I’m going here!  I’m going here!

***happy dance***

Three amazing days of soaking in everything I can about Photoshop, taking classes by the best.  All it took was months of us begging our boss.  ha.

Three amazing days. 

In Vegas! 

Go ahead, tell me you’re jealous.

Wedding in a Catholic church. At one point people kneel to pray.

Mommy: You know how we go to temple and kneel on the red stool and **tang tang? Well, in this church they kneel down and tang tang just like us.

Chloe: Tang tang just like me?

Mommy: Yes, just like us.

Chloe: But they don’t have sticks.

Last month we went up to Santa Barbara for my brother-in-law’s wedding. It was a beautiful wedding held at a mission in a Catholic church. I took the opportunity to talk a little bit to Chloe about it. I tried to explain things as they were done.

Nicki asked in this post if I would share what temple is like and I’m sorry it’s taken so long to answer but I have been trying to find the right words to describe it.  I hope I do it justice.

There are some really nice temples that are works of art in themselves. I have attended some amazing temples that just blow you away. The temple that I am currently attending, however, is very humble, and I’ve grown to love that. It is a house that was converted into a temple.

When we first walk up there is a place to pray outside. Now, when you go to temple you pray either with incense or without, usually with. You can just kneel on the red stools and pray or you can pray with incense. Or both, whatever.

There are several prayer areas throughout the temple and the goal is to pray at each and every one of them. At my temple the first one is outside. Some people pray with one incense and some people pray with three per prayer area. I generally just do one, but that’s because it’s easier for me to keep count when I have more than one prayer area to go to.

One of the things that I love about going to temple is how laid back it is. Our schedule is: pray, maybe eat, hang out, leave. With the exception of if you want to chant with the monks, you’re pretty much walking in, doing your own thing, and walking back out.

Walking into the temple I attend there are two open rooms, one closed room (which is the head monk’s room), and a kitchen. Upstairs is one large room and one small room that is used as an office/library. In the first open room where we pray there are statues of different boddhisatvas, offerings (always vegetarian offerings, usually fruit, or something from nature, like flowers), and a prayer area - when I refer to a prayer area I really don’t know what else to call it but I’m talking about a large bowl that holds the ash to put the incense in, along with a lighter and/or candle, and incense, and you just light the incense, tang-tang three times, and put the incense in the ash. In this room is also where you can ask a question if you want. There are two moon-shaped objects made of wood that you hold as you pray and ask your question. Then you throw them. They have to fall a certain way to mean “yes you can ask your question.” If they don’t fall that way then you can’t ask your question. If the moon-shaped objects say yes, then you can use a tube filled with wooden sticks. Each stick has a number on it which corresponds to the fortune/answer. You take the tube and ask your question as you shake it until one stick falls out. I’ve done it twice. Both times were right, even the “bad” one that my mom wanted me to ignore. My Chinese class teacher talked about the one time that he did it. He’s Christian and doesn’t believe in it. He asked and the answer he got back was, “If you don’t believe, why do you ask?”

The second open room is where they honor those who have passed away. There are several prayer areas here. There is one main prayer area, and several others for those who have recently passed away. Lined on the walls are their names and pictures. I have one uncle whose picture and name is in that room. When I first heard about it I thought it would be kind of creepy, but it’s really done out of honor and love for family.

Upstairs is my favorite room. It’s dedicated to Guan Yin, which is the temple that I go to. (S)he’s the boddhisatva known for her compassion. My mom used to tell me stories about her when I was younger. Those were always my favorite stories to hear. Since I’ve grown up and read more about her; I’ve heard different versions of the story, but I love my mom’s best and those are the ones I’ll always remember. I’ll try to give you the short version. Guan Yin was a prince. One day, they were going to kill a chicken to make dinner for the family. Guan Yin, who had a different name as a prince but I forget what it was, stopped them. He was only a very young boy, probably a toddler, but couldn’t bear to think the chicken would lose its life for his dinner. When he came back in his next life, he came back as a woman to learn compassion.  I’ve also heard he became a woman to help spread Buddhism among the women, sort of spreading it housewife to housewife.

The upstairs room is large with rows of red stools to pray.  There is one large statue of Kuan Yin and several smaller statues.  In front of the statues are different offerings.  There is no lighted incense in that room, which I think adds to it.  There is a small bowl of ash in the front.  Next to it are small pieces of wood.  When you put them in the ash they burn.  I have no clue how it works and I don’t really want to know.  It’s pretty cool.  There are names of families on each side of the shrine and each night the head monk prays for those families.  My family is in there. . .well, my dad’s family name is in there and they got it put in when I was a teenager.  I wonder if I’m still covered under that prayer?

