Happy's log: I can take pictures too!

Me watching Muno while Mommy cooks

I love  my little T.V. Mommy only lets me watch one hour of my favorite shows a day and sometimes she lets me hold my T.V. and watch "Yo Gabba Gabba" while she is cooking.  Mommy says my T.V. is a classic and that is why I have to wear headphones.  But that is ok with me!  Mommy puts my special head band on to keep the round things on my ears.  She is just so smart! 

This is the best show ever!

I love making funny faces!

When my show was over and I realized Mommy was taking pichas, I just HAD to take pichas too!  Sometimes Mommy will let me push the button if she holds the camera and I love to do that.  She doesn't let me do it that often.  But thats ok.  We looked at all my pictures on the computer when we were done.  Mommy kept laughing but I thought my shots of our ceiling and wall were spectacular and not at all funny!

See, Mommy's smiling. I'm a good photographer!

~Happy

Shae's log: Its silver I'm looking at, not Tanzanite

Washing up my fruits and veggies!

So for all the many people, places, and things in Tanzania that I complain about, I decided that a balance was in order. There are many "silver lining" items here in Arusha that I choose not to acknowledge because wimpering over "what I don't have", or "what I miss", or "who is annoying me now" is fun drama to write about.  But its not realistic to the life I live here.  Sure, there are a reputable amount of negatives going on that make my days more difficult. Still, there are a lot of positive things happening that I will miss when I'm NOT in Arusha anymore.  One of the biggest things that I could never deny Tanzania --that is beyond wonderful-- is the quality and price of the produce. 

While its true that finding produce items I am accustomed to in the United States is a bit difficult to procure here in Arusha, there are some key items that CAN be found in certain markets, on certain days, during certain seasons.  And when you find them.... food heaven.  So I thought I would list for you what my sleuthing skills championed for me this week:

With a total equivelent cost of 27 USD, and a trip to 4 different markets, I bought:

2 shelves & 1 drawer full of produce goodness

tomatos
carrots
bell peppers
onions
potatoes
broccoli
lettuce- green leaf (hard to find)
lettuce- spring mix (impossible to pass up when found!)
mnafu (Tanzanian green leafy-- like kale)
CILANTRO -  my prize find this week!
limes
lemons
sweet corn on the cob (so good I ate some of it raw!)
butternut squash
purple cabbage
artichoke (steamed and consumed tonight! Yum)
apples
canteloupe (season has begun)
watermelon
green beans
bananas

I will NEVER be able to purchase that much quality produce in the U.S. for that price.  With the amazingly fresh cilantro (coriander for my international friends)  and lime purchase, I have been chopping up and serving fresh salsa for lunch.  My housegirl loves it!  Happy puts her whole hand in the bowl and just eats the tomato, onion, cilantro, and lime mixture like its a finger food!  I am in fruit and veggie heaven this week and I couldn't be happier.  I will miss that when I am gone.  All this fresh produce is why I'm fighting allergies as well I am!  There is something so RIGHT with fresh foods and something so WRONG with all the overly processed JUNK we eat in America.  I am convinced that this good diet is what is helping Happy grow and overcome the obstacles of her infancy.  Lets just hope that all this good eat'n will help me make up for not eating during the first trimester of this pregnancy.  Time will tell.  But seriously, my skin and nails have always been the healthiest both times of living in Tanzania.  Its the "silver lining" food. I'm convinced.

Tonight's meal: cut potatoes and onions with a side of boiled artichoke.  So good.

Shae

Shae's log: Culture vs. what is right

So, I've been very annoyed that my camara charger "walked out of my house".  It was very upsetting to not get any video footage of Happy's father because there wasn't enough charge on my battery.  Four days... FOUR days we looked for that charger.  Opened every bag, took out every single clothing item, unfolded it, inspected, and put back, with through every toy, blanket, box of medicine, EVERYTHING at least three times to make sure I was absolutely NOT losing my mind and that it was gone.  Well.  It was. 

And then it showed back up on Wednesday, in a crate, on an obvious shelf, and in a location that we had dumped out, searched, reassembled, and dumped again about 3 times.  I know how it got there.  I haven't said a word.  I am just grateful that it is back and am letting it be...

