Yesterday was another great day on the build site. After our workout the day before, our bodies were more accustomed to the labor and the day flew by. We spent the day finishing the trenching and rebar. At the very end of the day we learned how we'll be mixing the cement for the concrete footing- by hand in a concrete basin we dug into the ground and lined with hand mixed concrete. I'll show you some pictures of that later.
This is little Ingrid, who is 10, helping us on the work site. She is the sweetest thing. She comes around about mid-morning and helps us pick dirt and rocks out of the trenches. No one has asked her to help, of course, but she is right there. She is really curious about us- particularly the American versions of our names. The name Michael puts an odd expression on her face, but when I translate to Miguel, she gets it. The woman helping her in the picture is named Tara. We were wondering why every time she introduced herself to locals by saying 'me llamo Tara' they would give her a look like she was joking. So, today we looked up Tara in my dictionary and it means 'defect.' Sweet. These people are probably thinking to themselves "Why does this gringo lady have such low self esteem?" So now she is saying "Tara like Sara" and they don't wince as much.
At our lunch break, we walked Carlito, the son of the owners of one of the homes we are building, to his school. So, here is another gratuitous shot of how darling Salvadoran children are. Not only are the adorable, they are all sweet and polite, even with each other. We were talking last night as a group about how kind Salvadorans are with each other, at least in the village that we're working in. There are no parents hollering at kids ever. Older siblings willingly watch the younger siblings without fuss. Kids play cooperatively with each other and the hyper-must-win competitiveness that we see in the U.S. just isn't there. Everybody gets their turn to be the winner. Oh, and they are so soft spoken compared to us. We sound like we are speaking in bullhorns. They get their points across with fewer decibels.
The women of the family we are building for are spoiling us with this kind of fare for lunch. That potato you see was the best potato I had ever had in my life. We were all trying to figure out what magic they worked on it.
Here is what we accomplished by day 2 on the work site. We had all the trenches dug to their full depth. You can now get a real sense for how small the home is by the size of the rooms. Three gringo ladies virtually take up all the space in the room on the right. Let me tell you though that the families that are going to be occupying these homes are so very proud of them. It really makes me think again about how much we have and question how much we need.
Another gratuitous shot of cute Salvadoran children. These three stopped by to visit us a few times yesterday. We love it when the kids come by so we can underwhelm them with our Spanish skills and they can laugh at us. They are wonderful kids. I'm still amazed how much can be communicated with gestures and facial expressions. This is a shot of the trenches we were digging. They are about 28-30 inches deep. You can see the difference between the mud/clay layer and the stone layer. I guess the other work site is having some trouble reaching the stone layer. So instead of getting to stop at our depth, they need to go down a full meter in depth. Yikes.
I was so glad when this truck pulled up to the hotel. We see this brand of bread/pastry in Mexico and I'm endlessly amused by the name.
Hola amigos! On Monday, we had our first day on the build site. We first met with the families that will be working with us on their future homes. They were such sweet people. It was interesting because throughout the day, we met more people in the neighborhood and most were related in some way to the home owner families. I guess this isn't unusal for extended families to stay together in the same neighborhood. The children were delightful, they were shy and curious at first, but later couldn't get enough of us. Even though we couldn't speak the language as well as the locals, the universal language of gestures and facial expressions went a long way. This is what the work looked like on our home site. The part of the group I was in started the morning by digging the exterior trenches that will serve as the foundation of the house. This was no easy work. The first foot of the soil was heavy and wet from all the rains recently. After the first foot we hit rock- a composite that looked a lot like a limestone/sandstone mix. We had to pick-axe our way through another foot of that to reach a depth of just over two feet. It was slow, really hard work. We had to learn to pace ourselves, but compared to the two local workers we looked like slugs. These two guys were in their 50's and stopped only twice that we saw to take about a 3 minute beverage break and that was it. Very impressive. Another part of our group, cut, bent and tied rebar into the framework that will go into the trenches. We rotated duties in the afternoon so I got to try this for a couple of hours. Again, not easy, but satisfying to see the rebar go from long lengths to 1 foot sections to bent usable pieces that were wired together to create a form. This was how far we got by the end of the day. All four exterior trenches were pretty much finished. The two local helpers at the site were there before we arrived and stayed after we left. It would surprise me if they finished the interior trenches while we were gone. They rock! Oh, I forgot to tell you about the house itself. The houses are 450 square feet with two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living/dining room and depending on the terrain, may or may not have a bathroom. So, yes, these trenches mark the entire foundation of the home. When we got back to the hotel at 4:45 we set off on a quick walking tour of Santa Ana. This is the cathedral of Santa Ana. Very lovely. We also saw the opera house, then went for gelato at Helados Sin Rival. Tres Leches gelato. Yummy.
