i love chickens.

for some reason i love chickens. not exactly in a culinary sense. i mean, i do occasionally eat them, but this is not what makes me love chickens. there is just something about these critters that makes me giggle. they walk funny, they squawk funny, and they might be the stupidest animals i have ever encountered. what's not to like?

 

at some point in my teens, i started drawing this chicken with ears (likely i copied it from someone else, as teens are prone to do). true story. in fact it was practically a part of my signature. a few months ago, i even made a love chicken, which if i do say so myself, was too cute for words.

 

not surprisingly, when it was time decorate the label i sewed for my nephew's quilt, i could not resist adding my chicken.

which makes it all the more perfect that in my quest to find a stuffed animal pattern to make the little guy's christmas present, i found this positively adorable chicken at sew mama sew. i am super duper excited!! but don't tell him...it is supposed to be a surprise!

the glories of youth.

i am a total kid. i act like a kid and i think like a kid. at least once a week i do something that leaves the people around me jokingly asking "how old ARE you?" i figure if they have to ask, they might as well get the real answer...five. i also spend 35 hours a week surrounded by five year olds, and apparently they are rubbing off on me.  

a couple weeks ago i found it imperative to buy bubblicious bubble gum. a necessity. when i was little i had an obsession with gum. my mom had to ration it, because if left to my own devices, i would have chewed my teeth right out of my head. thanks to all of my snapping and popping, my mom definitely spent a couple of afternoons cleaning gum out of my hair. as i write this, i am blowing bubbles. i am sure that before i finish this post, i will be cleaning shreds of bubble gum off of my face.

which reminds me of my family's annual christmas picture. the picture was always just my brother and i, and it was a fight every year. we argued over the clothing, location, etc. the worst part was my mom had this affinity for a "kiss" picture. cute and wonderful when we were toddlers. probably not the best idea when we were a bit older and fighting like cats and dogs. i was about ten, when my brother and i decided enough was enough. we refused the "kiss" picture, but agreed to blow bubbles with our gum and let the bubbles kiss. sounds strange, but it was kind of cute.

but back to the present. last week a colleague gave me a party favor bag from her daughter's ninth birthday party, which i happily accepted. i spent yesterday evening lying on the couch chomping my way through nine pieces of banana bubble gum. also inside the bag was a stick-on barbie tattoo. most adults would simply ditch this with the gum wrappers, but not i. oh no. this kid stuck the thing on my shoulder. it's still there and i kind of love it.

sometimes i have to admit that my childish ways can lead to some embarrassing moments, like the time some students caught me racing down the hallway trying to beat another teacher to the door. oops. but most of the time i am rather content in my neverending childhood.

under pressure.

have you ever seen those free blood test machines in the back of pharmacies? thanks to my ridiculous curiosity, i am overly fond of plopping into the chairs, sticking my hand through the armhole, and waiting for my vital statistics. other than the brief  arm squeeze, i have always considered these machines relatively harmless. ummmm.. not anymore!

one of the culprits.

today i was in k-mart (i know, i know, don't ask...) and after selecting some hot pink bottles of shampoo, i bumped into one of these chairs. naturally i sat down and pressed the green button. the arm squeezer squeezed and then it started to let out the air, but then it squeezed again. hmm. weird, but it quickly started to let out the air, so i thought i was in the clear. until it squeezed again. i was stuck. this machine was squeezing my arm and every time it would let out a little air, it would start squeezing again. yipes!! images of firemen cutting my arm out of the machine started popping into my head, which was not the least bit reassuring. thank goodness that after what seemed like a ridiculously long time (probably only 60 seconds) this slightly horrifying routine came to a halt. and my blood pressure was strangely not affected...unless the low numbers were due to my heart dropping to the floor. let us just say that in the future i might not be so eager to take these machines for a spin.

tales of lesotho. part three.

any place you go, there are always things unique to that place and lesotho is no exception. i am sure that many of these things also happen in other places, but no place that i have ever been. so as far as i am concerned, these are some of the things that make me say, "this could only happen in lesotho..."

