My daughter, along with my two youngest brothers, have a podcast called Hear Us Out (available where one usually gets their podcasts). As the boys are closer in age to my daughters than I am to my youngest brothers, they would spend our home leaves and R&Rs from our overseas postings bonding through movies, games, and conversations. I loved listening to them talk and reveled in the giggles and jokes heard through cracked doors well into the night. This podcast allows me to relive those days and I appreciate they have found a way to keep the spirit of those times alive through the podcast. The premise is that they each have a like and a dislike to share and discuss. Sometimes the topics are deep, but mostly they are light and humorous. What I have learned about my baby brother is that his dislikes are rather odd and make me want to find ways to irritate him with them, in keeping with the spirit of being the big sister and perpetual button pusher. If I could find a way to combine gazebos and wicker furniture in a prank, I so would!
Baby brother’s latest dislike is not so odd. He’s not terribly happy with this year’s Super Bowl teams. I totally get it. Years of Patriots dominated Super Bowls were nothing but a yawn for me, and I turned to YouTube to see the commercials I missed rather than having to watch two teams I had no interest in for several hours. But he went further in his diatribe, going after Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes for trivial reasons and bemoaning the Kelce/Swift distraction (which sits firmly at the feet of the Media, not those two high profile lovebirds!). I would argue that Mahomes is not any more arrogant than any other quarterback I have ever seen interviewed and would go so far as to say he’s a lot more humble than most I’ve seen since I started watching football. BB is a Packers fan, and while they accomplished a lot this year, they are a rather young team now. Jordan Love exceeded our expectations, much to our delight, but in after game interviews I would hardly call him humble. They were the words of an inexperienced football player, that showed more bravado than intelligence, that showed his youth and indicated room for growth. I expect the team will continue to gel and rise through the ranks year after year as the Packers tend to do. I look forward to watching him transform. Aaron Rodgers was as arrogant a quarterback as I’ve ever seen, and now with his exit to New York, I can finally be a Packers fan again (second to the Chiefs of course!). In any case, I find Mahomes a down to earth, likeable guy. Something I haven’t been able to say about many quarterbacks (but maybe I’m just finally paying closer attention. There are some I really like – Brock Purdy, and some that, like Love, are just really young and time will tell who they grow to be).
I can see where Travis Kelce is a figure that would attract either a love or hate reaction. People with his energy usually do. Tight ends, more often than not, embody this energy, being the big explosive, celebratory jolt to a quarterback’s more reserved, respectable post win interview with the media. I enjoy these contradictions as they happen immensely. TE’s are the comic relief that allow us to really get pulled into the excitement of a win we watch on television. And while Kelce’s post win antics drew me in, he has really shown, along with his brother Jason, a side that is discerning, analytical, and deeper than we usually get to see during football games. His back story is compelling, being a young, stupid player in college whose behavior got him kicked off the team and lost him his scholarship. Jason intervened on his behalf, and the coach told him that if he went to class and got his grades up, gave up his party mentality he MIGHT be let back on the team. Kelce worked his ass off to get his grades up and got a job to cover tuition and got back on the team eventually. He devoted himself to the team and played so well, the NFL was an actual possibility for him. Because of that incident in college, he almost wasn’t drafted. Then Andy Reid called. And redemption was once again on offer. To me Kelce represents what happens when you jump at second chances and celebrate the life that those moments can bring you if you cherish them and act accordingly. And honestly my baby brother also seems to embody the same energy that the most entertaining tight ends have – fun, electric, upbeat, somewhat goofy, and maybe just enough of an alpha energy that makes people want to fight you for reasons that are unfathomable!
So what led me to the Chiefs and by extension, the Kelce brothers? It sure wasn’t the team colors! I can barely stand the ketchup/mustard look, and is a big reason I’m not drenched in team apparel. It’s not regional loyalty. I was never sucked into the black hole that is herd mentality, especially when it comes to sports. The Dallas Cowboys were the team of choice for my region growing up in Oklahoma, and besides, I wasn’t much of a sports fan growing up. Come to think of it, my ranching/farming family weren’t really football people. Maybe that was just time better spent in the fields, or doing something more productive around the homestead. “Labor Conquers All” was not just a state motto, it was a way of life. I didn’t pay attention to football at all until mom married a guy from Wisconsin. Packers games became background noise in a home with one TV. When celebratory shouts made my middle brother cry as a baby, I chided my parents for their outbursts. And then, at a time when the Packers were not doing so great, they started to do better under the leadership of Favre. Each year they got better and rose incrementally through the ranks. And even after I left home, even if I didn’t watch games, I took note of how the Packers were doing and always, ALWAYS, hoped they beat the Dallas Cowboys. I continued to be a remote Packers fan long after I married a Cowboys fan and long after the players I couldn’t stand left the Cowboys team. And then Rodgers took over as quarterback and, through a series of off field incidents and comments, I just couldn’t abide him any longer.
