Oh China, you're so weird!

At the grocery store, this is how to buy vegetables:
You choose the vegetables you want to buy. You look around, but there are no bags. They're at the weighing counter.
You go elbow your way to the front of the line to ask for a couple bags. The weighing attendant stops weighing stuff to hand you some bags.
You go back to the veggies, pick through the nastier ones (the bruised apples, the potatoes with shovel marks in them, the wilted cilantro, etc.) to find your delicious selection. Pack all your veggies into bags.

Go stand in line to weigh the vegetables. And by "line," I mean "mass of humanity all crowding around the weigh station." Leave your basket of children over by the carrots, because this is a two-handed operation. Elbow that old man back. Cold shoulder that woman on the left. When someone jumps in front of you, smile and say, "I'm in line," then step right back in front of them. When you get to the front, just throw your vegetables onto the weigh station. When they put the sticker on them and hand them back, instantly throw your next bag on. Any hesitation and there will be another bag of someone else's veggies instead of yours. Try to be patient while the weigher stops to hand other customers bags.
Why don't they just put the bags out so you can help yourself? Yes, indeed. It's the same reason you have to go to the customer service counter to get straws for the yoghurt: if they put them out for your convenience, someone would come along and take ALL of them. Free bags? Why, thank you! Free straws? Great! These will last a lifetime!
Repeat for fruit. There's another weigh station across the produce section.
Oh, and every few weeks, the grocery store rearranges everything-- as in, the vegetable section was all along the wall, but now it's on the other side of the store in the center. And the fruit and vegetable weigh stations used to be on opposite sides of the same pillar, but now they're on other sides of the room. The eggs used to be sold around the back corner, but now they're by the bulk rice and sugar. In case it ever got too easy to find anything.
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A couple weeks ago, it was finally time to sharpen my sewing scissors.  The sewing machine store told me where to go, so I headed over there on a Saturday afternoon. You'll usually see the bike repair stations, shoe repair carts, and stuff like that on street corners, but on Saturdays they apparently take the day off.
Okay... so I went back another day to where they said to go. There were no carts. I looked and looked, but didn't see anyone sharpening knives. It also helps that I didn't know exactly what I was looking for.
I asked one of my Chinese friends where I might find one. "Oh yeah," she told me. "They usually go around people's neighborhoods calling for people's knives. But they wouldn't come around here (in our fancy apartments above a shopping mall). They don't even come into our apartment complex anymore; the guards won't let them in."
Hmmmm.... So I asked my Ayi. "Well, usually they don't have a cart or anything. They just go around calling for knives to be sharpened."
"Oh, like on a bicycle or something?"
"No, just on foot, usually. They have their sharpening stuff slung over their shoulder. We used to have a guy in my neighborhood, but then he got really sick."
Okay, so I didn't even know what I was looking for, and I was way off base anyway.
Long story short, I sent my scissors home with our Ayi, and she brought them back sharpened. Yay!
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This is more random, but still shows that China can be a little weird sometimes.
I can't speak for all of China, or even everyone here. But it seems like most women in Shenyang don't like to lock the stall door when they use a public bathroom. Nor do they like to say anything when you knock on the door. But they still hate it when you push it open on them.
Make up your minds, ladies!
Actually, I read a fascinating book called Chinese Lessons, by John Pomfret. In it, he mentioned how, during the Cultural Revolution in the 1960s and 70s, doors were removed from public restroom stalls to further remove any possibility of privacy.
And it makes sense, now that I think of it, that most people that don't close the doors or don't lock them are about that generation.

Little Communist Children

Penny goes to a local preschool. Well, she goes for half-days a handful of times a week. Although lately, it's been more like a handful of times a month. This month she has gone twice, so far.
Anyway, they had their big children's performance a couple weeks ago. There are pictures in the lobby of little preschoolers dancing, announcing stuff, and generally putting on a production. I was super excited for Penny to be able to participate this year!
So last time Penny went to school, I think it was a Monday. Her teacher pulled me aside and said, "This Friday we have our big performance. The children will sing and dance. Penny can come and watch. She hasn't come very often lately, so she's not prepared to participate. But I don't think you'll want to miss it. You should still come and watch." Then she gave me the address of the theater where they'd be performing.
I was a little bummed. I mean, who cares if Penny doesn't know all the words or all the steps? They're preschoolers! It's cute to see them on stage like deer in the headlights.
But my mood lasted only a few minutes before I realized we'd be out of town that Friday. We traveled up to Harbin that Friday (which is something I should probably log here on my blog...). So I wouldn't be able to go watch with Penny.
One of my best friends also sends her son to the same preschool. Today she told me about the little performance. Her son wasn't allowed to participate either, because he goes only slightly more often than Penny.
"They looked like little North Korean children!" she told me. "It was like there were adults INSIDE the children making them dance. It was really good and really moving, but it just wasn't right."
Our other friend's daughter did get to participate. She went to preschool enough to join in the dance rehearsals, and she said that the dance teacher yelled at them a lot.
Maybe that's why Penny would hide behind a shelf during dance rehearsals and refuse to dance with the other children.

