Our Patriotic Cake

from glorioustreats.com

Ok, so above is the picture of what we wanted to make for our friend's 4th of July party. Fun right? So we set out to make it. Now because I am often impatient, I did not refer back to the instructions, which was my first and repeated mistake. Primarily this resulted in me having to make an extra cake because I initially baked 2 white cake rounds instead of a white and red, then a red and blue. So altogether we had 6 cake rounds. Six! Oy. If only that were the worst of it.

Assembling proved difficult as I injured my wrist and was trying to rest it, so I had to give instructions to my family while I watched. By the time we got all the layers together, on a scale of "Nailed It!" to "Epic Fail", we were cascading toward the latter, as you can see below.

At this point, I was ready to throw in the towel, but Megan was desperate to bring this cake to the party. We left it in the refrigerator overnight, hoping it might pull its act together by morning. It did not.

But wait - cutting in to it proved that there was hope! Yes, it seems we managed to make two red stripes next to each other (yet another proof of Gina's strange reluctance to actually refer to instructions. You would have thought that trying to fit 3 cake round halves alongside one cake round and wondering why they weren't the same height would have been my first major clue. 1/2+1/2+1/2 is not equal to 1).

So we trimmed around the outside and made an obscenely large second batch of frosting with which to cement the cake together long enough for it to be consumed by the hungry, patriotic masses. Here it is waiting to be judged in our little mini-competition:

We won "most patriotic" which seems fitting somehow - the American way always seems to be a fight against the odds, isn't it?

Next time, (if there is a next time) I think I will just use red cake and put copious amounts of white frosting in between as the white stripes. I mean who doesn't love more frosting?

What Did Our Ancestors Do?

So here was our conversation at dinner:

Ethan: I've realized that a lot of times peoples' last names have something to do with what their families did. Like the Schumacher's family probably used to make shoes. And the Hausmans . . . I think they made houses. Or maybe they sold real estate.

We all giggle.

I ask, "In Germany?

Ethan, with a grin: Yeah, they were ancient German real estate agents. And the Olivers sold olives, obviously. But what about Butz?

We're all silent. Then we burst out laughing.

For Your Entertainment

My dad sent this article to me today. It was written about my grandpa, when my mom was a little girl (she's the "pixie" mentioned). I think my favorite line is, "his mind coated in hopeless perplexity." As my dad said, "They just don't write them like this anymore."

Psalm 16

Last week, Ethan asked me why God made us come back to China only to have his best friend leave so soon. I didn't answer the question then, but this morning as I walked around our complex, I heard a song based on Psalm 16 and thought it was time to take a stab at a response (the song is by Jason Gray-formerly Gay but changed his name for obvious reasons-and if you are unfamiliar with his music you're missing out).

Here is the part I shared with them:
"Keep me safe, O God,
for in you I take refuge.

I said to the LORD, "You are my Lord;
apart from you I have no good thing."

LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;
you have made my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
surely I have a delightful inheritance.

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure"

We talked about what it means to have an assignment, to have a portion that is measured out just for you. We talked about the boundaries around a property and how they keep us safe and show us where we are supposed to be. And we talked about how all these things are from the hands of a good God who loves us and wants the best for us.

And then we talked about how this assignment from God might work out for our good. Soon, we will be moving to a part of town where there are many people we know and love. Erik will be a 5 minute walk from work (I mean literally from his desk to our door!). We will have more time as a family and more connection with our team. And that is only what we know - who knows what else God has in store?

We reflected on how this has been a good chapter of our lives, given to us by God. We talked about previous chapters that weren't as great, but we can see how God brought us through. And we ended by confirming our belief that whatever is in the next stage, God is there.

Christopher and Rachel Brenna

Have I mentioned that my brother recently got married? When we were growing up, he had a lot of interesting theories about the kind of girl he was going to marry. Like once he had a dream he was going to marry a girl whose name started with M. He dated a lot of girls whose names started with M. His wife's name is Rachel, so scrap that I guess.

