A Few Months Into Our Second Post- Brasília, Brazil

We feel like legit Foreign Service people now that we are on our second tour. We can use words that make us sound a little less inexperienced , such as... "I remember my first EER season"  or "Before the rules changed for EFM DS Clearances it only took a few months, not this insane 9-12 months business!"  That also means we have had two wildly different experiences living life and working outside the US. 


What Post Brasília has over Post Jakarta: 

•  Commute- most embassy folks live within a 15- 25 minute drive (not rush hour) to/from work and home. With rush hour add about 10-15 minutes. Traffic isn't an issue in comparison. 
• It's a smaller city and it's considered pollution free. It's not scary to breathe in Brasília! 

• Perfect weather- Despite having a distinct rainy and dry season, the highs and lows don't fluctuate much. If like the  weather to stay higher than 70 but lower than 90- this is your place.
• You can drive! In Brasília most local people drive similarly to Americans, excluding the handful of crazies who do things that will make you shake your head in disbelief. 
• Brazilians are fun! No timid, passive aggressive behavior here. If they feel it- they express it. You are welcome to express yourself as well- this goes for all emotions: love, humor, frustration, disappointment, whatever it is- go for it! Just don't expect your American friends to appreciate such gestures. 
• Delicious meat, veggies, fruits and breads- The food here is easily a full step better quality than in the US. Anything you eat will have less "science" and less sugar involved. Clean eating isn't a problem here.  
• Outdoor living and playing- the outdoor activities here are  nearly endless. Most restaurants have outdoor seating. It's wonderful! 

• Beautiful city parks, national gardens and a fantastic freshwater lake. Be prepared to be outside most of the time.
• Church life- Christians (Catholic, Protestant and LDS) in Brasília will not be alone. Lots going on here for the church crowd.
• Alcohol: Brazilians know how to brew beer! Lots of red wine - BEAUTIFUL Argentinan Malbecs are about $20-$30 a bottle. Cocktail lovers aren't neglected though cocktails aren't as popular here as they are in the US. Your fancy gin and small batch bourbons are either not here, or they cost R$360 (over $100 USD). 
• Pet owners have tons of pet stores to choose from.
• Decent schools for kids of all ages. 

What Post Jakarta has going better than Post Brasília: 

• Household helpers in Indonesia become part of the family. The hardest part of leaving Jakarta was grieving over my maid and driver's absence in my life. The service they provided was vital to our living day to day life there, but I also came to care for them as I would family. They were a part of our family and we loved them (Bu Nit and Pak Sumardi were the best!).
• Shopping! Oh, the shopping in Indonesia is off the hook  awesome. Shopping for quality, handmade items is worth a trip to Indonesia all by itself.  
• Fine restaurants- Jakarta has a few French restaurants, fairly  decently Mexican food,  excellent  Indian food restaurants, American style burgers and loads of pizza. I would be remiss to not to also mention the cool bars and nightclubs. 
• Church life in Jakarta is a little harder to connect with but is thriving all the same.   
• Jakarta Intercultural School, JIS, is heads and shoulders better  than most foreign Post schools. We miss it ever single day. 
• Vacations and travel- the best vacations, cheap flights and fast getaways! 
• A strong community feeling among embassy employees. 

Welcome Back to NOVA. Did You Bring Your Checkbook?

After living for two years in Jakarta, we got very familiar with insane traffic, the same weather every day, and an inshallah attitude to things that should have worked or been available but weren't. We have been on home leave for about a month in Texas and the Pacific Northwest, and have had a great time. But it's time to get back to work and for kids to go to school, so we just landed back in everyone's favorite childrens gulag, Oakwood Falls Church.

The public schools here still treat us as invaders, and thinking about how transient and high-maintenance we State people are, I can understand, though the attitude is a little hard to take sometimes. Both sides know we are one family-friendly post going on authorized departure from flooding their schools. Still, I think I was nicer at the visa window giving somebody a lifetime ineligibility to travel to the U.S. than some administrators have been in demanding papers from us. It's high stress for everybody involved, so maybe a little more kindness or courtesy from all sides would be welcome.

What I had forgotten (or maybe it really has gotten worse) is what I would call the friction or hassle of living here. Non-Virginia resident with out of state plates? You still have to register with the City for a parking permit or get fined. New since I was here last: an additional sticker to purchase for non-residents to travel down certain streets during rush hour. Not to park-to travel through the streets. This is revenue enhancement taken to a new level. There are also many "everybody knows, so why tell you?" aspects to living here. Lots of people get their touch on you just for moving to town, registering your kids for things, and trying to settle down.

When we were overseas, we followed events in Ferguson, MO and other places closely. What struck me as a former defense attorney the most was the Justice Dept. report that showed that, in an effort to keep taxes low and make things attractive for the middle and upper classes, the police and courts were treating the poor as a revenue source, issuing multiple tickets for a single stop, piling on court costs and additional fines when someone couldn't pay the first ticket, etc., and being complimented by the city government for doing so. In this scenario, police become not primarily law enforcement but revenue agents, because promotions and pay follow the amount of tickets the cop writes. Cops who complained about this in Ferguson were more or less told to shut up and write more tickets.

So when I came back to NOVA, I saw more roads with 25mph speed limits. These are four-lane boulevards that in many other states we visited during home leave had 35-45mph speed limits. Along most of these roads is an additional sign proclaiming the area to be a residential zone that adds $200.00 to any other fines and fees for speeding. Some of these "residential zones" have at least as many businesses as residences on them.

On Sunday morning, we were driving Route 7 to Tyson's Corner to visit an auto dealership. I saw two different people pulled over by the police for some traffic violation. At one point I turned off of Route 7 onto a side road. A city cop made a hard turn behind me and pulled up to my rear bumper so close I could not see his headlights. He followed us like this for over a mile. If I slowed down in fear, would I be ticketed for creating an obstruction? If I had pulled over, for illegally driving on the shoulder? If I tried to get more distance between us, surely it would have been a speeding ticket. So, I drove at 2 mph under the speed limit, slowed down to the recommended speed in the turns, etc. After that mile or so the cop crossed a double yellow line to pass me, and hooked a left at an intersection without slowing down for a stop sign.

The whole thing feels like the locals are aiming to prey upon us out-of-towners so that they can become the tick on the right.

And we haven't even started back at work where we will be fighting the email transfer and ID badge renewal process...

First Post Reflections

We are only a few days until lift off. Reflecting back two years ago I can't believe how incredibly good our tour here has been. Rest assured, "incredibly good" does not mean super easy, low stress, or without it's frustrations. Not at all. I call it good because we have learned so much, seen and experienced many crazy awesome or interesting things. But alas- We have reached the end of our time here.

1. We have made good friends here! People we will keep in our hearts no matter where we are.

2. Indonesia is simply amazing! Jakarta's traffic is horrendous but other than that the physical land and sea of Indonesia is beautiful. The places we were able to visit were pretty much post card perfect.