My favorite street sign in Santa Ana. I'm guessing it means Mujeres X-ing. Women, it appears that drivers are to pay attention for you crossing the street. Men, all bets are off. You're on your own.
Hola amigos! We made it safely to El Salvador on Saturday. At the airport we met up with Luis Fernando, our Habitat for Humanity assistant coordinator, who piled us in to a van for our ride to Santa Ana. On our ride, we got to see both the extreme wealth and extreme poverty of the country. San Salvador has a very wealthy section with three large upscale shopping malls in a row and a very Americanized feel with a Citibank tower, familiar fast food, familiar advertising. That section of San Salvador, with a population of 2 million, was small compared to the middle class, working class and un- or under employed sections of the city. On our drive we observed home constructed of just about anything- tin, scrap lumber, plastic sheeting, cardboard. They try to keep the side of the major highway clean and neat, but you didn't have to look far off the highway to see why we are here.
After a great night of sleep on Saturday, 4 of us took off walking at about 7:30 a.m. on Sunday morning to see if we could get a sense for the city of Santa Ana. The hotel we are staying in is in a pretty commercial zone, but not like in America. The shops are more of a street market setting. So, I'll get the embarrassing part of my day over right now- I fell into a manhole in the middle of the street that didn't have a cover. We were crossing and looking at the street signs and down I went. I didn't go all the way in, but my right leg went in all the way. Fortunately, I ended up with only a bruised up knee and some scrapes. Whew! Here are some pictures of the market:
After breakfast, the team went to Cristo Rey Lutheran Church to attend services. This was an experience that I couldn't have predicted. The church was tiny and in a fairly run down building, but was really full of life. It was the pastor's birthday, so the women and children put on the service. It was amazing. The sermon was all about social justice for the poor and similar themes. Addressing poverty was at the heart of this church as many of the members were un- or under employed and living in difficult circumstances. The pastor gave some closing remarks in which he said that there are many pictures of angels, but that today there were angels of heaven in the church. When we realized he was talking about us, there wasn't a dry eye among us. He then asked for a show of hands in the congregation of about 50 of who was going to help us at the build site on Wednesday. About a third of the hands went up, which was incredible. Here are some pictures from the church service: That's all for now. Today, we will be going to the work site. There was a slight change of plans because of the heavier than normal rains. So, instead of working on a community center as we had planned, we will actually be working on 2 family homes with the families who will own them. Even better. Hastaluego!
Well, tomorrow is the big day! I'm finally as packed as I'm going to get with one big fat suitcase and one shoulder bag. Not bad for me, since, historically, a week in Puerto Vallarta requires two decent size suitcases and a shoulder bag. El Salvador is about getting dirty and maybe getting a few blisters to go along with the dirt. Now that I'm done with work for the week, I'm pretty excited about going. I'll try to blog and post pictures occasionally. I'll be back on the 26th. See you then!
On Tuesday, I've been asked to give a reflection at our team meeting in El Salvador about Community and Culture. I'm bringing a picture I found in my parents' things of the whole Highland Ladies Aid and am going to talk about that. I think I'm related in some way to about half of them. When I think of the phrase "It takes a village to raise a child" I always think of the church ladies at our little country church. They were the ones who taught Sunday School, kept the church fed, made the world relief quilts and generally were kind of the soul of the church. The picture looks like it was taken in about 1994 or so. Sadly, so many of the women, including my mom are gone now. Pretty incredible, but I'm going to pay tribute to them on this trip. I know they would approve, though they wouldn't want such a fuss made over them.