I was discussing this with a volunteer friend today as we ran some errands in town.  I was telling her that I really haven't felt like the person who took it from me has been successful in taking too much.  Because everytime I mention something is missing, and we tear the house up looking for it, it reappears in the exact spot that it should be and a spot I"ve looked and my housegirl has looked a million times over.  But my volunteer friend reminded me of this: 

There is a pressure on Tanzanians by OTHER Tanzanians to be unfaithful to their white, western employers.  There is this perception, and rightly so, that white people have all the money and won't miss anything from their home, purse, car, whatever.  And so the loyal Tanzanian workers for these westerners are torn between the pressure of their friends and family to "borrow" whatever is needed from the employers home and what they know is right--- which is leave it alone!  I keep forgetting this fact.  In truth, I will never know this type of pressure.  And while I find it annoying to keep looking over my shoulder, the depth of poverty and struggle in this country is SO BEYOND what I will ever experience in my lifetime, that I must show a little compassion and let be those things which have been made right.  And I am. 

This week, the son of my housegirl has been struggling with a chest infection and in the last two days he has been vomiting.  I gave her money and time off to take him to the hospital.  She was short some cash for medicine and I paid for that too.  In truth, it cost me under $20.  You, my amazing friends have given me money as a one time gift or continue to put some in my account every month and I am SO grateful.  Please know that in addition to helping me and Happy, you are also giving a 18 month old sick little boy some relief.  I could take a hard line and say, "well, I pay my housegirl enough, she should be able to pay for this herself".  But the truth is, I don't pay her enough.  Its shameful what I pay her and yet I pay her better than the going rate.  And she has made my life so much better in the last four months.  And while she may struggle with the pressures that I mentioned above, I want my impression to her to be one of compassion.  I don't have to be naive and vulnerable to being taken advantage of.  But as a young mother, you will do anything you can for your child.  And I think she is just trying to do that herself.  Culture and environment are forcing her into decisions that she herself is obviously struggling with. Because I see her correcting her mistakes whenever she makes them.  So I guess I need to take the kinder gentler approach and do for her what so many of you have done for me. And in doing so, I will remember that I have been imperfect, I have been guilty of wrongdoing, and I am still struggling with what is good and right.  I deserve compassion and forgiveness as much as anyone else!

Anyway, that was a long approach to saying I can take pictures again!  I'll post some soon.  My friend Lauren is going to take some photos of me to capture this time of pregnancy since I don't really have any.  Those photos also coming soon.

~Shae

Happy's log: Mommy is buggin' out

He's thick, black, and hops about 4 feet high.  And he chirps SO freakin loud. Never seen a cricket this huge.  He's disgusting and I have about 3 a night. UGH!

 

Its 1:45 a.m. and Mommy is trippin!  Several nights over the last two weeks, Mommy and I keep waking up to a visitor in her bed, my crib, or somewhere else in the apartment.  Just now, mommy woke up when I popped my head up over my crib... I think she's hearing the same thing I am.  She started pulling clothes from the shelf and food from the kitchen pantry shelves, looking for Mr. Cricket.  She's saying not-nice words and cursing my home country.  Its a good thing I only understand English better than I can speak it.  

Mr. Cricket has stopped singing and I think its actually making Mommy more mad because she keeps calling him and he stopped answering.  When he does come out to play/sing, I wonder if he'll hop into my bed again.  Sometimes I hear him hitting the underneath of my crib and mommy's bed but he doesn't always make it in.  He hops on the door and the rhythm sound is kinda' cool.  But sssshhhhh! Don't tell Mommy.  I don't think she likes his beat!  I don't mind his singing, but sometimes it gets too loud and wakes me up.  It wakes Mommy up too and I think she doesn't like it.  I heard her say to Pendo that Mr. Cricket from yesterday was 2 inches big... but I don't know what that means?  I only know metric.  I think that's bigger than my hand and longer than Mommy's pointy finger.  Kinda' cool, huh?  This afternoon, I got to hit Mr. Cricket with Mommy's shoe after she had been pounding on him because he wouldn't "go to sleep".  He's so thick!  I guess he needed a good pat on the back to settle down! He's more fun than those annoying ants.  But the ants in Mommy's pants this weekend made me laugh because she was hopping around like a crazy woman.  But besides that, those ants are just annoying.  Ok, I"m gonna' try and go back to sleep.  Its 2:00 now and Mr. Cricket has stopped singing and Mommy is now on her computer. I'm sure I'll hear Mr. Cricket in a little while. I wonder if Mommy will start cursing again??