3. Volcanoes are really cool!

4. I liked it more than I thought I would (our 11 yr old son).

5.. The world has plenty of self-serving turf mongers but life is more fun when you have friends.

6. The Triangle of Doom: Don't do it!  

Point A (your home) + Point B (your office) + Point C (favorite expat or western restaurant) = depression.

7.  Life happens at Post. You name it- it happens.

8. No matter where you are or what you doing- while at a foreign post you are representing the United States. The same is also true for your whole family.

9. Not everyone feels they "are where they are supposed to be". If you do have that assurance you are going to be happier in general.

10. Rules are strictly enforced for almost everyone but for a select few they don't apply at all.

11. If your spouse is the CLO- so are you.

12.  The typical reward for a good work is more work.

13. If you need things to be predictable and the same day after day you will need to find a different job.

14. Somedays you are giving speeches, some days you carrying someone else's luggage. Be prepared for both, and have the right attitude either way.

15. Vacations off of the usual tourist track are amazing, but never let yourself be too far from an SOS clinic.

16. Only you can control how happy you are (our 17 yr old son).

17. Having a canteen or a common lunch room inside an embassy is very important.

18. Watching people with really big feet (mens sized 13) trying on shoes in a store can draw a curious crowd.



19. How Americans treat and care for their dogs can be a source of entertainment for non-Americans.

20. Having trustworthy help around the house is really awesome. Pay and treat them well.

21. DEET is your friend. You DO NOT want dengue!

22. Diarrhea experiences are considered appropriate discussions inside the Foreign Service community.

23. The whole Diplomat thing - it might not be as cool as you think it will be (our 20 yr old daughter).

24. We had a good social sponsor and they made a big difference. 

25. Learn the language, it makes your whole experience come alive.

26. You are going to pay extra because you're American - just deal with it.

27. Know what to do and who to call in an emergency.

28. People are going to want to take pictures of you and with you. "Photo photo, mister?"

29. Choose your friends wisely. 

30. International schools are more fun and rich than regular schools (our 11 yr old son)

31. I'll pay way too much for good cheese!

32. I love and say prayers of thankfulness for the DPO and pouch.

33. If you are in Jakarta for long, you will feel inclined to adopt a scruffy cat with a bobbed tail.

34. Even if you would never in a million years consider riding a motorcycle in the US, you'll probably give it strong consideration in Jakarta.

35. Cones don't matter all that much in the end. Working smart and consistently do.

A very McKeating anniversary:

 Sean and I just celebrated 24 years as married people in typical McKeating tradition- we packed boxes and were knee-deep in "stuff". Ah, the romance of a transcontinental move! 

Take a look at heart thumping romance, McKeating Style!

At a less chaotic moment, I started calculating the times we've had a normal anniversary (like on tv) vs a more  utilitarian celebration (like sharing a role of tape). The answer: the utilitarian version, by a long shot. Truly, I think the month of July is rigged or something. We don't move every July, but when we do move it usually falls during the month of July, our anniversary month. Maybe that explains why we've never been the red roses and blue Tiffany's box kind of couple, though I wouldn't mind giving it a try (we did go to Vegas once). Instead we are usually hyper focused on getting some big out-the-ordinary project wrapped up, or maybe we are just starting one at that time. It could be because our big day is so close to a major holiday, too. In our case this year, it's all of the above. We are just wrapping up our first Foreign Service tour. It's been exciting, to say the least. We can both say this experience has far exceeded our expectations. We are also embarking on our next big adventure: Brasilia, 2016! Actually, Oakwood and FSI first, but that's where the adventure gains traction. 

I've claimed next year's anniversary for Buenos Aires, or maybe Lima - I only know that no boxes and no rolls of tape are allowed. 

All The Blog Posts In My Head

I have to apologize for my long silence but since I joined the "appreciating the work/life balance" crew (full time mom and full time employee) I struggle to find the creative space to sit down and write a post- though I haven't really been as neglectful as it may seem; I think about our blog readers all the time. I see something, I go somewhere or experience a new taste sensation and I think, "I must write a blog post about this!"  Such as Martabak, an amazing dessert that somehow made it onto my fork.

One of my favorite things is my once a month book club. We're a small and loud (I think we would
prefer the word "robust") group but over the months we have read some really good books; some are better than others of course, but a few in particular have been fist-pounding argument-provoking autobiographical summaries of women's lives. I've learned a lot- such as the fact that I am susceptible to mom guilt due to my subletting some of my previous domestic details. The fact that view these things as "my domestic details" proves that I've got a way to go. Even though I am working I still consider my family time as a measure of how well grounded I am to the commitments I have made as a parent- this fact means that no matter how many freeing lines I highlighted in my copy of Lean In, I still willingly invite the mom guilt fairy to come in and nest on my head. Rest assured, as I read the book I had several blog posts bouncing around in my head, such as, Does The Author Of Lean In 
Have Real Problems Or Does She Have Some Upgraded Version Of Reality?" but then I applied
some of her basic "sit at the table" concepts and when that went well I asked myself the one basic question the book asked over and over. "What would I do if I weren't afraid?" The answer?  I got up the nerve to apply for the one job I had wanted since I first learned about it- CLO Coordinator.

This is a pic of a few ladies in my book club on the night we reviewed Lean In and Bossy Pants. Our 

cake says it all!

Here is another blog post that I wrote (in my head)- This Spring I was lucky enough to have my dear cousin Phil and his wife Carmen make the long journey from Texas to visit us. They were such fun guests because they didn't mind a little discomfort (such as picking any random reflexology foot massage place in the rougher side of town) in order to have some new experiences. Well, Phil had done his research on the various fun things to do in Jakarta. He had barely stepped off of the airplane when he said that his goal was to visit the Jakarta cobra markets. And that we did! Phil was a trooper and hung in there as he unknowingly ordered a magical tincture made of the blood of one cobra and two other black and yellow snakes and some local "jamu" (herb based medicine), oh and the "squeezins" of the cobra's gall bladder (or that's what we assume it was). Poor Phil believed he had walked into a restaurant where he could order up a basket of fried snake fingers- not an old Javanese traditional version of Viagra. 

Ah, drink up Cousin Phil, you only live once!  Actually, he didn't want to drink it but once he realized that a few snakes had been volunteered to the cause, he felt morally obligated. What a trooper!

So see... I've been writing all of this in my imagination for months!

Here is another blog post I've had in my head- island hopping. This is a shot from the beach of our favorite Indonesian get away- Gili Trawangan. Gili T. is a tiny island located in the gorgeous turquoise sea between Bali and Lombok. 

There are also the sad blog posts that I feel compelled to write. Here were some wild animals being sold in random outdoor markets. 

Neither one are happy in their cages. It's heartbreaking. 

Jakarta has enough going on that I could write about it every day. I'll try to check in sooner and not let so many things stack up in my mental blog file. 

Btw... I got the job! 