I had a strange dream last night in which my dad appeared. It was one of those oddly disconnected dreams with no particular linear action. In it, my dad was old and not well. It seemed like we were taking him from place to place, yet he was too ill to be taken there. At one point he fell down and I got down and held him. He told me he was ready to go. I told him that was okay and that I loved him. Remarkably (for my dad) he told me he loved me too. It was strange and sad. It seemed like we wanted to keep him around longer than he wanted to be around. I guess maybe that is the message- that he was indeed ready to go when he left us this summer. I really miss him and have been struggling to come to terms with the end of the story of my parents. I'm choosing today to think that this dream may have been a little gift from him.
Just one more day before I'm off to Santa Ana, El Salvador to do a build for Habitat for Humanity. We'll be working on a community center in a Habitat neighborhood that currently has about 60 or so Habitat homes. Very exciting. We leave Minneapolis at 5:30 a.m. on Saturday morning (!!) and will be in El Salvador by noon. Needless to say, I'll be a little crabby; so I'll have to watch myself around the nice(r) Lutherans.
Getting prepared to leave at work has been nothing short of a nightmare. My employee C is still out recovering from surgery. I've been flying solo for the last 6 weeks and it is starting to take its toll. I talk to C a lot though, which is a great mental break. She suggested that I could get lucky in El Salvador if I pick up a tape worm. She said her mother knew a woman who's son got a tape worm and lost 60 lbs and didn't want to give it up because he could eat whatever he wanted. Sign me up! I doubt the story is completely true, but it is tempting. I told C that I would get down and drink from a puddle next to a dumpster just once to see what happens. Anyway, tomorrow at work I have a list of about 10 things to finish before the end of the day, then I can leave. It will be tough but I don't think I'll be staying too late.
Packing for this trip is particularly challenging. The gay gene for over-packing is very strong in me. So, it goes against the foundations of my genetic coding to see the provided packing list saying to only pack 2 pairs of shorts and 2-3 shirts and 3-4 underpants with a note in parenthesis that says "the hotel has a laundry service." Hmmmm. What if I get grease on my shirts and the hotel doesn't pre-treat?? That would be wrong. What if I poop my drawers (it could happen- think Montezuma and his penchant for revenge) and the hotel won't wash my poopy pants? Oh god. What ever am I to do? I think I need to sleep on this and try again tomorrow with a little bit clearer head.
Today is the birthday of a fine piece o' man and a pretty good actor- Hugh Jackman. Happy Birthday, Hugh. Call me, ok?
So, a little unrelated story but related to the name Hugh. About 10 years ago when I lived in lovely East St. Paul, there was a rash of horrible misspellings on garage sale signs. I'm sure it started with just one sign in a prominent spot and spread like wildfire with people who drove by saying to themselves "Jeez. I must have been misspelling it all these years." So, for an entire summer, East St. Paul was having HUGH Garage Sales instead of Huge Garage Sales. I was a little embarrassed to say the least.
If you like, you can play this while reading. Me'shellNdegeocello has been the soundtrack to my morning. Some days I can think of little better than a hot lesbian playing the shit out of her bass guitar. On my way to the farmer's market this morning I had her cranked in my car and caught myself feeling a little silly when I sang/shouted along to the lyric "I need some black on black love, baby." Oh well. I doubt she intended a chubby, middle-aged white guy to be singing along, but there it was for all the universe to hear. Here is the song God, Fear, Money:
I've been a little out of touch lately except to post about how pissed off I am about the presidential race. I can't even think about the congressional race between Norm "I'll feel you up" Coleman and Al Franken. Norm grossed me out years ago when he was still the Democratic (yes, it's true) mayor of St. Paul. He had a hideous reputation for being really, really handsy with women, which my co-workers at the UW could attest to. Anyway, he's running some ugly attack ads against Franken, that fortunately are backfiring in the same way that I hope Palin's attacks on Obama will backfire. It just goes to show that Republicans will say or do ANYTHING to get elected, even when those you pick for VP have been shown to abuse the authority of their office. Sadly, most Americans still buy in to the politics of fear and divisiveness.
