For Those Who Fall Victim to the Forces of Evil
Almighty God, our Refuge and our Rock, your loving care knows no bounds and embraces all the peoples of the earth: Defend and protect those who fall victim to the forces of evil, and as we remember this day those who endured depredation and death because of who they were, not because of what they had done or failed to do, give us the courage to stand against hatred and oppression, and to seek the dignity and well-being of all for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ, in whom you have reconciled the world to yourself; and who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Today our Lectionary remembers the Armenian genocide:
GENOCIDE REMEMBRANCE
Genocide Remembrance Day is observed by Armenians in dispersed communities around the world on April 24. It is held annually to commemorate the victims of the Armenian Genocide from 1915 to 1923.
The date 24 April commemorates the Armenian notables deported from the Ottoman capital in 1915, of hundreds of Armenian intellectuals and community leaders, most of whom would be executed, which was a precursor to the ensuing events.
— more at Wikipedia
Although this date is specifically a remembrance of the Armenian genocide, it is clear from the collects that it is intended here to cover all genocides: the killing or harming of people simply because of which ethnic, religious, or national group to which they happen to belong.
Of Little or No Interest to Most People
I began this blog in 2006, living in Kuwait. Kuwait was resource-rich for blogging; lots of bloggers, all kinds of interests; as a new resident in Kuwait, it gave me a portal into a new world, a new way of seeing things, and a way to meet wonderful people I might otherwise have never encountered. Kuwait was also rich in ex-pats, people from all over the world came to Kuwait to work, to send money home to their families, to create a better life. Many of those stories are in previous entries.
One story in particular still makes me laugh. I was at a dinner party at the British Embassy, seated next to a Nigerian woman. “So how did you come to live in Kuwait?” I asked, as I always do, because the answers are always so varied and unexpected.
She said she came to work with her husband. She leaned in and said in a low voice “I look deep inside you and tell you things you never knew about yourself.”
I’m pretty good at keeping a polite face, but I think I slipped a little then as I looked at this very respectable woman and thought “Witchcraft??” “Psychologist?” And she laughed, and said “I’m a radiologist.” We became good friends. I loved her sense of humor and her love of life.
There was a lot to write about, so many things that were new and unusual and often lovely. Before I left Kuwait, my blog had more than a million hits. Before I left Doha, I had more than two million. That was 16 years ago, and blogging has diminished, I no longer live such an exotic and interesting life and I have less time to write. The blog has struggled on.
This morning, I noticed I am about to hit 2,900,000 hits. Maybe this week. That’s fun for me. And it makes me wonder if I will live long enough, write long enough, to hit 3 million.
So Much For Health and Transparency
It started during COVID. Politicians and their Administrations stopped publicizing statistics when the stats revealed their government was doing little or nothing to prevent spread of disease. Now, under the cover of cost reductions and eliminating fraud they are gutting the agencies that maintain the statistics and restricting publications of what few statistics are being gathered. Fortunately, private institutions and individuals are watching, keeping track, and doing their best to keep a vulnerable population informed.
Ghosted – A Happy Ending
Our housekeeper, staying in our house as we travel, sent this photo to us the day after we left Pensacola. This old, wobbly, emaciated cat showed up hungry! She fed him and asked me what we wanted to do.
We’ve never seen this cat before. We have a flock of known outdoor cats we help, and this isn’t one of them. This cat appears wretched. We asked that she continue to feed him, and add some beef broth to make sure he gets enough hydration. She checks with a mutual friend, a cat consultant with Everett Animal Welfare group, who gives us advice.
When we return, he is still alive, and looking a little better, we think. We take him to the vet; the vet requires a name and we decide to call him Sunny, for his always loving and uncomplaining personality.
The vet has sad news. He runs all the tests, the cat is negative for feline AIDS, and other diseases, but his thyroid is shot and his kidneys are on their last legs. He is not microchipped. There is nothing the vet can do, and he tells us to make Sunny comfortable and enjoy these last weeks of his life.
Sunny can barely walk, but he doesn’t know he is sick. He bleeds from the mouth, his teeth hurt him so we buy him special food. He never tucks right into his food, he always politely demands we pet him around the head and scratch under his chin. He rolls on the ground and fondles our shoes. Then he eats. And eats. And eats. He also drinks, but because he is so arthritic, we provide a bucket for him so he doesn’t have to bend down. We are happy, because while he is not strong, he does not appear terminal, and he does not appear to have pain, other than he can barely walk.
And then, last night, he disappeared.
From the day he came, he has not moved around too much, other than to be a little private in his eliminations. When we leave, we always check to see where he is and run for the car. Sometimes, if he is under AdventureMan’s car, we take my car. He is always there, and rises to greet us when we return. He greeted us when we returned from lunch yesterday. I saw him sleeping around 3. And then, we never saw him again.
