International Dateline Weirdness

The international dateline is a weird, invisible force. On an aluminum tube 35,000 feet in the air, one mysteriously leaves behind ten hours of un-lived hours and jumps into the evening of the next day. It is unnerving.

Life is not overly thrilling in the upper stratosphere; a lot of reading, some movie watching, a meal or two and the flight attendant squawking because I do not want to close my window shade. I am resistant because I love sunshine and with a closed window shade, how would I ever see the coastline of California...

...the massive engines that defy gravity....

...or the majestic mountains of Alaska?

I am a window shade rebel.

Hello, San Francisco

After a tumultuous first day in San Francisco, the following two days mellowed out significantly and allowed us to relax in transition. Our host home was instrumental in setting the calm tone; we fell in love with the liveliness and hospitality of the extended To family. We look forward to the day when our paths shall cross again.

 

Under blue skies and glaring sunshine, we explored. I had been to San Francisco a couple times but Zach had never ventured beyond the airport.

We each had a bucket list. Zach wanted to walk the Golden Gate Bridge, see Alcatraz and ride a trolley. I wanted to visit the Winchester Mansion.

All was accomplished with a few extras thrown in on whimsical side detours.

Thanks, San Francisco for a mini-vacation but we are a bit disturbed by your obnoxious toll rates.

The Mis in Misadventure

The garage door rolled open displaying the winter wonderland. At 4:30am, surrounded by bulging suitcases, I stood stunned by the irony that it snowed on our departure date. From the top of the stairwell Zach exclaimed, "Oh suck! For once the weatherman was right." Into the swirling flakes we trekked.

The on time departure was rather misleading; we boarded on time, but sat on the tarmac half an hour for de-icing procedures. It was an intriguing process to watch from inside the aircraft.

The welcome to San Francisco was our bags "temporarily" missing. Somehow on a full flight, only six bags were checked and subsequently lost within the bowels of the San Francisco International Airport. The luggage portal was a tease as it opened and closed multiple times, usually regurgitating a bag from previous flights. Forty five minutes after our arrival, passengers from another flight arrived to collect their baggage and ours flopped onto the conveyor belt.

The San Francisco skyline was before us. I was trying to find a good radio station and navigate. Zach was voicing his excitement of discovering a new city. A loud thwack, smack and kerplunk were heard and the windshield bore a large circular crack. Ten minutes after rental car pick up we were now buying a new windshield. Fabulous.

The Chinese consulate was a drab beige building tucked among residential apartments. A series of taped signs pointed us to the correct doorway. Doors were wide open, a rickety metal detector on the right hand side. It was cramped, but the security guard wasted no time in telling me that my camera was not welcome. "You can sit it outside," he smirked. Back to the car we trudged and moved it closer to the correct door. Round two through the metal detector. Zach forgot to take out his keys, but no sirens or alarms wailed. Security at its finest.

Inside, the stark white walls were littered with notes and notifications written in characters. The masses ebbed and flowed around the pickup window and the board notifying what number was being helped. Sooner than expected our number was called. Window 8. Louisa. After a five second glance at our application she said, "You do not have the correct paperwork. You are missing a document."

"No, we are not," I responded. "This is everything we were told to bring to you."

"It is clearly stated on our website," she retorted.

In my head I yelled, "Have you been on your website lately? It is crappy! The phone numbers you list do not work. Nothing is clear on it."

We collected our paperwork, returned to the waiting room and frantically completed another visa application under "tourist." Ten minutes to noon we approached Louisa once again. She meticulously reviewed and put the documents into the passports, stamped a receipt three times and told us to return at 2:30pm to pick up our documents.

We were emotionally and physically exhausted when we sat down to eat our scrumptious crepes at The Crepery House.

At the appointed hour we returned to consulate. Fifteen minutes later we walked out the door, visas in hand. High fives were exchanged.

The (San Fran) To house was a welcomed sight. Seon opened her door and we fell in love with our transitional home and family. An evening of good conversation and scrumptious food was a much needed balm.

Dear Portland

Dear Portland,

In the early morning hours within the shroud of thick fog and a permeating coffee smell, I begin this letter. A letter that will take days to write, yet in the end will fail to truly encapsulate what you mean to me and have done for me. For five years I have walked your sidewalks and trails, driven your streets, spent hours within eccentric shops, paddled your waterways, chuckled at your weirdness, successfully and unsuccessfully navigated your job market, graced many coffee shops, tried new food and have utterly fallen in love with you. On a crisp, sunny August day you opened your arms to two weary Oregon Trail travelers and enveloped them within your tantalizing paradise. We have never regretted our choice.

Our time draws to an end. Soon we will swap your green hued profile for a bustling Chinese metropolis. Though I am extremely excited for a new adventure, I could not leave you without a reflection of our relationship.

You taught me to invest well. Initially it was unknown how long we would live here, so we made the decision to be intentional in investing in your activities, offerings and people. One could live here for decades and never experience your multiple layers, yet I leave satisfied in what I have done and who I have gotten to know.