accordions. in lesotho playing the accordion is cool.

this guy practices his accordion skills on top of the mini-mountain.

blankets. this is not just something for your bed or your couch, this is actually an accessory. suitable for wearing around the waist or shoulders. these can be worn morning, noon, or night, and during any season; but obviously are most prominent in the winter. women often wear two: one around their waist and a second around their shoulders. for reasons of modesty, i thought that married women had to wear one around their waist, but my mother-in-law informed me that is only if they feel like it. considering that i cannot remember seeing a woman in the village without a blanket around her waist, either everyone really loves blankets or my mother-in-law was giving her american daughter-in-law (who does not particularly like following rules) permission to break the cultural norm.

don't have a proper coat? just wear your blanket.

style. in lesotho the only rule for fashion is matching, which happens to be the same rule by which my father exists. if you are wearing a top and a bottom, you are matching. i am sure you can imagine this creates some interesting outfits. in the winter it is especially fascinating to see the many layers, colors, patterns, and fabrics worn simultaneously. my mother-in-law takes the basotho version of matching to a mesmerizing extreme, which made me love her even more. my american brain cannot grasp this concept fully enough to embody the basotho 'style,' but i like to think i do a decent impression.

the many incarnations of my mother-in-law's style.

teeth. if you have them, great. if you don't, smile proud. enough said.

is there a dentist in the house?

drive-thru (or sit-thru) shopping. the taxis in lesotho are kind of like VW buses and hold 15 passengers, along with their small children, bags, luggage, purchases, and even chickens. in town these taxis take some time to fill up. you might wait as long as 40 minutes before you depart for your destination, but do not worry, because during this time you can sit in your seat and shop. that's right. whether you want them to or not, vendors will bring their wares to your window. you can ignore them, or if you are like me, you can embrace this concept and happily shop to your heart's content. the best part? if you see something you like, but it is not close by, just give a shout and the people will come to you. and if the taxi starts leaving, fear not. they will wait for you to complete your transaction before pulling out of the taxi rank.

shopping from the comfort of your taxi.

housing. the houses are made of mud or tin, but there is something beautiful in their simplicity.

an assortment of the neighbor's houses.

cleaning. considering that people live in homes with clay walls, dirt floors, grass roofs, and no running water, it is easy to assume that things are dirty. actually, the basotho are obsessed with cleanliness. the standard rule of thumb is that kitchen and food is kept separate from bedroom and people. this means that the buckets used for washing bodies, clothes, and bedding, are never used with food or dishes and vice versa. in fact, kitchen towels are not washed with regular laundry, they are washed in the dishwater. in the beginning of my time in lesotho, i found this all rather confusing, but i eventually figured it out and actually decided it makes sense. i do not follow the same laundry rules here in the states, but i have to admit that every time i throw a kitchen towel in with our clothes, i feel like i am breaking a rule. there are a couple of things that i could never wrap my brain around. one is washing the outside of a water bucket and then placing the water bucket in the puddle of dirty water under the tap. the other is that you should sweep your yard every morning, but the rest of the day it is perfectly acceptable to throw garbage on the ground. if you are feeling productive, you can put it in the garbage pit and burn it.

washing water buckets, doing the dishes outside on the dirt stoop, laundry, and burning garbage.

visiting and food. probably my favorite part of lesotho is visiting with people. it is not like here where you make plans to meet people or stop by their house. nope nope. you just drop by whenever you feel like it. you can stay for five minutes or five hours, your choice. best of all...they will feed you! in fact, if you are hungry and just do not feel like cooking, stop by the neighbor's house and ask them what they cooked. if it sounds good, then ask them to feed you. they will. cool, huh?

yum yum.

carrying things. the basotho women carry everything on their head. everything. no matter the size or the weight, if it needs to be carried, up it goes. this is no small feat when you consider that some of the things are bigger than they are and some of these parcels weigh close to 50 pounds. but the part that really gets me is that the older women can do this with no hands.

