Mia's Baptism

Two weeks ago, Mia was baptised in our church after the regular Sunday Mass. We expected a lot of fireworks from her but she was so intrigued but what was going on that she only pushed the priest's hand away from her after she had water poured on her head the first time. As far as she was concerned, that was the last time that was going to happen. it wasn't going to happen again. However, I am proud to report we prevailed and now have a securely baptised daughter.

The annual Christmas missive

Merry Christmas and Happy
New Year. We hope this finds
You and your family happy
and healthy.

First, we are very proud to announce the
long awaited arrival of Mia Grace ChengJin. Born November 26, 2006, in the People’s Republic of China, she was home to be ours forever September 10, 2007. Our life will never be the same and for that we are grateful. God has again been very good to us this year.

Of course, we did have the option of making the above announcement by mounting a big, purple inflatable animal on our roof. We know nothing is as classy as making an announcement with a big purple gorilla but, unfortunately, the only one we could find was sitting on top of the local Porsche dealership. Plus, we had to send our annual missive to make sure you don’t forget just how shiny and happy we all are in the Anchaya-Pepper household. Least you forget, we did include a picture. Don’t let the fact that the shine is from sweating anxiously deter you. We never do.

This year began pretty similar to all others. Early resolutions to lose the holiday weight were more than successfully achieved by removing all household mirrors that reflected anything from the neck down. Other awesome successes included my being able to thread a needle, at least once, without any reading glasses and selecting just the right pansies for the neighborhood deer. Apparently, blue and yellow just scream “salad”.

We also took several amazing and exotic vacations. In March, we took Aidan to the Tennessee aquarium for his second and final hurrah as an indulged only child. We successfully completed the entire visit without me pushing him into the water like I did in 2006. Oddly, Aidan only wanted to walk while hanging on to his Dad. Although exciting, it was no match for another totally awesome attraction we discovered in Chattanooga that dealt with road service. Just doesn’t get much better than that. We also took Aidan to Stone Mountain Park for his third and final hurrah as an only child. However, our hurrahing had become much more efficient. As we made our way to Stone Mountain we made a safety stop at the half-way point to replenish our provisions and to make sure everyone got a good stretch. We then drove the remaining 7 miles.

Of course, much of our vacation schedule is dictated by what day is the hottest on record and where we can find a large cartoon character to pose with. Of course, the combination does result in a new character, Stinky Sponge Bob. We’ll spare you.

Aidan played soccer in a park league and seemed to like it although he found defense to be remarkably similar to standing in one place for a long time. However, he was willing to endure as he got to wear really cool shiny blue shoes and partake of communal Gatoraide.

Our big event was on August 3rd, when we got the long awaited call that China matched us with Mia. Robert and I left on September 5th to go meet her. We first went through Hong Kong where we learned useful things like 4 is the unluckiest number, if your building looks like a cigarette you’d better put a pool on top or it will definitely burn, and if you don’t keep your tub and shower plugged your energy will just be sucked right out. Can’t tell you how silly we felt since we always thought the energy drain was from our work schedule or the kids. From Hong Kong we went to Guangzhou where we checked into a hotel on Shamian island for a two week stay. Fortunately, there was a floor attendant who came into our room every time we left to ensure that the sink and tub were plugged. We tempted the fates a couple of times but because I was about to turn 44, we decided we best not push it and started putting those plugs in. We were matched with Mia on September 10th and we love her dearly. We did get to travel to her orphanage and got to see the very special Cantonese cuisine. Fortunately, the bread was very, very good.

ince our return, we have all been little scientists. First, we got to demonstrate the impact of 12 hour’s jet lag on the aging body. Not pretty. We also quickly discovered the principal that adding one little girl geometrically fills up a minivan. As we don’t have one, we have made the necessary adjustments like taking her to church without any shoes, especially in the jet lag test period. Mia has found gravity to be a fascinating force that she loves to interact with. She has been conducting experiments on terminal velocity from her high chair, crib, chair, floor, and car seat. She has discovered that the importance of a test object is directly proportional to how hard it is for one of her parents or her brother to retrieve it. Objects tested from her car seat during rush hour have the greatest value. Aidan has been continuously researching chaos theory with Mia’s assistance. They spend quite a bit of time in the morning and after school working together on this project. Aidan is a very patient researcher who has taken Mia under his wing. We would love to know how you and your family are doing. We are at pjoan@bellsouth.net. Merry Christmas!

