One Green Bee Designs

So nice to be here

We are so very glad to be in Carthage.

There have been risotto and lamb dinners. Artichokes. Preserved lemon pastas. Halvah, dates, and lots and lots and lots of olive oil. We are smitten by the blood orange trees (and resulting fresh juice), our hosts' espresso machine, and the gorgeous blue trimmed windows. Carthage is a beauty, and our friends are amazing. We have feasted and laughed and storied. 

We've had outings to the beach:

And we've learned to throw things:

We've sampled the local fare:

Enjoyed family evenings:

And created quite a bond with some great boys: Will be tough to leave such good dudes (who are so good to my little dude):

There's a few days left and good weather in the forecast. We've Roman ruins to cimb and more shwarma to eat. Woo hoo! 

February Sketchers

My entry is due Monday. You can see the good works the other amazing folks are doing--here. This month I had Cindy's book, and her theme was "home." I'm not into portraits and decided not to sketch P. Though that might have been fun. Instead, I turned in this:

"I am not a good decision maker, but I can say with certainty that I married well. Whew. One of the more superficial yet delightful aspects of my marrying up is where it landed me in the summers. What a view! The Ranch is a special place for us, but I still struggled to think of an image to capture Cindy's theme of "home" because P and I have always considered our relationship place enough for us. But Gus--that complicated Gus--has given us pause. While this tiny family is where we hope our collective hearts reside, we also recognize our little dude may need (because we honestly have no idea) a stable place in which he can return should he want a familiar community and a sense of roots. It didn't take too much arm twisting to decide to make that "home" near the Green compound so that G can know the same mountains and rivers and hills and trails and orchards and sunsets that his cousins will know and that his grandparents and great grandparents and father and aunts and uncles have known their whole lucky lives."

It came out more cartoonish and silly than I was aiming, but maybe that's the effect of today's -17 (celcius) weather on my chilly hands. Tomorrow--and I am not kidding--the forecast says -28. Holy smokes! 

 

Hallelujahing and Hiding

It's all hallelujahs and hiding spinach around here. Almost 11 months ago, I found myself unable to get out of bed or pick up my baby or hold a cup of coffee. A pesky joint disease altered life for this family. Altered it a lot. It hit when I was finally gaining a little confidence after a bucketload of bewildering newness. We'd kept the baby alive for nearly a year and survived our first months on a new continent. I was back in shape and clocking happy kilometers on long runs, and our first winter in seven years--a long and gray one--was starting to lift. It was a cruel time to find myself abruptly bed-ridden, and I let that disease knock the hope right out of me.

But I've got good peeps and Grace and This Too Shall Pass. And it did. It's not the same body; there are joints that will never quit growling but I can move. Hallelujah, I can move! Today marked a milestone of moving---18 glorious kilometers through Praha with a dear friend. It was hard, but it was beautiful, and I never ever ever thought it possible. I am one grateful girl.

Tomorrow will be Advil and ice and spinach muffins. That's right. I'll take this poor transition from what really is an awfully Big Deal to explain that I obsess over iron intake, and so we've been eating Rebar's Broccoli Soup (take the time to make a pesto to swirl in, toss in some steamed florets and you will never ever ever make any other creamed brocolli soup--or possibly any other soup at all. You'll find the bare bones of it here.), which should really be called spinach soup, and finding other creative uses for the green stuff.

The boys have no idea there is wilted spinach in these delish carrot muffins. 

And tomorrow's fruit smoothies.

Bad photography aside, you have no idea how happy this all makes me. 

I hope I am able to be kind

Since we returned to Prague, Gus and I have been having a hard time speaking each other's love language. He's hid all of my winter accessories. My hands are freezing. He gave me a bloody nose and dropped his oatmeal in my coffee. And then there was Wednesday. When someone you love hands you their own poop, you know your relationship needs some attention.

That night, before he went to bed, we prayed together as a family. Well, I prayed and he poked his father in his closed eye (it really hasn't been easy for any of us). I asked for a little help around here. Help learning to parent with joy.