Home is Where the Stomach Is

One of the drawbacks of living overseas is missing all the food from back home. We are lucky and blessed to have a commissary at our post, so if you just can't live another day without your favorite junk food or beer, you can probably get it here, as long as money is no object. Somedays, only a Pop-Tart (c) will do, you know what I'm saying? 

But what you really begin to miss are the ethnic and local foods available at restaurants back home that just aren't available, or even more frustrating, they have something with the same name here but it just isn't the same. But lately, good things have been happening.

We have managed to find, not too far away even, a taqueria. It is a little hole in the wall joint that seats about 17 close friends, it's cheap, of amazing taste but dubious healthiness. Almost like what we enjoyed in Laredo!

Then, last night we had dinner at some Foreign Service friends' house where we got to enjoy for the first time since we left the DC area:

Oh, yeah, all the favorites. Injera, doro wat, that spinach dish :-), and small cups of atomic-strength Ethiopian coffee for dessert. Our friends bring t'eff from America when they go home and make injera for their family every week. They have said come over any time. If we went as often as we liked, they wouldn't be saying that any more.

It was a lovely evening with colleagues who had been posted to Addis Ababa, talking East African politics, eating until we burst, and listening to Teddy Afro.

So, in the last two weeks we have had two homecomings for our stomachs, and things are good, really good. As long as we meet Mexican and Ethiopian friends at all of our Foreign Service posts, we may just be able to make it in this life.

-S

Long Absences and State Brain

So, obviously we haven't written in a while. Christmas Season at the house for L and Christmas travel season at the consular section for me made for a hectic end of the year. So, yes, we are still alive, still in Indonesia, and still gainfully employed. 

Since our last post, things have gotten way more hectic in our lives. L starts work at the embassy tomorrow, and we have had to adjust for two full-time working parents in our household of three kids and a dog. My job has also changed a great deal recently.

In our consular section, we are small enough that every six months or so we rotate through portfolios like non-immigrant visa (NIV), American citizen services, etc. I started, as all new officers do, in NIV. It takes the most time and personnel of anything that we do, even after we rotate away from strict NIV work into one of the other rotations. Any day people are out sick or away, or for some reason we have a large number of applicants, we leave our rotations and go back to NIV for as long as we are needed. So really, when you take a rotation you don't get to change one job for another so much as add one job to another, at least some of the time.

Between this development, front office projects, outreach and VIP activities, etc., let's just say that I have had to expand my capacity for work. Rest assured that in my diseased mind this is a good thing, and I am loving it. The increased pace has led me to adopting what I call State Brain, but any organization that demands a constant high pace probably has the same thing.

With State Brain, your mind is full of one concept or task and completely engaged for as long as it takes, some times hours, some times minutes. Then an email, phone call, or person comes to you with the next thing to focus on. You quickly have to dump out of your head what you are working on, load in the new task, and concentrate fully on that one. Repeat, either several times a day or here recently many times an hour. The capacity for your brain to act like a rail car or commercial truck for which the cargo carriers are being loaded, moved some distance, and then replaced with another one is what I mean when I say State Brain. It's not multi-tasking, just high demand fast switching between tasks. A to-do list is an absolute must to avoid anything being dropped. Lunches are no longer anything other than mandatory nutrition loading. You start taking work with you to the bathroom. Any first year associate at a large law firm or medical resident knows exactly what I am talking about.

Prior to taking the full time job at the embassy, L worked for three weeks on a special project. She is starting to develop State Brain too, for she has begun to communicate with me in dreaded three-letter acronyms, and recently gave me provisional instructions on what kind of flea prevention to buy our dog, because she wanted time to check out different brands and prices. A normal person would say "I am thinking we should buy brand X but let me check around some first before you go to the store." What she actually told me was: "Brand X at Store Y. Get the variety for our dog's weight. Green package. HOLD UNTIL I CLEAR." 

To which I can only say, "Welcome, L, to you your new brain."

-S

Now, That's The Stuff

We didn't join the Foreign Service just to interview people for visas and talk to people in our host country's government, as important as those things are. We also wanted to meet ordinary Indonesians and serve them in some way. After a little while getting the lay of the land, we were fortunate to meet a local lawyer who put us in touch with the Yayasan Pemimpin Anak Bangsa, or the National Youth Leader Foundation. Sounds like a big-time NGO, but it's basically a school where both children and adult students come for several hours every Saturday to either get primary or GED education, or help with preparing for the national university exams. 

Lainie's first visit- This is a group of older students who are working
hard on their high school/middle school studies.
*Note the Indonesian bunny ears thing.

Kiki, the founder of the school, wanted to give non-traditional students a place to learn at an accelerated pace, in English (somewhat), and eventually have the students pass the national exams. The location itself is hosted by a retiree from the national power company and is located on the grounds of his house in Central Jakarta. It is not in the glitzy high-rise part of Jakarta, although you can see them past the huge electricity towers located there. It is in an area one step above a slum, with lots of poverty, single-parent families, and people who had to stop their education because they had to work to eat. Besides the land owner and the founder, the school is staffed on a rotating basis by lawyers and other professionals who want to give back to the community. Classes include English, mathematics, and national test preparation for the older students, and basic skills for the younger ones. Lainie went last week to see the school and couldn't stop talking about it. You could say this kind of thing that is right up her alley. She talked me into going back out yesterday with our local friend.

We started our visit by attending the younger kids' class. It was a mob of kids, more students than usual because word spread around the neighborhood that Bule' (white foreigners) were at the school. We led the kids in some English exercises, sang some songs together, and talked about our family, life in America, and watched them fidget and roughhouse. At the end of class, we handed out potato chips from the States, which was a huge hit.

After that we were milling around in the street waiting for the adult classes to start, and I asked one of the kids if he wanted to get launched like a rocket. After some fear and trepidation, he was ready. So "tiga, dua, satu (3,2,1)..." and I hiked him up into the air and put him back down, with rocket noises. Instantly the entire class also wanted to be launched, over the roof, across the river, or to America. After about 15 of these the launch pad had to be closed because the rocket (yours truly) was out of fuel! Then came re-enactments of Bruce Lee movies, tackle the "monster" and everything else possible when a smiling giant is in town. It was panic in the streets for awhile.

Our Indonesian teachers were thrilled with all this, and they brought us to the small teacher's lounge for a meal. The meal was a box of street food and a cup of mineral water. Unlike other posts in SE Asia and around the world, Indonesian street food is NOT safe for Bule'. However, there was no way in the world we were going to insult our hosts and have them and us lose face by refusing the food. Down it went with a prayer to the stomach gods and a promise to find the vodka bottle for a medicinal dose when we got home. So far, so good!

After dinner we were introduced to the adult class. Here my Indonesian language skills were given a workout. These were non traditional students that have jobs and a very busy life but are motivated to continue to learn to better themselves and their families with education. They have my great respect.