~Happy

Shae's log: The president and the prime minister

So today, my boss a.k.a Gemma Sisia a.k.a. Mama St. Jude a.k.a. an australian celebrity got called all day to see the President of Tanzania.  She finally (and calmly I might add) made her way from the Arusha campus to the Moshono campus and met him at his temporary residence across the street.  And being the forward thinking and gracious women that she is, she took a secondary student from St. Jude with her.  When she got back we got to hear about the surprise that the student had at meeting the president, got to see pictures, and saw more pictures of Gemma and her daughter hanging at the Prime Minister's house in/of Australia.  Gemma is so humble about all of it.  She is the type of woman I strive to be.  People always say how inspiring she is and she shrugs it off and puts credit on other people.  I think this is the way we should all be-- humble, disciplined, spitfire (when need be) and gracious (when you don't have to be).  I want to be like her when I grow up. 

Who do you want to be when you grow up?

~Shae

Shae's log: Fulfillment of a Dream - St. Jude

Let me be honest… I love my Happy girl.  I am thrilled to have been able to come back here to Tanzania and be her mom.  She has long filled a void in my heart and I feel so complete with her in my life.  But I have to be honest about something else… I miss being a volunteer. 

My boss Gemma and some of the students

I don’t know how it happened, but volunteerism has become part of the fabric of my character.  I jones to serve the way a runner needs exercise and a retired teacher still needs to teach!  Coming back to Tanzania required that I set up a home and make money to care for Happy and me.  So accepting the job at Safaris-R-Us was a lifeline in this crazy storm of adoption and I’m grateful for it.   Still as elated as I was, and still am, to live and work here, the void of volunteering has created a sadness in me that I could not have anticipated.  I feel useless in a country screaming out for my talents and energy.  I’m a wasted vessel.  I hate it. 

K and his student

Well, I hated it until last week.  You see, I forgot about the promises that my job in my little safari company was delivering on someone else’s dream!  You have read my type (as opposed to “hear me say” – get it?  Yes, I’m lame!) about how our company donates a monetary portion of each safari to The School of St. Jude?  Well, our company is in its infancy.  It isn’t even yet one year old.  And yet, our little 6 member team somehow managed to secure enough clients for us to donate over 12,000 USD to the school. 12 thousand dollars people!  That’s a lot of money.  And it got me to thinking…

Some of the teachers at the school were once sponsored children themselves.  Someone from an organization established out of America or Europe decided to take a chance on these kids—now adults—and make sure that they got a good foundational education and sent them to teachers college.  And now these students are the adult teachers working at The School of St. Jude.   I realized what an incredible gamble was made by educating these individuals because there was no guarantee of a job after college.  And all the efforts of providing them a better life would go unfulfilled. And I think I lost sight of that.

Assembly time

Every time I land a client, book a safari, and get money deposited into our company’s account, I am fulfilling another dream.  While its true that The School of St. Jude gets their sponsors from all over the world, when the global economy went into crisis a few years back, so did the school.  Almost 50 positions were eliminated from the school in effort to keep it afloat.  And while it has been a few years since that happened and the economy and sponsorship is growing again, not all the positions have been rehired and many of those workers never ever found jobs.  I don't know what situations that had to go back to. Dreams unfulfilled.  And I somehow forgot that. 

the home of a student from St. Jude

While its true that I no longer have “my hands in the trenches”, my work in the safari company is so very needed.  We have a busy schedule ahead for the new safari season and it would be great if we could DOUBLE the donation amount for 2012, thus allowing outside sponsors to cover the students, as we slowly cover the cost of the Tanzanian teachers and staff.  

 

The inside of a boarding room at St. Jude

I may be behind the scenes, but I am coming to realize that I am as much a part of the volunteer “machine” as anyone on the front lines.  My efforts sustain the life of a teacher or staff member, who provides a new life for a current student, who will then go on and build a business and a future for his/her own family, and truly create a new Tanzania.  St. Jude’s motto is “fighting poverty through education”.  And I am so proud to say that I am a part of that fight. 

2011= $12,000.  I think I can do better than that for 2012! 

*all pictures courtesy of Gemma Sisia

A most beautiful sight.  The kids read and study all the time.

The entrance to the school and a reminder of why I'm here!

Me and Glady riding the bus

Shae's log: No more photos from Africa

After four days of turning my single room + bathroom apartment into shreds, I cannot locate my camera charger.  I have opened every food container, looked through every piece of clothing, opened every pocket and zipper of my empty luggage, pulled everything off of the few shelves i have, questioned my housegirl over and over and over, and relocated every piece of furniture. It is my conclusion that the charger was removed from my house. Sadly, I had my toilet worked on last week and although I was here... the list of people in my apartment other than myself comes to a total of 3. 

