvageable for baking or cooking? Can this be preserved by freezing?  Is anything showing signs of worms or rot?  The surprising part is that it's more of a game than a chore because all of the above questions have follow-up questions: Cookies or bread? Stir fry? Would these flavors pair well together? Could I try substituting this for that? What if we invented something savory with this, instead of the usual sweet?  The results of our labors are almost always good.  If they aren't, the process was still fun, a lesson was learned, and the desire to make it better is undeniable.

Around the food, life waltzes along.  Just yesterday a beautiful baby girl was born in the village. Two of the kids spent time expanding their portion of the garden this morning.  Adobo the pig has an umbilical hernia that might determine the length of her extended lifespan. All of these things happen slowly, then all at once. Through it all, we break out bread, give thanks, and bask in the romantic blessing of it all.

They Say It Lasts A Lifetime: Photo Edition

 

(Men playing the gansa drums.)

 

(Dancing!)

 

(Look closely. That's fish head soup.)

 

(The rice featured here was the only dish I could eat,  but apparently the stuff in the green dish tastes like bacon.)

The Master Chef?

Did I mention I spent almost every night watching cooking shows in Manila?  Well, I did.  Most of them were of Australian origin and my favorite was by far Master Chef Australia.  Despite it being an old season (and literally NONE of the food being vegan), my inner foodie was all like, "No big deal.  We can do that."

So, with our limited supply of produce, my work has been cut out for me.  I'm talking breads, muffins, slaws, salads, humus, baked tofu... Heck, falafel is even on my "to make" list.  It's fun to try recipes, dabble in creating dishes, and hodge-podge whatever substitute ingredients we need.

Granted, this normally wouldn't be the best time of year to go all Martha Stewart.  Hot season is supposed to be cranking up to high heat right about now.  Key word: supposed.  The past couple days have brought some of the coldest weather I've experienced in the Philippines thus far.  We even dropped to 19°C (which is something like 65°F, but still, I had woolly socks on, okay!), so the heat of the oven has been welcomed for the most part.

In addition to baked goodies, I've been enjoying some mailed love from my family.  Letters and packages and even emails from the states have perked me up just as much as Banana-Pineapple Bread.  Trust me, it's delicious.

We're slogging away through 4th and 2nd grades with the girls, but they've seen the light at the end of the tunnel.  Once they realized there are less than 60 school days to go, the morale in the schoolroom brightened considerably. I feel kind of bad because my being here means they don't really get a summer break.  We'll "finish" the school year with the month of June and be neck deep in the next grade by mid July.  Even still, we're all pretty excited for the finish line.  Finish line = a trip out of our village to do some cultural exploring in other areas of Luzon!

I just need to remind myself that this isn't a sprint. It's cross-country through and through. The analogy would probably work better if I was actually a runner.

You Can Take the Girl Out of the Country...

After a ten-day trip to Manila and blessings too numerous to count, I was more than ready to return to the quiet life in our village.  How could that be?  My theory is, no matter where I go or choose to live, I was born and bred in the middle of nowhere, so that is where I will always feel the most at ease.  City life, with all its convenience, is nothing short of exhausting.  There are always people around; the noise never sinks below a dull roar.  The hustle and bustle is fun for a while, then it's a relief when it's over.

Video chatting was definitely the biggest plus to our stay in Manila.  I got to see my Ohio family for the first time since October and my New York family for the first time since Christmas.  It felt wonderful to catch up on each others' lives, to hear one another laugh, to ramble on in comfortable (and comforting) conversation.

Oddly, the video chats might have been one of the more difficult parts at the same time.  It is one thing to live isolated from your loved ones with small, infrequent messages.  It is another experience entirely to visually and audibly interact with them without any means of physical expression of love or joy.  Try as we might, we cannot squeeze air with all the strength in our arms.  Our heads cannot rest on shoulders over 8,000 miles away.  Kissing air is the same as not kissing at all.  Loneliness that had been held at bay by distance, came crashing in.

Even in the midst of all these emotions, I could not say that I regret the decisions that brought me here.  I long to be home, but I dread the day I have to leave.  That's the trouble with giving your all wherever you go.  I have a sneaking suspicion it is all going to be worth it, though, and that gives me hope for whatever God has next.

Another top experience was FOOD.  Vegan or not, I've always been such a foodie.  As a vegan, I particularly enjoy food of the green persuasion.  Rest assured that I'm no longer grumbling in my heart, but God saw fit to give me some veggie-goodness anyway.  Believe me when I say I pounded that rabbit food.  I horked those suckers down till my stomach distended into a mound that resembled three months of pregnancy.  Spinach, corn, artichoke, roasted red peppers, cabbage, broccoli, snow peas, cauliflower, pineapple salsa, mushrooms... I went to town (literally and proverbially).  Not to mention other goodies like freshly roasted peanuts with salt and garlic.  Or kutsinta and kakanin, also known as some of the best varieties of sticky rice cakes ever created.  Food might have hijacked my Instagram for a couple days to say the least.