who needs a mule when you can just throw things on your head?

announcements. when we need to broadcast information to the general public, we can pass our message via television, radio, newspapers, flyers, and of course the internet. since these are not options available to the village, the basotho use a village announcer. so when the chief needs to tell people that children will be vaccinated on friday or that there is a funeral on saturday, there is one dude whose job is to climb to the top of the mini-mountain and 'broadcast' whatever news the people need to know. i like to think i can understand sesotho, but i cannot understand a word this guy says. but do not fret, because everyone else understands him just fine.

the effectiveness of this 'broadcast' is astounding.

signs. i know there are lots of places in the world  that have weird signs and i am happy to report that lesotho perpetuates that tradition. my personal favorite is the shop called "dudu shop. no. 2 special."

want a beer? go to the tarven.

the jumpsuit. yes, those crazy suits, which the western world reserves for military personnel, are happily worn by the men of lesotho. in the states we have cowboys. in lesotho there are herdboys. for the most part they serve the same purpose, but the outfit is a little different.

the jumpsuit in its full glory.

toilets. well actually these are what we call outhouses and what the 'designers' call pit latrines. they come in all shapes and sizes and i find them rather fascinating. the basotho are mortified by the idea of someone taking a picture of their toilet, so these were all taken in secret. shhhh... don't tell.

a room with a view.

**UPDATED** next installment...smiling faces.

keeping time.

the backwards goofy watch.

when i was young i always wore a watch. i once had a goofy watch that ran backwards. i thought i was extra special because i could use it to tell time and everybody else looked at it and got stuck. stuck in time (hee hee). but somewhere in my twenties i developed a distaste for wearing watches on my arm. my parent's indulged my whim by gifting me with a gorgeous swiss army knife pocket watch. sadly the time-changer mechanism broke during my peace corps service, so the watch is permanently stuck on lesotho time.

my gorgeous pocket watch.

since then i have tried to find a watch that could fit into my lifestyle and my budget, but it has been an impossible task. i use my cell phone for the time and i have managed almost perfectly without a watch. the only glitch is my day job. i always have to know what time it is, but i do not always remember my phone. simple solution? get a watch. sure thing. except that i am me and i need a watch that is indestructible, adorable, and comfortable. oh and preferably under $20. ummm...no problem? big problem. i might be the pickiest person on the planet. i know exactly what i want, except that nobody makes it. in my search i did find a few specimens with potential, but considering their fragility or three-digit price tags, they are out of the question.

some lovely, but impossible watches.

what is a girl to do? make my own watch of course. well, sort of. i happened upon a kid's watch that has an easy-to-replace band, a cheap-O price tag, and is hopefully strong enough to survive life with me. i sewed (naturally) a new watch band and am now convinced that i have found my indestructible, adorable, and comfortable watch. time will tell.

the kid's watch that became MY watch.

p.s. all puns intended.

let the drooling begin.

my life is ruled by two lists. the first one is my to-do list. yuck. the second one is my project list. FUN!! occasionally the two overlap, although this is rare. it has become increasingly obvious that the longer my to-do list, the more likely i am to work on my project list. in fact, today i actually added something to my project list AND completed it, prior to finishing my to-do list. oops.

today's fiasco started a little over a week ago when mrs. nipper knapp declared that she was about to sew her first zipper. she is not to blame, it's just that i simply had to tell her the secret trick to sewing zippers, which turned into a zipper tutorial. then i found out that she was in fact making zippered pillows and the next thing i know, i am gazing at our sad and grungy couch pillows, which have seen a little too much life (and drool...ugh). naturally, because i do not have anything else to do, i figured i might as well kill some time making new pillow covers. this is my first foray into making pillows (i used the super-easy tutorial from design*sponge) and i have to say, i am supremely pleased. so mrs. nipper knapp, the mister and i would like to thank you for being the inspiration that provided us with splendid new couch pillows.

our happily mismatched new pillows.

zipper frenzy.

yesterday, a fellow crafty blogger mentioned that she was "tackling her first zipper," which made me realize that i absolutely have to share a zipper trick. this comes from my peace corps mom, lady D, who taught it to me when i was whining about sewing a zipper into a basic seam. this trick will not work for all zipper applications, but is perfect for those of you who just want the basics.

step 1. gather your materials. my plan is to make a little zippered pouch, like the one i found on the three bears blog, so i am starting with two rectangles and a zipper. if you have a serger i recommend serging the edges where you will place the zipper (i opted to serge all of my edges, because i will have exposed seams inside my pouch).