But despite theories, he managed to find himself a decent woman. Ok, that's selling her short. She's honestly everything I've ever thought Christopher needed and more. He's one blessed man. Their wedding was the most meaningful wedding I've ever attended (my apologies if I attended your wedding). I think watching my little brother get married must be a fraction of what it's like to watch your kids get married. It was seriously hard to have a direct view of him! He teared up right away, so there was no hope for me. It was a great blessing for all of us to be included in the wedding party. But words can't really do it justice - suffice to say it was a great day, I'm thrilled for both of them because they are so good for each other, and here are the pictures to prove it all.


PS Rachel I'm jealous you got my maiden name. I really want it back. :)

Surprise!

I love surprises. To me, they communicate that someone took the time to think of me, and I'm all about quality time. Thankfully my parents like surprises too, because I gave them a big one last night by showing up three days early.

Here's the story - about a month ago, my uncle passed away unexpectedly. My mom's sister passed away last summer (2008) and her other sister also passed away a few years ago this time of year. So this year marks the first without anyone with my mom's side of the family coming for Thanksgiving, which we celebrate on the weekend.

When all this happened I thought, "Our tickets were free (paid for by the company and frequent flier miles). Why don't I spend a little and change my ticket so I can be back with them for Thanksgiving?" So I got my brother to come pick me up at the airport and we were set.

It was hard not to mention it to my mom, especially when she said on the phone last week, "Maybe we should just wait until you guys get back to celebrate."
"No, no you shouldn't. You should do it on Sunday," was my response.

The flight from China is SO much nicer than coming all the way from Singapore. I got on at 5:30 p.m., so after dinner it was almost time to sleep. I normally don't sleep much on the flight because we used to leave at 6 a.m. from Singapore, but I think I got in about 4 hours. I went through customs in Chicago, which was slick. There was no line! And I always enjoy when the customs worker says to me, "Welcome home." It's honesty one of the only times in my life when I am very conscious of being American.

I had a great drive home with my brother and enjoyed the excitement my parents and sister had at seeing me. It's a beautiful day here in Minnesota and I'm glad I can spend it with my family!

Memory Lane

Last night Megan asked me if I knew my mother's parents when I was little. I didn't have the fortune of knowing my grandmother, as she died long before I was born, but I do have many fond memories of my grandpa John, and weekends spent at his house.

So I began to tell Megan about my grandpa. I told her what his house looked like (strikingly similar in layout to my parent's current house). I told her about the box in the basement next to the TV that always had peanut m&m's or chocolate stars, and how we'd try to sneak them without anyone hearing. I told her about eating dinner on Friday nights at the mom and pop root beer stand at the corner, where we'd always have corn dogs (and root beer, of course). I told her that my grandpa's refrigerator always had 20 kinds of soda, and that we would eat Alphabits for breakfast with half and half poured over it, and braunswauger sandwiches on white bread for lunch. But best of all, I told her, were the mornings my grandpa made pancakes, sausage and bacon for everyone, with Karo syrup.

As I talked her eyes lit up, and she said, "It sounds like so much fun!" I told her it was fun, just like it's fun for her to visit her grandparents. On reflection, I realized I made it sound like all we did at grandpa's was eat. Tonight I'll have to tell her about riding our hot wheels in the driveway, playing with old toys we'd find in the closet, the bright green antique dentist chair in the corner of the basement, the salon style doors leading to the back room that made it feel like a secret hideout, the time we stood out on the patio in our bare feet on Christmas Day because it was 50 degrees, the collection of antique dolls in my mom's old bedroom that we used to play with, playing piano while my grandpa dozed in the armchair, and how he'd always snap awake when I was done and say, "Very good!"

I actually can't play piano or make pancakes (like I did this morning, but not at the same time) without thinking of my grandpa. I wonder what our kids will remember about visiting their grandparents?