They asked about where we were from, what I liked and didn't like about Jakarta, about my job and things they knew about America. I answered those questions with as much humor, humility and proper Indonesian as I had. I asked them about their studies and families. We had a ball together. And then came the inevitable request that I had been dreading. Would I please sing something?

Now, this is a very Asian thing. To refuse would not exactly be an insult, but it would put distance between us. So, I asked what I should sing. My wife, God love her, suggested an Eagles song. No way. Then one of the volunteer teachers suggested our "lagu kebangsaan." I hadn't heard this term but I knew "lagu" was "song" and "bangsa" was national, and the dime dropped as I realized they wanted me to sing the Star Spangled Banner. In public. By myself. The song with the weird rhythm and crazy range that wrecked a thousand sporting events. But, just like dinner, I could not refuse. With a hard swallow, I began belting it out with gusto, and what did I hear but my wife joining in! You can't imagine how good it was having just one more person to sing with in those circumstances.

After that came what I have learned is a Jakarta tradition after any event. Photographs! Always two or three with everyone being serious, and one with everyone acting crazy, putting rabbit ears behind each other's heads, etc. A long walk down a dark alley to the main road later, and it was a taxi ride home. A long, exhausting, exhilarating experience.
----
As a Consular officer, we meet with people outside the government everyday at the visa window. But the people rich enough to travel to the U.S. are still in the upper 5% of Indonesian society. Our great fortune in meeting our local friend and her connecting us with this school has given us a chance to meet at length with ordinary Indonesians. For some hours yesterday, we were America for the kids and adults we met and talked with. These people would have little chance of meeting us in other circumstances. Now, it was hot and humid and we were surrounded by mosquitos, burning trash, and all the other marks of poor areas in the tropics. We got out of there late, bitten, sticky and tired and then enjoyed a 1.5 hour taxi ride to travel 10 miles in the usual Jakarta traffic. (More singing together as requested by the taxi driver, this time the Rolling Stones). I still have two more days to wait to see if my dinner is going to send me to Singapore.

But, man, THIS was why we joined the State Department. One of our country goals is "Increase people to people contacts," and that was yesterday to a T. Either things like yesterday drive you insane, or you can't get enough of them. Representing America to people we wouldn't normally have access to, eating with them and belting out the national anthem to a room full of strangers? Oh, let me tell you, that's the stuff, my friends. I wouldn't have traded yesterday for the world.

How Did the Chicken Cross the Road?

The picture to the left is a typical Jakarta surface street on a Saturday morning when traffic is light. What the picture cannot tell you is that the speed limit here is basically, "How fast can you go?"

Most days, that means 0-5 miles per hour. On the rare  light traffic days, it can reach 30 mph. The worst is when the traffic is heavy but moving, because everyone is desparate to get as far as possible before the inevitable traffic jam. But you know what you don't see in that picture or most anywhere else in Jakarta? Sidewalks!

Sidewalks, traffic lights and streetcrossings do exist in some places, but since those are merely lights on a pole or lines of paint on the street, they don't do much to slow down traffic. And yet, many times in Jakarta you simply must cross the street. What to do?

Your first few days or weeks, you wait until a local is crossing the road, and you use the slip stream to get across. Usually this is a little old lady in a hijab, and you feel like a total Wuss-keteer keeping a little old lady between you and onrushing traffic. And then sometimes you need to cross and there are no toddlers and old ladies to hide behind. So, one day you decide to use It. The one device that locals swear by when it comes to crossing a road full of moving traffic without the benefit of a crossing, stoplight, or anything else than your guts and your need to get across the road. 

Here it is:

This is the human hand, also known here as the "tangan dukun" or black magic hand when used to cross the street here. Here is how you use it. First, swallow hard and get very philosophical about whether you are going to live longer than the next 2 minutes. Then, put the magic hand out at shoulder height or lower in the direction of oncoming traffic. Step off the curb and walk at a consistent speed across the road, no matter how fast the cars are coming or how soft and squishy you feel compared to the buses and trucks heading towards you. That's it. I've seen it work a thousand times in my tour so far, and never seen anyone run over. But there are some "dont's" you have to avoid:

1. DON'T look at the drivers, only your destination. If the drivers see you look at them, they know you can see them and should avoid them. This can be hard to do if you are only 1/3 of the way across and have already been buzzed by 20 motorcycles. Stay tough, stare straight ahead.

2. DON'T vary your speed once you start across. The drivers rocketing towards you are assuming a constant rate of speed on your part as they calculate how close they can come to clipping you. If you get scared and stop, or think you are close enough to run the last little gap, you will be crushed.

3. DON'T react to cars and/or motorcycles hitting the horn as they draw even with you. Especially if you are an expat, because getting a "bule" (boo-lay) to jump two feet straight up into the air is great sport. Show some toughness and pride.

The only alternative is to hail a cab so they can go to the nearest roundabout and, depending on traffic, get you to the other side of the street in 10-20 minutes. You can do this. 240 million Indonesians can't be wrong, right?

-S

Celebrating Three Years Of Having Three Kids

Today, the day after a very special anniversary for our family, I was invited to join some friends who were heading out to volunteer at a local orphanage. Being an adoptive parent, I am particularly vulnerable in such a setting. I love kids and have worked with kids from various backgrounds in the past. My heart is definitely on high alert in such a place but I have no current plans to add to our family. It also helped my resolve knowing that there is no legal avenue for us to adopt a child from Indonesia. There are lots and lots of criteria we could never meet; we have three kids, we have previously adopted kids (that rule sort of fails the logic test for me), we are over 40, and the list goes on. All that to say, I walked into the place knowing I could play and enjoy them without feeling the need to add another place setting at our table. 

Well, I believed my head and my heart were firmly attached in the right places, but it didn't take long before I was beginning to wonder if the rules I had been told about adopting here were actually 

correct. I even began to speculate that there may be a loop hole or two for a child who has special needs. I am thrilled to report that many Indonesians do adopt. This orphanage was not over run with waiting kids. The orphanage was nice, clean and well staffed with very kind nannies.

While we were there we met a lady who is the aunt of young family who is adopting one of the babies. She had stopped by to play with her and check on her. She said they have one more hurdle and then she's home for good. We all cheered and the baby clapped. So sweet.

Indonesian kids are beyond adorable!  

 Then, there was this one little boy who grabbed my heart. I watched him play and interact. He reached over to feed me a bite of his Lego block. I pretended to take a bite and acted like it was delicious. He shot me a shy smile, looked away and then back again to see if I was still there. What a cutie!  I could almost feel the ivy like veins of love gripping around my heart. I decided not to hold him or focus on him. But, as I watched the little boy play it got to me. My eyes and nose burned with phantom tears. I believe that my broken heart went undetected. It would have been silly for me to go to that emotional place when I KNEW going in that I could not adopt these any of these kids. The sweet little boy has a few developmental delays and challenges certainly lay ahead of him. One specific physical defect was obvious. I assumed that defect was the reason he had not been adopted after all this time. He is clearly over a year old. It's difficult for me not to judge people for this. He is beautiful, engaging and intelligent. I could love him and provide him what he needs. His needs seem so minor. If he had the love and attention of an experienced family and some minor medical attention he could overcome in no time. I will certainly be praying someone will see past these minuscule issues and bring him home to be their miracle boy.  Then I remembered our fear as we filled out the numerous papers for our adoption. We had requested a healthy child. My heart stung in the revelation of my own hypocrisy. Pretty sure my eyes leaked a little.