 

step 2. put right sides together and baste a 1/2" seam. baste=set your machine to make long stitches.

step 3. press the seam open. place the zipper face down on the pressed seam.

step 4. match the center of the zipper to the center of the seam and pin the zipper in place. make sure your pins are on the other side of the fabric, because when you sew the zipper will be on the bottom.

step 5. make sure you reset your stitch length so that you are no longer basting and attach your zipper foot. carefully top-stitch on both sides of the seam. i always start from the closed end. when i get to the end with the pull tab i put the needle down, life the presser foot, and carefully slide the pull tab behind the presser foot. then i put the presser foot back down and continue sewing to the end of the zipper. i change the position of the zipper foot and needle to sew on the other side and repeat the process.

sewing with the zipper on the right or the left.

when you get close to the zipper pull, you can carefully slide it behind the foot, and continue sewing straight to the end.

 step 6. use a seam ripper to take out the basting stitches.

step 7. i like to sew another line of top-stitching on each side of the zipper. voila! a zipper. easy peasy, lemon squeezee.

top-stitching a second line.

a finished zipper!

tales of lesotho. part two.

life in the village is slow and quiet, but that does not mean that it is boring, because there is always something to do. always. it is a patriarchal society, so it is not surprising that the males seem to do a whole lot of nothing. if you speak to basotho men they will assure you that they do a LOT of work, but considering they often add "eating" to their list of daily work, i take their assurances with a BIG grain of salt. what DO they do all day? hard to say. some of them spend the day in the fields watching over cows, sheep, or goats. some work in the fields. and some spend the afternoon in the shop drinking beer. no matter what they do, you can be certain that they will come home, eat a lot of food, and make a big mess, which they will not clean up. 

watching cows. bringing maize in from the fields. bringing maize stalks from the fields. drinking beer in the shop.

the women on the other hand seem to do the bulk of the work. not only do the women take care of the domestic duties, throughout the day they are also taking care of babies and children. the concept "it takes a village to raise a child" is alive in lesotho, which means that even those with no children or grown children will still find themselves caring for little ones. whether it is feeding, bathing, or comforting, the children always have needs.

babies go everywhere with their mothers. and grandmothers (far right) help raise their grandchildren.

"a woman's work is never done." her day starts shortly after 7am with sweeping the dirt. yes i know this is a weird concept, but i assure you that at most every house, the women wake up, put some water on to boil, and then step outside to sweep the dirt yard. what is even more disturbing is that after having lived in lesotho for a couple years, i actually buy into this concept, because it makes the house look pretty. by the time you are finished making the dirt look pretty, the water should be boiling, which is perfect, because it is time to do the dishes. this is a standard operation...scraps go to the pig and then wash, rinse, and dry. once there are clean dishes, it is time to make breakfast. the menu varies, but my personal favorite is tea and bread. make six or seven cups of tea and plates of bread and serve it to people. when everyone is done eating there are more dishes. super. and pots. ugh.

sweeping dirt. washing dishes. preparing a bowl of sour porridge.

now is a good time to take a trip to the village water pump to get water. if you are planning to do some laundry, you probably want to take two trips to the water pump. once you have water, you can wash clothes (by hand), or do whatever other chores you had planned...you know sorting beans, taking the chaff out of corn, or shining pots. once that is complete you must start pondering what you are cooking for lunch. my favorite is papa (a thick porridge made from maize meal) with soup, a strange but delicious substance similar to spaghetti sauce. finish cooking, prepare six or seven plates, hand them out, and then add the empty plates to the stack of dirty dishes.