I began looking for a bit of an underdog team to cheer on. Maybe I’d become a Seattle Seahawks fan. I loved Seattle from my time at UW after all. But the clencher would be a Washington Post article my husband had me read – about Coach Andy Reid. It recounted Reid’s accomplishments and rise through the coaching ranks. His trials and tribulations with his oldest boys and their battles with addiction. His dedication to both his football team (Philadelphia Eagles at the time) and his boys’ recovery led him to view second chances as something worth a try. He gave Michael Vick a second chance in 2009 after his dog fighting conviction/jail sentence and a path forward where there wasn’t one before (whether you agree with this or not is irrelevant to the point I’m making here- I understand the passion on this issue, but won’t go into this at this time). A few years later, Coach Reid’s oldest boy finally lost his battle with addiction. In 2013, after failing to reach the Super Bowl yet again, Reid was let go from the Eagles and given an opportunity to give a second chance to a failing and troubled Chiefs franchise.
In Kansas City Reid continued his practice of giving talented, but flawed, players a second chance. Some cases were not so successful, but others, like Travis Kelce, paid off. During Kelce’s NFL draft, he was passed over time and again based purely on that one undergraduate mistake. Knowing Jason Kelce, Reid knew that Travis had something and called him to ask if he was ready and committed. Then he asked for Jason to get on the phone to ask his opinion on which Travis he was drafting (this information came from the Kelce brothers, I believe on their New Heights Podcast – I can’t remember exactly, but if you like football, you should watch or listen to it!). Anyone who knew Coach Reid wanted to see him succeed finally and get that Super Bowl win. In the team that he rebuilt at Arrowhead, he finally got there.
I really enjoy watching a quarterback/tight end or running back duo who are really in sync. Mahomes and Kelce fit the bill. For that reason alone I will continue to cheer them on until their luck runs out, and probably longer to be honest. I will cheer on those players who somehow or another beat the odds (Purdy, Baker Mayfield, etc). I will also continue to cheer on those teams seen as underdogs until they meet up with the Chiefs in the playoffs or Super Bowl games (Bills, Lions, a young Packers team whose playoff appearance was unlikely but delivered surprising results. Hell the Cowboys haven’t done so great in awhile, so…nah!).
As for the Swelce controversy? Get over it! I’ve seen players get flack for dating other celebrities that their fan base claims ruined their game. Thankfully Kelce has continued to do well, or this might well have turned out the same bs. Tired of seeing her when the cameras pan to the box? Tell the sports media companies. They are raking in the extra exposure and cash of a new fan base brought to the football table by Miss Taylor Swift. She isn’t doing anything wrong and neither is Kelce. The only thing that pisses me off is that all the Swifties have driven up the price of Chiefs jerseys. Personally I’m cheering the couple on and hoping they beat the odds of most high profile relationships!
No matter who you are for this year, Chiefs, 49er’s, Usher, or the Clydesdales, I hope you enjoy the day. But Go Chiefs!
I was gifted with this getup literally minutes after I wrote this, lol. My wonderful Cowboys fan husband bought me this for my birthday and in time for the game on Sunday!
Wow! It’s been a hot minute since I blogged here at Observations of an Okie! But with all life’s ups and downs, twists and turns, I’ve had to make decisions on where I expend my energy. I plan to post all about my non-photography trials and tribulations at some point, but we all know how I am when I promise to post on a subject soon, lol.
When I left Brussels, my best friend gifted me with a copy of Ernest Hemingway’s memoir, “A Moveable Feast.” I finally read it this past November (6 years later!), and was struck more by the title, and the concepts behind “moveable feast,” than the book itself – though it’s an interesting peek into the mind of a famous writer and the things he deemed important to record for posterity.
The official and initial definition of a movable feast (original, correct spelling) according to Merriam-Webster Dictionary is: “A religious festival that occurs on a different date each year.” Examples are Easter and Passover.
Over the years, however, the term has come to mean something more – something that I inherently understand but struggle to define. Hopefully I will be able to explain what it means to me and how it applies to so much of my life by the end of this blog post.