Other temples are similar, sometimes they may have things that are special about them.  There is a temple in Chinatown that we sometimes go to because it has a lion statue that we pray to.  There’s another temple near there that has a life-sized horse statue.  When I was 24 and we had a run of very bad luck, to the point where we just didn’t know if we could make it through another tragedy (we had already faced my hysterectomy and near death, a totaled car from a hit and run, my husband got into another car accident, and we were extremely short on money, we both hated our jobs, and kept getting more and more bad things thrown at us) my mom made us go to the temple with the horse.  Both Steven and I walked under it three times.  The bad stuff stopped.  And the good stuff came rolling in.  I would not have been able to take any more bad things happening to us, and it finally stopped.

We call the head monk at my temple: teacher (pronounced like see-fu).  He wears yellow robes.  The monks that are at my temple either wear a brown robe or a yellow robe.  Someone once told me that the yellow robe indicates that they have never eaten meat.  The brown robe is used when they have eaten meat in their lifetime, but are currently practicing vegetarians.

I have a game that I love called Table Topics.  Okay, it’s not really a game.  It’s a box that has cards and on each card is a question.  Whenever we need an icebreaker game or are just hanging out we pull out Table Topics.  It’s fun to just sit around and discuss the different questions.  One of the questions is “do you think justice or forgiveness is more important?”  I always answer, “justice, but I wish it were forgiveness.”  Forgiveness is a hard one.  I struggle with forgiveness.  The one time in my life that I struggled the hardest with it was when the head monk at our temple was robbed, more than once, by the same people.  He was held at gunpoint and they took donation money.  It happened years ago.  Everyone begged him to go to the police, turn them in.  His answer was always the same.  No.  No he would not go to the police.  No he would not turn them in.  Something brought them to this point of desperation - and they needed the money more than he did.  Oh, how I wanted to scream.  I wanted to wail and stomp my feet.  I have never been so frustrated in my life.  I couldn’t understand why he would choose forgiveness over justice.  They held a gun to him!  I admit that I still have a hard time with it.  On a completely different level, deep down inside me, I really wish that I could grasp his forgiveness. I can’t imagine how priceless a gift that would be to possess.

I mentioned in my other post about the feeling of coming home.  When I was searching for my own way I had no clue what I was looking for.  I’ve tried different approaches.  I’ve tried intellectually.  I’ve tried emotionally.  I’ve tried to just force myself to believe.  I really have no idea how other people feel when going to church/temple.  I have no idea how they feel when they practice their religion.  The first time I stepped into a temple I felt calm.  at peace.  like I belonged.  I’ve never felt that way in any other places of worship.  There were three times in my life when I stopped going to temple.  When I was about 14 and we moved to Norway and didn’t have a temple to go to.  When I was in my late teens and feeling my way around different Christian religions.  When I had my hysterectomy and lost my faith.  After each time, going back to temple I felt the same.  Like I was coming home.  calm.  at peace.  like I belonged.  Even at dark times in my life I could go to temple and feel right.  I hope that my children find where they fit, no matter what path that is.  I hope that everyone can find that path.

We’re currently waiting to adopt domestically.  My daughter is four.  She knows that we are waiting for her baby brother or sister.  She knows her birth story and that she grew in my tummy.  She has become increasingly interested by anatomy and how her body works.  I recently bought her a book about the body and we have talked a lot about bones and the heart and what they are and what they do.  She asks a lot about being in my tummy and it’s only a matter of time before we go over how that happened (she hasn’t asked yet, but she will soon or I’ll bring it up).

Being curious about how she came into the world, and knowing that we are waiting to welcome her baby brother or sister, she is naturally curious about how he or she will come into the world.

We had decided earlier that we would be as open and honest as appropriate for her about adopting her sibling.  We have both had discussions with her about her future sibling.

When we talk to her about her future sibling we discuss how she was born from me and was in my tummy.  Then we discuss her future sibling’s mother and how she is growing them in her tummy.  We discuss how we may bring a baby home, but that the baby is still not ours until their mommy decides it so.  Then we go over any questions she has - sometimes she has none and sometimes she has a lot.  We let her explain it to us so that we can catch anything that needs further information or is wrong that we can correct.