It doesn't get much better than this

Can I tell you about my weekend? Because it rocked. Friday night we had dinner at a friend's house here in our complex. It was a going away party for a Chinese friend who became a believer a year or two before we came to China. As we were leaving to go there, I prepared the kids for who we would see there, reminding them that this girl was their favorite babysitter when they were little. Megan said, "Is she the one who let us drop stuffed animals on her from Ethan's bed?" Uh, I guess so. I don't remember that happening. Since those days of pummeling, she has gotten married and had a little girl. They are moving to Ohio this week so he can study. Also present was one of our first Chinese friends, a teacher at a nearby university. We spent some time reminiscing, and she helped me with a few language questions I've had. It's amazing to think I've known these women for 10 years!

Yesterday morning I went to my friend Jen's house to help her finish painting her bedroom. She'd done most of it except a bit of the edging and one large spot in a corner. As I painted, I commented that the color seemed lighter. She said, "Yeah, I thought that last time I painted too but it dries darker." After an "I'm stuck halfway off this wardrobe" incident in which we both laughed hysterically (at me, because I was the stuck one) I realized the paint had dried and was still no darker. Turned out it was a different liter of paint we'd tried before the color she chose. Oops. Not so fun for Jen, but I enjoyed the time with her!

In the afternoon, our furniture man came. I don't know how it's all going to turn out, but he walked away with drawings and pictures for nine pieces of furniture he's going to make for us, and we were only $1,400 poorer. Nice.

In the evening, some friends came down another part of town and we shared a BBQ meal and celebrated Erik's birthday while our girls ran and giggled through the house. Ethan mostly watched. Our friends also tipped us off to the fact that this morning at their church, Steven Curtis Chapman was going to lead worship and speak. I love it when this happens (it's happened before - SCC likes China).

So after a six mile run in the early morning cool weather (have I mentioned how much I love the canal where I run?) we went and were hugely blessed by SCC, his sons, and Geoff Moore singing and sharing about their experience in China. Then they invited us to join in and led us in a bunch of worship songs. After the service we had a great lunch out with a load of friends, then came home.

I don't know how this weekend could have been better unless maybe there was a pony ride.

To Wii or not to Wii . . .

that is the question. Erik and I many years ago established a "no game systems" policy in our house, when it became apparent from an early stage that Ethan carries the "attachment to electronic devices" gene. As kids, our family dipped into the electronic world with the TI994A, on which we played Munch Man (a version of Pac Man), Parsec (a space game) and Tombstone (a wild west game that to our knowledge was impossible to win. Our goal was simply to stay alive as long as we could). That computer had less memory than the average thumb drive now. We didn't have anything else. Unless you count our Speak and Spell.

Sorry to go all grandma on you, but I think our lives were probably better for it. Certainly not worse. But this is the debate raging in our house lately, as Erik has broken rank and engages me in frequent discussions on, "Why we should get a Wii."

It began because my brother has Rock Band on his playstation II, and Megan loves it. Not only does she love it, but she's good at it, and we even saw her improve while she was there. So Erik's logic is, "We could get a Wii and get Rock Band, and it will improve her guitar skills." I countered with, "Or we could buy her a REAL guitar and she could improve her guitar skills."

He came back with, "But it would give us lots of fun family time together. There's tennis, bowling, boxing, all kinds of fun and active games." And again I countered with, "Or we could actually go play tennis, bowling, board games, or any other host of things we already do which promote family togetherness."

My biggest argument against this is that I know I will be the one to have to enforce rules about the amount of time spent on the Wii. Erik insists he will help on this, but he is not here 10 hours of the day, during which there is ample time for little people to cajoul me into more Wii time.

I stand firm. Can anyone give me a good reason to relent? I'm open, but not very open. :)

What to do with snow

When it started snowing and turned cold here, I mentally panicked a bit and thought I might end up spending the rest of our time inside. How could I go outside when it was so cold?! But the arrival of several inches of snow, and the possibility of cute "kids in the snow" pictures drew me out with the kids, Erik, and my brother this morning. Turns out it's really not all that cold. You just have to dress for it (which I am now able to do again thanks to Old Navy).