You taught me a job does not define a person. For all your serenity and beauty, your job market is a tumultuous and ugly beast. Budget cuts are my bane.

You taught me the finer points of beer and wine. It is an art and though I do not enjoy their taste, I love the culture that surrounds them.

You taught me about the relationship versus the religion. In numbers, you are extremely unchurched but ironically I learned more about my God within your confines than I did twenty years in a church saturated land.

You deepened my love for the environment. I enjoyed nature before our trek west; I am in bliss among your soggy green canopy, pristine waters, snow capped mountains, high deserts and roaring waterfalls. To this day I get goosebumps every time I see Mt. Hood.

You were the portal to adventures near and far. From your hub, Zach and I began many road trips. Bend. Canada. Redwoods. Las Vegas. Spokane.

You challenged me athletically. I ran my first 5K in your downtown. I joined my first gym. I participated in my first sprint triathlon.

You taught me how to give directions using the terms north, south, east and west.

You challenged me to think bigger. Everyone has a story. Life isn't black and white all the time. Being a Christian doesn't relegate one to a particular political agenda. Social justice is necessary.

You taught me it takes a village in all stages of life. The village is needed for growth, a safety net and to enjoy life to the fullest.

You introduced me to recycling--beyond the backyard fire pit. I found myself holding onto cans to redeem them for the nickel. I automatically search for the recycling bin in all homes, even in Kentucky. I was too excited to purchase recycling bins from IKEA.

You initiated our discipline of living with little. Thrift became our mantra and it was and is exhilarating to do much with little.

I vividly recall my first time driving across the Marquam Bridge in the dark of night, absolutely bedazzled with your colors and life. Five years later, I make the same drive with a deeper reverence. I unquestionably love you, flaws and all.

Will our paths cross again? I don't know. I hope so, but leaving is a dangerous action. What I leave will not be what I return to one day. Individually we will have morphed and changed. Our reunion will be under different circumstances. Nonetheless, I call you home.

Canadian Star

 

Over a month ago, I stumbled upon a couple bags that held an eclectic mix of quilt pieces, fabrics and aprons that came from Nanny's stash. I piddled, pondered and pieced. I quilted this lap quilt specifically for my sister, Jennie. Years ago when she went to Canada for the first time, she called me prior to crossing the border declaring, "I am leaving my nation!"

Sidetracked

Melissa and I ran an emergency DYC errand to Micheal's Craft Store.

We were extremely focused on the mission at hand until Melissa discovered these awesome hats two bins from the canvas bags. 

The mission was sidetracked for a few minutes until Hadley used her princess powers and told us to calm ourselves and get back to work.

Reality

The reality of the situation weighed heavy today. The to do list has suppressed the emotions, yet as the items are continually checked off and the pace slows the tears appear at random. Sometimes the excitement of what is to come isn't enough to overshadow the loss of the present.

Chaos

The bungalow has taken a transformation, but not for the better. Totes are packed and stacked. 

Furniture has been sold; a fact highlighted by a very bare wall that was once covered by bookshelves. As Kaden would say, "The man with no hair took them."

The hardest and funniest breakup was with our mattress and box springs. Knowing they normally don't sell quickly (or ever), I posted the craigslist ad on Wednesday in order to have ample time to get them out of our way. The post went online at 3:30pm.

I received a call at 6:30pm.

The man paid and picked them up at 8pm.

That night as we laid on the futon mattress on the floor, Zach turned to me and said, "I wasn't ready to break up with my bed yet."

I busted out laughing; partially due to the absurdity of the situation as well as to keep from crying. I, too, was not ready to break up with our bed.

Hello, Maximilian!

Our deal upon marriage was that every three years Zach would receive a new computer in lieu of a child. The computer stork visited today and we received twins.

I named mine Maximilian.

A Familiar (Funny) Sight

Kaden absolutely detests getting his fingernails clipped. Even in his sleep, he will jerk, squirm and roll about in an attempt to thwart Lisa's ninja nail cutting skills. When he is asleep, it is funny. When he is awake, it is an all hands on deck situation.

Today, I was on standby, therefore allowing me the opportunity to document a familiar sight. I will note that the start to this nail cutting session began in the recliner and moved to the floor to better restrain Kaden. It is hysterical to watch--Joel had Kaden in a pinned position while blowing raspberries on his neck in a diversion attempt. Kaden screamed/laughed/hiccuped and kept saying "Ow!"

The way he acts, one would think Lisa was chopping off entire fingers.

The (Huge) Farewell

Upon its announcement, we knew the To Legit Banker Party had the potential to be quite large. Our house is known to throw grand parties, and this one was to be no different. Joel made the oh-so-yummy bulk Asian fare. Lisa created the ambiance. Zach grilled. I talked. Kaden weaved his way around legs on his Red Ryder tricycle. The masses came.

The house was packed; a fact supported by the gargantuan pile of shoes at the door.

Five hours after the first guest had arrived, the last left. We collapsed upon the couches. The quiet of the evening unnerving after the chatter and laughter that had filled the rooms. 

It was an amazing last hurrah of the To-Banker abode.  