It turns out that the title of Hemingway’s was chosen posthumously by his editors and widow, Mary Hemingway. It was based on a note he sent a to an unnamed friend and read: “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.” I would say that regardless of the amount of time some of us have spent in Paris, and despite some of its glaring flaws (stinky, crowded, criminal activity, big city French attitudes), some of us are enamored with the city, its history, its art and even those things which turn off those who do not understand that the flaws are as much an integral part of its character as its glimmering attractions. The pros and cons of Paris, as well as a discussion of not-to-miss attractions could fill countless blog posts. But this is a post about the moveable feast!
For the first 15 or so years of my life, family gatherings were a fairly regular affair, on appointed days and regular times. Each Sunday morning we went to my maternal grandparents’ house and each Sunday evening was spent at my paternal grandparents’. Holidays were mostly fixed affairs. Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandma and Grandpa Coble’s house. And Christmas day was spent with my mother’s family. Other holidays were less fixed, but there was some continuity in the way things were done from year to year. As time marched on, with some family members passing, changing the family dynamics, I felt the rigidity of family celebrations start to change.
During my sophomore year of high school I moved with my mother, stepfather and little brother to Connecticut, leaving behind for the first time my extended family in Oklahoma. We found a house right before Christmas and before the moving company could deliver our household shipment. We bought a skillet and some meager supplies and fashioned a makeshift, non-traditional Christmas meal, seated on the floor around a cardboard box for a table. Rather than being upset, I was acutely aware of this special time with one section of my family and it went down as one of the best holidays we experienced, even though things were sparse. That was my first experience with what could be called a moveable feast. Though we were in a strange land, far away from family and familiar traditions, we were together, bonding over our excitement and fear of forging ahead in a new place and it was more than enough for us in that moment.
Fast forward many years later, after the loss of my father, my grandmother’s stroke and eventual death, the birth of my daughters, my marriage, and our subsequent entry in the US Foreign Service and moves overseas, and so much had changed. I was close to my family, so even though I was adventure ready, I took leaving each time pretty hard. Holidays were spent in exotic locations, but always done full on. I was intent on giving my girls as close to the experiences that made my childhood holidays special as I could. And in the process, new traditions were made with the old. But no matter where we were, we were together and that was most important. Holidays for us, whether we were in the US, Zambia, Haiti, Mongolia, New Zealand, or Belgium, were moveable feasts to be enjoyed as fully as possible because we were together learning new things and sharing our traditions with new friends.
Fast forward to the present day and we find ourselves even more scattered. The girls have long since graduated and fled the nest, as have my brothers, with jobs with varying degrees of freedom to take off for the holidays, and new spouses with their own holiday needs to fulfill. My mom and stepdad have created their retirement space in Tennessee, just out of reach of a day trip. With all this and our last years in the Foreign service, getting us all together for the holidays is nigh impossible. But sometimes we are able to delay by a day or a week. Or we make time to gather at some point in the middle of summer when everyone can make it work. In this way, we make our own family holidays wherever we are and whenever we can. This is one of the things that makes my family so special to me. For the most part there are no hard feelings if holiday celebrations are missed while trying to make our lives work. We know that at some point we will get together and the love will flow just as much in May or August as it does in November or December.
For the last several years my mother and second dad have hosted Thanksgiving at their farm in Tennessee. As a rule, we usually chose not to travel from overseas for this holiday, and it was 50/50 whether we celebrated at all. The international schools were usually still in session and it didn’t make sense to go all out for food that the girls were not that into twice in the space of a month (Thanksgiving and Christmas). When the girls were in college we could bring them home for the Christmas break, so Thanksgiving was a great time to see their grandparents and bond with whichever of my brothers were around that time of year. It also allowed them to get to know my sister in law and new nieces, forging new bonds and creating great holiday memories. Even though I couldn’t join them I was so thankful they had this time with my family.
This year my husband surprised me by asking if I wanted to go to my mom’s for Thanksgiving. My youngest brother was coming home from Taiwan after a couple of years of teaching English, and I’d received word that my oldest brother and our childhood friend were going to be there as well. It would be the first time in several years that my three brothers and I would be in the same place. So I decided to keep it a secret from all but my daughters and daughter in law. When we pulled up the drive Thanksgiving morning there were happy tears and a memorable reunion. We were missing my youngest daughter, my niece, and my stepsisters, but it was still an amazing holiday. My husband and I finished up our weekend with a trip back to our homebase in Eureka Springs to see our youngest before her two month long trip to New Zealand to attend her best friend’s wedding. It was the most perfect Thanksgiving holiday weekend I could have asked for and I am grateful for all the work my husband put into it to make it all happen.