I thought about our youngest son and what he might have looked like as a baby. What did he play with? What did he like to eat?  As an adoptive parent I am incredibly lucky because I have a few of his baby and toddler pictures. I will cherish them always. And yet, I lament. If only I could have held him, protected him and cradled him as he slept in my arms. I literally ache for the time we lost with him but that pain is completely over come by the three wonderful years we have had with him. What a treasure he is!

A picture from Our "Gotcha Day" Sept. 11, 2010. We had an awesome group
of family and some of our closest friends at the airport to welcome him home. 

It was just three years ago as of yesterday when we landed in Houston's airport with our youngest son. It's an anniversary that reminds us that our hope and desire to adopt an amazing kid was more than fulfilled. Our life has been blessed beyond our wildest dreams. He is an incredible person. He is funny. He is mature. He is wise beyond his years. He has got me heart and soul. I honestly can't remember life without him here. All three of my kids my treasures. I am a very lucky mom!

They all look SO YOUNG AND LITTLE in this picture!

The Learning Curve

I feel like the last two months I have been living way outside of my previous experiences and yet I feel oddly at ease living in Jakarta. But when I come up against a learning experience that requires me to give myself a little grace I toss the situation into a file I call Lainie's learning curve. We are new to Jakarta, new to serving abroad with the Foreign Service, therefore grace is required as we figure these things out, this is what I tell myself probably 10 times a day.

 Many kind people have inquired, "How is the transition going for you?"  I do a quick mood diagnostic and most of the time I can say "I think I am hanging in there pretty good." I've had a few frustrating situations that had me in tears but I think we are all doing really well for the most part. 

  One of our family members has yet to arrive and oh how we are missing our beloved old Molly dog. We are still working on her import requirements. It's not easy being a FS dog. 
                               

So, here's the Learning Curve list as it stands so far. It is in no particular order.

Clean water vs non-potable water, learning what I can and can't use tap water for. I thought I would present myself as a real world traveler and use local tap water to brush my teeth. I have since learned that is not a good idea. Maybe one day I will have steel plated expat guts but not at this point.

EFM (family member of an officer) Embassy Jobs,  Picture this: 25 over qualified people all want a shot at the four mostly clerical or managerial jobs currently listed (reason for this is that our diplomatic status prevents us from working within the local economy).  Here is a hint: If you are applying don't say a word to anyone. If you do let it slip that you interviewed for a job do your level best to make sure you let it go and are not bothered by the fact someone you know and like well got the job and you didn't. It's just part of life at post, apparently.
Secondly, the interview panel may ask you, "What are your career goals as an EFM?" and it may not be to your advantage to express that you feel that the question is a just a bit condescending. When asked I found myself struggling with the expected (interviewer wants to hear) answer and what I felt was a more honest answer. So, I went with my gut and suggested that a better question would be, "What are my hopes for my career as an EFM?" instead of "goals." And, while it seemed to generate a few nods and smiles at that very moment I don't actually know if they got it. With that brave (and ironically prophetic) moment behind me, I do not regret being true to myself and explaining that I feel my wisest plan for being successful at EFMhood is not to have clearly defined personal career goals (which does suck pretty darn bad). Bottom line, we EFM's are basically powerless in the career dept. There are possibilities but they are not the same at every post and it is rare to find a job in our particular career field or skill set waiting for us at post. EFM's need to have a built in flexibility that allows us to reinvent ourselves at each new location. How do you do that and answer the question, "What are your goals as an EFM?"  I would love for some wiser more experienced EFM's out there to chime in here.

Post Housing. When you do go into your post housing the first time go alone, or at least do not enter it with anyone who has not promised to love and cherish you until death do you part no matter what you say or how immaturely you react to ugly bathroom tiles. I do love our location and I've decided
the house is actually nice. Our house is growing on me all the time, however, my ridiculously minuscule closet space rash may act up again when our HHE (7k lb. of our personal items) arrives. On an amazingly happy note: we were given permission to paint the walls!

And paint we did! 

Driving Bu Lainie. I knew we would have to buy a car and hire a driver when we arrived at post, all of it out of our pockets of course (mentioned just in case some readers thought otherwise). Though I had anticipated a feeling of "lack of independence" before we arrived I had no idea how truly odd having a driver drive me around all day would actually be. Initially, every time I climbed in the 2nd row I felt sort of ridiculous, it's a very used '04 Toyota Kijang, not a limo, it's not a taxi, it's my own vehicle. Then, there are the logistics, was my driver sitting out in the hot car as I grocery shopped? As I had lunch with friends? I hoped not- so therefore- I hurried and worried as if my dad, my husband or my son was outside impatiently waiting for me. I have since learned that the drivers usually have nice sitting areas where they play cards, get a drink of cool water and just hang out- so that burden has lifted somewhat. When we are home, between errands, my driver literally sits at a table under my car port and waits for me to need to go someplace or to send him for something. I really wrestled with all of this at first. I wondered, "Was it my job to keep him busy the whole time he was on the clock?" It felt odd, him waiting outside to be asked to drive me someplace while I was inside reading a book on my couch with no intentions of going anywhere. Dare I say I might have even resented it just a bit because I felt guilty that he was constantly waiting for me. Learning not to feel bad when our driver is driving me/not driving me has been/is one of the major items on my learning curve.

The day I took this photo my car was full of people, which is rare. Usually me and the Pak, our driver. 

Managing Home Staff. Oh, I gotta tell ya... I didn't realize how amazing it is to have a clean house, like a really clean house, and beautifully ironed shirts ready for Sean each day. I am realizing how unwired I am to do those things now that I have seen domestic masters at work. Wow! However, this situation is pretty much the peak of my learning curve here. I am still struggling to learn how this home staff thing works. As a modern American in 2013 I have always believed that it is my duty to undo classism. I still do. But, I have hit a cultural wall. I believe the American ideals of personal empowerment and advancement are the best but- they live here. I am just a visitor. If I raise expectations while I'm here what happens when I leave? It's tough. This type of employee/employer relationship is difficult for me on a lot of levels. These dedicated, kind people are in my house all day. The job we pay them well to do is to take care of us. They work hard and seem to care about us. How can I not care about them? I genuinely want to know about them and about their ideas, thoughts and concerns. I am grateful they are here with me. That's just me, I am this way with everyone. I constantly have to hold myself back from asking them personal questions. Then there is the privacy issue- with our maid in particular, I felt like I had lost all rights to privacy and control over the stuff I had managed alone for years. Though I love not doing dishes as much, it has not been easy for me to give up my territory, ie... the kitchen. I had no idea I felt that way about my kitchen until I had help managing and cooking the meals. Also, for a while, I would not put my own dirty clothes in the hamper. I didn't mind her washing everyone else's underwear but I wanted to maintain my own laundry after she went home each evening. Which brings us to another prickly issue, "How do you say it?" Is it better to be direct from moment one or ease into it all? The answer, be DIRECT and write out a detailed list! I'll spare readers all of the things I've learned on this one topic but suffice to say managing skilled, experienced domestic employees who are in/around my house all day has taken up most of the real-estate on my learning curve.