I've been getting all sorts of appropriate parenting advice and notes and insights from folks, and it's felt sort of bleak to have well-intentioned people say such lovely things like, "Don't you feel like you're just living the best life has to offer?" when I'm scrubbing the toy excavator my son has just filled with his own urine. I've really questioned (and probably will forever) my ability to execute and endure the dirt and grime and nuts and bolts of parenting. 

Thursday Gus and I left early for school. This walk was rich with the giddy anticipation of a breather from one another. And so it was surprising when we found ourselves missing our bus in order to crunch ice. All the puddles from the day before had frozen over, and we are people who do not miss an opportunity to smash things without consequence. So we smashed and hopped and slid and skated and reminded ourselves not to eat dirty ice or to lick the tempting pieces that look like candy. (I thought of you fondly, MS, and all the times we watched the movie Beautiful Girls. I always liked the scene where Natalie Portman is just stomping snow. I share her pleasure in a good snow stomp). While ice chunks flew and Gus learned to land on his knees for a really good ice ride, a neighbor walked by and took in our mayhem. She is not a parent, but she has more parenting mojo than I'll ever muster. I'm bewildered by this girl's kid-magnetism. Kids love her. She loves kids. Oscar is totally smitten. I was pretty sure she walked off making a mental note to investigate Czech child protective services as I yelled things like, "Run over here, this puddle is REALLY slippery!" But I was wrong. Instead she later emailed that she just wanted to share her joy in "witnessing kairos (she and I must read the same blogs)", and how she was so happy to have seen such a beautiful parenting moment.

Argh. What a stinker. I wanted to tell her, "That's parenting? That's the crap Gus and I waste our time doing all day when we should be learning to cut with scissors and sing our ABCs and put on our own coat. That's the stuff that distracts him from eating vegetables and bathing properly. That's the fun stuff I do when I want to avoid what parents should be doing. That is NOT parenting." But, I got it. I get it. Thank-you-very-much pre-eye-poke prayer.

I was pretty happy to pick up Oscar after school and get my buddy back. Affirmed now in our aimless ways, we did all the voices to The Pout Pout fish together when we were supposed to be learning to tie our shoes and may or may not have hung up our jackets. And can you believe it? He even asked to use the potty and not his own hand or the Nepalese carpets. I was shocked.

This is a strange gig, this endeavor growing a human. In an On Being podast from NPR with Sylvia Boorstein, two phrases recently stuck in my head (poorly quoted):

"Your measuring stick that you're thinking clearly is that you are able to be kind."

and

"In this moment, am I able to care?"

I'm looking forward to putting those up on the wall and trying them out on the next day where I find myself gritting my teeth. And while I'm not super keen on the amount of attention fecal matter gets around here, I am pretty keen on living hopefully and on watching someone grow so admirably despite my best efforts at messing up this process. I am grateful for a community of outspoken women who remind me what I am doing and remind me what I should be doing and give me pause. I don't always agree with them, but I am happy to be walking in this path if it is one where Gus and I can take a break from the horror that is learning-to-zip-your-own-coat with an impromptu ice skate.

About twenty blissful seconds before he poured hot chocolate on my shoe.

A door opened this week

Gus and I have been walking Stromovka as often as we can. The ice is creeping across the lake and the ducks are huddling in the corners; frosty mornings are now the norm. We have to savor these mornings of silvered trees because they will soon end. Winter will of course linger until May, but after that it could be quite a stretch of hot, welcome years.

Yesterday, P and I accepted jobs back in Singapore. I haven't found my footing yet as to how to explain this to people. There is no short answer. We like it here. We could love it here. I'd return to Prague. There's of course the hassle of snowsuits and cold hands and lost mittens and gray days. But that's not reason to go. And that's what I try to explain to people---there's not reason to leave except that Singapore offers us something that not many other places can in the toddler years of our lives. It offers us festivals and colors and diversity. It offers us monkeys and jungle walks and 365 days a year where we can go outside (granted, often in suffocating heat). It offers us Cambodia and service and travel to places to see things that Gus isn't old enough yet to complain about. I think I better take advantage of the fact that he's too young to gripe about the tuk-tuks and the holidays to places where all we do is wander and not a tv screen is to be found. And then there are the professional gains. And the hope of medical gains. BUT. There is the loss of Prague, and that is a large loss. We chose Europe not as parents and moved here as new ones. We had no idea how parenting would impact where we wanted to work and live (I know. I know. We're the dumbest people on the planet. Believe me. I KNOW.) When Gus is old enough to let me finish my coffee in a cafe or bike beside me on a river path, I'd really like to return. He and I will rip up the trails and sample every offering in the pastry shops. I can't wait.