I’ll be completely honest.  She was definitely confused when we first began to talk to her about adopting and all that this meant, how her sibling was coming into our family.  Okay, she’s still confused.  More than once she asked me about her sibling being in my tummy, among other misconceptions.  We have patiently gone over it and over it with her.

I don’t think that she fully understands just yet.  Not yet.  She is figuring it out, though.  A couple of days ago, out of the blue, she tells me that she grew in my tummy.  Then she told me that her baby brother or sister will grow in their mommy’s tummy.  I was so proud; I wanted to jump up and down.

She’s getting there.  All it will take is time and backing that up with explaining it over and over, and answering questions openly.

We just got our count for how many of our adoption letters went out in July!  I have to say that I wasn’t looking forward to hearing from our coordinator ever since that big fat ZERO in June.  We had THREE letters sent out in July.  I was just so happy to not see a zero. 

Still waiting, but waiting a bit more calmly now.

Every morning I take a couple minutes to feed our cat and our fish.  Then I open up the blinds in the front room so that it’s not too dark during the day for Cammie.  A few weeks ago the neighborhood cats would begin to be lined up outside our front door, just waiting.  Yes, our little Cammie cat was making friends through the window. 

It’s gotten to the point that when I open the blinds in the morning the cats are sitting on my windowsill waiting for little Cammie.  Then Cammie comes charging through and they all have a window party.  Cammie isn’t allowed outside so this is all the interaction they get together.

Every night when we get home from work (we go in and out through the back door because that’s where the garage is), I close the blinds and go out the front door to check our mail.  Yesterday, same old daily schedule, opened the front door to check the mail, and on our doorstep was a present for Cammie (God I hope that was a present for Cammie).  A filthy dead rat.  On my doorstep.  With flies swarming around it.  *gag*  I screamed and slammed the door and, well, my husband checked the mail yesterday.

I’m both incredibly grossed out and afraid to open my front door anymore, and I have a tiny part of me that is impressed that Cammie’s cat friends would leave her a present. 

My theory is that it’s a “Welcome to the Neighborhood” present, like someone bringing you pie.  My hope is that they’re done bringing my cat “pie” because it’s disgusting and I don’t want anymore.  My guess is that the dead rat isn’t the only dead thing I’m going to find on my doorstep for as long as we live here (one year!!).

Steven’s theories are that either the cats are trying to “invite” Cammie outside, assuming that she has control over that - as in, “hey, it’s a dead rat party, come join us outside,” - or, Cammie has taken control of the cats in the neighborhood and the dead rat was payment from her bitch (because why else would cats, who clearly own this territory, bestow such a gift on a newcomer).

My parents announced something to me yesterday.  Something I’ve been waiting for.  Something that changes a lot of my future plans.  When Steven and I move out of California, they want to live in Florida to be with my sister. 

I don’t know if I have adequately described my hate of SoCal and how badly I want to leave.  When I was young and single it was fun and exciting to live here.  I liked it here.  With a family.  Not so much.  Ever since I have my own family I’ve despised this place.  There’s too many people, and we’re not the nicest people I’ve met.  The schools suck, unless I want to live in the most expensive neighborhood.  The home prices are beyond ridiculous (the house next door is up for sale:  2300 sq ft.  4 bed.  3 bath.  3 car garage.  virtually no land/not really a yard to speak of - you’re sharing the same lot with another house owned by someone else.  $868,000!).  It just isn’t where I want my children to grow up.

On the flip side, we do have some of the best Asian food in the country - of that I have NO doubt.  Seriously, the food is really good here.  No matter what school Chloe ends up in I have little concern about the diversity of its student and teacher population.  Just by default of our demographics there will be all the diversity I want/require and then some.  Neither of those things are enough to keep me here.

For the past four years I have set our leaving California deadline at five years, that way Chloe will still be young enough that moving won’t be too huge, I hope. 

One of my worries has been - where will my parents live?  It’s absolutely selfish of me, but I personally wanted them to either move near me or move near my sister.  What I didn’t want is for them to stay here.  When they told me they would move near my sister - well, I suddenly felt free, not that they were holding me down or anything; they are fully capable of taking care of themselves whether in California or not.  I think that I would have considered staying if they wanted to stay.  I wouldn’t have been very happy though.

I am getting completely ahead of myself, but we’ve looked at where we’ll be next year and it looks completely possible to finally leave California.  One year, two at the very most, and we’ll be at a great point in our family life to move. 

The next year will be spent researching places to live, finding places that we love to narrow down where my husband will be applying for jobs.  Right now we’re going to be looking most closely at Boston, DC, and Seattle; those are the places my husband feels the most secure about having the right industry for him to find a good job in the area. 

