Goodbye Asian Life

Last night we were blessed by all our friends and co-workers coming together to share memories and encouraging words with us. It was fun to see people, new and old, from our time here. A few girls we worked with when we first arrived in 1999 even made it! It was amazing to hear people get up and say, "I've known you for 8 . . . 10 . . . 12 years." There's a lot of history with these people.

And there's a lot of history in Asia. As my final post for My Asian Life before I change my blog, I thought I'd throw out some of the memories that come to mind:

dormitory life for the first three months
the carpet in our first place that was supposed to be tan, but was gray when it came. We were told, "This is what we had at the factory."
Hearing people talk about our "incredibly white" child in stereo whenever we took him outside
The AC unit being installed outside our 20th floor window - they wrapped a rope around the waist of the guy leaning out and gave Erik the end to hold
Favorite restaurants and play areas, and the days we would show up to them and find them a pile of rubble, "Sorry kids, Fundazzle's gone."
Struggling in language class
Riding on the back of Erik's bike side saddle like the locals
Frequently changing the purpose of rooms in our house, "Ok, today I want to make our room Ethan's room and make the office our bedroom."
Paying someone 2 mao to watch my bike at the grocery store
Sweet times with Chinese friends 
Dan Higgins licking off Ethan's sucker that fell in a mud puddle
Holidays with all our co-workers
Going to IKEA as a retreat from the culture (back when no one went there)
Seeing coal dust on the inside of our window sill in the winter
Our last year the first time when an American family lived next door and our children treated them as one apartment, running back and forth

Daily swims at our apartment complex in Singapore
BBQs at the end of the courtyard
Runs in the morning that got me so sweaty I could wring out my shirt
Wet markets
The Singapore Zoo
Waiting out sudden thunderstorms
31A Merryn Road, where we had Bible study and did life with our small group
Thursday morning women's time at IBC
Our makeshift homeschool co-op Pirate class
Hours and hours with my friend Martha while we watched our kids do gymnastics and all kinds of other activities
Catching the bus, the MRT - Singapore's amazing public transport systems
Mustafa Centre!
The Jurong Water Park - one of the few places in Singapore that was inexpensive!
Driving on the other side of the road
Hanging with the Wilsons
the great library system

Running along the canal
The giant urn in our living room that we managed to wrestle outside
Not seeing the kids all day because they were out playing in the complex
Walking next door to the Higgins when the kids were sleeping
Road trips with the Fords
The hardest goodbye ever - seeing the Higgins and the Fords leave in the same month
Renovating our TTY place
co-op kids every Thursday
Eating street food again
Having a jiaozi guy and an egg guy and a fruit lady
Capture the Flag every day for months
Driving the back roads of China
Hearing my kids speak Chinese and seeing our floor littered with character flash cards
Finding Scout
Eating with friends on our porch

Asia has been good to us, and though we are leaving our Asian life, I know that we are forever changed because of our time here.

I'll be changing my blog URL soon. Hopefully my posts will all transfer over and you will be redirected to the new one. Thanks for reading! 

Life Goes On

Do you ever wonder if everyone's getting together without you?

In a few weeks, I know they will be, because I will be gone. One of the weird by-products of transition is in full force for me these days; the realization that life will go on without us.

Wow, when I write it that way, it sounds really egocentric, which is really not my intention. I do realize that life goes on in lots of places without us and the people are perfectly happy and content. I imagine most people in China will continue this way as well, though it's comforting to know that for a few people, there will be a time of sadness.

No, what I mean is that I am aware of the fact that we will no longer be a part of their lives the way we are now, and I want to be.

I am reminded when I'm handed a bulletin for the fall activities and I politely decline, when the co-op schedule appears in my inbox and I don't even look at it, when I hear people talking about the race in October, the conference in January, I know that we will miss them all. Just today I told a friend that she really should get out to a local park in the fall because it's lovely. She can go. I can't.

Life goes on. Our friends must make plans. And we will be making plans without them, elsewhere.

But it's good to think back on all the days we've had together. (now the Cheers theme song jumps into my head). It's also good to know that we will be missed in all those future moments, just as we will miss being here.

What else have I been missing?