I'm just wondering about the day when I inadvertently forget to take the matching camera with me, and that too disappears? I hate packing up my electronics and locking them up everyday.  But seriously, the high rate of "misplacement" in this country is shocking.  Even people whom I love and adore here will look me straight in the face, with a bright smile and say "no, no, Shae Shae. I don't know what you mean" as I pull the lost item from their pocket.  And i'm not kidding.  My boss has so many stories and has taught me so many safeguards which has been really helpful.  We have an IT guy who has lived all over the world and it seems every week he, my boss, and I are swapping stories of "misplacement".  Its a sad reality.   

This week I'll go into town and look at the electronics that get hocked on the street.  And I'll offer a few shillings for someone else's "misplaced" charger if I can find one compatible.  It will make me feel sick inside.  But maybe, I'll find my own. 

Shae's log: I KNEW the social worker had motives!

Ok, so I had a very busy day today.  First we picked up Happy's family (was just supposed to be father), visited Cradle of Love, drove to Moshi to see the social worker, drove back, went to a prenatal doctor's appointment, and returned home.  Not too exciting, right? Wrong.  Here are some interesting facts I learned throughout my day.

• You CAN cram four adults, two toddlers, and a car seat into a two-door Suzuki Escudo (Samurai for the American audience).
• Breathing three hours of Tanzanian dust, black car exhaust, and smoke from burning trash will make your lungs hurt all through the night.
• Dotto speaks! 
• Lots of beautiful day volunteers at Cradle.  One asked about "the new girl".  Had to chuckle because "the new girl" was Happy.  Old girl.  But new life! 
• No one can agree how many children were naturally born to Happy's grandparents.  Was it 11?  Was it 12?  Are only 4 dead?  Was that one who died as a child a cousin or sibling?  Who knows. 
• Happy's father is only 37 years old.  
• Happy's mother's age is unknown.
• I announced that my new baby will be named Julius Kingston. 
• Found out that Happy's two older brothers are named Kelvin, and wait for it... JULIUS!
• Now looking for a new first name for my unborn son!  Eli and Nash are still on the table. (can Happy have 2 bros named Julius? No? ok. Just checking).
• Happy's real name is Neema.  
• Not anymore!  I got her birth certificate issued as Happy.  Oops. Didn't know.
• Happy is learning to play with other children her age and had a blast with her 3 year old cousin yesterday. I took pictures before my camera battery died.
• Baba Happy and Shengazi (daddy and auntie) were interviewed by the social worker for 2 hours. 
• 40 mintues of those two hours were spent by the social worker trying to convince the family to take Happy home and NOT allow the adoption.  I KNEW SHE'D DO THAT!
• So proud of Happy's family.  They held their ground and insisted that I was the only one who should have Happy.  And when the social worker told them that they would have to be at every court and answer everyone of her phone calls, they said "Hamna Shida"  (no problem).
• Got pulled over by the police again -- this makes #24.  Looking for lucky #25.
• Went to the doctor, and I have definitely lost half of my weight gain from America. 
• Low, low iron.  Which explains the daily headaches. I'm so stupid. It wasn't dehydration.  But seriously, I can't eat anymore beans. I"ll have to buy meat. 
• Although told 2 times, my child's father just realized we're having a boy. *sigh. 
• You CAN leave the cooking gas on for 7.5 hours and your house will not explode.  REALLY!  
• Grateful for not having glass on all my windows.  It was sandwiches for supper last night while all doors and remaining windows opened for ventilation.  Housegirl pow wow this morning.
• Crickets love my bed. Gross.  

Shae's log: Truths from her father

There is a small part of me that always wanted this day to come.  But the biggest part of me-- the logical side of me-- knew that this day would be dangerous.  But here it is: 17 January, 2012, the day Happy would meet her father for the first time. 

When I started this whole process of adoption, Happy's father Ewaldi wasn't around.  He had been in prison and fighting personal demons so his family was left in charge of deciding what was best for Happy.  The hushed rumors of the family is that he would not support adoption and that he wasn't in his correct mind to make a sound decision.  So the other males and village elder signed off on her relinquishment.  Still, I knew that although he had technically abandoned her, family ties in Tanzania are strong and a parent can talk a social worker or judge into giving them back their child.  So avoiding Ewaldi seemed like the right thing to do.  