We tromped down to a hill by my parent's house that was blanketed with untouched snow about 6 inches deep. We brought four sleds and a shovel (shovels actually make decent sleds). After I'd taken a few pictures and returned the camera to the house, I joined in on doing what we did when we were kids. It all comes back to you - when faced with chilly temps and loads of the white stuff, you keep warm by configuring the snow into various play devices. In our case, we built jumps for sledding.

After building what we thought was a great jump, we sent Christopher and Ethan down for the inaugural run. We think the weight of the two of them together somewhat destroyed the jump, but that's part of the fun - you rebuild better. After a few runs, it had had enough but not before watching various family members launch themselves over it.

At that point I'd had enough, but it was a fun trip down memory lane. Forts, people, tracks, angels, jumps - there's no limit to what kids will make from snow. And it looks like we have enough of it to try every one.

The Magic Kingdom

My first trip to Disney World was when I was six, so it seems fitting that Megan's first trip would be at the same age. I think six and up is the perfect time to take kids to Disney. Our kids were wired with excitement as we parked, took the tram to the "transportation center," hopped on the monorail, and entered the Magic Kingdom.

We thought it might be better to hop on the train to the back side of Disney and make our way forward to avoid crowds. Turns out the train's pretty slow, so I don't think we beat anyone, but it was a fun ride nonetheless. The first ride we hit was Goofy's Barnstormer, which is a mini-roller coaster. Ethan and I went together with Megan, Nonna and Erik soon to follow. Ethan laughed the whole way, and we had barely slowed down when he exclaimed, "Let's do it again!" I think he might have been happy just staying there the whole day. But we moved on.

I have some strong memories from my first trip which kept cropping up as we moved through the park - the Mad Tea Hatter's Ride which, as it turns out, is more fun when you're six; Snow White's Scary Adventures, which we avoided after we scared the pants off Megan in the Haunted Mansion; Pirates of the Carribean, where you can tell which animatronic people were created more recently than 1980; and the Jungle Boat Cruise, which was on a much larger river when I was 4 feet tall. Or so I remember. It was fun to relive my own memories while watching the kids make their own. And thank God for fast passes, though this time of year isn't a busy time at Disney. We hardly had any wait time for any rides.

The only part of the day I really didn't enjoy was Space Mountain. I know - it's one of the best rides, and it was Megan's favorite. But having my petite six year old, who barely made the height requirement, be flung back and forth in her seat in front of me in almost total darkness terrified me. Especially since by that point of the day she was all into the "raise your arms like this, it's more fun!" kind of coaster riding. I reached as far around the seat as I could and clung to the hood of her sweatshirt, like that would help if she launched from the car. I know, irrational of me, but I couldn't help it.

What surprised me about Disney was the amount of crying I observed. There's no crying at Disney World! C'mon - it's a magical place where dreams come true! Can I offer an explanation and perhaps a warning? The children who were crying were the little ones - the ones who were scared of the rides and the giant characters, tired from missing naps, and from being dragged around a huge amusement park. They're just too young. Save your money. They won't remember it anyway. Unless you know that your kids are troopers who love new experiences, take them to the county fair until they're old enough to appreciate it.

Wait until they're five or six, then have a great day with them, like we did.

The Smell of Dirt

I smelled dirt recently. It was a good dirt smell - that smell that makes you think of spring and new flowers and life. And also, it made me think of my dad.

I feel badly saying that because I in no way want to imply that my dad smells like dirt. Well, he kind of does, sometimes. But it's just because he has these amazing gardens that really should be featured in some magazine, and spending all that time in them sometimes rubs off on him (at least until he showers).

I bring this up just to point out how strong our associations with certain smells can be. And it's funny how sometimes you don't even realize it until you smell them.

Langkawi Diary #4 - Cable Cars

The prospect of seeing Langkawi from up high seemed like a good one. And our kids love the cable cars in Singapore. What could be bad about this outing?

