I will be sailing on the jet stream this evening,

lulled to sleep by my "mark-of-the-beast" mp3 player whose name I am ashamed to print here, an impressive dose of Tylenol PM, and hopefully, an empty window seat. A girl can dream, right? Given the choice, I would choose those extra eighteen inches of seat space hands down over hunky ex-models, soccer players, or the man poring over a worn copy of Annie Dillard. Intellectual and visual stimulation are great, but space to stretch and freedom from the tell-tale hunch and twisted neck of the airline sleeper? Priceless.

(I must congratulate myself on recovering that paragraph, as my computer illiteracy meant that I erased it once before...and had to re-work it cold. My memory is failing, but times like these give me hope. Slim, but hope.)

The returning has been so easy, I feel as though I'm following a pre-arranged script. The last book I was waiting for arrived in the mail as we left the driveway; I managed to remember my ATM password; my bags are neither back-breakingly heavy nor overfilled. I have space in my carryon and and two books to keep me company, as well as a handful of sudoku pages ripped from my little sister's book, and some chex mix with all the nasty stuff removed. Why, why, why can't they sell it without the pretzels and the little cardboard sticks?

So I'm saying my prayers and trusting that my luggage won't be lost, that my visa won't turn out to be an elaborate hoax, and that safety will be the norm for the travel over the next full day. God has been good to me...

You'll hear from me when I'm on the other side of the Equator!

For those of you who haven't heard...

My visa came Friday. I can't explain what a positive answer to prayer this is. Two years of bureaucracy-fighting and document-hunting, praying, anxiety and trips to Chicago...over.

Can I scream now like I did in the car when my mom called to tell me the news???


WHOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOYEEEEEAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

While there are other, much more interesting things to say tonight, I think I will leave it at this.

Thank you.

My little sister is blogging now.

I'm biased, but she's worth a look...

My other favorite blogger is miss Elaine, found here. It's for people with a specific sense of humor, but if you're one of them, you'll be doing what I do and making her a daily stop!

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I am waiting for the FedEx truck. And when that uniformed man or woman steps out, I will tell you with certainty that I am going back to Brazil. Well, with certainty on the visa and rabid, schitzophrenic bureaucracy side of things. God can change his mind whenever he wants...

The visa service lady called today and ...
I GOT MY VISA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That's all folks. Because there is a hot tub outside waiting for me to celebrate...and a stack of new books that need a little roughing up...

What can be closer to heaven on earth than a five-hour

conversation with amazing friends while sampling God's gift of fermented grape juice (Carmenere, for which I will always be grateful to C.H. for his introduction!, and Riesling), strong coffee, fresh strawberries, asparagus, cheesy potatoes, a perfect blackened tenderloin fresh off of the grill, and a three-inch tall chocolate cake infused with ganache, more fresh strawberries, toasted walnuts and chocolate covered coffee beans?

My friend isn't human. She is WOMAN.

I am in awe.

Because she made all this after a full day of work and still had time to set the table...and set out chilled glasses.

Next to my mother, Sharon is a superpower, one of the wonders of this world...

I am in a chocolate and caffeine induced stupor. Bliss.

I heard a loud, echoing bang today and said...

"That's the first gunshot I've heard in a week...and it's not an AK-47!"

To which the man working on the electricity gave a gruff chuckle and said, "You must live in a pretty rough neighborhood, kiddo."

"Yeah, I do. [ironic laughter] Yes. I do."

Jackson, Tennessee. Rain, sun, heat and chill...all in a day down South.

RANDOM RIO SIGHTING
While reading Wired magazine the other day, I saw a little news clip about exercise gym buses that are equipped with bikes and stepping machines. People get picked up, pay their "gym" fee, and get to see the city from the air-conditioned bus environment. Just looking at it I thought, "now that's Brazilian..." and sure enough, it was from Rio. I've never seen the buses, but I have a hard time believing they go outside of the Copacabana area!

I saw the Burger King "Manthem" commercial today. People, it's shot in Rio de Janeiro! I noticed it the minute the guy runs out into the street: 89 Manhattan Place is on the Rio Branco, the main street that runs downtown...and I'm not sure, but I think that wher they push the van off the bridge is really close to where we used to work with the street kids...

It is fun to see my city on television and recognize it from the landmarks that only the natives are going to get...but what is so much more interesting to me is that the commercial is for the "Texas Double Whopper." Texas. Shot in Rio, where there is not ONE SINGLE Burger King. Not in the whole city. Go figure.

THE GRADUATION
My brother is officially graduated. When it began to rain in huge, fat droplets half-way through the name-calling, the entire audience, minus the smart people with umbrellas, went running for cover. Under trees, in the protection of buildings, or even by stealing the chair you were sitting in and inverting it over your head: anything went. Smart administrators cut the ceremony short, removing the school hymn, the class president's speech, even the recessional! Of course, when the professors are all running out of the ceremony, fearful for their expensive velvet robes, it's hard to keep the pomp...