Things on my "Loving Life" curve are the amazing fun people I've met so far, some are ex-pats and some are local. So far, I really like Jakarta. I think we totally lucked out having this as our first post. 

-L

It's Christmas in August!

For those of you readers who have been overseas for the State Department before, this blog post will seem like very old news. But, hallelujah, our UAB arrived! This was 800 lbs of stuff that we sent airfreight from Virginia very shortly before we left for Jakarta. It took a few weeks, and things were delayed by the Lebaran/Idul Fitri holiday, but it came! It came!

This is our first overseas post, so this is all new to us. After weeks and weeks of using the standard issue coffee pot, dealing without the use of a great deal of our valued electronics, and only living with the clothes we could bring with us on the plane, you start to think that it will always be this way.

Not to be ungrateful at all. There is a welcome kit waiting in your house when you arrive, and it has plates and cups, kitchen utensils, even a nice but small TV. Everything you need to live a normal life. The fact that State makes these things available to you until all your things arrive is wonderful. But all that stuff isn't yours. It's not the things you chose for yourself or got used to over the years. Things like the Keurig coffee maker that changed your life when you got it last Christmas. Or the iMac that replaced the laptop that has been doing yeoman duty since we got to Jakarta. Or the slob clothes you haven't been able to wear since you packed your bags.

Just seeing all these things again creates a feeling of familiarity and comfort that is hard to describe. Last night we slept with our own blanket and pillow again. If you've ever been away from home a long time and then come back to sleep in your own bed, you know how good that is even if you truly enjoyed the trip.

Well, it's all here now. And this is just a downpayment on when the next huge load called HHE arrives later. When that one comes it will include all of our cra-I mean valued possessions that we haven't seen since joining the Foreign Service. Churches and NGO's throughout Indonesia will be flush with donations when that arrives, let me tell you. But for now, it's Christmas in August around here.

-S 

At Post- Hello Jakarta!

We've arrived at post! I would say things are going quite well so far. Jakarta is a very busy modern city. Getting around is tricky but there is a lot to see and do. The people are awesome, the food is good (and I was worried) and the temperature is cooler then I had assumed it would be primarily because it has been raining more than we expected.  

We have been here for two weeks now but just moved into our housing today. We are very excited to finally be in our new place. Going the first couple of weeks without wifi was almost as difficult as being on a no carb diet!

In our first week we had lots of excitement but almost immediately I made a "welcome to reality" language blunder. The first morning that we woke up in Jakarta I needed to explain to our gate guard that my friend was coming to bring me some Rupiah (Indonesian currency). I needed to let him know so that he would allow her to enter when she arrived. So, in a moment of courage and good hearted ignorance, I tried to explain the plans but I could tell something had gone suddenly awry. As I spoke the young man seemed suddenly disturbed, his body language changed from a listening stance to a defensive/concerned look. I knew I had made an error and tried again - reusing the same words. After no marked improvement in his response it was clear to me that I had made a mistake.  I started over again, this time adding a few more words here and there. Apparently he understood because a few minutes later my sponsor popped in, no problem with the guard was mentioned, thank goodness.  Later that evening, I told Sean the story and he asked me to repeat what I had said to the guard. I did. Sean roared in laughter and said, "Oh honey, do you realize what you actually said? You basically asked the young man to be your friend and give you money!" He laughed harder still and said, "Then.... You asked him to please come inside!"
 Oooohhhh the shame. Complete and total fail. I never wanted to leave the house again. So, please  learn from my mistake and get your second and third person pronouns correct! It makes a big difference.

Other than that and a few fights with intestinal parasites, we're doing great!

More Jakarta pics and  details soon...

 

It's Almost That Time...

With apologies to General Eisenhower's message to the troops on D-Day, things are starting to feel like that around here: Diplomats of the United States- the great undertaking for which you have been training these many months is at hand!

Our stuff at the apartment is now in the magic three piles of UAB (air freight, quickest delivery), HHE Ship (slower, literally by ship) and HHE Store (at that place in Maryland where it looks like they are storing the Lost Ark).

For the last few months I have been going through Consular training, Political/Economic Officer training, and a brief stint in Consular Affairs at Main State as a sort of OJT. The quality and rigor of the training is excellent, not just because of the great substance to the classes, but because they do their best to teach you how to think like a diplomat. We Foreign Service Officers have knowledge that is a mile wide and an inch deep. You never know if today is the day you must address an unruly group in your host country, respond to an urgent request from Washington, escort a visiting dignitary or respond in an emergency situation on behalf of American citizens. In other words, they can't prepare you for everything you are going to face. If I heard it once I heard it a thousand times, we must be flexible in order to adapt to sudden changes.

I have also had the pleasure (and I really DO mean pleasure) of maintenance classes in Indonesian. My skills were the sharpest the day of my language test. Since then it has been masses of detail in two different areas of professional training. Let's just say that the old hard drive isn't as big as it used to be, so sectors of the brain devoted to when to use passive-voice type 1 or passive-voice type 2 have been overwritten with the 15 things required for a student visa and what the significance of investment as a share of real GDP is.

My language instructors, always friendly, have become friends now that the stress of an impending test is gone. They have told me that they could tell I was a student who really wanted to know the cultural background and not just the grammar rules, and that I was really motivated not just to regurgitate vocab but to understand. If you are starting language at FSI, you need to know that your instructors can tell who is checking a box and who is enthusiastic about learning their language and culture. For your future career success and quality of life at post, you want to be one of the latter.

And so, as my friends who came into the Foreign Service with previous languages send around emails about where they are going on their SECOND tours, a few haggard veterans of the 168th A-100 class are finally about to get to post. I can't believe how fast all this training has gone, and I can't believe how long it has taken at the same time.

-S

Rules For Packing Out (Without Freaking Out)

Reliving last summer's pack out nightmare is NOT my idea of a good time but it was such an extraordinary lesson in getting our crap together that I feel like one way to redeem our misery is to write about it so that someone can learn from our mistakes.

We have been here almost a year now (stateside still) and I am still fighting off the bitter root of last summer's wheeling/dealing hustler movers and their demanding, nightmarish take over of my home and my emotions. We still are dealing with the effects of having no control over our moving process. We probably will be for a while mostly because our stuff is in boxes with weird labels. The manifest has almost nothing helpful written on it. I have at least 3 shoes in my closet that are missing their mates. Which box are their mates in? Who the heck knows! They were in pairs in my UAB pile before I was whisked off to work in the garage with Guy #2. It is a mystery.