My trip to the farmer's market was great this morning. Sadly I can't go as early as I once did because, god damnit, it is still dark at 7:00 a.m. It seemed to happen so suddenly this year. *hmpf* Anyway, I picked up a bag of Honeycrisp apples, a dangerously delicious loaf of Pumpkin Swirl bread from Great Harvest bakery (which, try as I might, I can't stop thinking about), and some fingerling potatoes. I nearly kissed the old Hmong granny who sold me the potatoes because, not only were they gorgeous, they were- get this- PRE-SCRUBBED!!!! I love her.
When I got home, I cut the last of the rosemary and oregano, chopped up some leeks, drizzled olive oil in the bottom of the crock pot, dropped in some of the herbs and leeks, a frozen sirloin roast, my potatoes, topped them with the remaining herbs and leeks, ground some fresh pepper and set the crock for 8 hours on low. Easy peasy. I heart my crock pot.
With the change of season, I need to pay attention to the onset of my winter depression. The sun goes away and I am toast. I have a light and can exercise and take supplements, but it can still be tough. This winter will be particularly challenging because I am trying it without anti-depressants. In May, after 20 years on anti-depressants, I decided it was time to try a holiday from them and have been off them ever since. Summer is easy though, winter we shall see.
The last several weeks, I've been teetering at the cusp of melancholy as I go through some of my parent's things that I brought home with me. I asked for and got all the family photo albums and scrapbooks (minus those that the entitled one just came in and took for himself. Karma comes around. Ouch.) and was tasked with scanning in the pictures, editing them to improve color, etc. and distributing them via CD to my siblings. It's been tough. I found a newspaper clipping from our small town paper announcing the housewarming party for my parents as they moved in to our family home back in 1958. I found some pictures of my mom hidden in a scrapbook of her high school graduation cards that I had never seen. I also found out that my mom had done a bit of traveling before she got married, that she probably talked about, but sadly I probably wasn't paying attention. I try hard not to have regrets and to focus on the time we had together, but its hard.
Enough for now. More later on my new vehicle purchase and how I, surprise that it may be, can be a customer from hell. With a smile of course.
Watch this all the way through. First McCain gets booed for trying to calm down the frothing rabid masses, then has to diffuse a question from an idiot who thinks Obama is an "Arab." This is your base? Oh, and this all happened in Minnesota!! Lakeville, in fact. I'm so proud.
So who else watched the debate last night? I was pretty underwhelmed by the section on the current economic crisis. Obama had ample opportunity to go for McCain's throat for his lack of attention to regulations and enforcement that might have prevented this, but he wasn't aggressive enough in my opinion. The second half of the debate on foreign policy was a little bit better but not much. I did think, though, that for the first time the country really got to see a good contrast between the two candidates, particularly on the issue of diplomacy with our "enemies". It was clear that McCain will continue a practice that even the Bush administration is backing away from- that of not even sending anyone to the table for diplomatic efforts unless these countries do exactly as we say in advance. That is just a continuation of the bullying tactics that Bush and crew have tried for the last 8 years and are now backing away from, however slightly. On the issue of Iraq and Afghanistan, again McCain was stuck in the status quo. Obama got it right when he said that Afghanistan is the front line in the war on terror and that as long as Bin Laden and the Taliban are still in existence our overriding focus on Iraq is misguided. Yes, finish our business in Iraq AND in Afghanistan. This isn't an OR. Now, on a more shallow note, did anyone else notice that McCain holds his hands like a corpse or his weird little tongue darting in and out of his mouth thing? That was just plain creepy.
To you social conservatives who elected this administration based solely on the issues of gay marriage and overturning Roe v. Wade, how about those issues now? Have they gotten the attention you felt they deserved? Or did you just get snowed again because you believed these rich white guys are just like you? They had no intention of pursuing these issues because all along they knew the states and the courts were well positioned to handle them and they were off the hook. And while you were ignoring the issues that really matter (economy, your personal income taxes, eroding U.S. reputation around the world, war and more war), how much did the gays getting married REALLY impact your precious family? Yeah, you may disagree with gays getting married or Roe v. Wade, but is it really enough on which to base your vote? I hope all you smug, selfish bastards are waking up and seeing that there are issues far more important than your social values when picking an administration that is supposed to lead the nation to peace and prosperity- all of us, not just you, not just a handful of ultra-rich white guys who, even after this economic disaster is over, will still be laughing all the way to the bank, if there is one left. Wake up! Wake up!