Now, anyone who has been to a graduation knows about the crazy lines at restaurants after. But my family doesn't wait in line. We joined three other families in the banquet room at a chain restaurant. The last people to show up, we created quite a scene, with a massive room and table overhaul, re-seating practically every one of the 35 people already in the room. What a way to be unobtrusive. It wasn't intentional. That's just what happens when your family has seven members. We spent most of the first half-hour posing for other people's cameras. Now I find myself doing this same thing from time to time, so the criticism applies equally to me: why do near-strangers find it necessary to take pictures of people whose names we know we're going to forget after a few months? But it makes the models feel special!

Feeling special. A different kind of special than I'm feeling right now. Why did I think that mini chimichangas, bacon, sausage, eggs, and waffles would be a good combination?

Tomorrow, perhaps, I will share the dinner conversation that had tears running down my face...

My family is slightly dysfunctional. So what? We have fun together...

whether it is a heated debate about why men's underwear does not need a design makeover, the merits of "metric time," trying to decide what branch of our family provided us with the African genes necessary for Anna and Brooke's AMAZING curls, or simply four grown women jumping on a trampoline while loudly singing "kum-ba-yah"...I think that my siblings and I are going to grow old quite nicely together. Especially when you consider how well we all handled the lice incident last night. THIS particular parasitic infestation was thankfully NOT my problem, but in the interests of privacy, I won't indicate which poor sister picked up the nasty critters at work. Not only did one of us go out at midnight to buy the lice shampoo and another one stay up until 2:30 am combing, but the shopper also let the lice-head share the same bed with her. Plastic bag and towel over the hair, of course, and the pillows were pushed far out of the way, but still. That's sisterly love.

Not MY sisterly love, of course. I'd already picked out the other bed!

We're all together for my brother's graduation from college. It's the first time in two years that we're all together and my mother remembered the camera. I'm excited for a new family photo. My old one is from August of 2004, is dog-eared and scratched, and shows me 30 pounds heavier. I look so different that sometimes when friends look at it, they don't recognize me. They think I'm Anna. Flattering, yes, but really, there's little resemblance.

I called the visa service before we left for Tennessee on Friday, and she'd already put my visa application in at the consulate. Score one for Brazil Visa Services! Not only that, but she wanted to send some of my money back because the Brazilians had changed the rules in ways that directly benefited ME (amazing) and I didn't need any documents authenticated. So she was sending most of the money back! So cool...and the visa should be ready on Thursday, which means delivery on Monday, and therefore my tickets are still valid for Wednesday. But you can still pray...because underneath this facade, I'm a doubting Thomas. Until I have that passport in my hands, looking at that visa, I won't be able to believe that it's real...

Translation

I don't write a lot of poetry now. I think it has something to do with learning another language; it confuses my verbal synapses. But something that I've found I enjoy is making English-language versions of my favorite Portuguese worship songs. The translation only goes one-way. My vocabulary isn't advanced enough in Portuguese yet. But it's been fun. I wonder if I could paid to do this...

Today is the first day in weeks of:
-sun
-sleeping in without guilt
-homemade chocolate chip cookies (gooey and crunchy at the same time)
-nothing URGENT to do

I will be enjoying this!

Sharpies Stress Reliever Formula

I sent my package off to a visa service in Chicago: my passport, my hard-earned documentation, and an envelope full of USPS money orders. I hope God put angels around the overnight package...and starts preparing that Brazilian consulate official to be in a good mood when he or she gets ready to decide about my visa.

You can pray, you know! I'd love it!

Having just gotten back from Upland and twenty hours on the go (I'm a social butterfly!), I'm going to rest a little and play with my twenty-four pack of brand-new, multicolored, fine tip Sharpies. I'm so excited. Thank you cards in rainbow happy colors. Fancy manicures. Signing my name in purple and sea-foam green. Why is it that just the sight of a Sharpie makes me smile? Did you know that they now come in 29 different colors? I don't know what the other five are. I find it highly unfair that you can't just buy a complete set...

Spring smells wonderful in Indiana. The rain went away in the blink of an eye and now we're looking at still-cold weather but at least the sun is peeking through the clouds every four minutes or so. I love the smell of green and mud. And worms. It reminds me of my childhood...

I sign off in violet, banana leaf green, and a splash of sunset orange. Happy Spring!

Oh the cold, cold, cold

Not since Peru have I been this cold.

And it's quite a change from the last few days, running a lovely 39.4 C fever.

What a way to leave the country.

The story starts with a manicure, a blender, and several nights without sleep. Somehow, I managed both to get an infection in my big toe, following a lovely little French manicure at the beauty salon down the street (shame on you, Brazilian microbes!) and a scrumptious smashing of said toe by falling plastic blender. I've been whining about it for weeks and in spite of all my best efforts at first aid, it wasn't healing. Then I had a few nights of goodbye parties that ended at 5 am, staying up late praying over Manguinhos because of the ridiculous shootings, and a couple hot dates. Tuesday I woke up feeling off, went to Jacarezinho to collect the laundry, went off to Tijuca to run errands and fell asleep on the bus. Drooling, hallucinating sleep. I almost missed my stop. Exhausted, I ran the few absolutely necessary errands I needed to and, frustrated in my attempts to pay the cellphone bill (you would think they would make this easier on their customers), sat down in the square. Drained. Cold. Shaking. Hot. Feverish? I called Rodrigo, my lovely surfer friend with a car who, incidentally, I am also dating, and he picked me up and took me home, where I promptly fell into bed and didn't leave it until I went to the doctor at 1:30 pm the next day. A ten minute walk that because of my state become more of a 30 minute walk...only to find out that the clinic was closed until 3. Ninguem merece. We took a taxi the second time. The doctor was fabulous and charged a grand total of R$20 for his services. Free tylenol too.