He didn’t show up for his dinner (!!!) and he wasn’t helping AdventureMan with watering the plants. He was gone, as mysteriously as he had appeared. Ghosted.
He broke AdventureMan’s heart, who had quickly bonded with Sunny. He was up and down all night, checking hopefully to see if he had returned. I was sure he would show up this morning, hungry for breakfast, but no Sunny.
I was just putting away the ironing board when AdventureMan came running out this morning saying “You are NOT going to believe this.” He had his phone in his hand, but I thought maybe he had seen Sunny outside. No, he hadn’t. But he had sent a text to our up-the-hill neighbor, asking her to keep an eye out for this emaciated old cat we had been taking care of.
Her response was astonishing. “That’s Marvin!” she texted. He had disappeared when we left for Paris, and they had been looking for him. Then they got really sick with COVID and had to take care of themselves and lost hope of ever seeing Marvin again. And Marvin returned home yesterday!
I remembered Marvin – a big, fat, fluffy cat who ran around their yard in the company of their ancient aunt, who adored him. That this tiny (maybe 3 – 4 pounds) cat could be Marvin was a shocker, but happy news.
This Sunny, who turns out to be Marvin, is safely home. No wonder he is such a happy cat – he is 18 years old and has been loved all his life. His appearance at our house was a mystery – how could such a weak cat get to our house? Could he have been dumped? The mystery is solved, our neighbor is ecstatic, and we are happy to know that Sonny/Marvin will live and end his life in comfort and a loving environment. She’s glad he was taken care of during the weeks of is absence. I call that a happy ending.
Tauck Seine: Rouen, Jean d’Arc and Rollo
As you read this, you’ll think I could have done a better job of culling, but . . . this was my favorite day of the trip and I couldn’t resist taking photos, and there are so few I don’t want to share with you! It’s a popular port – several tour boats parked, and lots of private boats.
It’s early Monday morning, and the official tour doesn’t start until later; AdventureMan and I have eaten a quick breakfast and are eager to get going. Tauck is good about independent travelers; we show our card to the little machine and go!
Look at this tiny narrow little alley way, with the two houses almost touching above!
Great costume idea!
Napoleon. He’s everywhere:
Saint-Ouen Abbey Church
Place de Vieux Marche’/ Place of the Old Market, also the location of the very modern church honoring Joan of Arc.
It’s a very boat like church; look at the beams in the roof.
This gave me shivers – A Prayer for a Good Death. Something to think about.
Rouen sings to my soul. It has played a pivotal part in history so many different times. I love that this is where the Scandinavian people were deeded the land when Rollo married into French royalty. It gives me the creeps that Joan of Arc, after her bravery leading the French Army, died forsaken in a hideous way. I love that this was the stronghold of William the Conquerer, who changed history dramatically in 1066.
And so we need to ponder what we have seen, and what better place than the cafe we found near the Rouen Cathedral?
Look at that meringue! How do they do that?
We watch the groups go by; our guides come into the cafe and tell us that the youth are having a photo scavenger hunt inside the Rouen Cathedral. We are delighted to think they are having so much fun and we are happy to be drinking good tea here.
We meander back to the ship – still discovering more to explore! We want to come back to Rouen for a stay.
Who knew? There is a garbage boat that picks up trash from the ships. The Slop Express!
Rouen Bridge pays tribute to Viking Heritage
Back on board
The bartender is happy to add a little Calvados to my coffee 😊
This afternoon we are cruising back up the Seine toward Versailles; it is a good time to start packing. Tomorrow will be another busy day, and the day after that – Paris!
“Mom, That is Very Bold”
He looked troubled. He knows living here is one of the reddest counties in one of the reddest states in the country, a sign like this could invite trouble.
“I’ve had the sign for weeks; I was afraid to put it out.” What I didn’t say is that this is Florida. People express themselves in ways I find unacceptable, like shooting at your house, or at the very least, stealing signs that express an opinion they don’t like. I didn’t have to say it. He deals with it every day.
You might think that sign means I am pro-abortion. I am not. I believe abortion is a last, desperate resort. And it is a remedy I want women to have – I want women to make decisions for their own bodies. Not men. Not a legislature. Not a governor.
It was a shock when we amassed enough signatures to get this initiative on the November ballot, not only enough, but way more than enough. The people of Florida want to vote on this and be a part of the decision-making. Right now in Florida, there is a six-week deadline on the pregnancy, during which a person might get an abortion – but that assumes the person realizes she is pregnant and can process and make a decision in that very short time.