In the meantime, we'll savor Stromovka and snowfalls and holiday markets and hot candied almonds. We'll get cocoa at every farmer's market and laugh our way through layering up to head outside. 

------------------------

This month's sketchbook entry had to be hurried-up since G and I are off to visit the beloved grandparents soon and won't be at the drawing table. The theme of this book was "colors" and I was given black. I sketched up some nocturnal animals hidden behind inked doors. Doors seemed appropriate in this season of Advent. Man, I really love things with doors.

Happy to have been and happy to be back

We are back from lands of chocolate, cheese, hiking trails, and really great people. A weeklong road trip to Munich and Zurich proved to be exactly what this family needed to gain a little clarity and lose a little Euro (Take note travellers, it's not just Switzerland that requires a toll sticker. The Austrian fine is hefty!).

(fondue--followed by chocolate--with the lovely Rops)

Gus was a champ, sleeping like he'd never slept before and recovering from bronchitis in unfamiliar places. He mooed at Swiss cows and marveled at German forests. Our hosts were all amazing and our weight gains evident. What a great trip.

And now we're back and sorting out some big decisions with lighter hearts and darker German beers. Life is good in Prague. Fall has settled in with freezing temperatures, and homemade soup was on last night's menu. This is a season to savor.

I got a little gutsy and posted some designs to sell, but it's mostly to avoid over or under printing. I'm still not comfortable with seeing doodles in print, but maybe this will all work out. We'll see. In the meantime, I've got a sketchbook project this week and three amazing birthdays to celebrate (Steelie Dan, Bekah, and Annika--Woop woop!). With only six weeks left in the CZ before Oscar and I take full advantage of all the love Grandma and Grampa have to offer, we're living it up!

 

Indian Summer

Despite a forecast of 75 degree weather for Monday, it feels like fall could descend at any time. And once it comes--it's frost and down jackets until April. So, Gus and I are quickly making the most of the farmer's market tomatoes. They are unreal.

(His pants, shirt, and face are filthy...not to mention the lost sock...and yet he couldn't get over the drip on the counter.)

There are cookies baked for a Sunday brunch. We've also got pumpkin roasting and black beans simmering for enchiladas that we'll take to a pumpkin-themed dinner party. It's a busy kitchen today.

September is ending with really enjoyable hustle and bustle: A post-mushroom-hunting feast (thanks, generous K family). A long bike ride with sock-tossing Gus. Impromptu dinners with neighbors. Birthday parties. Dreaming and scheming. And non-stop sunshine. 

Oh---sweet P posted my sketch to the ISP Sketchers website. People are doing good things. So happy to be sharing in that circle of art.

Onwards to October!

Momentum

Plannin' and rollin' and chuggin':

Rewrote last year's Christmas card with the correct spelling (gnashing of teeth) just in case we get our act together for holiday sales:

Submitted a few more sketches for Memory Cards:

Felt jealous of this wall paper.

Marveled at my friend bSmiley's new Etsy shop. That witty (and uber-talented) girl finds ways to weave The Dude into her toddler clothing write-ups. She's a wonder. 

Packed the suitcase for this weekend's getaway in Harrachov with P's company. Finshed Stacy Schiff's Cleopatra. Rented a car for an October road trip. Bought plane tickets. Tackled Gus's first fall fever. Hosted a potluck. And, perhaps the most noteworthy of all (but only thanks to Neighbor B's relentless patience and tolerance and overall jaw-dropping kindness), surivived a morning trip to (more gnashing of teeth) IKEA with G.

Whew.

List of Praha Loveliness

After listening to a Freakonomics podcast on the Economics of Parenting, I'm feeling a little better. Apparently my ineptitude will not derange the little guy as long as I'm warm and loving and happy for having him. Gus and I both breathe sighs of relief and take heart that we abandoned cleaning for a spontaneous zoo day. Whew.