Leave it to the Republican party to first get us into this financial meltdown by letting their cronies on Wall Street run wild for the last 10 years, but now they try to get John McCain out of his first debate by stalling the bailout package. I am no fan of this bailout. Not at all. No matter what cut you take at it, the average American taxpayer will be getting screwed for generations. John McCain is a chicken shit who has done NOTHING to promote sound business practices through regulation. No. He has stood by since getting elected in 1982 and watched all this happen. Some maverick. I guess Sarah Palin did say it best when asked 3 times by Katie Couric on Wednesday about what John McCain has done specifically to promote stronger regulation of big business. Her response, after much side-stepping- "I'll have to go look for some specifics and bring them back to you." As of this morning, she hadn't gotten back to Katie. What a surprise. Lies, lies and more lies. What puzzles me even more is that almost half of Americans will buy the lies, particularly if they come in a folksy package or if they are told in the context of "9-11!" or "U.S.A!" or "I'm a war hero!" GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Okay, I can understand that it is normal and maybe even "mainstream America" to ask God for strength and perseverance and guidance and peace when you're running for political office, but I draw the line at asking for:
1. Campaign financing
2. Protection from witchcraft (???)
So, for all the folks who say they're voting for McCain because Sarah Palin is just like them, get a load of this. She is not just like you. This is not mainstream American religion. This is a perversion of religion into a self serving pile of crap. And, witchcraft (around 1:44)? Are you frickin' kidding me?
I recently ordered some funky crafting supplies from the groovy little online shop in Victoria, British Columbia called ArtChix Studio owned by a fabulous woman named Helga. So today, the package arrives, which Curt picks up at the door and reads aloud the address to me:
To the beautiful....
Michael G
address
Golden Valley, MN 55422
Let's see. Will I order from Helga again? Again, and again, and again. I heart Helga.
The weather here has been gorgeous the last week or so and yesterday was no exception. The day started at a cool 55 degrees, but perfect to go the farmer's market early. There I ran into my friends Donald & Mark who I just don't get to see enough. I found some late season rhubarb (YES!), some delicious bushel boy tomatoes and two bouquets that had the most amazing dahlias I've seen all season, all while sucking down one big cup of coffee and going back for a refill on my way out. Fabulous.
Around noon, MNMom and youngest offspring L showed up for an afternoon of fun. We started out at the Edina Grill for lunch, then headed over to the lakes for some fun. We ended up in the Lakewood Cemetery mausoleum after a failed attempt to see the memorial chapel there. The mausoleum was a little odd and we stumbled upon what appeared to be a wall of Margarets. Cool. This is the memorial chapel, by the way. The images are all done in 1/4" tiles. Astounding.
While driving around we also saw this fabulous bumper sticker. I'm mean, really, who else could Cheney choose as his running mate if he were to run? Really. A little later, MNMom, offspring L and I hopped into a canoe and paddled from Lake Calhoun to Lake of the Isles and Cedar Lake and back. It was marvelously relaxing and despite what MNMom says, my squealing like a girl was just barely audible. Just barely. Here I must say what a delightful little thing young L has grown into. For being only 9 years old, she was the perfect companion for the day- conversational, funny and cute as a bugs ear, and she didn't wiggle around in the canoe much- which would have caused some mighty squealing.
After canoeing we set off for some Sebastian Joe's ice cream, followed by a trip to Trader Joe's, then back home where we sent the ladies on their way. The perfect day.