I have a never ending hair debate going in this lifetime, mostly due to the fact that God saw fit to give me the hairline of Dracula and the half-curl of someone who went to sleep immediately after showering. Generally speaking I vacillate between long and short, bangs or no bangs. Right now I am in the short/no bangs phase but am contemplating long with bangs. Yes, I realize I am not one of those Barbies whose hair you can pump to make suddenly longer (but wouldn't that be awesome?). But I have a haircut in a few weeks and I need to know where I'm going with this.

Personally, I think I look better with short hair, but my husband likes it long. When I grow my hair out, it doesn't look good without bangs. But I don't ever feel like bangs looks very good on me. I think they make me look 12, and not in a good way. So why not keep it short? Well, my crazy half curl goes nuts in humid weather (hello, future Orlando home) which makes short, meant to be straight, hairstyles maddening. I'd rather let it do what it wants to do.

While pondering this (yes, I have hair pondering times) I realized something. In the past 13 years, I have mostly either a) had my hair cut by Chinese men who are baffled by my God-given western hair, b) cut my bangs myself, or c) just let my hair not be cut at all for way longer than even the best hairstyle can withstand. Do you know what this means people?? I think it means I've had 13 years of generally bad hair. 

So I'm filled with this new and sudden hope that I can run these hair ponderings by someone who knows what to do with me. She could give me good looking bangs! Or tell me that I should never, ever wear them. Who knows? Maybe all this time it wasn't me - it was just not having someone who knew what they were doing with my hair (and I put myself in that category).

It's leaving me wondering what else I've missed all these years. 

A Fine Line

Friday morning I realized that we had no water in our kitchen. I assumed that there was a notice at the bottom of my building warning me of this inconvenience, but they tend to post them above my hobbit eye level, so I didn't see it. And also, they're in Chinese so I can only read a fraction of them. Regardless, it was frustrating for the next 24 hours until they turned it back on.

Recently a friend of mine took an online stress test, and part of it required her to answer questions about this kind of thing. It gave a list of potential stressors from living cross-culturally, and asked her, "On a scale of 'not at all' to 'crazy', how much does this affect you?" (ok, maybe I took some liberty with the scale, but you get the idea). It was things that seem simple like, "I can't get X product here" or "I have to deal with government red tape" or "my water or electricity is unreliable." My friend realized that while few of them affected her greatly, the fact that most of the affected her in small ways added up to a lot.

So what do we do with these things? I've been wondering about this lately. And not just the inconveniences, but the other things we've given up living here. I don't often dwell on them, but we have missed a lot being here - birthdays, holidays, experiences.

We're told to look on the bright side, count our blessings, not complain, say "oh but it could be so much worse," compare our lot with others less fortunate and then close the box on the hard things.

I feel like I'm realizing that there's a fine line in dealing with these things. True, it's important to be thankful and full of faith, to realize that in spite of loss there has been great gain, that the difficulties have proven fodder for growth. All true.

But what about acknowledging what these things are doing to our hearts? Where is the place for saying, "This is really hard. It wears on me. I miss this. I long for that." Where is the place for our hearts to express the pain, the drain? Not so that we wallow and have little pity parties, but that we are honest and honor what we feel. To give ourselves the space to feel the reality and let God meet us there.

I think about Jesus in the garden. His was an honest, raw heart that said, "I'd really rather not." Was he complaining? No. He was just being real. He gave Himself the space to acknowledge his true feelings. And then he went and did what was needed.

So I guess my challenge is to be like Jesus - to go before God with my whole heart, not one that is ignorant or blind to the difficulties of life. I can lay all my heart before Him and know that in Him I can find comfort, peace, and strength.

Making It Last

I think I just bought my last bottle of syrup in China. I'm guessing my shampoo supply will be just enough. Unfortunately, I'm out of flax seed, so how much will I need for 5 weeks?

These are the thoughts I have these days. For some reason I have this goal to leave the country without either running out of essential things or leaving excess amounts behind (the former being obviously the greater half of the goal). It's strange to think about seeing the rest of my Asian life here in measures of shampoo, syrup and flax seed, but in some way it helps me know that it's real.

Ok, I need to go order some flax.

There and Back Again

I get what it was like for Bilbo Baggins. He was a hobbit happy to stay in The Shire until adventure came knocking at his door in the form of Gandalf.  Bilbo had no desire to go, stating, “We are plain, quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them.” 