The fever went down with the prescription and the tylenol. Praise the Lord for antibiotics. And friends who make soup and bring water and extra blankets. And for manicurists who know more about toes than family doctors: when I saw her yesterday before I left the country, she took one look at my foot and attacked it with painful instruments of torture. After I kicked her and cried and whined and basically acted like a spoiled child, she was able to extract the slice of nail embedded in my foot after the incident with the blender. Goodbye infection!

Wasn't that lovely?

Now I'm spending time with my parents in my childhood home that is nothing like my childhood memories, eating yummy food but oddly craving rice and beans, and trying very much not to hate the English language...I think it's just homesick reactions!

For Christmas, years ago, one of my sisters recieved a book

on cat psychology. Or psychiatry. Either way, I could use it now. I think Puxa is suffering from post-traumatic feline stress disorder.

Of course, I'm fine. I've painted my nails three times since the shooting started at 7:00 pm, and I'm now eating a half-batch of brownies that I threw in the oven just long enough to cook the egg but not long enough to set. It's like hot fudge with just a hint of crust. Eaten with a spoon in the corner of the kitchen as I hit the record button on my cellphone from time to time to catch a really intense crossfire...it might not be the most effective way to relax, but it's cheaper and more accessible than Prozac...

In addition to the cat's erratic sprints from one end of the house to the other, her jungle demon screams that pass for meows, and toxic gas (or feces; I haven't yet figured out if it's nervous farting or just really stinky poop): in addition to all this, I found her playing with a small metal object on the floor last night. The minute I heard the clink, I knew what it was. And kind of stood there, shocked, while I tried to figure out how exactly a bullet had landed in my house. Yes. She is playing ball with a irregularly squashed and heavy lead bullet. Now, seeing as there are no holes in my walls and I find it difficult to imagine that it slipped in through the open window, turned the corner, and then dropped harmlessly and silently onto the bedroom floor, I must assume that it is one of Ben's souvenirs from the old house...

Ben, it's mine now. Objects that incite near heart attacks belong to the victims. New rule.

The shootout ended at about 11 pm. Or at least, that's when I went to bed. And nothing woke me up, so either the night was calm, or God was nice to me and let me sleep through it.

Coming over to Jacarezinho this morning, I got to walk past some of the carnage: even more holes in the businesses at the front of Manguinhos, several concrete light and telephone posts needing serious repairs, liters of automobile oil on the road. We're an ecological nightmare. Let's hope and pray that this weekend isn't so active. Those of us who value our lives, who value the lives of others, and who have no desire to live in a video game would like some peace and quiet. But mostly peace.

Sometime, when I'm not so stressed, I'll theologize a little here. As it is, I barely have the energy to write about what happens, so forgive me if my words sometimes come out more cynical and sarcastic than I wanted them to...

There are three types of browsing...

the kind where you're just killing time, the kind where you're scoping out what you'll eventually buy (or steal: shame on you!), and the kind where you run into any store as fast as possible so that you don't interrupt the urgent business of large men with larger guns that are marching down the street.

I was in the latter category last night.

Coming home from the internet cafe in Jacarezinho a little later than usual, I was in a hunger-induced state of inattention. It wasn't until after the guy gave me a funny look that I realized I was passing a little too close to him and his nicely polished machine gun. Oops. I gave an embarassed smile and stepped onto the sidewalk. Quickly. Noticing that he was not the only one sporting shiny metal objects in his hands, and that they were in a very public place, I decided to find a more secure place to be nosy. Like the drugstore.

After the group of them passed, I waited a few minutes and then went on my way. Usually, they're just "changing the guard" or something of the sort...but when I got to the train tracks, there are even more armed men and while they aren't stopping traffic, they're certainly noticable. So I ask someone what's going on and hear that they're going over to Manguinhos...

Someone finally gives the order to move out and zoom! away they go on their motorcycles and on foot, like they're in some sort of Olympic time trial...and I race home as well, to get back before anything happens.

I taped parts of the resulting shootout on my cellphone. Not pretty. But I'll let you listen to it when I come back in a week...but to disappoint those of you who find these stories less than comforting, I'm not planning on STAYING in the States. Just visiting!

Yesterday was so interesting. I got to examine and then hide a bag of fifty-cent marijuana that someone threw over the wall into the "school" where I work on Wednesdays (whether it's mostly marijuana or oregano is yet to be decided); I visited a woman who lives UNDER the underpass, in a surprisingly nice cement home with a tiled floor and a phone she found in the trash. The answering machine has messages on it, and she plugs it in from time to time to listen to them, since she doesn't actually have a line to use the phone. It's just for pretend...; and then there was this adrenaline-inducing evening...