I feel like I should share some statistics about the cable cars - maybe how high they were, distance traveled. I got nothing. Just imagine going high and being able to see a forest covered island surrounded by ocean. Really we couldn't see the whole island - just the western part. It's not that small. But the cable cars are at the western tip, so we could see ocean on three sides. Unfortunately it was a pretty hazy day, so the view wasn't breath-taking, but it was enjoyable. At least it was enjoyable to the adults. To the kids, the ride in the cable car was cool. The climbing out and staring off into space was cause for whining, complaining, and at some points downright refusal to move. Ethan's default setting to new situations is "resistance." If he doesn't know what something will be like, even if it sounds fantastic, he will insist he doesn't want to go and will have no fun at all. That's how he was by the time we reached the second stop on the cable car. There was no way he was going on the tree top walk - it was down steps, he was tired, he was bored, pick your excuse. The crazy thing is that even when he does have a good time (say when we found The Loaf and he had such a fantastic meal) it doesn't reinforce the idea that new can be good. In fact, when we went to The Loaf the next day, he didn't want to go. I think this disproves Pavlov's experiments.

We, on the other hand, were enjoying ourselves, and then it got even better. It's hard to see in the pictures, but literally this cloud starting creeping up the mountains, seeping between trees and appearing in front and then soon all around us. Before long we were actually in the cloud itself. We enjoyed that as long as it took for the park people to shoo everyone back into the cable cars and down the hill. I've never experienced anything like that, literally being consumed by a cloud. It was the highlight of the cable car for me.
Here comes the cloud, peering around the corner at us.


You can't see the end of this walkway, where we were just a few minutes before. Not five minutes before this, you could see the ocean looking this direction.

Langkawi Diary #3 - Beware of Monkeys

As we traveled around Langkawi, we noticed that monkeys were everywhere. Our first close sighting came at the waterfall, where several of them came for lunch at the local garbage can. Next, we were fascinated to see them on the road in our hotel complex - two mommies with their babies. So cute! As we tiptoed nearer, another monkey - presumably the daddy - came scurrying down a tree and made it clear that we were not to get an inch closer. I think he may even have sworn at us in monkey. He seemed pretty angry. Not so cute anymore.

That night we made the mistake of leaving a bag of rambutans and a bag of raisins on our porch. While we slept a gang of monkeys came and mauled them. We began to think maybe the monkeys weren't our friends.

From then on, we were a little edgy around the monkeys. On Friday, we rented fishing gear and parked next to the road across from the marina. As I stepped from the car, bag of dead fish in one hand, bag of rambutans in the other, I glanced at the trees near us and said, "Erik, I think I'm going to leave the rambutans in the car," and in the time it took me to do that, two jumped down into the tree next to me. That was when we switched into slightly panicked mode and instructed the kids to get out of the car and get behind us while we backed across the street, keeping our eyes on the monkeys. Soon there were four or five - a few of them staring at us across the road, waiting for a break in traffic to follow us, one climbing all over our car looking for a way to those rambutans.

I threw a warning rock across the street toward the one big monkey who was about to follow us. We walked down a path through the woods and spent about 30 seconds at the shore before we decided we'd rather fish from the other side of the marina where the people were and the monkeys weren't. We fully expected to find our car covered with monkeys like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. They were still there, but in fewer numbers. We threw more rocks, Erik ran for the car (way to take one for the team honey!) and we drove away to a safer, monkey-less spot.

Happy Birthday dad!

Today is the birthday of a great man, my dad. I thought I'd take a minute to let the world know a little more about him, because he's not the kind of guy to go around tooting his own horn. Here are just a few of the reasons I love my dad:

1. He's got a servant's heart
When I was just out of college and raising support to go into full time ministry, I remember one morning I couldn't find my dad. My mom said he'd gone up to church for something but she didn't know what. So I drove out there and found him in the basement, vacuuming. Our church janitor was in the hospital that week, so my dad decided he'd help out by spending his day off doing something no one would ever know he'd done. No one asked him to do it - he just saw a need and met it. I've gotta say I wish more of this heart had passed down to me, but I hold it in mind as an example to follow.