But what followed was the “story of a Baggins who had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbour’s respect, but he gained – well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.” 

              I would probably have been happy staying my whole life in my hometown as I have never been the adventurous sort. But Adventure came knocking on my door too and sent me to Asia for 13 years where I have found myself doing and saying things altogether unexpected as well. I believe I've gained quite a bit in the end. I hope I haven't lost the neighbor's respect, although I strongly suspect I will have lost quite a bit of common ground and understanding and don't know that I'll ever fully get it back. After all, as Gandalf commented,  "My dear Bilbo! You are not the hobbit that you once were.” And neither am I.

But like Bilbo, I hope to be content and scatter memorabilia from my adventures throughout my home for which I have a greater appreciation that I did before I left. And I'll keep in touch with my Elf friends whom I have met along the way.

I was explaining this to the kids tonight, and Megan commented that she hasn't been There and Back Again yet. America is "there" and China is "back again." 

But that is another story entirely.

A familiar fog

I am in a familiar fog. It's the "I just spent the last three days madly buying last minute items and packing them, then 14 hours being hurdled across the ocean in a pressurized metal tube during which I could not sleep so I watched my personal viewing screen until I killed off a sufficient number of brain cells, then I slept 6 hours in my bed which sounds decent except I went to sleep at 8:30, and now I have not one ounce of adrenaline so I'm capable of nothing and our kids are running wild for lack of supervision" fog. This one has a few added bonuses like doing the 24 hours before leaving the States without Erik, who left ahead of us, and trying to do jet lag with a dog (who thought it was cool to get up at 2:30, and then decided that 3:45 was an awesome time to go outside).

I feel like this fog has actually been worse the last couple times. When we landed in Minnesota, by the end of my first full day I was debating which would happen first - I would vomit, or my head would explode from pain, or I would collapse from exhaustion. Answer: option 3, at 6:40 pm. I thought once the kids were older, jet lag would be easier. Unfortunately I forget the corresponding truth, which is that I am also now older.

But on the up side, I only have to do this one more time (because no, I never ever plan to travel ever again). At least I only have plans to do it once more. This is one part of the expat life I will not miss.

Excited about America

In the 13 years we've lived in Asia, we've never been back in the States for more than 3 months at a time, and even then, we weren't really living there. I've started thinking about what it will be like to actually live in the States again and what I'm looking forward to on a completely surface level. Yes, this is going to be a shallow post, but I think of these things once in awhile and they get me excited to live in the States. It may or may not be a coping mechanism to avoid the real pain of leaving. :)

1. Not having to shop like a ninja. Usually I'm trying to purchase clothes for my family once every 2 years or so, within about 2 months time at the most. I've been at the mercy of whatever happens to be in the stores. I'm in and out and whatever I've got is what we wear until the next trip. I'll be able to buy clothes when we need them, or wait till they're on sale, or until there's something I really like!

2. American sized things. Admittedly, at first being back in the States I feel like I'm in Gulliver's Travels, the part where he's with the giants. Everything is oversized compared to Asia. But then I get used to warehouse sized stores and washing machines I can fit whole people into, and they are glorious.

3. High quality paper products. I'm kind of a paper products snob. To me, if it's going to rub any part of my body, or be used to absorb any amount of liquid, it needs to be thick and soft. Asia makes paper products you can see through and feel a little like sawdust. Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm dreaming of using rolls of paper towels as pillows.

4. Getting back all the time I waste staring at products in stores, trying to discern if they are what I want or not because I can only read 2/3 of the characters, if that. On the other hand, for a period of time I know this time will be spent staring at the overwhelming number of choices that will present themselves. People, I just want toothpaste and deodorant and bread. I don't need 50 choices for each of these. But at least I'll be able to read my choices!

5. The process of cooking and baking not requiring the use of excessive amounts of time and money. There's nothing like the feeling of spending $5 on a brownie mix that you had to drive across town to purchase being ruined because you accidentally left your Easy Bake style oven on broil. Again. Or thinking you have the ingredients to make that recipe you saw on Pinterest, and having to change direction mid-course because to get that one ingredient you don't have would require a one hour round trip drive. I've almost cried Gollum-style, "My Precious!" over granola bars I baked too long as I think about the wheat germ, flax seed, raisins, and chocolate chips, that went into them. Seriously, they're hard to find and expensive. But not in America!