I need to establish what will be made clear to everyone who reads this (and who does not already know me)... I am totally aware that I am a sucker. Oh.. the stories I could tell! Being a people pleaser is a DISEASE! Lol! Call me a late bloomer. I suppose this post is written for other late bloomers or people who lack experience with this sort of move.

#1 Rule of Pack Out: You are in charge. It is your move. It is your stuff. Get it together before they arrive. Organize, sort, group...whatever you want to call it. Have it in a specific spot and say, "This is all HHE" or "This is all UAB" (alphabet soup FS terms, sorry).

** Please, don't go picking through a box as they are trying to pack it up- for goodness sakes.

#2 Rule of Pack Out: It would be wise of you to write down the list of items as they go into each box. They have to let you do that before they tape it up and send it to the truck. It is their job to pack items carefully and get it to the storage place. They are not going to write down everything that goes in each box.

Your manifest thing will read something like this...

Notice it doesn't say which or who's foot board, not even a bed size is mentioned. You are
supposed to check a box on a long list (pages and pages) and guess which footboard you would like when
 you move to post. (In case you are wondering, the word under that says "side rail" not "silk nail") 

So, when they pack a box they write the number of the box down on a big sheet of paper and next to it they write something like "glass". But, the truth is, the box is actually filled with:

•   a trio of old coffee mugs
•   a toaster oven
•   a ceramic Easter Bunny decoration thing
•   a cheese grater
•   a pair of orange flip flops that I took off in the kitchen while the movers were there
•   an old bag of my favorite Christmas Tree Nougats candy
•   a box of toothpicks,
•   an almost empty bottle of Advil,
•   an old medicine bottle of my oldest child's first baby tooth from 14 yrs ago (I know- don't judge)
•   a nearly full 2 liter of Diet Coke from the party we had the night before the movers came
•   10 red plastic party cups with kids names written on them
•   and... a box of dog biscuits for the neighbor's labrador (throw him a handfull of biscuits and you have approx 2 seconds to jump the fence and grab your frisbee- see)

 I suppose "glass" is better than " kitchen junk" but I am guessing that each box will contain a few items that will either embarrass me or make me gasp due to the fact I used part of my 7200 lbs to ship them to Jakarta. I'm totally expecting to find that bottle of flat Diet Coke in one of the boxes labeled "Glass".

#3 Rule of Pack Out:  If the movers get pushy, pick up the phone and call State. Seriously! You gotta blow the bully whistle on movers who are taking a power trip at your expense, not listening or pushing you around.

Everyone who hears my "wheeling/dealing movers" story shrieks and asks why in the world I put up with that. Answer- I did not know I could call the travel people at State and tell them what was going on. It never crossed my mind, honestly. I had never had packers come and wrap up my stuff before- ever.

LISTEN TO ME... movers DO NOT BOSS YOU AROUND. They DO NOT make you cry or YELL at you.  DO NOT, DO NOT PUT UP WITH THIS BEHAVIOR FROM ANY MOVER:

Movers do not manipulate you into going to get them lunch or dinner - on your dime. You can offer to buy them lunch- it is up to you. It is nice to have waters in a cooler with ice for them, maybe sodas or sports drinks. We went all out for our wheeler/dealer packers lunches, you know, to be courteous. But after that they were happy to tell me what they wanted to eat, and when they wanted it. Yeah... between helping Guy #2 I was running snack patrol. Puke!
I did go get what they wanted because they only drove their moving truck and the taco place, or whatever, was literally around the corner. But, in retrospect, they did have a phone, they could have ordered pizza for themselves.

THEY SHOULD NOT RUSH YOU. Our wheeler/dealer movers were completely done packing a four bedroom/family of five's house in less than 36 hours. That is just about unheard of. There were just two men and they were moving so fast that we could not keep up with anything that was happening. Plus... Our movers came a day or two earlier than they were scheduled and would not take no for an answer when we explained that we were not ready. THIS WAS WRONG.

THEY ARE WORKING FOR YOU! THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO FLUSTER OR INTIMIDATE YOU.  The morning they arrived they showed up 3 hours early. Then, Guy #2 told me my job was to stay in the garage with him, that it was best to stay out of the boss's way because he had a bad temper. Yep. He was right.  Guy #1 would say, "What are doing in my kitchen?" when I would walk through MY KITCHEN for a drink of water or to wash my hands. He was the main master mind between these two hustler/wheeler/dealers. I'm not kidding, these guys were pros at running the show.

#4 Rules for Pack Out: Demand to be heard

 While working like an idiot in the garage with Guy #2 I noticed that he was mislabeling boxes. He labeled my son's stuff from his room as "Garage Corner" and I said "No, this is Jackson's room books" he yelled at me "Look lady, these boxes are in the garage corner, I can NOT label it Jackson's Books."

All of my son's treasured books were in the garage because we had loads of potential home buyers walking through our house all summer and most of his personal items (90% being books) were being stored there. Wheeler/dealer hustler Guy #2 finally understood when he started working in my son's room later that night and said, "Where is all your kid's stuff?" and I said, "In a box labeled Garage Corner". His face dropped. He finally realized what I had been trying to tell him. I realized at that moment that he had taken big advantage of my lack of FS pack out experience. Now, somewhere in a warehouse my oldest son's stuff is labeled "garage corner" which is not something that I would normally want sent to wherever we get posted. I was sooooooo angry. I am still angry because I have to request as many boxes as I can now because so many things have been mislabeled.

Try to find ways to reduce the insane amount of wrapping they do. It adds a lot of weight. 

To FS families: This is what your crates of stuff look like. Inside those
wooden boxes are more and more boxes and stuff wrapped in brown paper.
We had to pay $280 to go there to retrieve ONE FREAKING piece of paper. 

So, this time around I have had the benefit of my experienced FS friends here to ask them HOW not to make the same mistakes I made last summer.

1. Sort stuff into similar groups- like all shoes into one box so that when they write "Shoes" on the manifest it will actually be shoes and not actually one pair of shoes and a winter coat and preschool art projects from 1997.

2. Throw/give stuff away. Our new rule of thumb is "if you have not touched it or used it in a year it is gone" and "if you have not touched it or used it in 6 months- you must have a compelling reason to keep it." The Foreign Service life is not the lifestyle for hoarders.

***If you are wondering how long it will be between A-100 and your ship out date, I would say expect a year. Possibly less but most people I have met are staying at Oakwood for six months to a year. It is more or less a year for most Generalists who are learning a language. * Even if you have a second language expect to test with an extremely scrutinizing team of instructors... in other words you will be going to language school. Just accept that fact now. Diplomatic language skills must meet very high standards. People who majored/minored in Spanish (one lady I know was even a native Spanish speaker) were still sent to the full 24 weeks of language training. However, it does seem like Specialists are here for a shorter amount of time because many Specialist jobs do not require a full language course.