Statistics show that since the states began limiting abortions, the number of abortions actually rose. Go figure?
No woman chooses abortion lightly. It is a medical procedure. It costs money. It takes time. It is uncomfortable. Women only choose abortion when the alternatives are unthinkable. Not having the right to choose doesn’t stop abortion, it only makes it a greater burden on women.
So I planted my sign and I hope for the best. I have found that in this very conservative neck of the woods, there are many like-minded people who of necessity keep their heads down. I want them to feel a ray of hope when they see my sign, and maybe, maybe along with voting for Proposition Four, they might even put a sign in their own yards, help others register to vote, or help transport voters to the polls in November.
Sweet Sixteen: Intlxpatr Celebrates Blogging
Welcome friends, to a virtual celebration of 16 years of blogging as Intlxpatr. Where we are living now, in the deep South, the pineapple is a symbol of welcome. You are welcome here.
Old friends have asked if we miss “the life.” Yes. We do. And we have a new life, a life we never dreamed would be so happy. We live just blocks away from our son and his wife, and our two grandchildren. My son and his wife are in the prime of life, working, busy, and trying to keep up with a jarring pace of life.
We are called in frequently. In the summers, we help drive to and from daily camps, and we often have the grandkids in the afternoons. School started in August; on Sundays, we coordinate with Mom and Dad on which days they will need us for which drop-offs or pick-ups, or appointments, or – well, we stay flexible. And we stay busy. And being so closely connected gives us purpose and joy.
I also have joy in this new life having rediscovered my love of the water. I am swimming 2 miles three days a week. Well, most weeks. I have buddies at the pool, and sometimes I spend too much time catching up, and then I have to scramble to get my laps in. I tell myself it isn’t about the numbers, it’s about living a good life. A good life needs good friends. Thank YOU for being with me on this journey.
We are about to take our first trip overseas since our Bordeaux trip in 2019. We will be going back for brief visits, mostly to places we have been before. Yes. We will be taking you along. As with so many of our trips, there are often times where, even in this day and age, we are without access to reliable internet, but we manage ☺️.
COVID has been a long slog. As you may know, I lost my Mother, early in the epidemic. She lived in Seattle and was one of the earliest victims. The grief I experienced hit me hard; I became touchy and angry, I didn’t love the things I loved, and it took me a long time to get through the uncomfortable process of grieving. Every year, in October, I make my Mom’s famous chocolate fruit cakes. In September (yesterday) I made her wonderful Autumn Plum Cake (pflaumekuchen).
And because, as we age, we are increasingly aware of fitness, and the need to eat the right foods, I will include something fabulous and healthy:
Yes, another first on Intlxpatr, LOL.
And because I firmly believe it is wise to drink less, I prefer to drink less of a really good wine.
A toast! To living well, my friends, whatever that might look like in your life. Bonne fete!
Adieu, Émile
As we stood outside in the back of the house, looking at the little courtyard and the terraces, my daughter-in-law said “We call this the cat crossing. We don’t know where they all come from, but there are always cats crossing.”
Soon we had one who came regularly, a cat like we have never had before. He was young and scrawny (we’ve had young, scrawny cats before) and his left eye was opaque. He showed up faithfully around the time we fed our indoor cats, looking for a meal, thus Émile. We bought separate bowls, and kept him – and his comrades – fed. Even when we travel, our housekeeper/ cat sitter would make sure he never went hungry.
The only way we knew he might like us was that when he heard our voices, he would come hang out. We were never able to get closer than 3 feet away from him, and even 3 feet made him goosey. We would thrill when he would spend a day or two up in his niche, a safe little place surrounded on all sides. Late in the day, he would wander away until meal time the next morning.
He was, like most cats, a ferocious hunter, and was proud to show off his latest squirrel or bird; what cat doesn’t love a fresh hot meal?
But one day, about two months ago, he started looking a little peaky. The last time I saw him, he was having trouble with a back leg. He disappeared.
Cats do that – outdoor cats. When they are unwell, they go somewhere. Sometimes they get better. We’ve had cats come back before, but I don’t think Emile will be back. The other cats have disappeared, too. There may be some kind of a cat virus going around, or, God forbid, someone may be poisoning them.
We would have liked to provide for Emile, to take him to a vet, get him immunized, get him checked out. We would have liked to give him affection. We would have liked for him to trust us.
And a part of me, thinking like a feral cat, imagines that none of that was of any interest to Emile. He seemed happy with the life he had, free, with a free-range menu supplemented by these strange two-legged beings who put out offerings for him on a regular basis. We sort of knew that this would be the way it ended, that he would ghost us in the end.
Being pragmatic, knowing the probability of this particular kind of ending, doesn’t make it any better. We’re still sad he is gone, and thankful for the time we had him in our lives.