Ok, I know that I may be idealizing America right now. I know when I get there I'll lament many things I miss about Asia. But everywhere has pros and cons, and you just have to let yourself get excited about them once in awhile.

Trying to Think Strategically

So here's what I'm trying to think through this morning:

How do I pack for a 3 1/2 week trip that includes mid-60's weather for all of us, mid-80's weather for Erik and I, plus a wedding? How do I also consider what we need to take back to the States with us now because it needs to be in Minnesota when we get there in September and can't be shipped directly to Orlando? We can only take 6 bags with us when we leave in September, so we have to be strategic. And what gifts and fun stuff can I bring back for my family and friends? And when on earth am I going to buy those? Furthermore, what should I send with Erik to Orlando when he goes in June?

While we're in the States, I'll get to work through what we will need to bring back (if anything) to get us through the summer, and how much space do we really have to bring back stuff for other people? (the requests are piling up!).

Such is the thought life of the traveling expat. 

Life In Between

For the past few months, I've been pondering the idea of what it means to live "in between." It seems that in many areas of my life I am called to live between who I was and who I will be, depravity and redemption, this place and that one, this identity and another. As a believer and a displaced person, I feel like I'm never fully at home.

I wrestle with this a lot. I'm someone who likes things to be wrapped up neatly, for life to be predictable and manageable, but it seems like God calls me to more and more mess in my heart and life. Many years ago, I was encouraged to pursue being someone who is "undone." That sounded like a horrible idea. Being undone sounds messy, awkward, embarrassing, uncomfortable. You're telling me I have to fall apart? No thank you. But a few weeks later, I asked Ethan not to do something because it was "unsafe." He asked me what unsafe meant. I said, "It means not safe. Like untied means not tied, and undone means . . . not done." Light bulb! So being undone isn't just falling apart, it's recognizing I was never "done" in the first place? Got it. 

One of the biggest ways God makes me aware that I'm not done, that I'm still living in between, is through transition. Nothing stirs up your heart and makes you lose your equilibrium like change. Last September we somewhat unexpectedly began a process of change that has led us to see that our time in Asia is drawing to a close. We hadn't shared this news with everyone until recently, so I haven't been able to share how I am processing the emotions of saying goodbye to what has been home for 13 years. This September we will leave here, head back to Minnesota for a few months, and then start a new life in Orlando, Florida.

So now we are living between excitement and fear, terrible sadness and joyful anticipation. Sometimes it feels like too much to bear, and we still have 4 months here. It will only be a greater tension as our departure draws near.

I've been looking forward to being able to share our transition process on my blog because I believe it will help me work through all this upheaval. I plan to change the url for my blog soon, since I will no longer be living my Asian life (and we're certainly not the Butz fam in Singapore anymore!). I anticipate that it will take a long time before we feel settled back in America. In fact, I expect that we will never completely feel settled there. It will just continue to be my "in between" life.

Dear America

Dear America,

I'm going to see you in just over two weeks! I'm really excited. I've heard you have been unseasonably warm this spring. I hope that doesn't mean your spring flowers will be gone. In our 13 years overseas I've never seen you in April, so please keep some of those tulips and daffodils in bloom until I'm there and it would be great if you're not too hot.

I'm looking forward to your stores, to be honest. They're so big! And so full of stuff! And I don't have to stare at the labels on things for several minutes to try and see if I know what they are or what's in them, although sometimes I do get overwhelmed by the number of choices you throw at me.

Thanks for having bike paths and clear skies so I can go for runs in you in the morning. I'm looking forward to doing that without quite so many other people. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing the people here - they're friendly and curious, like the guy I always see running who shouts, "HEY!" at me and smiles when he sees me. But sometimes it's nice to run in silence without anyone loudly clearing their qi or staring at my odd and, in their minds, insufficient clothing.

Thanks for having online shopping. It's not quite as great as Tao Bao, I'll have to own that, but it's awesome for us because it means things will be waiting for us when we get there like those dresses I bought in the hopes one of them will be just right for the wedding. It saves us so much time that we can then spend with people instead.

Oh, and thanks for libraries. Free public libraries are one of the best things about you I think. I know I won't be there 24 hours before I visit one of them.

I can't wait!