My beloved Pilates instructor Annie recently moved on to greener pastures. Not death- the ultimate green pasture I suppose if you play your cards right- no she moved on to a studio where she could actually make some money. Who can blame her? So, the gym hired this new guy to cover Tuesday & Thursday classes. My sense about this guy is that he is a personal trainer who attended a few weekend seminars to get certified then calls himself a Pilates instructor. I just don't get the sense he did Pilates before getting certified, because he can't articulate about alignment and which muscle groups should be engaged like someone who's been practicing for a while. Not to rip on him, but, you know, he's just not Annie, Pilates goddess. Anyway, the guy teaches a version of Pilates called Peak Pilates. Its faster paced and more vigorous than the Pilates we were previously doing. This isn't bad, but it goes so fast that I'm not sure I'm engaging the right muscle groups before starting the movements and fear injury. Oh, and let's not forget the increased sweating. I used to sweat in class, but now I drip sweat. My legs get so sweaty that I can barely hold on to them in our "tree" exercise. My hands just slide right down my legs. Crazy sexy, I know. So, last night at the end of class, the instructor had us all come to the wall for a final spine & hamstring stretch. The wall though happens to be a mirror. We were instructed to keep our tailbones on the mirror while rolling our spine down slowly until our hands hung over our feet, circle our arms in both directions then roll back up. Ah. It felt great. I was all calm and relaxed as I stepped away from the mirror to go clean up my reformer. Then, horror of horrors, I turn back to look at the mirror to find a GIANT, STEAMY, SWEATY ASS PRINT on the mirror. Not just the outline of the ass but CRACK and everything. I was mortified- as I'm sure were the other dainty flowers who take the class with me. I debated, do I see how quickly it will evaporate or do I rush to get a towel to wipe it off, which might smear the mirror? What to do? What to do? I chose option two and dove on a stack of towels and rushed to the mirror to wipe of the hideous imprint of my ass. Will the indignities ever cease?
Why is it that the government is bailing out financial institutions, for reasons directly or indirectly related to the mortgage crisis, when these same institutions refuse to renegoatiate terms with borrowers who have the capacity to pay? Is it better to let the debts default? Can the lenders collect insurance on the bad debt?
This is little Ingrid, who is 10, helping us on the work site. She is the sweetest thing. She comes around about mid-morning and helps us pick dirt and rocks out of the trenches. No one has asked her to help, of course, but she is right there. She is really curious about us- particularly the American versions of our names. The name Michael puts an odd expression on her face, but when I translate to Miguel, she gets it. The woman helping her in the picture is named Tara. We were wondering why every time she introduced herself to locals by saying 'me llamo Tara' they would give her a look like she was joking. So, today we looked up Tara in my dictionary and it means 'defect.' Sweet. These people are probably thinking to themselves "Why does this gringo lady have such low self esteem?" So now she is saying "Tara like Sara" and they don't wince as much.
At our lunch break, we walked Carlito, the son of the owners of one of the homes we are building, to his school. So, here is another gratuitous shot of how darling Salvadoran children are. Not only are the adorable, they are all sweet and polite, even with each other. We were talking last night as a group about how kind Salvadorans are with each other, at least in the village that we're working in. There are no parents hollering at kids ever. Older siblings willingly watch the younger siblings without fuss. Kids play cooperatively with each other and the hyper-must-win competitiveness that we see in the U.S. just isn't there. Everybody gets their turn to be the winner. Oh, and they are so soft spoken compared to us. We sound like we are speaking in bullhorns. They get their points across with fewer decibels.
The women of the family we are building for are spoiling us with this kind of fare for lunch. That potato you see was the best potato I had ever had in my life. We were all trying to figure out what magic they worked on it.
Here is what we accomplished by day 2 on the work site. We had all the trenches dug to their full depth. You can now get a real sense for how small the home is by the size of the rooms. Three gringo ladies virtually take up all the space in the room on the right. Let me tell you though that the families that are going to be occupying these homes are so very proud of them. It really makes me think again about how much we have and question how much we need.
Another gratuitous shot of cute Salvadoran children. These three stopped by to visit us a few times yesterday. We love it when the kids come by so we can underwhelm them with our Spanish skills and they can laugh at us. They are wonderful kids. I'm still amazed how much can be communicated with gestures and facial expressions.
This is a shot of the trenches we were digging. They are about 28-30 inches deep. You can see the difference between the mud/clay layer and the stone layer. I guess the other work site is having some trouble reaching the stone layer. So instead of getting to stop at our depth, they need to go down a full meter in depth. Yikes.
I was so glad when this truck pulled up to the hotel. We see this brand of bread/pastry in Mexico and I'm endlessly amused by the name.
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