Other experiences were newer and took longer to process.  Over our time in Manila, we caught multiple jeepneys.  My favorite jeepney ride took place later one evening.  Shannon and I caught went to get some last minute supplies, namely frozen berries and soy milk. The guy at S&R packed up our spoils, but he put all of the soy milk in the flimsier of the two bags.  All was well until we went to get off the jeep and the handles of the bag came away in my hands, sending the soy milk straight to the pavement.  Thankfully, nothing broke and I was able to carry the handle-less bag back to our room on my shoulder.

One day, our taxi driver seemed unable to keep his opinions to himself.  Shannon told him we were Canadian, rather than explaining that I was an American.  THANK GOD!  This guy spent the next good chunk of our drive telling us how much he hated Americans, how America stole all of the Filipino silver and copper, and how much he loves the Filipino president and his choices.  Now, I have nothing against patriotism, and I felt he was entitled to his own opinion.  That being said, I have never been more stressed out during a conversation in my life.  Eventually, he got tired of speaking politics and turned his attention to religion.  While his questions may have been designed to give himself more speaking time, Shannon was still able to share the gospel with the guy.  All in all, I'd call that a win.

The entire trip could boil down to a muddle of malls, department stores, stalls, scents, and sights.  I'm thankful for the opportunity to meet other missionaries at the guest house.   The walking and shopping facilitated building stronger relationships between my host family and I.  Sure, we're all as exhausted as ever, but we're living with purpose and joy.  I, for one, would trade a good night's sleep for daily purpose any day of the week.

With all that said, I'll add some pictures next.  March out.  April, bring it on.

Hunting and Exploring

In a couple days, some of us adult ladies will be heading to Manila for some appointments and odd supplies.  We will be out of the village for some ten days, while rest of the family will remain here.  The kids are excited because this means they will get a two week break from school.  I'm excited because this means I will get to FaceTime with my family back home.

One of the things we need to do while we're in the city is search for art supplies.  I will be "teaching" (though in art, I feel it's more like guiding than anything) two of the high school age girls through a homeschooling art curriculum.  I made a supply list on Wednesday and set out to find what we already have, so we don't purchase anything unnecessary.  Thursday night, I'm going through the final drawer and lo!  Gary the Cockroach twitched his nasty little antennae at me from his nestled position between the molding clay and finger paints.  The molding clay was my objective, but there was no way I was going to reach for it with Gary just chilling there.  As I debated my options, Gary waved farewell and crawled deeper into the recesses of the drawer.  That made my decision for me.  I shut the drawer and went up to bed.

Friday morning, I announced to S and J that we would be going on a hunt after our morning lessons.  True to my word, once snack had been consumed, S was armed with a fly swatter and J was bequeathed a bottle of Baygon.  We opened the drawer with due apprehension.  One deep breath.  Two deep breaths.  Eventually, winged by my fearless cockroach slayers, I began to unpack the drawer.  The results?  A whole lot of cockroach poo and rock solid molding clay.  At this very moment, Gary is at large.  The only questions is where?

A couple of us have started going on an early morning walk every Saturday.  It's enjoyable for a number of reasons: it gets us out in the sun and fresh air, we become more familiar with the land around us, fellowship...  Needless to say, walking in the morning has become something I look forward to all week long.  This week, we took a familiar path out, but a new ridge path back.  All was well until we reach the end of the loop, where we were met by a lovely standing pool that looked to be about 5/8 water buffalo poop.  With many laughs, groans, and helping hands, we technically made it across.  Sufficed to say we needed to rinse in the river before we made it home.

Each passing day brings a new lesson, picture, or idea.  Whole pockets of flowers hidden from view in the bush praise God with their beauty.  A mother water buffalo protects her young by chasing the strange white people away.  A little pineapple sprouts from a plant beside the river.  Piglets are born.  It seems to me that the details might make a difference after all.  Maybe it just depends on the details I choose to focus on.

When The Orange Flower Blooms

Seventy years ago, the village I am currently living in and the surrounding villages would watch for a certain tree to blossom.  Rainy season would creep toward its slow end and then, sprinkled like bright beacons over the low ridges, little orange flowers exploded into color.  When this happened, they knew head-hunting season had begun.