Sincerely,
Gina

Abundance

One of the ways we've made life work here throughout the years is by relying on the many visitors who come from the States to be pack mules for the things we can't find (it's helpful to be in a major city where many people pass through!). Of course we could live without most of these items, but it's a treat to have them.

We have one particular friend who works with Erik who seems to be married to the most generous woman I know. She's sent us things before. Once I asked for a bag of Halloween candy and she sent 12 bags (we used them for a women's retreat). Erik asked for deodorant and got 6 of them. Another time, unprompted, she sent 20+ Yankee Candles in jars-one for every woman who works in our office. So I should have known that she might go beyond my list when she asked what she could send. Take this picture for example:

I asked for:
1 container of Crystal Light lemonade (she sent eight)
1 bag of Easter candy (there are 6)
1 bottle of Febreeze (I'm paranoid that our house smells like dog. I can be excessive now because she also sent a 2 liter refill)
an eye liner (she included a brow pencil)
blush (she threw in a powder that's just right - how does she know Asia doesn't have make up for blue eyed white girls?)
one Suave shampoo and conditioner (I found the same kind here for $10 a bottle - that's probably what she spent on all 6 that she sent me)
face lotion (I got a bonus)
1 box of feminine products (I realized after assessment later that I didn't actually need more. Now I have 3 new boxes)
cooking spray (two of those)
a few things from Amazon

I debated not asking for anything since we're going to the States in a few weeks for a wedding, but these were all things I can't get here and needed before then (ok, needing is debatable on some of these items). And our friend had space so I figured why not? Now I'm looking at this stash feeling a little sheepish. I forgot she'd send so much! I gave 3 bags of the candy away, and Erik is using one of the lotions. Anybody need some stuff from the States?

My Secret

Sometimes people say they don't know how I get as much done as I do. Part of it is just how I'm wired - God made me high energy and high capacity. I'm glad He did because I like that about me. Part of it is that I'm also wired to want to look good. Of that part I'm not such a fan, but I'm learning to let go.

But the biggest part of it is that I don't do half of what it looks like I do and that's the truth. I don't do most of my own grocery shopping. I don't do laundry. I don't dust or sweep or mop my floors. I certainly don't get around to washing my windows or cleaning out my cupboards. And yet my house is in a near constant state of order and I am free to go about my day, all because of a lovely young woman named Xiao Xue (those of you unfamiliar with Mandarin pronunciation, I encourage you not to attempt pronouncing her name. You will be wrong).

This is one of the great blessings of living in a developing country - house help is relatively inexpensive and culturally normal. Women will come and clean, cook, and watch your children, for a few dollars an hour. It doesn't set us apart to have someone helping us - in fact, when our kids were younger and I was outside with them alone, people would ask me often why I was watching my children myself, instead of having a helper do it for me. I don't need someone to watch my kids anymore, but I do need someone to clean because the dust in this city is phenomenal, and someone to grocery shop because somehow everything like that takes twice as long here. Why is that?

Xiao Xue came to me "on loan" from some friends who were out of the country for 6 months. She came every weekday morning for 4 hours. Within two weeks, I was secretly hoping my friends would never come back so I could keep Xiao Xue. Unfortunately, about a month in, her husband was in a terrible car accident and almost died. For the next 5 months she had to wait on him constantly as he endured several surgeries. When you have a family member in the hospital here, you are expected to take care of them yourself, so it was a full time job for her. I squeaked by with someone two afternoons a week who didn't work nearly as quickly as her.

By the time Xiao Xue could work again, my friend was back. To our surprise, we found that Xiao Xue was reluctant to work for her because she lived further away. She wanted to work for us instead! Since then, she comes cheerfully into our house every morning between 9 and 9:30 and stays until 1 or 1:30. She and I will chat occasionally. I'll share funny stories of things that have been happening in the house and we laugh together. She'll comment on how she sees the kids growing and learning. Just now I walked into the kitchen and found all my baking supplies on the counter because she was taking the initiative to clean out that cabinet. I would probably never have done that on my own. I hope she never leaves us because I don't know what I would do without her (well, yes I do. I would either clean a lot and do nothing else or have a really messy house. And I would not blog).

So there have you have it. My secret is out. I'm not anywhere near a super mom. I'm just a mom with a wonderful helper.