The main point though, is that any time with my family (all branches!) is a moveable feast. We make the most of the time we have together and we are grateful for those moments. We share our lives and the goodies we discover in our travels (or those traditional ones we miss while out living our lives). We love completely no matter the time of year and say our goodbyes knowing that we will have more to share the next time we gather for the next moveable feast.
My second revelation with the concept of a moveable feast is that it describes our lives in the US Foreign Service so well. I will reflect on that in more depth later!
In the meantime, enjoy this series of failed selfie attempts by my youngest daughter and I!
Today I woke up with a burning desire to understand the world of eastern European dumplings. I mean, what is the difference between pierogi, pelmeni, pirozhki, vareniki, etc? Everyone is dying to know this right?
So a quick Google search answered all my questions.
For me the quintessential dumpling – the one I crave periodically – is pelmeni. It’s a Russian dumpling that originated in the Urals (and quite possibly was introduced to the region by the invading Mongols). Russian pelmeni are pasta like dumplings filled with raw meat (usually pork) and boiled or fried in butter. A good Russian pelmeni dish is always served with a dollop of smetana, or sour cream.
Pierogi are traditional Polish dumplings. These resemble pelmeni in look and texture, though they are typically vegetarian, stuffed with things like potatoes, cabbage, mushrooms, sauerkraut, cheese, etc. Apparently they can also be filled with sweet ingredients. Pierogi are typically prepared by frying them in butter. The Russian word for pierogi is vareniki, so there is another mystery solved for me!
Pirozhki is another Russian word swirling around in my head from my college days (I was a Russian studies major ages ago) confusing my understanding of doughy delights. Turns out pirog is the Russian word for pie and pirozhki encompasses all the variations of said term. Pirozhki are made with yeast-risen dough and are prepared by baking or frying.
Now if, like me, you associate pretty much all pie with something sweet, you might be sorely disappointed if someone offers you a pie overseas and it is anything but! I learned this lesson living in former British colonies. Excited that there were pie shops all over New Zealand, my enthusiasm was soon squelched by a realization that none of the pies in those shops contained anything remotely like what my family makes for holidays.
So just like the British versions, Russian pirozhki are often filled with meat and other savory ingredients. However they do also have sweet pirozhki as well!
This concludes today’s random thoughts! Happy Easter, or Passover, or Saturday, depending on your practices and beliefs! Stay safe, stay hopeful, and stay kind!
Oh! And I’m happy to report that I have not relapsed on the smoking front in many years now. I’ve never been so happy that I quit smoking! To those thinking about quitting, give it a go. And keep giving it a try over and over again. Eventually it may stick!
No, no – that’s not how it goes – or does it?
This morning I sent a present to one of my husband’s employees for helping me out with an issue and I wanted to include a note. The only note cards I have uncovered are my Belgian cards I didn’t managed to sell before leaving this past summer (and honestly am OK with as I really like them!). But I could not for the life of me find the box they were in this morning.
I opened that box last Friday.
Where the heck could that box be? I knew I took some of the other things out of that box. There aren’t that many rooms in this house, so where was that damned box?
Without lots of time to look, I gave the present to my husband and kissed him goodbye. Immediately I stomped back upstairs convinced I had entered some sort of parallel universe where I didn’t actually open that particular box.
And that’s when I found it – out of the box on the floor at the foot of the guest bed – original box nowhere to be found – because I had already emptied it and broken it down.
It got me thinking ( “a dangerous pastime – I know” – sorry, can’t suppress my inner Disney Princess sometimes).
There is the saying that one “can’t see the forest for the trees.” Well, sometimes you can’t see the portfolio for the boxes.
Because I was looking specifically for a BOX with my portfolio in it, I didn’t allow myself to see that the very thing I was looking for was at my feet.
I think we too often do this to ourselves in life. We are so focused on what is supposed to be or what is supposed to happen that we fail to see the benefit or the good that is right at our feet or our fingertips.
We need to slow down and remind ourselves to start looking for what it actually is that we want instead of how we think it’s going to show up or looking for the package we are just sure it will come all wrapped up in.
I think this was a good lesson for me to start this tour off with. I will strive to keep a more open mind, a more open way of seeing the world and see what comes to me and what good is already right in front of me that I can utilize now.
However, Nassau is still too damn hot! 🙂
The final F you. Just F’ing lovely.