laundry. sorting beans. removing chaff from maize. polishing pots.

at this point it is about 1pm. time to relax. for five minutes. and then you have your choice of options. go to the fields to shuck maize or head over to the neighbor's house to take corn off the cob. i was lucky because my mother-in-law (m'e') was crazy protective of me and would not let me participate in these laborious tasks, so i typically spent the afternoon visiting with friends and family.

bringing maize stalks from the fields. sorting through maize. taking maize off the cob.

but one day i did convince her to let me tag along when she went to take corn off the cob. not a horrible task, because it is one time the women will not yell at me for sitting on the ground (they believe women of child-bearing age should not sit on the ground, because it could make the womb cold....right) and it is a great place to catch up on village gossip. m'e' was pleasantly surprised to discover that i actually know how to properly take corn off the cob. of course i am a whole lot slower than her. she tried to con me into believing that i was as fast as her, but let's be honest...i cleaned 131 cobs (yes, i counted) and she cleaned five or six hundred. in my book, this is not even a contest.

my niece taking maize off the cob. my 131 clean cobs. m'e' and her gigantic stack of clean cobs.

upon returning home, it is time to make dinner. if you have a chicken and the thought of chopping off its head does not make you want to vomit, then you can have meat for dinner. if you are me, then you stick with peeling and dicing potatoes. get dinner started, take laundry off the line, and start a fire in the wood stove so everyone will be warm in the evening. put a kettle of water on the stove. prepare and serve dinner and then add the plates to the growing heap of dirty dishes.

removing feathers from a chicken. cooking papa inside. cooking outside.

now it is time to sit around, chit chat, and drink tea (more dirty dishes). sometime around eight or nine everyone will head off to their houses to sleep (families typically have a few little huts within the family compound, so they do not all sleep together. for example, the mister and i slept in one house, m'e' and female guests slept in the second house, and our little brother and male guests slept in the third house). this is a good time to take a hot bath, so you can be warm before jumping into a frozen bed. after all it is winter and despite the raging inferno inside the wood stove, temperatures inside the house are in the low fifties.

bathing in a bucket.

sleep for ten hours and the whole process starts over. thank goodness i was never left alone to do all of this work. between my sisters and nieces visiting, we always had at least three females performing these chores, but not all women are so lucky. after one month of doing only a fraction of the daily work, i am completely in awe of the women who do all of this work virtually unassisted. here in the states we aspire to have luxuries like fancy cars and big houses, but thirty days in lesotho and suddenly running water and electricity seem like precious luxuries. i cannot even describe the heaven that is dishwashers, washing machines, and grocery stores. i only hope i can sustain my appreciation until the next time i visit the village.

next installment...only in lesotho.

tales of lesotho. part one.

for the month of july the mister and i headed off to lesotho (southern africa) to visit his family. we departed on july 6th and surprisingly our departure was totally uneventful. we followed my handy to-do list and waltzed out of the house precisely on time. shocking to say the least. two hours at the airport, ten hours on the plane, and we found ourselves in paris for a 15 hour layover. super. one minor glitch...the mister is a citizen of lesotho, a country which has no visa-waiver policy with france. sans visa the mister was not allowed to leave the international terminal of charles de gaulle airport. lucky for me, i am married to a wonderful man who took control of my luggage and sent me off to wander through paris. i did not have any kind of plan. i had a rinky-dink map from the airline magazine and i was just hoping to find the eiffel tower. after some confusion (streets going every direction with names that are all long and sound similar) i did find the major sights, but it just was not the same without my mister, so i just walked. and walked. and walked. i walked from notre dame to the eiffel tower to the arc de triomphe. for those of you unfamiliar with paris that is about 9km of walking. a little between-flights exercise.

