Fun Photo Friday

An American Army poster from the 1980's in the Krakow Aviation Museum.

- Four more years of awesome!

- Resplendent

- Re-be all you can re-be

- Be all you can be... again!

- Come oooooon, it wasn't thaaaaat bad

- ?

Over the weekend : Homeschooling, homesteading, and hope

Our "experimental" garden, just to see what we like an how it grows: Zucchini, cucumbers, two kinds of tomatoes, bell peppers, lettuce, yellow melons, Pumpkin, Por - no root veggies this year, we hear the moles get them all. We have strawberries an herbs in another garden bed. 

Thanksgiving pumpkin right there!

Porzeczka

Pozomki (wild strawberries) planted in the front flower beds, doing really well.

 On Saturday we went to an all day "homeschooling day" where home-schoolers from all over Poland came together (luckily not too far from Krakow) and spent the day talking, sharing stories and supporting one another. The group seemed large to me but then I remembered that these people were coming from all over the country and then it seemed small. Almost small enough to be insignificant. But oh so significant are we, they, the pioneers of modern homeschooling in Poland, that I was amazed by some of the people I met. Even a German-Polish family from Germany who was seeking refuge here in Poland in order to be able to home-school their daughter. (Now she is a brave woman)! We were able to share our story of how and why we came to homeschooling, and it was so refreshing to hear many of the same common stories from Poles. So many times people here either don't understand why we home-school or simply don't know about it that I can feel rather lonely and isolated in this endeavor. It's nice to be able to share your enthusiasm and your struggles with other families. It was an inspiring and invigorating day. So many wonderful families, many right here in Krakow, that we will now be able to call on for support and shared learning experiences. Exciting, to say the least!

On Sunday we were able to join a Polish-American family we met a few months ago for a little grill on their property where they are building a new home. The area in which they are building is near a national park and it's beautiful. Their home is also lovely, and with their four children and ours, all around, it was nice to chat about the difficulties of building a house while trying to care for a large family. Especially a house from scratch. Their patience was contagious and I am newly excited about our own home which could not be taking any longer in my opinion, and we haven't even started building yet! Patience, patience... This family had a farm in the U.S. before they moved to Poland and are planning on and preparing to do the same here. A real farm, with livestock and crops and what not. We are not farmers, nor are we "homesteaders" as they say in America, but as sure as I'm sittin' here I will have a large garden (maybe a small greenhouse as well, these are very popular here), chickens, bees, and fruit bearing trees and bushes, if nothing else. We will probably always be buying something from the grocery store and I will never raise my own wool for my handknits but we will have *something*, and now I know where to go for advice and help and inspiration.

 It's just exciting. And affirming.

Reflecting on my "feeling useless" post a bit more and after this weekend I realized a couple things. It's not so much that I am not "doing things" here. I am, I do. I do the same things I did in America, like shopping, driving the kids to the park, and hobbies, all that. All of them, well, almost all of them, time will take care of the rest . But what is really lacking is a sense of connection to Poland. A sense of belonging, of purpose (translated in my brain to "usefulness"). This weekend, along with being able to speak English with many people about things I really care about, which was in itself such a breath of fresh air, I was reminded of  community. I have met many people since moving here, a few that I am truly grateful for, they have given me hope that there is a place for me outside of my family. For surly my family will always have a place for me, but the world, well, this is the challenge. Joining is important. Feeling like you have a place and that you belong somewhere is also important. Connection is important. I was reminded of this over the weekend and I am hopeful. This doesn't mean that there still won't be days where I won't burst out crying because the grocery delivery guy just delivered my 3 kilos of bell peppers that I ordered (true story ). But now, well, now I might just have someone to call and share the story with and then they'll laugh, and then I'll laugh, and then we'll all get together and eat bell peppers and laugh and laugh...

... dobra, no?

Fun Friday Photo

(Another score from the starocie yesterday.)

Classics.

Bearing classics.

Leading to modern day classics.

(UPDATED TO ADD: this is a "fairly racy SNL video" and it is NOT the edited version. R rating for sure.)

Happy Friday!

Out with the new, in with the old.

 I remember when my mom told me she had finally bought some "fine china."
 "Your father and I finally decided to spend some real money on dishes for special occasions!" (she doesn't think I remember these things, but I do)
 I came home, probably from college, to find this dinnerware that was not at all like the Kate Spade designs you seen in the finest stores, or the matching sets from Dillard's. One plate had a ship on it, all done in pastels, another with a green and white farm scene mid 18th century. This was to be her "fine" china?! And the silverware, the "real silver" silverware that they had finally decided upon, all with someone else's initials on them. Wait and that fork, is that the head of a horse I see? A crest of arms on that knife?!