My Tao Bao Christmas song

(to the tune of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas")

Chorus:

We bought all our gifts on Tao Bao

Whatever we need on Tao Bao

We buy everything on Tao Bao

And it comes to our door

We find things online

They cost so much less

It saves time and money

We don't go to the store

(Chorus)

There’s rarely a day

When we don’t hear “kuai di!”

That’s what they yell at us

When they ring at our door

(Chorus)

A hundred and eight things

In the last ninety days

That might seem excessive

But we just might buy more

Did you try to look on Tao Bao

You really should look on Tao Bao

They have everything on Tao Bao

And it comes to your door!

The Hardest Goodbye

I've written before about the occupational hazards of being an expat, particularly the inclination of friends to up and leave you. Today we will navigate what will probably be the most difficult goodbye to date, if Ethan's comment at bedtime last night is any indication, "Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my LIFE!"

Dan and Jenny Higgins came to China for the long haul with us in the summer of 1999 when we first came. We were then two young pregnant couples. Since then, 7 children have come into the world between us (they have been much braver than we in the kid department). They lived a floor below us for several years, then a building away for a couple more. It was sad to part with them when we moved to Singapore, but we managed to see each other at least once, usually twice, a year while we were there.

Last summer when we moved back, we were thrilled to get an apartment right next door to them on the first floor. The number of hours logged with them this year is hard to count. It's tempting to be frustrated that we only had one year with them (and, Ethan is quick to point out, they were gone last summer and we were gone part of the winter, so it's not even a full year) but we will choose to be thankful that we had this year. It's been a great gift!

With the Higgins, we feel like we've experienced the true definition of community. We've just done life together, and it's been loads of fun, which is why it's so hard to see it go. We feel confident that some day in the future our paths will cross again though!

I keep thinking about the line from Shadowlands, where C.S. Lewis asks, "Why do we love when it causes so much pain?" and Joy answers, "The pain then is part of the joy now." This is when I am reminded of the challenge to pursue the people in our lives wholeheartedly, resisting the temptation to pull away and protect our hearts from the pain of losing them, because in doing so we would rob ourselves of the joy.

So think of us this morning as we enjoy our last hours with our friends. Adding to the difficulty of this goodbye is the fact that Erik is on the same flight as them to the States for a 6 day trip. The kids and I are headed to a hotel tonight for some swimming and fun (although we've been to this hotel with the Higgins so many times I don't know that it will help me keep my mind off them leaving!) and to a movie with some friends tomorrow. Next week my family comes to visit, so we're looking forward to that. In the meantime, pray for us!

Moving On

Our lives as expats are filled with change. The most difficult of that, of course, is when the change in our relationships. Over the years we've said goodbye to more friends than we care to number.

This summer we'll say goodbye to our closest friends here, the family who came through training with us in 1999. Our experience with them has been the true definition of community - doing life together. We're so thankful we've been blessed to be next door to them this year! It will be devastating to say goodbye to them, but their move will also facilitate one of our own.

We've decided that with them, and another family we love, leaving, combined with high rents and cost of living in this part of town, and our current distance from the office, it makes sense for us to move to the north part of town. There, we will be close to Erik's office (instead of an hour away!), and will be within walking distance of people we work with. The rents are significantly cheaper and the houses are bigger.

We think we've already found one of these cheaper and bigger apartments, so we're excited! The landlord is fantastic and seems to not be in great need of money, which means he's not asking much from us. The apartment is on the 12th floor across from our office. We're thinking of installing a zip line down to it. The main downside is that the new area of town is not exactly a beautiful place to live, and our apartment in particular is devoid of surroundings where kids could play. This will be particularly difficult for Erik the Outdoor Man, but will not have much impact on Gina the Girl Who Could Live Happily in a Bunker. I will miss running along our canal though!

We plan to move in August, after our friends have left. Between now and then we will be working with the landlord to "zhuang xiu" the apartment as it is currently an empty concrete shell. Pictures and stories of the crazy process sure to follow.

The best thought

Sometimes I look around my house and think, "Hmm . . . I should really pick up this place," and then the most glorious, stress relieving thought hits me, "My helper comes today." When I'm reminded of this, I usually smile and go find something pleasurable to do instead. Go ahead and hate on me if you're helperless, I understand. I've been there. But now I'm here, and I'm lovin' it.