Awesome Faux Pas

I decided to quit my Chinese lessons. We're leaving China in three months, and I realized it was pointless to keep studying, especially when I kind of begrudge that hour and a half every week. It's fun once I'm there, though. I have a cool teacher who is fun to talk to. We read some interesting articles, and our conversations take some fun turns.
For example, this week we were talking about... something. Some phrase that means "being unaware of how the world actually operates." I tried to talk about Marie Antoinette and her whole "Let them eat cake" fiasco. But on the way, we started talking about the British monarchy. Turns out, we both thought Prince William was one of the best looking teenagers on the planet. And unfortunately, Prince Harry was pretty gangly and freckly. (I felt like Lydia Bennet: "Who could care about such a nasty little freckled thing?" Hee hee hee!) But now that they've both gotten a bit older, it's pretty much the opposite. What? There's new vocabulary in that discussion! Whatever... it was very cerebral.
Anyway... I have fun in my Chinese lessons. But I have no purpose. I'm not trying to learn more to get around. I'm not trying to pass a language exam for the Foreign Service. I'm not trying to get certified in anything. I'm just learning for the joy of learning. But now I want the joy of getting my free time back.
So I told her a few weeks ago that I'd need to quit at the end of January. We're leaving in April, and I need time to get things done. This week rolled around, and I knew I had one week left, so I didn't worry about getting a gift or saying my goodbyes.
Um.... next Friday is in February. This was my last lesson! My teacher gave me a cute photo album to put pictures of China in. I gave my teacher.... nothing. I've lived in China long enough to know that you HAVE to give gifts. Pretty much all the time. When someone leaves, you give them a gift. When you visit someone's house, you give a gift. When you go out to dinner with someone, you give them a gift. When you get home from vacation, you bring gifts for your friends. When you attend your last Chinese class, you bring gifts for each other. I KNOW THIS. I know this. Somewhere in my brain, I know this.
But on Friday, I'd just spaced it. Because I'm lame like that. And very rude. It's not like in America where you say, "Oh, you didn't have to," and you mean it. Here, people might say, "Oh, you didn't have to," but you actually do. It doesn't have to be fancy or nice. It can even be edible. But you need to have a gift.
So I made her a gift. It will be a few days late, and I'm going to make Kevin give it to her. (He has the same tutor, luckily.)

I just finished it tonight, after working on it all day. It turned out pretty cool-- if I do say so myself. And it's just in time for Chinese New Year.

Air so fresh you can chew it

The view from our window

We haven't been going out much lately. In fact, if we can help it, we don't go out at all. I don't think our girls have left the apartment building for more than a week. It's pretty nasty outside. 

Let's talk about haze! This is the view from the other side of our building. You can usually see the freeway overpass if you follow the street to the left. The street on the right leads to Chairman Mao's giant statue. I don't feel too bad for him standing out in the smog. He did his best to create this mess.

You can even see the haze between us and the other half of our building.

We had a week of haze like this last year, and it got really oppressive. This year, after three weeks or so, we've worked through the oppression, and we're just dealing. Today the sun shone through the haze, which was nice for a change.
Mostly we just stay in our apartment. I have some sewing projects I'm working on, and I take a painting class. On Fridays I have a Chinese tutor, and besides that, I just hang out with my girls. This week we've been watching too much TV, but I blame that on Naomi's being sick. When the girls aren't sick, we sometimes play with our friends in the apartment building.
We have a playroom on the clubhouse floor, and that is often a great escape for the girls. But they're remodeling the room next door, which means there's tons of dust and fumes wafting in. For a while (in December) we would just open the window and let some fresh air in, but lately we've just had to give up the playroom and stay home.
We have three months left in Shenyang. I hope we can get out and about some before we leave!