Other joys were discovered. I revisited the quirky Holesovice market and found it far more navigable and charming without a squealing four-month old strapped to my sweaty body. Gus ran between the zillion stalls of oddities and Neighbor B and I bought the biggest and cheapest bunches of basil you have ever seen. In addition, when I need a copy purse, Gus sized guitar, Hungarian potato pancake, or I heart Prague sweatshirt--I'll know where to return.

For now, I'm content with the basil pesto filling my freezer.

On a buying-local high, the next morning we met Tracy and her patient-with-Gus daughter S at yet another fabulous Praha farmers' market (Jihiro z Podebrad). While S lovingly wrangled wily G around the square (the latter flinging his Vietnamese noodles--thank goodness for the abundance of dogs), Tracy and I bought local butter (from the actual cow owners)*, Moravian cheese, homemade pasta, Bohemia grown raspberries, and cold pints of microbrew. I appreciate a town where one can push her stroller with a plastic cup in hand and receive nary a raised eyebrow.

And today--today little G and I took on our neighborhood market at an hour most folks found appropriate for sleeping. We grabbed some produce, more pasta, the last of the local strawberries, and two packages of fruit dumplings (svestkove knedliky). Steamed Czech dumplings covered in melted butter are one of the greatest things about living here. They are also lunch in this house.

This farmers' market bender is peppered with a visit to an uber-friendly and shockingly reasonable Czech glass bead shop where the shopkeepers--gasp--took Gus from me and gave him a homemade chocolate chip cookie and a bucket of beads to sift, and yet again, fling. When I left, we were all crunching beads underfoot and yet everyone was laughing and smiling and telling me how wonderful that was. I don't understand it, but I support it and will absolutely return.

And, perhaps most joy-producing for me, there is a triptych completed and awaiting its new owner. We hope it adds cheer to her daughter's room.

    

*Butter note: I am told by smart Tracy (does everyone know this?) that fresh butter changes color throughout the year based on what a cow is eating. Fresh grass vs. hay will alter the color. This makes me want to buy even more butter while the grass is green.

Blue skies smiling at me

I am getting over myself! As humbly happens, I recently went on a tirade about folks taking themseles too seriously. And then, heh heh heh, the same week I got all serious. Amy Carmichael wrote that we need to keep our spiritual "atmosphere" clear. If we allow even a "fugitive wisp of a cloud float across our sky"--that is, a wish for things to be different--then we create an overcast spirit.

Don't I know it.

I re-entered Praha with more than my fair shares of wishes. There were colds all around and a bee sting of gigantic (you've never seen cankles like this one) proportions. There have been cold rainy days and outings in August in-gasp-sweaters. Wily Gus has been frustrated with his boring old parents and longing along with us for his out-of-this-world grandparents in very loud and parenting-skill-testing ways. We're on doctor's visit number three. Already. This house has rattled and shook with wishes, and I've felt the result of that stinking thinking in an overcast heart.

But, no more gosh darn it! How can one hope for otherness when one has so much goodness? I take note:

1. A kinder-than-he-needs-to-be Tony M gave me a completely random and treasured gift of DELECTABLE Delirium Tremens. I can count the bottles of the golden Belgian awesomeness I've been privvy to enjoy in my life on one hand. At 8.5% that's probably enough for a lifetime. Get thee to a specialty bottle shop and buy your own pink elephant.

2. The farmers' market is back in action. There has been blue cheese walnut sauce on fresh tagliatelle pasta and berry filled dumplings and organic carrot carrot cake and farm fresh egg and veggie quiche on our table.

3. We've brunched and happy houred and biked and brewery toured and walked and dined and breakfasted and Skyped and coffeed and teaed and desserted and jogged and baby grouped with good folks. Today's gathering honored a special guest who leaves our Old MacDonald refrains for the big kids at skola. Gus will miss his musical pal Dee-Dee.

Worried about the toothpaste decorating the cake? (famers' market carrots carrot cake!)

4. I've returned to the drawing table with commission pieces and celebration doodles.

 
5. There are library books newly checked-out, hand-me-down dresses acquired, new babies born, road trips planned, awfully nice neighbors relied upon (perhaps no longer with prepositions hanging out there like that), and Desigual sales attended.

Blue skies!