 Every single piece of dining ware, every plate, was different. Every single knife, fork and spoon, was unique. All of the pieces were old and antique and completely distinct from one other.

 I loved all of it. I still do.

 I love polishing that silverware and setting the table.(The plate with the ship in the middle is my favorite over all, you all know which one I'm talkin' about). They spark the imagination and add a whole other dimension to the meal beyond just the food.  For me they make a special meal that much more special and unique. Each piece has a story to tell,  each piece has been on someone else's table, who knows how long ago, celebrating, remembering, being used, just as we do now. And now my mom and dad and their family, our family, gets to continue that story and be a part of it.

This morning we went to one of my favorite places. The starocie. Actually we've been to a couple this week but mostly only for looking, for the future and for a few pieces of furniture that I would like to have now for our living room. One in particular we pop into every now and then to see if any new pieces have been dropped off that we could use. Nothing new or worthwhile today. Then we ambled upstairs where they keep all the knick knacks and dishes and old clothes. I love looking through all things old, piled  on top of each other, given away by some family, eventually taken in by another. Maybe ours. Its true that now our home is like an IKEA showroom right down to the plastic dishes in the cupboard and the curtains on the windows but it won't always be like that. As the plans for the house begin to come together finally and we walk through it in our minds I can already see where I will have a certain little cabinet here. A sideboard with my own dishes and silverware there, and all those other little special pieces that I find along the way to make our house a home.

Martin laughs because all the things I like, the old things, are, in Poland, now considered to be completely out of fashion, out of style. Modern is very "in"  right now. I like classic. This all sounds great to me, more variety, and not a lot of competition, right? Wonderful! I won't share everything I found but I did come home with two little porcelain cups with unique handles shown in the pictures above. I liked them because the handles were so convenient for holding and pouring. But I have no idea what they were originally used for? Tea? Sauces? Regardless of what they were meant to be for, I will be using them as they work for us and so they will have a whole new meaning, a new use, in our home. Perfect.

Fun Photo Friday

In case you were worrying about where he was. 

He's here.
(And looking very tan.)

My own Polish piggy bank... UPDATE!

The money gets deposited here...

...and is withdrawn in 1-3 days by me (and a plastic spoon) here....

Safer than a Swiss bank account.

Keeping me useful one poop at a time.

"Laughing poo"

(all class, all the time)


UPDATE:
 I am now 2 grosz richer!

The phenomenon of uselessness.

"He's a really useful engine, you know
All the other engines they'll tell you so
He huffs and puffs and whistles
Rushing to and fro
He's the really useful engine we adore"

My mom: What are they saying? "Useful engine?!" Sounds like some sort of totalitarian government propaganda. Teaching little kids to be "useful" and teaching them to be "really useful engines"...

 (that's a damn fine 'merican right there)

Me:  It's a fictional train, mom. I think it'll be ok.

 I sit in my upper story apartment staring at tree tops, with the ground far below, the washing machine even further below , and I have no idea what to do with myself. All my usual areas of inspiration have fallen flat. My zeal for teaching (along with the onset of visitors and "summer") has been dampened. I am having trouble finding meaning in the every day tasks and absolutely no resemblance of fulfillment in anything else. Does that mean that I have forsaken all homemaker-y tasks? No.  Are my children clothed, fed, and washed? Yes. But am I needed? So they tell me. Am I useful? Doesn't feel like it much.

What does that even *mean,*to feel "not useful?" I have never experienced this before! What is that?!

I can't quite put my finger on it. I don't know that I can say exactly really (you come here for the fine sentence structure, no doubt). Perhaps this is just what happens, and no one tells you about it. Perhaps this is just the way it feels to be completely and utterly humbled. Completely and utterly useless as a newborn baby (with a driver's license - living proof, right here... ok, and I can also use a computer, so more like a 2 year old maybe? oh, they grow up so quickly!), but still very necessary. Is that possible? To be both of those things at the same time? And for that to be a "good," a "step in the right direction"? Where I am supposed to be? Goodness, that seems a stretch.

It's hard, you know? So many stumbles and little moments of failure. So many cultural missteps and language fumbling's. Always trying and coming up just a hair (or entire cow hide) short of success. Your confidence is shot. Your self worth takes a hit. And then you burn dinner. That is your day, your week, your month.