Christ in Knoxville

I managed to get sick in Oak Ridge last week. Had nothing to do with Oak Ridge. They have good air and really nice leaves there. I must have brought some nasty Atlanta germs or such. But, it was a long night and then a long day. I had called my doc and they told me to go to the ER. As I could walk and breathe that didn't seem to be reasonable to me. I have many other ways to use any discretionary income I can scrape up and, quite frankly, I was too sick to go to the ER. You just can't sit in a waiting room when you are that sick. But, as the day went on, I got that nagging feeling that if I didn't do something, my stomach might just blow up, ruining someone's day and surrounding walls. So, I went to the walk in clinic. And then the fun started. I filled out the paperwork. I handed over my license. And it continued to hurt just like labor but without any benefits. That is when I realized I didn't have my health insurance card. Had the data, didn't have the card. Had a credit card but that wasn't going to do. Called home but the phone wasn't answered. Waited and had some more pains. Called home again. And again, and again. Then, I just started to cry at the frustration of sitting where I could see the docs and with valid money but not being able to be seen. Then, I cried harder because I was quite embarrassed that I was such a wuss and crying in public. So there I sit sniffeling and trying to hide that fact.

A man named James came over, sat next to me and got a box of tisues. He asked me why I was alone and I told him I was originally there under protest and that I have been in too many ERs and clinics with other folks to visit that on anyone else. Plus, I hadn't intended for my stay to be quite as long as it was stretching into and it annoys me when folks sit there looking at you trying to judge whether you will fall over. That makes me feel really sick. He told me it would be okay and then just sat with me. Just like that. Handed me a couple of Kleenex and waited with me. When I finally got through at home and got my info they saw me long enough to send me away to the ER where I continued to breathe and walk. But, James looked me in the eye twice and told me I would be okay. I knew that already but it was good to have it confirmed. You just don't see that type of genuine compassion and for some reason I believed him more than the docs. I just knew it was Christ talking to me through another. Didn't want anything, just was there, telling me everything would be all right.

I only know one thing about James. He is pretty sick and is not very old. He seemed to be at peace. He has four grandkids, 7, 5, 10 months and 6 weeks. Three boys, one girl. Wants to stick around for a while and see them grow up. Might not be able to do so. So I'm praying for him right now.

We Need a New Toaster

Well, the test results are in. The reason the toaster was 2 for $9 is truly because they are so cruddy you are supposed to get one as backup. Or, perhaps they were meant to be one use disposables and I missed that part. In any event, took two days. Nice brown toast on day one as prepared by Robert and Aidan. Nice stream of smoke coming from it on day two as I attempted to toast something flammable again. At least I didn't set off the smoke detectors. I'll put it on my list and for now eat plain white bread so no one gets hurt.

The Day the Music Died

Nothing says Christmas like the communal sharing of a bass beat compliments of some driver who in the spirit of brotherly love just wants to reach out and touch me with some vintage Snoop Dog or Snoop's earthier friends. I've even been the recipient of some communal bass sharing outside of the Christmas season. I've always thought is just so darn generous of the 18 year old driver and his cadre that pull up to me at the stoplight to want to share that funky music. In fact, I've commented on that warm feeling to my passengers many times and expressed my warm fuzzy feelings for the folks who I rank just above those who throw lit cigarettes out the window to check the wind velocity.

So, it is with dismay that I must report that I inadvertently destroyed this fine musical experience for myself and my fellow parking lot patrons and for those lovers of Snoop Dog and his earthier friends, sorry about that.

The kids and I decided to go to Walmart to have a little pre-Christmas adventure. Sort of like when I was a kid and would be taken for a walk in downtown Cleveland to see the window displays at the big department stores except without the displays. Just like Cleveland would be if you put it in a big, corrugated metal box and took away all of it's character. Mia marveled at the Christmas trees, all lit up and ready to go. Aidan marveled at the 2008 Hot Wheel models and carefully explained to me how they would be happier in a good home. After having a pre Christmas meal from a McDonald's box, we stood in line for an hour or two to check out. Mia decided she just couldn't take anymore excitement and decided to nap. She announced her decision by loudly banging her forehead against the buggy handle. As she threatened to do it again, I decided it would be prudent for me to hold her which made emptying the buggy an yogic exercise.

We finally got everything back into the buggy and worked out the details of our home equity loan for payment. Off we went, me balancing Mia with one arm while pulling the buggy with the other one while Aidan provided navigation services from the rear. Other than that one collision with my ankles, it was teamwork at its dizzying best.

We got outside and began to venture into the Walmart cross walk. As a service to it's customers, Walmart has made their crosswalk large enough to handle the massive discharge of customers that would occur should all of the checkout lines be open which has only happened once in history. It was a cold day in 2002 and I was on electric cart restrictions while pregnant with Adian. It was a fine time right up until I crashed one of Walmart's electric buggies dead center and at full speed into the wall in front of the registers which were all historically open for this one day and this one day only. I amped up my performance with my best approximation of a rebel yell as I prepared for impact. Barely missed a father and his two teenage sons as I sped by them in my best approximation of Evel Keneviel on an electric buggy. After impact, I heard the father tell the sons that it just isn't appropriate to laugh at the disabled lady and began to laugh manically as, quite frankly, I thought it was. So, I tried to turn the thing around to the sounds of scattered applause and the somewhat panicked ministrations of the store's loss control expert. Oddly, I got personal package carry-out service that day from that very loss control expert. But, as usual, I digress.