2. He's a teacher
Despite spending more than 30 years as a pharmacist, it's in my dad's nature to teach (maybe that's why he was so good at training other people). When I was 13 and about to fly to England to visit a friend, my dad pulled out the globe and used a piece of string to show me how it was actually faster to fly over the top of the world than straight across. He's taught my son how to grow tomatoes, and given him a love for doing it at the same time. Whenever he has the opportunity, he responds to teaching moments.

3. He's generous
I have to admit, I'm a bit spoiled. My dad came from humble beginnings, and I think he wanted to make sure his family had what he didn't. But I'm not just talking about material things - I'm talking about time and experience too. My dad's just one to give himself away to others, and I've reaped the benefits. This is something I'm focusing on in my life right now, so that I can carry on this legacy (seems to run in my mom's side of the family too!)

4. He's wise
Despite being generous with us, my dad knew when to say no too. In a country full of debt, he's one man making wise choices about how he spends his money and time. I think it's partly because my dad does a lot more thinking than he does talking, so what comes out of his mouth and what he does in his actions don't come from passing whims. More times than not, I wish I'd taken my dad's advice. Like the time he told me not to come home for the weekend from college because there was a big storm coming. I went home anyway, and nearly got stranded in a ditch with four other fools. And yet, when we got home 2 hours later than it should have taken us, my parents had ordered pizza. No, "I told you so," just pizza. That's grace for you.

5. He's hard working
You just have to look at my dad's garden to know that this man has a strong work ethic. You don't get results like that without careful planning, days of bending over weeds, lots of trips to the nursery, and constant diligence. I suppose you can't grow up on a farm and not have a strong work ethic, but he's never lost it. This is one thing I have inherited from him I believe. Thanks dad!

6. He's humble
Several years ago, when my dad was working in drug compounding at the Mayo Clinic, there was a young girl who got a fungus in her lungs, and it was killing her. This doctor came to my dad and asked if he could figure out a way to get an antifungus drug into her. So my dad turned around and made one into something she could inhale, and it saved her life. (I may have some of the details of this story wrong, and I know that if I exaggerated any part my dad would be sure to correct it). Recently this doctor got credit for it. The rest of our family was up in arms, but he just shrugged. Now, I still think he should go back and say something, but that's my dad. He's accomplished amazing things, but he'll never be the one to tell people. That's why he has me, his overly talkative daughter.

Well, I could go on, but MY daughter is asking for the computer. Dad, happy birthday! Wish I could be there.

Thoughts on being loved by my kids

Lately I've been boggled by this one truth: my kids like me more than anyone else in the world, excepting maybe Erik (we're in a neck and neck race). Some might chalk it up to a Pavlovian response - since I'm the one who's responded to them since they were born, they associate me with good feelings. But there's something spiritual and wonderful, and a whole lot of daunting in it to me. To them, I am the healer of all wounds, the bearer of truth (which is frightening given how sarcastic I can be), the comforter, the provider, the one whose kisses are magical and whose arms chase away all the darkness. It's wonderful because I like being loved like that. And it's completely overwhelming, because I want to cry out, "You've got the wrong person!" In part that's because I know I will fail them in many ways (I already do - I'm just hoping those moments miss the long term memory bank). And because I know that some day, in the not too distant future, I will not be everything to them anymore.

But instead of trying to hold on to that idea, that I am a mini-god to them, I want to just cherish this time when I am who they want the most. And hopefully along the way, I can show them that there's a much better person they can run to, who will never fail them, who is the ultimate Comforter, Provider, Healer, and Bearer of Truth. After all, isn't that what parenting is about?