Your year.

A whole year...

...And still having trouble with conversions apparently.

 Because 2 kilos of carrots is very different from 2 lbs. of carrots. And lemons. 

2 kilos is about 4 lbs. 

Of each.

4 lbs.

Making lemonade out of lemons, and all that. 

And carrot cake. Lots of carrot cake.
And laughing about it, which I have yet to do.
(showing you this picture and admitting *this* is way harder for me than writing this entire post. Oh Pride, you lovely little lynch pin)

I never would have thought, had you asked me last year, that all of  this is something that I would ever say. I have done nothing for the last 32 years but carefully mold and construct my life, education, talents in America. This is what we all do. We grow and build our lives within our own culture, with what we know, learning from those around us. And now, in many ways, I am starting all over because what they don't tell you in life school is that all you have been taught and bothered to teach yourself, along with any expectations, don't always transfer so well. Don't always show up looking the same when you welcome them on your exciting European doorstep. *That* I could have predicted, expected even, heck, I've been living it! The starting all over. The way it has made me *feel,* I could not. Someone who has bundled up all her experiences and talents and hopes into two big bundles and carried them all this way, and it's all of a sudden just junk. Some of it practical, some of it whimsical, some of it really silly, but still... junk.  Because it just doesn't translate. At least that's how it feels. (if I throw in the word "feels" does that make this last paragraph more or less dramatic? I'm going for less. Let's agree on less. "Don't say less." "I said less.")

Deep down I cannot ignore that little voice that is telling me that all of this is because there is a greater plan. A plan that begins with me being fulfilled and content and, dare I say, happy, here in Poland. A plan that is not being drafted by me. Not in the least. Good thing too. ;)

P.S. Every day Occasionally I will unload in fishwife manner share my feelings with Martin and his response is always the same. He says I should revel in my successes, find humor in the failures and pat myself on the back for how far I've come. That being here, in Poland, is a big accomplishment in and of itself, and that of course I am useful! Who else would wash the pots and pans (he doesn't "do" pots and pans)?! (and stop being so dramatic, Olivia!)
 I love him. But where I am right now, the only response I can think of is similar to this...

Clearly I am represented by the handsome blond man, Martin is the large giant man ( as he deserves), and all of Poland is the thin Spanish man.

I am laughing now. That's a good start.

P.P.S. I am dedicating this post to Jenny at "Mama needs coffee" who is an American living in Italy, because she sometimes feels like this too (and explains it in a much more candid fashion, but she's only been in Europe 5 months, her sense of humor still exists). So this makes me less weird and for that she deserves a link back.

Time together

Beautiful Trees

Closest I've been to American soil in almost a year

The famous exchange between General Washington and Kosciuszko.

Hejjo sketching a cannon.

View from the bathrooms, which of course we visited

On the way down.

Kacio nearly got hit by a bicycle several times. Like chickens with no heads they are.

We filled this (almost) first year year here with so much work that we have barely had a chance to slow down. To take some time to ourselves. We do every now and then, but as a family we have been somewhat disconnected.  When we came here, everything changed, not just our geographical location. Our schooling changed, our schedules, our support system, my abilities as an adult. Language, routes to the store, where to buy stuff. All of it had to be re-learned for me and as a family. The children have done wonderfully. Meeting new friends, speaking well, such good children I am blessed with. Martin already knew most of it before he came, routes to the stores, language, family, job. All of it, he knew before. So then there's me. And I feel pretty useless here really, not useful. Time will change that I'm sure. Just need more time to be able to contribute to the daily goings on  other than ordering groceries online (which I still manage to screw up - a whole year later) and creating sub par meals from them before they go bad (at an astonishingly quicker rate than anything in the States) and trying to stay on top of the laundry pile which I have no motivation to conquer. Finding my way here has been hard for everyone and I am doing my best to pretend for the kids. Martin, well he gets the real stuff, too bad for him. ;)

I insisted that we send some time together as a family one day. With all our legal stuff taken care of, and the house plans in a constant state of moving forward but never quite finished, and working on the yard, we haven't done anything together as a family that didn't involve kids in the back seat and us in the front discussing the latest news about whatever it was we were working on and driving towards, telling them to shush so we could talk. No fun. So we took a day to ourselves. We parked on a side street and walked up to Kopiec Kosciuszki. It was a really nice day.