Welcome to our World

We love showing off the Northwest. Over the years we have been repeatedly asked, "Many of your landscape pictures are so amazing they look fake!" For those who have never visited our chunk of paradise, it is a pleasant shock to realize that we are not in the business of fake pictures.

Today, we introduced Matt to our world. It began with breakfast at The Blue Pig and a jaunt downtown to Powells as well as Tropical Smoothie. Afterwards the boys dropped me off at the house (so I could sell household items) and headed east into the Gorge. It seems they had a great time, and it was fun to get the camera back with mystery pictures. 

The Surprise

Melinda started it.

Last week, I opened my Facebook account to find a private message: Call me asap. Melinda. I was extremely intrigued yet apprehensive that something was wrong. I called. Twenty minutes later, I closed my phone and immediately performed an exuberant and spastic happy dance. With coaxing and support, Melinda bought a plane ticket for her husband, Matt, to come to Portland. Zach's best friend from high school was going to get to say farewell in person.

The secret was tough to bear and there were a few near misses. Last Saturday, while telling Melissa of the ploy, Mike's voice burst through the baby monitor asking what was taking so long in Hadley's room; practically outed by the baby monitor, but saved that it was on the lowest setting. The following day, Zach called Matt. During the conversation Zach lamented that he would not get to see Matt before leaving. Matt smooth talked his way around the issue.Then Joel with a secret is always a ticking time bomb.

Ideas were tossed around this week as to how to maximize the surprise. Take Zach to the airport. Do not take Zach to the airport. Mike Labrum have a project and need Zach's help in order to get him out of the house. I go out for an errand. Etc. Etc. Etc. Ultimately Lisa and I decided that we would have a JoAnn's date tonight.

At dinner, Zach mentioned that he wanted to go to Costco to look at computers. Lisa commented about our date, to which Zach replied, "We will go to Costco then JoAnn's!" Lisa retorted (in a brilliant sassy way), "Really? You want to go to JoAnns?" Joel saved the conversation: "The boys will go to Costco, the girls to JoAnns."

An hour later we went our separate ways.

Thirty minutes later, Matt landed.

As we pulled into the driveway, Zach and Joel were sitting at the black hub, engrossed in whatever computer activity. As Matt walked through the door and into the living room he exclaimed, "If my best friend flew across the continent, the least I would do is pick him up at the airport!"

Zach's eyes bulged. He sputtered and stammered. He stood up and embraced his friend, with tears in his eyes. The reaction was amazing; the reunion a beautiful thing to watch.

The surprise was successful and the story will be a favorite to tell for years to come.

The Fortune

The cleaning and purging process has begun. Totes are being filled; furniture is being sold. As I was wrapping a vase, a small piece of paper fluttered to the floor. I turned it over and saw this fortune. I don't know when I got it or why I kept it, but it made me smile.

Snail Mail

I think one of the things I will miss most about living overseas is the lack of snail mail. I love my notes from friends and was reminded of their awesomeness today when I received this jewel of a card.

My Oregon Sunset

Weeks ago, I spotted a strip quilt in a book. Immediately seized by its simplicity yet beauty, I vowed I wanted to recreate but with brighter colors. I spent this afternoon with my dear friend, Ruth Ann, plotting and placing strips of fabric to create my version of Stripescape. I love our creative process and love that the quilt top resembles the many Oregon sunsets I have seen over five years.  

No Pity

During Bob's visit we spent an afternoon downtown for the sole reason to swing by the Timbers store to take NO PITY photos. The ad campaign surrounding the inaugural Timbers's MLS season has been phenomenal, so the management decided to include the fans. We had a great time at the photo shoot and love the results of our afternoon of Timbers fun. 

The Official Announcement

Ten years ago, I met China. The enormous land mass I had seen repeatedly on classroom globes, Carman San Diego episodes and within the history books became my home for over two weeks. I entered a culture vastly different than my Kentucky roots. It bustled. It smelled of ginger, noodles and a random odd stench. Chopsticks replaced forks. I was a dandelion in a field of daisies. For those two weeks I melded into Chinese society. I savored the experience yet when asked as I left if I would ever return, I shook my head no. I really liked China, but not enough to return.

Six months later, I stepped onto her soil once again.

Two years later, I returned with my husband.

Three years later, with my blessing (tinged with jealously), Zach walked her streets and Great Wall.

In twenty days, I will walk her streets again. I will smell her aroma. I will stick out like a goldfish in a pond of betas. I will be within her embrace for a long time.

Zach and I have accepted a teaching position in Beijing. A city that wasn't on our top ten list. A job that didn't fit our ideal. Yet, in a weird and fun way, we find ourselves on the cusp of a large change. Emotions and excitement remain tempered, but each day I find myself daydreaming about a different facet of what could be in the near future.

Ah China, I guess you had my heart from the beginning.

Happy Lunar New Year

Joel and Kaden made crab wontons for a Lunar New Year potluck. It was fun to watch them work together to make such delectable treats.

The Countdown

'Tis the month of love--a homemade, yummy countdown to Valentine's day.