And then today happened. As you all know from my previous blog posts, I have been round and round with the social worker trying to get her report and approval for the adoption.  She insists on talking to more family and hasn't budged.  I've been trying to contact her to see if she has met everyone yet and that is when I got the call from Ewaldi's sister saying he was in town and wanted to meet with me.  

Oh no.  

I knew the social worker wanted to meet him and based upon some of her remarks, I feared that she would sway/guilt him into taking Happy back.  Because, as was the talk among the family, they didn't want Happy, but he might.   But what could I do?  His sister Editha would be with him and she requested that I bring my housegirl to speak good English because apparently HE can speak some English and the sister wanted to make sure someone was there to translate for her and to correct him if he was saying untrue things (did I mention before how WONDERFUL Happy's family has been in trying to make this adoption happen?) Anyway, I decided it was best if we met in town at a neutral location so we all could talk.  Heartbeat going a mile a minute, I made sure Happy looked as cute as possible, I grabbed her bag, and away we went. 

Upon the first moment he laid eyes on Happy, I could tell this was going to be interesting.  Although he doesn't look especially sick, I knew right away that his body was in the beginning stages of decline.  His hairline was patchy, his countenance was hesitant, and his walk was reserved. We immediately greeted each other and Happy willingly climbed into the arms of her aunt.  But it took a few minutes for her to make eye contact with Ewaldi.  But once she did, she toddled right over to him, outstretched her little arms, and lifted right up to his chest in a sweet embrace.  I could have cried.  I held it together.

The next two hours were spent over soda at a local shop discussing all matters of Happy.  I spoke in simple English telling him all about her and a condensed version of her life over the last two years.  My housegirl Pendo would translate the areas of conversation where his English and my Swahili didn't mesh and Auntie Editha seemed pleased with how the conversation was going.  It was upon this portion of the conversation that the lump in my throat went away, and my heart melted into this pool of compassion, sorrow, love, and honor. 

"Shae, I am very sick. And Happy."  Ewaldi tells me. 

I respond, "Yes, I was afraid you might be.  I don't know how to say this, but do you know Happy is sick too?"

"Yes, I know."  His head drops a little and I immediately go on to tell him about Happy's medical care, about how much weight she's gained, how well she is, and my plan for her care in America.  He turns to my housegirl and starts telling her things in Kiswahili.  My heart starts to race again only because I understand only about 40% of what he is saying.  The 40% doesn't scare me.  Its the 60% that I DON'T understand that has my heart aflutter again.  He stops and listens to what my housegirl has to say, and then he turns to me with confidence and convinction and says: 

"I appreciate you.  Happy will do so good with you.  Let us go tomorrow and tell Mama Urassa (the social worker) that she must let Happy live with you in America.  I am very sick and I will die.  I cannot take care of Happy and you must take care of her.  Tomorrow, we will go."   

And with that, the conversation and questions were over.  And my heart began to beat regularly again.  I didn't let any tears well in my eyes.  I didn't want him to think I was sad over the situation.  Still, I could see that this man, now sober and dieing, wanted to do the only thing he would ever be able to do for his child... give her a life. 

Through the course of the two hours I learned a little more about Happy's mother, her brothers, and the rest of the family.   Tomorrow I hope to learn more!  

I think the biggest piece of information that I learned today was one that only God could give me.  As I said earlier in a facebook post, I would support Happy seeing her father with the inference being a visit for today... or forever.  The reminder that I get from our Father in heaven is this:  God is God, and I am not.  And this meeting today was out of my control from the very start because this meeting had nothing to do with me, really.   Today was a gift to Happy.  And I believe it was planned before I came into the picture and probably before Happy was even born.  How beautiful that God our Father could bring sobriety of the body and mind to an earthly father.  That in this earthly father's last year of life, he could bring the gift of hope and a family to his daughter.  

AIDS will take the life of Ewaldi Augustino Ngowi this year just like it will his daughter  in years to come.  But for now, in these moments, I will cherish and foster the time I can give the two of them.  I grew up without any knowledge of my biological father and it was a black mark in my emotions growing up.  I am so grateful to God that Happy won't know that emptiness.  Tomorrow I will take so many pictures and I will video everything I can.  I want her to hear his voice when she is older since her memory will betray her these days. 

I'm started to fight back tears.  I'm so grateful to Ewaldi and to God.  How lucky are we to have a God who is so good. 

 "Great is the LORD and most worthy of praise; his greatness no one can fathom." 

~ Ps. 145:3

Happy, Ewaldi, and Aunt Editha Ngowi

Shae's log: OH! Its on!