Ok, first things first. This blog has a disclaimer page, but many of you may not have read it previously. Given what I’m about to talk about however, I’m going to repeat it here: This blog is intended to give a personal insight into our life in the U.S. Foreign Service. It is not associated in any way with the U.S. Department of State. The views expressed here are my own and do not necessarily reflect those of U.S. government, any of its agencies/departments, or employees (including B). Just keep this in mind as you read on.
A few months ago a new Secretary of State was sworn in to lead the Department of State and the Foreign Service. Notwithstanding my misgivings related to his exclusively corporate background and my worry that, having earned well over $130 million in the five years prior to being tapped to join the State…
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As my Facebook follower knows (hi honey!) I FINALLY got the basement cleaned out and organized and boxed up the Halloween decorations. I even went through them all and divide up what is going to our next post (with little to no storage space), what is going to the house in Arkansas, and what just needed to be thrown out. After much internal deliberation (and advice from the hubs) I managed to whittle down my “post-kids, possible last post” Halloween supplies to one plastic tub and a smoke machine (still trying to decide on taking the smoke machine or not). The rest was reduced from several large packing boxes, down to 2 larger plastic tubs and one packing box of supplies. One would think that an empty nester has no need for Halloween decorations, but that person just would not understand my genetics and family dynamic.
Today is the day I tackle the Christmas decorations. Same process as above. What do I take? What do I send to the retirement house? What should be eliminated? It’s never simple for me, the person who spent 30 minutes trying to pick a cheap can opener at Walmart (there was not any good option!).
My biggest problem? Trying to convince myself to get rid of the Christmas tree. Bought in 2002, it was the biggest, most grand, most beautiful fiber optic/pre-lit tree we have ever owned. In the tipsy words of an embassy colleague at our first Christmas party in Ulaanbaatar, “That’s a damned fine tree!” This tree has traveled with us to Oman, Mongolia, Zambia, New Zealand and Belgium. It has been a constant for my family in a world where nothing is constant (even more so than in the life of the sedentary – so no lectures on how nothing is permanent, blah, blah, blah – I learned this lesson in full and harsh ways early and often in my life).
Some time in Zambia, the fiber optics died (think it just couldn’t handle the power spikes and the transformer use). One by one the lighted panels have flickered out, until just one remains. The more intrepid could probably track down the bulb causing the issues. Me? I just string other lights on the tree and it still looks awesome. The thing is, even without all the lights and features working, it’s a great, full tree that you don’t have to work hard to “fluff” out and hide the inner structure. It’s still gorgeous even without all the pre-lit stuff.
I’ve been going back and forth on letting it go. Last conversation with the other half ended with “then, just keep the darn thing!” In a phone conversation yesterday, my oldest had me convinced to just get rid of it, that a new and equally beautiful tree could be bought inexpensively. OK! Finally a decision made – the packing weight diminished. I then told the youngest when she woke up and she burst into tears. Oy vey, back to square one!
Whatever I decide on the tree, it’s now time to get stuck in and get to organizing! Thanks for listening and helping me procrastinate! As for the tree? I guess I could live by the words of the crazy missionary lady in Mongolia, who, as I was weepy selling my dad’s old bookcases said, “It’s alright honey. Everything’s eventually gonna burn up anyway!”
Of all the purges I have to make this spring, these are the saddest. These two shirts have been my favorites for years – the T shirt bought in Beijing in 2005 and the tank-top blouse in Johannesburg in 2007. Whether I have been fat or skinny, these two shirts have always looked great on me and were super comfortable. I have worn them longer than I really should have – those holes keep getting bigger with each passing day! – and now the time has come to once and for all give them up. Sniffle, sniffle…
My first goal for 2017? Pack up the Halloween decorations that are still in my garage and hanging out on the basement stairs before my husband comes home from Baghdad in February.
Sven – the naughty child who didn’t make it. I’m sure the embassy handymen appreciate this guy’s presence on our basement steps.
I’m thinking I’ll keep the Christmas tree and decorations up until Easter…Or maybe I’ll let the packers handle them.
I love this stupid tree – fiber optics died sometime in Zambia. The prelit panels have been dying out year by year until only one now works. I string other lights on it now, but I still love the way the damn thing looks!
This year while D is on TDY to B-dad, I have decided to sleep in the middle of my pillow-top, queen mattress to balance out the human shaped dents on either side of the bed. It’s a goal I think I can accomplish, unlike the goal to fit into my pants when there is a waffle truck in my neighborhood 3 days a week.
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