I dropped my rule of needing to live near family - otherwise we would be looking at SoCal, Boston, and Florida which would not be good considering we dislike SoCal and Florida.  I decided that I would rather my children grow up in an area that has everything that I want them to have (diversity; good schools; nice family home that won’t cost one million dollars; good tech career opportunities for Steven; nice suburban neighborhood, but close by to a larger city; really great Chinese/Vietnamese/Mexican food would be a plus); we’ll visit our family often of course. 

I don’t know why I’m talking about all of this now when one year seems so far away and nothing is official at all, but I’m just so excited.  Do you know one of the things I’m looking forward to the most?  Having a yard.  I’ve never shown my pathetic yard on here and I’m not going to, but it is bad.  I want to watch my children run in our yard, playing in our yard, having fun.  My yard is so small that there’s no room to run in it, or if my daughter did she would get dizzy fairly quickly running in tight circles.  Not many houses here have yards, big yards to play in.  Even the $868,000 house next door that shares the lot with another house has a yard that isn’t much bigger than my own. 

Just one more year.  One more year and Steven can start sending out his resume.  I’m going to have a yard?  That’s crazy! 

I’ve been in heat.  I live in SoCal and it’s not exactly cold here.  I visit my sister nearly every year in Florida and the humidity there is so uncomfortable.  I’ve been to Vietnam and felt so hot that I didn’t want to move.

Ah, but Arizona.  That’s a special kind of crazy heat.  We would step outside and I would instantly feel like I was cooking - any of my skin that was exposed would start to tingle and burn from the heat. 

[This is what nearly all of Arizona looked like.]

The absurd amount of heat isn’t the only thing that I discovered in Arizona.  I also found the most wonderful thing ever . . . . .

I know!  Isn’t it beautiful.  It was surreal.  I had always heard of this mystical place from other crafters and because I don’t have one anywhere near me I always told myself that it couldn’t possibly be THAT GOOD.  *sigh*  It was even better.  It was ALL my favorite stores in one - with cheaper prices.  My sister just happened to call me as I was blissfully walking down the aisles, one by one.  I told her all about this wonderful place and she says, “I love Hobby Lobby - we have one here!”  So I’m going back for another shopping spree when I visit her in October, which we planned after I yelled at her for never taking me before.

It was a good vacation.  I certainly needed it.  Lots of good food, good times with good friends, and heat - lots and lots of heat.

EDITED TO ADD:  Chino Hills, where the earthquake was located, is less than 20 miles from where I work.  We definitely felt it.  The ground starting moving, and I was so out of there.  The first thing I did was run for the door.  I’m NOT a native Californian, so the ground is not supposed to move, and when it does I am so out.  My more safety inclined coworkers were all underneath their desks - you know, for protection.  Most of us at work have children right around the same age.  They’re mostly 2-6 years old.  Of course, all of us were frantically trying to call out after it was over to make sure our children, who had just been through their first earthquake, wasn’t scared.  All of our children, in their very first earthquake, had the exact same reaction when we called. . . . “That was fun!”  Even my timid little girl was laughing and having a ball.  So, everyone here, on my end, is safe and sound.  No harm except for everyone making fun of me for running out the door.  :) 

EARTHQUAKE!

. . .

I just wanted to say thank you for the responses on my Insensitive post.  It is a very sensitive and painful subject - for them, and I know that.  I hope that with time it will be okay between them.  I do think that they could have handled things better, and I know that we could have handled things better.  I have hope that things will improve and not get bad, that everyone will take a step back and let it be, but knowing what I do about the two of them I don’t know that that will happen.  But, yes, thank you.  I needed to get a lot of that out of my head.

So I’m on Day 3 and Book 3 of reading the Twilight series (thanks to much advertising from Elaine).  Although, my husband isn’t too happy that I was up until 3am finishing the first book, then 1am last night finishing the second book (I finished earlier because I decided reading the book was more important than doing my nightly chores), and who knows how late tonight to finish book 3; that’s okay that the house is a mess and I’m not in bed because I’m almost done reading the books.  I am glad that I hadn’t started reading the series until now because I can’t imagine having to wait until the final book came out, but I only have to wait a couple of days.  I couldn’t take much more than that.  I started reading the Harry Potter series after book 4 came out and it was pure torture waiting for the rest of them to come out.  Totally worth it, but pure torture. 

Okay.  It’s work, then packing, then reading, then work, then off to Arizona.  Until next week. . .