Ok, I wanted to blog about how after months of failure, I FINALLY have gotten Happy to drink her formula out of a sippy cup. The picture on the right is a snapshot of our new morning routine of "milky" in her Diego sippy. But unfortunately, I'm distracted by the fact that almost EVERY STINKING DAY I'm having to fight the ants that are invading almost every aspect of our apartment.

In ANT WARS: Tanzania Edition, the African Ant is kicking bug butt against Team Beery. I mean, SERIOUSLY! Almost everyday, I have to pick ants out of (1) our bottled water (2) the lid of almost every container of liquid, dry, or semi-parishable food (3) our clean dishes and flatware and drinking cups... the list could go on and on! I was horrified to find ants floating in the bottom of Happy's sippy cup after I was so thrilled that she had drank almost all of her formula from said sippy. And then, of course, I was immediately riddled with guilt that I had subjected her to those little insects of destruction. UGH! I hate ants.

Every morning I am picking them out of our toothbrushes. Every night I have to flip on the light before I take a swig out of my water bottle (made the mistake of not checking last week and washed down a herd of ants and had bites all along my scalp as the ants transferred off the water bottle, onto my face, and climbed into my hairline before I could slap them all dead on my cheeks!) I find them crawling on my couch. I see them setting up camp in my sink drain. I am surrounded by trees where they love to HANG and have major cracks, holes, and broken seals on my metal doors where they like to march on in-- one by one-- hoorah! hoorah! I have anti-bug sprayed the doors, door frames, drains, windows with glass, windows without glass, the floors, the shelves, just everything in my house. Its ridiculous. I will say that the spray has brought the level of these killer varmin down. But eradicate them? No. And I'm getting kinda' angry! I HATE ANTS!

I think the worst part about them is that they hang out in my clothes (we handwash and dry my clothes outside on the clothesline. While the clothes are wet, they like to crawl into my pants pockets and hang out until I put the said pants on for the day and BAM! They come out and bite me. Ouch.) I thoroughly inspect Happy's clothes and try to kill them all dead on the spot. But every now and then she starts slapping herself and turns to me and screams. I immediately strip her down and its always those bloody ants! ARGH! I HATE ANTS.

Ok, enough about the darn ants. Two more months until America. Lets cross our fingers Happy comes with me and doesn't get put back into an orphanage. Because I want to write about more trivial things like attacking ants and not blogs about how my heart got ripped out of my chest when I had to say goodbye to my baby girl. Prayers.

Shae

Shae's log: Am I keeping the wrong digits warm?

So in my effort to surround Happy with as many bright colors, fun books, and interesting toys to create the illusion of life in America, I sometimes forget that she has a mind of her own and will entertain herself in other interesting ways. During naptime today she wiggled out of her covers and so I proceeded to tuck them around her. And thats when I saw the above scene! Hmmmnnn, my child is so weird but funny! She has recently taken to covering her hands with socks and playing puppet with them! I have no idea where she got it from...

Shae' s log: Air Force One?

So I went to pick up clients from Kilimanjaro International Airport this afternoon and noticed something a little unusual. Upon arriving at the airport, I realized that we were early to pick up clients, but saw that there was a plane on the tarmac behind the airport. As we got closer I saw the rudder with an all too familiar flag emblazoned across it.

Now, I knew that this was odd because there are no American aircraft that service Kilimanjaro International Airport. So when we parked, I walked around to the side of the fence to get a close look and this is what I saw.

Now, seeing as this is a small international airport, I went into the arrivals terminal and peered through the window to see if I could see out the other side of the airport. Sure enough. In big beautiful bold letters: THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For as much as I criticize her, for as much as I question her, and for as much as I expect better from her, I still love her. My United States of America. I don’t know who was on that plane today. I have no idea why they were here. But the meer sight of that painted white Boeing with a light blue underbelly made me smile. How so very unexpected.

Happy's log: Its all for me!

Hey friends: Its been a long time since Mommy updated you about the fabulousness that is my life. Here is something fun that happened in October. Ms. Wilson and Emmy got to go home to America forever and so they were kind enough to share with me Emmy's stuff! Mommy thought we were getting a few toys and a new crib. But Ms. Wilson gave us so much more. It was a great day for them to be able to go home for good. I can't wait until our day comes. Mommy says America is a pretty cool place. We'll see.

I love this new toybox of goodies. I can't stop touching it!

My new setup is awesome! Look at all the cool colors!

Here we are saying goodbye!