Lazy days at home

The weather is cold. Seriously. The picture on the forecast just has a picture of a thermometer, and it's an icy bluish-white. It snowed this weekend-- not much-- and the hotel across the way has some ice sculptures out front.
The sky looks like pea-soup fog. But since we're miles from any ocean and it's dry as a bone here, we know it's not fog. It's smoke, smog, pollution, and horrible crap. Lately, my days have consisted of staying inside with the air filters on high. I feel pretty good, and my lungs thank me.
When we do open the door to go outside, the cold air rushes in and literally takes my breath away. If I'm talking when it opens, I choke mid-word and can't finish for several moments. When we come inside, there are double doors, and the cold air blows open the second set of doors. Penny likes to rush in and hold the doors while they're still open. The doormen usually work with her and don't close the first door until she's holding the second one. During December, it had a sticker decal with Santa and his sleigh. Penny always liked to point out Rudolph.
We basically live in a hotel, so there are doormen, front lobby receptionists, breakfast attendants, chefs, custodians, and clubhouse staff. I don't know any of their names, except for a few whose English names I've learned. They don't know my name either. But they all know my kids. So when any of the hotel staff needs to talk to me, they call me "Penny Mama." Hey, it works.
Most days we just stay inside. We have a lovely playroom in the clubhouse. Unfortunately, they're remodeling the room right next-door, and the paint fumes are pretty powerful-- even when we're used to pollution here! So we haven't gone down to play very often lately. We just stay home and play. Most days go something like this:
I wake up and dance along with one of my Zumba workout DVDs. I think I look amazing, with Latin hips and enthusiastic movements. The reality isn't as glamorous. The girls eat their breakfasts (lately Cheerios and yogurt) while watching me dance. Sometimes Penny joins in. Naomi usually wants me to hold her. I don't have as much spring in my step when I'm holding a 20-pound child. For some weird reason.
After my shower, we all get dressed and go eat breakfast downstairs. Or we stay upstairs. I'm realizing that one of the reasons I didn't lose any weight last year is because I'd load up breakfast for 3 people, bring it back to the table, and eat most of it myself. I hate wasting food, and a buffet every morning wasn't helping my waistline. So I'm trying to be smarter about it now. I basically just get food for the girls and eat some of their leftovers. I've lost a couple pounds already, and it's not like I'm going hungry.
I've been doing a lot of sewing lately. The girls have a ton of toys in my sewing room, and they will pretend to make food with their kitchen toys, play with their Fisher Price Little People, or play with my fabric while I try to sew. They also read stories, play on the iPad, put coins in the piggy bank, and watch movies at "home." They don't say living room, family room, or dining room. They just call it "home." Wherever we're living, the place where the family hangs out is "home."
I think that's a good sign for our Foreign Service girls.

My OTHER blog

This year my sister and I are each making a Farmer's Wife Sampler Quilt, and we're keeping track of it on a new blog. If that sounds interesting at all to you, please follow along with us!

Why New Year's?

My dad wrote an article for the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop website:
http://humorwriters.org/2013/01/07/happy-new-groundhogs-day/
I guess I come from a long line of new year's resolution failures. :)

Penny's first "real" haircut

or "This Girl Will Do Anything for a Soda"

I love that Penny's hair is finally long enough to do braids, put in cute piggy tails, and have all sorts of styling fun with. However, that happens about once in a blue moon. She doesn't like me to brush it, so it usually looks pretty ratty. I learned from my own mom that when that is the case (ahem, it might be genetic), it's time for a hair cut.

Plus, I think it looks super cute shorter!

On the way over to the hair salon, Penny told me she was worried. We talked about it, how it grows back, and when you cut it evenly, it grows evenly. She still didn't want to cut her hair.

We made a deal: after she got her hair cut, she could get a soda. 

Deal!

We got to the salon, and there were about 12 people in there before us. We spent two hours in the salon. On the one hand, we did get to see a lot of people have their hair done. She got to see that the capes were not scary, that people's hair falls on the floor when it gets cut off, and that they all live through it. And we brought food and an iPod. 

When we walked in, our usual hairdresser had a cigarette hanging from her mouth. All the male customers ahead of us lit up cigarettes either while they were waiting or while they were getting their hair cut. The hairdresser who cut Penny's hair had one behind his ear. I think our lungs aren't doing so well. And my shirt still smells strong enough to sting my eyes.

So.... pictures:

Before

"I'm worried."

Naomi is now the background on all of these girls' cell phones. They played with her, fed her grapes (well, dried grapes), and generally spoiled her.

And finally, the finished result! And the soda!