We get half way into the cross walk before we realize that a thoughtful shopper was stopping to wait for us. In the true holiday spirit, he had his tinted windows down to even more generously share his Christmas philosophy which had something to do with "giving it to you". Aidan stops navigating and we use the time honored method of buggy stopping which is to have it impact the back of my ankle at maximum velocity. Aidan takes the one hand I have that isn't fully asleep from the weight of a child and asks me to dance. I consider saying no but remember the pledge I made to myself three years ago and have flawlessly upheld - when we get the chance, we dance. So I decide what the hell the driver would probably have his heart warmed by our apparent enjoyment of his gift and, if not, I would get to dance with my son who isn't old enough to recognize just how mortified he should be. So, I shift Mia to the other arm and Aidan and I begin to dance enthusiastically which, when we dance well, closely resembles people having some type of seizure, albeit on the down stroke as we both have some awesome rhythm. The frozen food begins to melt but we we don't care, we are dancing our blues away. We move enthusiastically around the wide, yellow expanse. Aidan spins and I do my best version of the head bob which closely resembles a chicken pecking at seed. A drugged out chicken, but a chicken nonetheless.

And then, it happened. Surprisingly, the music died. Just like that. Right smack in the middle of a composition. We stopped, turned and looked hopefully at the car. It was so quiet we could hear the sound of the windows as they were rolled up. We shrugged to show our disappointment and then Aidan and I gave him our thumbs up seal of approval while Mia clapped. As we all know, nothing is more appreciated by the young provider of public music than the endorsement of a middle aged, chicken dancing, white woman and her two twirling kids so we made sure that we made our thumbs up endorsement obvious to all. After all, nothing says "I'm cool" to a teenager than the public approval of old strangers and, in the spirit of the holiday, wanted to make sure we imparted that gift. We are looking forward to sharing the joy with other young bass connoisseurs if at all possible.

SPAM is good food

It is safe to say that I rarely think about SPAM, that fine canned meat product. Whole years have gone by without me pondering the product. In fact, I probably could have gone the rest of my life and continued to a reasonably productive member of society without gaining a deeper understanding of it. Really. But that was not to be.

The other day, I was gleefully on the way home from the dentist. I had to spend some quality time on a bridge over the freeway. As I marveled at the way it shook every time something heavy drove over it, my happy holiday thoughts turned to SPAM. No connection, just another sign of a disturbed mind. I reflected on the fact that the highest per capita consumption of SPAM is in Hawaii, something I learned on my trip there. Can't recall where I stayed and sort of recall Robert was there with me, but by gosh, I do recall that they have the highest per capita consumption of SPAM. I'm sure it has something to do with being stranded on an island and therefore not knowing any better. So, I carefully considered whether I was a hypocrite for eating the product as a kid and on a spring roll in Hawaii (and secretly liking it) while also thinking the Cantonese food was really, really scary. After 1 or 2 seconds of deep contemplation, I decided nope, worm stew is clearly outside the bell curve of acceptable. If the worms were ground up, gelled, spiced and canned, maybe I would reconsider. And that was that.

Except it wasn't. I get 5 miles or 50 minutes down the freeway and they start talking about SPAM on the radio. The DJ mentions he is from Hawaii and there is nothing like a little bit of fried SPAM tied to a rice ball with some seaweed. I'm thinking, what a damn SPAM coincidence. Think I should call Robert to tell him all about it but then decide I value my marriage more than that. So, that was that.

Except it wasn't. I get home and flip open the newspaper. Right there, in bold print, is an article announcing, "SPAM singles are great, great, great" Really. The part about it being in the paper, not that it is "great, great, great." Unless they mean that it is only a single serving that you need to eat before you move on but even then I'd only stipulate to "good, good, good."

So, I've spent the last two days pondering what it all means while humming the Twilight Zone theme to help my contemplative effort. Of course, I could be thinking about something a bit more useful like how do I continue to get the kids matching pajamas or why Mia doesn't care like the car Aidan is showing her but by gosh, I only have so many brain cells available. Finally, after some enthusiastic humming, it just came to me. SPAM is just MAPS in reverse. Without a doubt, I am meant to be the proud owner of a GPS device. Thankfully, they seem to be in "great, great, great" supply this Christmas season. And one has my name all over it.