This is hard. Hard hard hard.

My sister, I mean, and loving her in a way she can understand, and communicating with her in a way that doesn’t yield defensiveness, and finding how to give her all the time she wants, while still finishing my own projects, and sometimes seeing my busy husband. Mostly, it’s the communication that’s so hard.

Who knew expecting a 14-year-old to act more adult-like when treated more adult-like, to incorporate into her life what she sees modeled would be a bit too lofty? Everyone, of course. Of course. But how do you cultivate communication with this childish child when the modes of communication she understands are stoned giggling and parental yelling?

I want not to be so involved mentally–I mean, I want to think of her more as a sister-roommate than a sister I must mother (because she doesn’t want another mother). I guess the real difficulty in that, though, is that she can’t do much on her own, not yet anyway.

Also: I’m so exhausted. I’ve lost myself somewhere in my few obligations, and I don’t know where to find her. I feel horribly lonely, alone, yet never alone.  Losing myself makes me question everything. Have the people I’ve loved in my life really loved me back? Why is my mind playing over and over two scenes: 8-year-old me, giving a best friends necklace to my dearest friend, and her handing it back a few days later because her mother didn’t allow her to have a best friend; 24-year-old me visiting a dear, dear childhood friend I’d reconnected with, someone I found I treasured even more as an adult than I had as a child. My friend’s friend asked how we knew one another, and she answered “Our moms were friends when we were kids,” and I felt it as “That’s all–she doesn’t really matter to me.” Strange, isn’t it, the things that attach themselves to our souls.

I feel empty empty empty. I want a big, rich family of sisters, brothers, aunties, mothers, fathers to help fill me up, to support my little house-family. Where is the richness of life?

One more thing: There was begging for two kittens, and now that they’re here, adorable and clawing, I wonder–how can two baby kitties mean twice the housework?

Two Bicycles is going through a fantastic change! Like a fuzzy caterpillar, the site is in the cocoon stage and this weekend it’ll become a beautiful butterfly! You should tell all your friends to come and visit then.

Yes, it’s been much longer than a flash–about 5 months, truth to tell. But I walked all over Nepal, bussed through India, and swam the beaches of Thailand. What a grand adventure it all was!

And then, at the end, Nick and I picked up and moved to Vancouver. Why? Well, the poor economy hit our doorstep in Hamburg, plus being closer to family was in order. But the best thing about Canada is that they speak our language! Oh, how you can’t understand the value of communication until you’re without it. Now, if I need darning thread in a perfect blue, or shellac thinner, or to know where to put the recycling, well, all I’ve got to do is ask. What bliss.

The Little Things in Life

Coffee is something Aza and I have always considered our coffee luxurious. To naysayers or non-believers, I have a simple philosophy to offer you. It may be hard to believe, especially in this era of Starbucks and the wide spread fast food service industry, that something as simple, and common as coffee would be considered special.

Starbucks offers what is currently in my mug for about a dollar. Both are hot and freshly made, but there is one essential difference which transcends the scope of beverages and in to the rest of our lives. Every single aspect of it, no matter how great or minuscule. The difference is that my coffee I ground myself in my own hand-grinder, and made in a french press. There is nothing mechanical in the process.

I am physically involved, and have invested time and energy in the generation of this coffee and that is something which you do not forget, but remember and are reminded of as you drink. I’ve just made the quality of this cup of coffee greater than what Starbucks could, ever.

Beyond the Brew

It doesn’t stop there. You can apply this to anything. People run around every day trying to find things that make them feel fulfilled, happy, and that they haven’t wasted their time. People drink lots of coffee, but what if you could LOVE that cup you’re drinking? Even if it took you a few more minutes? It would save you a tremendous amount of cash over time, but just focusing on the fulfillment that you could feel from drinking it, wouldn’t you invest a few minutes to start the day off better?

That hamburger you made yourself, even if it’s just forming the patty, is going to be substantially better than one from McDonald’s. You’ve invested time and energy. Stop trying to “save time” and chase after things to make you happy. Do fewer things, and make those things count. There isn’t much we have over here in Germany, and the language barrier prevents us from doing a lot of things, but making that cup of coffee in the morning is exceedingly fantastic.

I’m not running to the local coffeehouse to have someone serve it to me. All I get from that is a cup of coffee and I’m out some change. I get the same cup, plus this feeling of quality in what I’m drinking (and no change spent) if I make it myself.

Coffee Cozy

For those of you unfamilar with the process, the press is used to make several cups of coffee in a single press, just like a drip coffee machine. The problem is that a coffee machine has a hot plate which keeps the coffee warm for hours after brewing. A French press has no such feature.

The easiest solution is to wrap a kitchen towel around the press, which conviently stays on tightly when tucked in to the handle. Once insultated the coffee will remain warm much longer (as well as make the initial brewing better, as the water stays hotter for longer).

Well, since we do this every time we make a cup, we have so few things in our household, Aza knits, and it makes the whole appature look much more adorable, Aza created the coffee cozy (as featured in the picture, next to our market roses).

One Cup At A Time

Some things you make, or have handmade, will be better. The socks I’m wearing were made by Aza. They’re better in durability, comfort and appeal than a store-bought sock.

Some things you make will not be better. I baked for about a year and I never quite got it down. It was edible, and tasted fine, but wasn’t the finest ever. Yet, regardless of my own lack of proficiency I loved my bread more than anything a bakery could provide. A sense of purpose, of accomplishment, to be proud of something you’ve completed can only come when you do it yourself. No bakery can make you feel good about your bread.

You don’t need a lot in life, you just need to make what you have matter.