Living off My Fat: Adaptation
It probably all started growing up in Alaska, where my mother would measure us in July to order our snowsuits as soon as the new catalogs came out. We lived where ships didn’t come in the winter, so supplies for the winter needed to be ordered – and received – before the ships could no longer navigate the channel.
Then came our life in Germany, where we lived by what my sister called “Commissary rules.” Her one word of advice as a newlywed leaving Germany, while I was staying, was “When you see something in the Commissary or PX you think you MIGHT need, buy it.” Definitely a no-regrets philosophy.
When we were sent to live in Tunisia, in the late 1970’s, we were instructed to take everything we might need for the next two years. Some things – chocolate chips – we learned to live without. We adapted to new foods, new ways of doing things. One of the great treats was the fresh, gorgeous, silky olive oil; I would take my jar to the little olive oil vendor at the nearby souk and he would weigh my jar, fill it, subtract the weight of the jar and charge me for the oil, which made everything taste French.
I did have a two-year supply of shoes for a growing toddler, also clothing for him in graduated sizes, and two years of age-appropriate books I could pull out of the closet. We were able to mail-order through the embassy pouch, and my mother was able to mail me little extras. One year, when I was running the Christmas bazaar, she was able to find red and green Christmas fabrics in July, at a discount, and mail them to us for our crafting. It was such a luxury!
In Qatar, I was always bringing back duffels with quilting rulers and rotary cutters for my quilting friends. In Kuwait, it was books for my book club and American sugar for a friend who liked to bake. Kuwait had sugar, but more coarse, and American sugar melts more quickly for a finer result. Who knew?
There are items from the past I still have in abundance – dental floss, women’s underwear, shoes – and staples I buy but no longer use in the quantities I once did because we no longer live a life where we entertain a lot nor prepare for unexpected people on temporary duty who need a meal and an exchange of currency. I am trying to bring down my supplies of artichoke hearts and pimentos, beans and rice, canned tomatoes, chutney, Tupperware and hand soap.
My Little Free Library, one of the best birthday gifts ever, helps me keep my books from overflowing.
We are happy, these days, to be living with less. We are still caught by surprise by rolls of baking parchment we are still using from Kuwait, dental floss leftover from our years in Tunis and an excess of Christmas decorations we still need to pare down. We try to go easy on ourselves. “Ah,” we sigh, “it’s a process.” God grant that we live long enough to use up all those supplies we bought “just in case.”
Chasing Petroglyphs: Dinosaur National Monument
I love it when I underestimate an attraction. This is the day we visit the Carnegie Quarry/ Douglass Quarry. I am going to quote from the Dinosaur National Monument Day Trip 5 folder now: The Visitor Center contains a fine bookstore, exhibits explaining the fossils, petroglyphs, and other park features, and information about how to see fossils in the park. The Carnegie Quarry . . . is one of the best Jurassic Period dinosaur finds in the world. Between 1909 and 1924, Paleontologist Earl Douglass discovered 10 species of dinosaurs, twenty complete skeletons and skulls. The Carnegie Quarry and other fossil quarries in the park have greatly advanced the study of dinosaurs. Current research in the park is focused on understanding the ecosystems the dinosaurs lived in, which has resulted in the discovery of new species of dinosaur, salamander, frog, lizard, mammal and plants. By protecting fossils, we can better understand the past. By understanding the past we can better understand the present.
There is so much I find both impressive and moving about this site. First, Douglass discovers this amazing site where an ancient river regularly flooded, killing local species in an early version of climate crisis, the bodies would be stuck in the mud, the mud baked hard, like concrete, and the cycle continues, layer on layer of bones, many with skeletons relatively intact, piled up in this location.
He had the genius to know it was a paleontological gold mine. Workers extracted skeletons that are now in the finest paleontology museums in the world. To me, here is where true vision comes in – Douglass had the vision to preserve an entire partially excavated wall of fossils, to create a beautiful, light-filled building to protect the wall, and to open this wall of fossils to the public, at no charge.
What better way to build public understanding and public support?
We drove to the visitor center, and caught a shuttle, which makes the circuit every 15 minutes. Soon we arrived at the Wall of Bones.
On the upper level, there are interactive stations which will help you identify exactly whose bones you are looking at. It’s amazing stuff.
All kinds of informational displays help you understand exactly what you are seeing.
I had never heard of Dinosaur National Monument. I saw it on the map and thought it would be an interesting stop on our way to Moab. I had no idea I would be so blown away by the Fremont Petroglyphs at McConkie Ranch or this Wall of Bones at the Dinosaur National Monument. Life remains a great adventure.
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