3. Group stuff together and put them in plastic bags or little containers before the movers show up. Reason being- this keeps the packing weight down. A friend told me today that if you take all your forks/spoons/knives and place them in a plastic container they will just pack the plastic container. Otherwise, if you leave them in the kitchen drawer the mover will wrap each piece with paper which adds a lot of unneeded weight to your load.  I love her advice (thank you, Christy!).

Right now, I've just got it all piled up in "sort of" similar groups.
This is the cleaning stuff HHE pile. 

Here is a link to my favorite gold mine of practical info, advice and real time experiences all piled into the awesome Hardship Homemaking blog .

Ode to Oklahoma (With a Lesson in Cloud Watching)

Growing up in small town Oklahoma gave me a wonderful start in life. I love my home state because the people are friendly, gritty and they follow the Golden Rule- most of the time.

But along with the many wonderful things that go along with living in Oklahoma- tornados are the crappy part of the package. Fearing tornados was part of my life while growing up in Oklahoma. The weather could be just fine one minute and then all hell would be breaking loose a second later- that's just the way it is in the plains states. I knew that all too well. When I was five years old a tornado made a surprise visit to our neighborhood. It left an indelible impression that tornados were wild and very destructive. We were home when the tornado hit and even though my mom stayed calm I knew it was a very serious, very scary situation. I remember the event quite well and it happened in 1975. These things don't just fade away like an average day.

I think my grandma was a good example of how to react to a bad storm. In 1999 there was a really big storm that took out Moore (yep, same Moore) and kept whooping everything in its path. It had started in central Oklahoma and was now on it's way towards my hometown.

I called my grandmother's house and said, "Grandma! A big tornado is coming! You gotta go get in a closet or the bathtub or something!"

She calmly replied with her killer southern accent,  "Well... you think so?   Oh-I think Bill and I are just going to set right here and watch the news until we think we ought to move."

I wailed, "But, Grandma, this one is bad. It's been taking out everything it touches. It's coming right for you guys!" I could hear the tornado siren in her background. I was really scared for her.

 Again, she scolded me, "Oh now... no tornada can keep-a-going for that long."

This had been one of those freakishly big and very deadly tornados that didn't seem to be following the rules at all. So naturally (for me) I got all bossy and all but demanded that she and Grampa Bill go get in the hall closet, a bathtub, something.

She laughed at me this time and said, "Well.. if I go and do that I won't be able to hear the man on the TV. If it passes and I've gone and gotten myself all stuffed up in that closet, how am I gonna' get back out? "

I couldn't argue with that. I hadn't taken into consideration the fact that these two 90 year olds would be stuck in a closet. If they did get in the closet it had better be a sure thing, otherwise I would feel terrible if they went and got themselves all "stuffed up" in there and couldn't hear the news well enough to know when the danger had passed.

Grandma was right, that massive tornado fizzled out before it got much farther. They would have been "all stuffed up" in a closet for nothing if they had listened to me. My point is, Grandma and Grandpa Bill weren't new to this. They had lived in Oklahoma all their lives. They probably have seen enough tornados throughout their lives to know when to get serious. I think they also knew that if it was going to be really bad that a closet wouldn't really do them much good. Frankly, if I were to live in Oklahoma ever again I would hope that I would have a house with a storm cellar (called "fraidy holes" in Okla).

 I think we had Doppler radar back in those days but I'm not sure. We also had the emergency weather broadcast "bleeeeps". Then, finally, in the mid/late 80's our little town got Tornado Sirens installed. That was one thing that actually did give me some peace of mind.

 After you've been through or experienced the after math of a tornado I think it just takes a while to realize that tornados aren't dropping out of the sky with no warning. They are fairly predictable, especially with the technology we have now.  We know the factors that create these storms and there are tools being used all day/every day to pick up on atmospheric changes. Getting educated on the details reduces the fear a lot.

I decided to learn more about super cells right after that May, 1999 storm happened. We lived in Oklahoma at the time and I was the mom of two kids. Our oldest was four or five and was aware of tornadoes because we had to jump into a neighbors storm cellar one night. It was pretty creepy and she wanted out of there. We had to keep telling her that we had to wait until the storm stopped. I totally lied and told her not to worry that are we are safe "in here". I decided if I was going to live there then I had to beat back the fears as much as I could, especially since I was driving along some of the more notorious Tornado Alley roadways when I went to visit family. From that moment in the neighbor's storm cellar I decided I had to start learning asap. I enrolled in a night class at a local college, I took Physical Science and learned quite a bit about the weather. Nowadays, I'm a bit of a weather junkie. I take notice when there is a serious cloud forming. I can sometimes even see where updraft is occurring. Not all updrafts are visible though. Not all clouds or big storms are waiting to demolish your house, either. Getting educated helped a lot.

Here is my way of coping with inclement weather:

I look for visible updraft when I see a cloud growing taller. Thought, updraft
 is not necessarily scary or anything to be overly concerned about. Frankly, I think updraft
is pretty cool to witness. An updraft is basically fuel for a storm that could be brewing. 

That downward shoot is a wall cloud. Wall clouds usually drop down from the
 base of an anvil top cloud. I would be concerned about this if I saw this tube or
 wall forming, especially if I could see rotation. Most tornados are connected to the
wall cloud. At the very least you're look at a severe thunderstorm here, it looks serious.

Yeah, I don't like this one at all. The light gray fluff there is a descending wall cloud.
Behind the wall cloud could be a funnel cloud, you really can't tell because a wall cloud this low
can act like a curtain. I would be quite concerned if I were near this storm. If this were a video the
fluffy light gray part would be moving and swishing around. This had to be a serious storm.

Ok... this photo explains a lot. This funnel cloud is a classic example of a tornado that forms like a tail behind a wall cloud. You can clearly see the wall cloud in the background. This storm would most likely be heading away from the photographer.

 There is probably rain/hail coming down just in front of the wall cloud.  I would say this is a typical tornado. 

Moore Oklahoma, May 2013, F5 tornado. This funnel cloud is HUGE and was

reported to be as big as a 1.5 miles wide at some points. Winds were between

 200 to 300 mph. This is not a typical storm. Thank goodness F5's are rare.

Oklahoma, my heart is with you. I think about all the kids and adults who have lost so much. Some are still searching for the bodies of loved ones presumed to be dead. Their homes, their lives, their peace of mind have been shattered. Losing a family member or a friend, plus your home/livelihood all at once would be beyond devastating.

The kids and families who have had their lives demolished by these recent tornados are surely struggling to maintain their sanity right now. They have to be in survival mode. Yet, the hearty people of Oklahoma rally on, making progress, making jokes and are making life happen in spite of the obvious need for help.

"Gone with the wind" - Well, that's one way to look at it I suppose! :)

Please pray for the people of Oklahoma, for God's mercy and peace for them all.

-L