jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

Update: I know the very best people. And they know other very best people. I’m so grateful. 15 dictionaries arrived today and I know more are on their way. Our goal was to send 100 books (five of us were shooting for 20 donations each), which would provide one for every three girls. I’m starting to suspect we will do better than that.

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Hey Friends,

A former co-worker up and left her promising corporate work so that should could live far from her friends and family in circumstances most of us would never consider. She’s helping young women in Rwanda.

She can tell you all about it right here: Courtneyspondence: Can you outrun that malnourished, barefoot 9 year old? (No. No, you can’t.)

If you didn’t read that, consider going back. Really. It’s notable for its good cheer and for its profound reality check. At least that’s how it worked on me.

Her friends and former co-workers want to help somehow, do some little thing. When we asked her about it this is what she said:

One of the big goals at the village is for students to learn English.  Their first language is Kinyarwanda and they take all their classes in English and will go to university in English, so mastery of English is a required path for almost any dream they have.  I am helping students learn English as much as I can.  

 One thing I’ve noticed that is a big challenge is the students do not have dictionaries.  When they don’t know a word from their homework, they ask each other or me, but I think a dictionary would be almost required for me to learn a language.  Either an English Dictionary, or a Kinyarwanda/English dictionary would be a huge help.

If you find her work as compelling as I do, I’m hoping you’ll want to help a little bit too. Here’s what I’m asking: Buy this $11 dictionary and ship directly to me from Amazon*. We will box them up and send them to Rwanda (Shipping is pricey. We can do better if we bundle them all together.). Our goal is to get 100 dictionaries. If each of us can get 20 friends to send us a dictionary at work, we’ve hit our goal.

If you can do it, that’s much appreciated. If you can’t, maybe you could leave Courtney a supportive message on her blog. She didn’t ask for that, but I’ll bet she’d like it.

**Strangers, please don’t come to murder me at my office.

The front desk clerk told me as I checked in that this is as cold in LA as she can ever remember. Yesterday at our shoot only the sound guy was smart enough to have gloves. We all took turns wearing them. We huddled around heaters between takes. We hopped in place. Shape up, California. How will you remain on my list of favorite places this way? Last night I stopped at a restaurant and ordered two bowls of soup for dinner and then huddled in my hotel bed as I worked my way through them. One hot and sour and one vegetable, in case you were curious.

Damon sent me audio last night of the boys giggling in their beds. Hold please, while I go listen to that one more time. That will assuredly warm me up.

I’m writing this from roughly 30K feet over Dallas. I habitually mis-remember this flight to LA to take six hours. I get all worked up about the claustrophobia of it all, and am then relieved when I board and see that it’s just under five. Then after a few hours I am again distressed when I realize that just under five is also too long to sit in this tiny chair, surrounded by strangers. I’m only 5’2″, so the normal amount of space is really fine for me. Until the person in front of me reclines, and then I go from zero-buried alive! buried alive! The best plane trick I know is to finagle for the exit row. The seats in front can’t recline. God bless.

This is a long one for me, Sunday-Thursday. I always tend to get a little blue and anxious when I know I have to leave the boys. It comes to a head the night before for me, and I wake up repeatedly to stroke their little sleeping faces. It comes to a head for Alden when I actually leave. The whole family drove me to the airport this morning and Alden said, “Mommy, I think I’m going to cry.” So much more piercing than if he’d just wailed. Elliot doesn’t really get what’s going on and will randomly look for me until I turn up again. The good news: Damon has this down cold. The other good news: As soon as we actually split, I feel better. Now I’m counting down to getting back to them instead of counting down to leaving.

It’s probably all a little too much drama. I’m going to go stay in a nice hotel and do interesting and useful work. The boys will be indulged more than usual (which is already a lot) and I’ll return bearing gifts. That last part is new. I was flailing around trying to make Alden feel better and I threw out an offer to bring him a present. (Way to teach him to mask his feelings with commercial goods! Buying things make you happy!) He was ready for me, though, and asked for “…a chocolate rabbit. A big one.” Elliot piped up that he’d be happy to have a toy train, so now I have my marching orders.

I’ve also started a new work travel tradition, which is that the boys’ toys have taken to hitching rides with me. Last trip to NY, a tiny stuffed Grover came long and I texted back pictures of him accompanying me on my rounds. This time it’s a bathtub Grumpy. So far Grumpy isn’t impressed, but what can I expect?

Our family has a sacred New Year’s Eve tradition that I just made up.

I know I want to spend New Year’s at the cabin; but in order to make this day different from every day at the cabin we are instituting the New Year Family Dinner. Every person gets to pick one dish and they all add up to dinner — whatever they are. Elliot spoke up first, and ask for broccoli with noodles (noot-les). Alden picked pizza. Damon added on my quasi-homemade Alfredo and mushroom sauce, which we can add to Elli’s nootles. I threw in Boston cream cake, one of my Dad’s favorites and a historical cabin dessert staple. Kind of a reasonable dinner, actually. I was hoping for something weirder.

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This has been my view for the past 36 hours.

Cabin Cats

One year ago we were tucked up in our little cabin in the woods. Which is where we are again. I’m feeding a cheerful fire that will keep us warm in this icy weather and the boys are watching Star Wars for the first time. I will really miss them if they don’t like it.

One year ago Alden got sick here. January 1 at about 4am, to be specific. I hesitated when we made these plans, but that’s ridiculous. It will seem even more ridiculous once we cruise healthfully into the new year. I need to strangle that superstitious association.

I’ve been puttering around, sweeping hearth, wiping down walls, cleaning fruit, scrubbing carpet. I also spent some time hauling a dead tree off the side porch. Storms have whacked down a lot of trees around here and we’re lucky to have gotten away with just a smashed railing and a few crunched steps. I love taking care of this place. It’s both a small service I can do for my Dad and also nesting against all the future years we hope to spend here.

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I just had this exchange with Elliot:

E: I am going to punch you in the face if you don’t love me!

J: I do love you.

E: Okay, I not punch you in the face.

I can only hope he refines his technique by prom. He is what my Dad would call a “buster.”

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Christmas was great. We spent it in my hometown and luxuriated in lots of time with family and old friends. The boys got an obscene number of toys. My Mom gave them both cash, too, treating me to a new level of middle-class discomfort to see my toddler running around waving a fistful of dollars. Still, it was all to the good and fun for everyone.

My stocking was full. My cup runneth over. I’m awfully grateful that we’re ending this year with everyone accounted for.