Christmas in May

A jolly happy man made a brief appearance in our house on Tuesday night. Jolly in the sense of joyful, not rotund, and the only thing red about him was his hair. It was Erik, and he came bearing many many gifts. Since his last pit stop was the U.S., he came back with loads of things I'd shipped, and a list of things he'd been instructed to buy. It was a joyous occasion, in which the peasants danced. What he brought included, but was not limited to: an ipod Nano (Happy Mother's Day to me!), a new Canon 70-200 zoom lens with a fixed 4.0 aperture (yay for me as well) a Mac TV, rollerblades for Megan, swimsuits for the girls, a stack of shirts for Ethan, 30 pounds of books, even American Girl matching pajamas for Megan and her doll (thanks to Nonna for that).

No, we won't be taking any vacations this year after that spending spree. Not only did Erik bring all this, he fixed my wacky computer and that pesky outlet problem that was preventing me from using my washer, dryer and dishwasher. He even slay a few cockroaches. Then, like a hero from some western, after saving the day he rode off into the sunset (or in this case the sunrise) while we wept and begged him to stay. At least we have some fun toys to play with until he returns on Sunday.

The Brief Gingerbread House of '07

Gingerbread houses still make me twitchy. If you don't know why, you probably haven't read this post. And yet, here's another year where I found myself buying a gingerbread house for my kids to make. We made a treasure hunt of it, hiding the house out in our complex, then giving the kids GPS clues to find it (this was partly an attempt to make geocaching more exciting for Megan, because right now she's not down with this being a family hobby).

It started out ok, after the hiccup of realizing we needed to make our own icing. We knew we couldn't keep it up for long (see ant post of previous day). But we didn't realize how not long that would be. See for yourself.



Looks good so far doesn't it? No apparent structural faults.


But what's this? It appears the roof is beginning to cave in, and the side is starting to buckle. Must be the excess of icing making it soggy, or perhaps the weight of way too much sugar.


As I was writing the word "condemned" on the side, the roof gave in, making my statement rather obvious.

And then it collapsed completely. That lasted all of about 10 minutes. But the kids had fun and will eat as much of it as I let them (not much) later. Why do I do this to myself?

Merry Christmas!

What do you do when you're short on time, it's raining constantly outside, and you need to take a Christmas picture? You go to Spotlight, buy two and a half meters of black fabric and make your own photo studio is what you do! Or at least it's what we did. I did several test shots with just the kids - as you can see, they got a little wacky. I like the last picture of me better, but if you look closely (and I always do) you can see the effects of me leaning sideways over the camera to check the shot before jumping in - my hair is flipped the wrong way over my head. I didn't realize that until I was editing the pictures. I subjected my poor family to a second round of shots and the second to last shot in the post was the one was the best we got.

It's Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas!

Well, we had to get a second set of lights and borrow a saw to hack off the bottom of it, but our tree finally looks and smells like a real honest to goodness Christmas tree! I have never seen the appeal in making a tree all matching and beautiful. To me, it's all about family and memories, and I could tell you a story about every one of these ornaments.

Here's the view of our window display. You can't see very well the fake snow we sprayed in the window per the kid's request. Now we just need a few more gifts under that tree.

I decided when I came to Singapore to start over with my Christmas decorating. I want to collect nativities from other countries. This is one Erik gave me a few weeks ago. It was hand carved in the Philippines. I think it might be my favorite.

This was sent to us from some friends in China. No, Jesus, Mary and Joseph probably weren't Asian, but they weren't white either! When I consider that God is every color and every culture and every language, it tells me how great He is.

This is from right here in Singapore, but I suppose technically you could claim it's from Malaysia, because it's made from cinnamon trees grown there. They hand make these at Tay Guan Heng, up in Ang Mo Kio. If you live in Singapore and haven't been there, it is a must see! I have a list of creations I want to buy there in the future. They are the nicest guys and it's fascinating to watch them work.

I told my mom I wanted to collect nativities and she said, "I think you should go open your Christmas present from us." It was this nativity from Chile! Very fun - now we're truly global. I'm opting not to show you our Playmobil nativity, but that's here too. If you're traveling to another country and see a unique nativity, would you pick it up for us? Ethan keeps asking me why we have so many "activity sets." He also wants to know where I've stashed all the baby Jesus figures (they'll come out at Christmas). Merry Christmas from the Butz house!