I'm told it was a rite of passage into manhood.  When a boy brought back his first head from a warring village, he returned a man in the eyes of his people.  Today, no signs of their violent past remain.  The people don't speak of it.  "We are ashamed of what we were," they say.  "Why would we talk about it?"  The old ways seem especially forgotten when, despite the orange flowers staring down from the treetops, we hike freely from one village to the next.  We hike through corn ready for harvest and green rice fields, past flowering bananas and loaded coconut trees.  Every now and then, we catch sight of another tree with orange blooms.  It is a great reminder of where God finds each of us, especially as the missionaries here prepare to share the full gospel with this people for the first time.

God has also been reminding me of His great love through a seemingly endless stream of blessings:

1) Just as I was hitting a slump of "Yeah, I'm ready for a spinach salad, a Chipotle burrito, and a nice HOT bath," I received a package from home.  Of course, the package didn't bring a spinach salad or a burrito or a bath, but it DID have lots of love and cream of wheat inside. 

2)  Then, I received and account statement from the office and discovered a very generous monetary gift.  I inquired after who sent it, but no one seems to know!  My hope is that, whoever you are, you read this and know I am extremely thankful!  God bless you and yours! 

3)  Yet another blessing came my way just yesterday.  When I packed up and moved to the Philippines, I had a pipe dream of learning the local language.  As of yesterday, I am officially in part-time language study!  Realistically, I know that I won't become anywhere near fluent in the seven months I have left, but I'm stoked to learn what I can.  It is a humongous blessing to have the people helping me take time out of their busy schedules to learn a language I may never use again, just because I want to learn.

All in all, I'm a slightly snuffly, yet very happy camper!

TTFN (Ta-Ta For Now!)

Another One Bites the Dust

It's been another full week here in Northern Luzon.  A week full of sickness, that is.  S and J have been passing different head colds back and forth since Christmas, so it's no surprise that they are still hacking and coughing like champs.  In the village around us, chicken pox is still making its rounds.  Most recently, a charming little stomach virus has started blossoming in the pits of unfortunate stomachs. 

I fell victim to the stomach bug Tuesday evening.  Never before have I experienced an illness quite like it, so I naturally held the vomit back long enough to Google my symptoms.  About ten minutes before the diarrhea or vomit, my stomach would boil with a tangible heat.  It felt like a flesh eating slug was trolling the inside of my stomach.  Only when the heat became unbearable, my stomach would unleash a watery Armageddon.  Google, of course, told me that my stomach lining was being destroyed and, in any case, I was experiencing a severe allergic reaction.  Truth be told, unless I'm allergic to Filipino potatoes, it really was just a bug and I was fine by Wednesday night.

Whether it is due to sickness or prepubescent mood swings, S seems to love me one moment and hate me the next.  She has adopted a charming mute condition whenever I ask her questions about what she is working on.  Fortunately, she miraculously regains her power of speech whenever throwing her pencil does not properly communicate her frustration.  Of course, there are just as many moments when she is practically an angel.  Go figure.

J has a thousand questions lately.  Most recently, there have been lots of questions about "the good H" and "the bad H."  She also wants to know "Why do we call it saved?"  It has been an honor to be able to experience this part of her growth.  Her head cold has also made her slightly more emotional.  When she discovered that the multiple illnesses would prevent a "real party" for B's birthday, she burst into tears because "it isn't a real birthday without a party."

Which brings us to B turning four.  It seems like she has transformed over night.  Now all she wants to say is, "I CAN DO IT MYSELF!"

In the village, it is almost time to harvest corn again.  This is causes mild concern because the constant rain has prevented the previous harvest from being sold as of yet, so the price for that corn is dropping tremendously.  Prayer that both harvests will make it to town and be sold would be greatly appreciated! 

TTFN (Ta-ta for now!)

Photo Update

(Adobo, 2 month old piglet)

(Grindelwald, before his habitat was built)

 (New garden, pre-planting)

(The first seedlings of pechay)

Photo Update

(Front view of a tricycle)

(Goats tethered to a trash heap from the typhoon)

 (A random 3-wheel vehicle)

(Early morning view of an outdoor mall)

Let the Butiki Stay Inside

I love butikis.  No really, I do.  Forget the days when I would huddle, frozen in fear, at whatever was creeping along my wall. Butikis are my new best friends.  They're my knights in shining armor.  Why?  Because those hardcore lizards eat spiders.  They eat all sorts of creepy crawlies that would otherwise be eating me, and since I'm more bug-bite than human right now, I say let the butikis stay inside.

Aside from my newly formed allegiance with the lizards, New Years celebrations have come and gone.  All over the city, fireworks exploded from dusk until pretty much dawn.  Some of our neighbors set off their last fire crackers while we ate our breakfast this morning.  The near-constant explosions and the residual smoke made it really feel like a war zone.  It was both exciting and terrifying.  As midnight drew closer, anything that could be used to make noise was put to use: air horns, chain saws, car engines, karaoke, empty cans, you name it. 

So, Happy New Year!  And bring it on 2017.  I've been waiting for you.