not surprisingly, i arrived back at the airport totally exhausted. the mister was there waiting for me...obviously, he could not leave the world's most boring international terminal. we got some food and watched a world-cup semifinal along with an international assortment of soccer fans. sometime around midnight we boarded our plane for yet another ten hour flight. ugh. we arrived at o.r. tambo international airport in johannesburg sometime around 10am. immigration. baggage. customs. and then we spot the mister's brothers and best friend. 

the mister's older brother, best friend, younger brother, and me.

talk about fish out of water...these village boys looked so out of place inside this vast steel and glass building. they were thrilled by the bathroom...automatic soap dispenser and faucets? apparently it took them a few minutes to figure out how to make the water come out. they then explained that we had to take a bus to the car. they could not fathom paying for parking, so they parked miles and miles away in the employee lot. oh-kay. after the bus ride and some walking we arrived at the car and piled in. but then the car would not start. oops. so we all got back out and gave the car a push start, which was a good taste of where we were headed. the next seven hours were an uneventful journey through the countryside of south africa, a painless jaunt across the border bridge and voila...welcome to lesotho.

the family. falimehang, tankiso, the mister, masta, janki,
and m'e' (my mother-in-law).

it was past 8pm when we arrived at the mister's childhood home in a village called ha makebe. since this is our first time in the village since we married, i know we will have to go through some of the traditions for the newly married, but am not exactly clear on what that means. the unknown is leaving me a little bit anxious, but i am trying to remain calm. when i wake up the next day i am informed that i cannot leave the house until my hubby's sister arrives and dresses me. ummm...okay. trying to roll with the punches, but being indefinitely cooped up inside a 100 square foot house is making me feel a tad claustrophobic. luckily my best friend motlalile showed up right before panic set in. tears, cry, tears, cry, i am so ridiculously happy to see her and the hours fly by.

kiss and hug with my darling motlalile and her brother.

finally my hubby's sister, masta, arrives and the festivities begin. step one, masta and my mother-in-law dress me, which amounts to helping me put on the traditional outfit, complete with blanket and headscarf. step two, all of the women of the family gather in one room, while the men are outside. the men bring a sheep to the door and my mother-in-law explains that the family is giving me this sheep to welcome me to the family. great. except for the part where they slaughter the sheep to feed to everyone in celebration of our marriage. step three, my mother-in-law gives me a new name. she names me marethabile, which means "we are happy." step four, my little sister, along with any girls who want to join us, takes me to a village water source. sort of the lesotho version of a parade, except in this case it is showing the new wife where to find water, so the wife will know where to get water for washing clothes, dishes, etc. 

returning from our walk to the village water source.

step five, i sit in the house and meet a gazillion relatives, all of whom expect me to remember them when they return the next day. sure, no problem. step six, the final step. my aunt comes in and tells me to refuse the sheep meat when it is brought to me. she then leaves the room and comes back with a plate of cooked sheep, which she offers to me. i refuse it. she offers again. i refuse again. she nods and leaves the room. then she returns and gives the plate to everyone else to eat. the mister and i were rather confused by this tradition. why offer me the meat if you want me to refuse it? but whatever. the others are delighted to eat sheep. in fact, my little brother's best friend ate so much sheep that i nicknamed him mr. sheep. 

mr. sheep leading the way to finish off the entire sheep in one sitting.

the next day was a saturday, which in the basotho culture is the day for feasts. this particular saturday there were two feasts in ha makebe, so there were a ton of visitors from the surrounding villages. i sat outside while everyone came to see me. i got a taste of how zoo animals must feel, because everyone wanted to see the new "makoti" (newly married woman) and take pictures with me wearing the basotho blanket. but i was thrilled with the chance to get to know the mister's family. 

the mister and i wearing basotho blankets.

 his older sister kept me entertained with her attempts to cook the sheep's head. 

the sheep's head. gag.

she spent four hours laboring over that head...YUCK...only to forget the cooked head in the pot outside. by the time she remembered, it was dark outside and the head was gone. dogs stole it and we had to listen to them howling in the yard all night, looking for more meat. oops. not exactly how she planned things, but it sure did break the ice.

next installment...a glimpse into village life.