Better and better

We live in a new and improved China. This year our city recorded the highest number of clear sky days ever. Well, at least since they've been keeping track. I'm sure back in the days of the emperors they weren't tracking air quality. But even more than the weather is the development. The throw pillows I bought at a store here look like something from Pier 1. When we were here before, it was hard to find a diet coke. Now you can buy one off any guy on the street. Erik called about an apartment in the famous Olympic dragon building next to the water cube, just out of curiosity. The units there are 600 sq meters (about 7,000 sq ft) and are selling for $7 million. There are Chinese people who can afford those. We can't.

Everywhere you look, there are signs that China keeps getting better and better. This reminds me of a video they would play during the last Olympics when we were here. The gist of it was, "Our cell phones are smaller, our houses are bigger, our kids are smarter, the old people keep getting older, life just keeps getting better and better!"

This was evident again this morning when our refrigerator repairman came. Our fridge has been plugged in for about two weeks, and the kids have been thrilled by all the "snow" in the freezer. The man who came wore new cargo pants I might find in my husband's closet, and a company shirt, and his hair was spiked in a bed head kind of way. When I pulled out the receipt to show him it was under warranty, he pulled out his cell phone and took pictures of it. Contrast that image with the time we had our AC installed in our first apartment in 2000. Three men came wearing belts that wrapped around them 1 1/2 times. They carried their tools in old nappy bags. When one of them had to lay perpendicular to our window to hang out twenty stories and install that AC unit, they wrapped an old rope around his waist and gave the end of it to Erik. Not exactly the picture of professionalism.

Ah yes, I have to say that though a part of me misses those days because they made for great stories, I'm enjoying the new and improved China. I'm heading across the street for a Coke Zero and another bar of Dove 66% dark chocolate (couldn't find much chocolate of any kind the first time around!).

Where are you from?

Back in the China days, taxi drivers often tried to engage me in conversations. Inevitably they would ask, "Where are you from?" Rather than out right answer their question, I would always shoot back a "Ni cai cai" (you guess). Because nothing ups the fun meter like a guessing game with a Chinese taxi driver.

Without fail, they would say, "Fa guo ren" with confidence. French. I am not French. I don't know why they would guess French. I'm voting for "Gina's wildly spectacular fashion sense." No? You disagree?

Well, now that we're back to taxi-ing here in Singapore, I find myself answering the question again. The second day we were back in taxis, I was asked it, so I decided to play the game Singaporean style (which just means asking it in English. Not nearly as much fun).

Turns, out, even in Singapore, I am French.

My Step of Faith for the Day

For most of my life, I operated under the erroneous knowledge that I had A- blood like my mom. It wasn't until I was pregnant with Ethan that I discovered I am in fact O-. Maybe this news is not earth shattering, but in Asia I am like gold. Whereas in the States 15% of the population is Rh negative, in Asia it's less than 1%. Not only am I Rh-, but O is the universal donor. That means that when a negative person (Rh negative, not just negative in general) needs blood, they need mine.

The only problem? I hate needles with a passion. When I had a cavity filled two weeks ago, all I could think about was that tiny needle they were going to use. When I had kids, the thought of pushing them out didn't phase me - it was the IV I didn't want. I have passed out from shots more times than I remember. When I've had blood taken, my body freaks out so much my blood literally stops flowing. So voluntarily giving my arm to someone so they can shove a needle the size of a straw into it is the last thing I want to do.

But of course today I got another email with a plea for Rh negative blood. Technically they want B-. This happened about two years ago when someone wanted A-. I waited several days before finally calling and offering my fluids, but the need was gone (I have to confess I had hoped it would be).

When I got the email, I thought, "Well, technically, they need B, not O," and deleted it. 15 minutes later I was convicted, and messaged the woman. It's a big step of faith for me - I've never actually given blood! I always used that "I'm too small and weak" excuse. But I kept thinking, "What if this were my five year old son with cancer. Wouldn't I want even the small, weak, irrationally afraid of needles people to give?" Having just watched The Changeling, there's not much I wouldn't do for my kids these days.

I just got a message back from the woman, saying the blood bank will contact me today. So there's my step of faith for the day, and I'm going to need all the strength and grace God can give me to do it.