The Maiden Voyage

Sometimes, breakfast should be more of an adventure than a square start to your day; it's days like these you find yourself asking, "isn't there a more thrilling coffee mug?"

You're not alone. All across the planet people are pouring their hot drinks into vessels of mediocrity; they're sipping steaming beverages from beakers of sheer ordinary. It's just one of the many normal things we do, and keep doing, over and over again. Where does the cycle end? Does it end?

Don't believe for a minute that drinking from an average mug is your destiny; it doesn't have to be that way. Succumb to the lies and you'll soon find yourself spiraling downwards through a dark tunnel that ends...where? Acceptance of drinking coffee out of styrofoam cups at the office? Thoughtlessly using the same nothing mug, morning after morning?

Perhaps it would help for you to take a step back and look at your life objectively. Close your eyes; imagine yourself at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper or checking the stocks. In your hand is a mug. You can see the steam rising from the brim, but the mug itself is hazy. Focus, focus. What do you see? This is important...your mug will tell you who you are. Cream colored with your insurance company's logo printed on it? That says you're bored, too bored to explore the possibility of owning a mug with character. Or maybe you see a mug that's chipped a little and solid navy. It's your go-to mug, and that's where you're going wrong. Don't be a go-to mug person; it screams "comfortable," and "completely lacking in originality."

This is depressing, isn't it? I can see you're beginning to wonder if there's any hope, or if a future of being wrongly defined by your coffee mug is inevitable. But don't sip into despondency just yet; there IS hope.

It's time to embrace your need for early morning adventure, and your plain-Jane mug isn't going to cut it. You need something fresh, edgy, something that takes you places you never thought hot beverages could go. You need to be transported. A good mug can do that.

In an effort to inspire to you think outside the mug, take a look at this beauty. It took its maiden voyage just last week and proved a worthy vessel for my morning rooibos tea. I'll be booking the Dawn Treader again in the future when I need something more than breakfast as usual :)

This is another fine artistic piece by THE Todd Overbeek Jr. :) To read more about his process, check out last month's post here.

Dear Amanda: I can quilt!

Dear Amanda: I can quilt! I finished it :) My first-ever quilted potholder is done! And...

...stuffed in a drawer :/ 

The thing looks rough, Amanda, really rough. It's crooked. It's uneven. The stitches vary in length and look like I was failing a sobriety test when I sewed them. It doesn't lay flat but kind of stands up in the middle, probably the result of a lack of tension, or maybe too much tension? I don't know. And whatever you do, DON'T turn it over...the back is a horrific mess of knots, tangles, and "corrected" mistakes. It's enough to make even the most gracious seamstress wince like she was just jabbed with a #9 needle. Todd tried to make me feel better by telling me that it just had a “hand-made” look. That kind of talk goes over really well at craft shops. Hand-made items are supposed to be special because they’re one-of-a-kind, they can’t be replicated. Let’s just say: I hope so.

Yet, despite its...existence, I love this potholder :) Not as a thing to look at or even use for its intended purpose, but as a symbol of accomplishment. I really enjoyed sitting down to work on it. It was fun! I like the fact that I learned a lot of things (mostly what not to do) during this, my inaugural quilt-sewing experience. Here they are, in numeric outline:

1. I’ve taken up a hobby that requires math. Apparently, there are such things. I know that accuracy isn't good enough; you need precision. I thought I cut all the pieces just like they needed to be cut, but the end result tells me otherwise. Rather than individually measure ever single pice I need, I think next time I'll make a window template. That way I only have to measure the same-shaped pieces once, eliminating opportunities for discrepancy. And sheesh, it will speed that part of the process along considerably. Even with Todd's help that part of the process was by far my least favorite. 

2. Similarly, all the seam allowances need to be identical. If it's supposed to be 1/4 inch, make it exactly 1/4 inch. It will come back to haunt you if you think you got it almost right. Almost is not good enough when it comes to sewing. Why oh why was I not born a perfectionist?

3. I've learned to cut the backing and batting a little bit bigger than the quilt top...I learned that one the very hard way. 

4. It will probably work better if I sew the quilt sandwich from the middle and work my way out, rather than the other way around. In fact, it might fix my tension problems altogether. 

5. I need a seam ripper. And some shears. And a tape measure. While I'm at it, I need a sewing machine. That would work wonders for my sewing. 

So, while the finished product looks like a miserable, embarrassing failure, I know it's not, really. It broke me of my fear of sewing, it taught me I really can do this, and it set me on my way to accomplishing more useful and hopefully more aesthetically-pleasing projects. I was proud to look at my poor, warped potholder and know that I, the formerly sewing-challenged Meredith Overbeek did every single crooked stitch. With my bare hands. Which, being bare, fared as you might expect. 

Thanks for all your help and advice...and for not laughing at me when I told you I wanted to learn to quilt :) Now, on to bigger and better things, right? Well, not exactly, not yet. I think I’ll try to make this potholder again and see if I can’t improve on things a bit. That and the prospect of tackling anything larger without the aid of a machine scares me.

Here she is: I think I'll call her Wonky. And no, I'm not showing you the back so don't bother asking. 

Us vs. The Rest of the World

Currently, in my office where I sit typing this, I could at any moment hear an Australian, South African, British or German accent. This must be one of the most multi-cultural work environments in which a simple Tennessee girl could possibly find herself, I’m thinking. If I go to the office next to this one, I could talk to a Namibian. If I go downstairs, I could meet with an Irishman, a Korean or a Zambian. This place is a walking diversity ad :) 

Going international will open your eyes to more than just the ways and words of the cultures you meet; it’s actually liable to reintroduce you to your own culture. Since leaving America I’ve learned some things about Americans; some are things that are true, and others are the perceptions other cultures have about America. For instance...

Did you know that Americans are loud? I had no idea. Apparently it’s common knowledge to the rest of the world, but I’ve not often had people tell me I’m “loud.” I know some people are loud at football games or when stage acting, but just generally loud? It was news to me. 

Did you know that we are addicted to fast and junk food? You probably did. I knew these were common things in the States, but as it turns out we’ve earned a worldwide reputation for our ingestive habits. Check out this former post if you need more evidence. 

These are some of the American perceptions I’ve encountered. I don’t think they’re necessarily true, but true or not this is what other countries think of us. Now for a few things I’ve learned about myself (and most of my fellow compatriots, I dare say), just by being removed from America for an extended time...

We are absolutely addicted to really good customer service. I doubt you even think about it. If you go to a store, the attendants are to be extremely helpful, unrealistically knowledgeable, and paralyzed with fear of the power you as the customer hold over them for the few brief moments of your interaction. Here, in Africa, that’s just...not how it is. 

Turkey sandwiches aren’t nearly appreciated enough. 

American missionaries are hyper-blessed, just by being American. In Africa, the native missionaries struggle to raise support just to live, much less fund projects and ministries. 

We may be among the few who say “yogurt” instead of “yogg-urt.”

Almost all Americans are linguistically challenged. End of story. We aren’t forced to learn another language for anything outside of four high school semesters, and only some of us are required to do it again in college. Do you realize how silly this makes us look?

If you’ve never left America, you haven’t seen scary driving. 

You’re probably an American if you say “Where, where?!” when someone tells you to watch the robot. You’ve also just embarrassed yourself by not knowing the traffic light’s other name.

“Cheers” has several uses and should not be reserved only for New Year’s toasts.  

These are a few of the things I’ve found interesting over the past six months. Learning to relax and take things a little less seriously will go a long way in helping us uptight Americans make the most of our time abroad...says the preacher to herself  :) 

Now for a picture which has nothing to do with anything: 

Happy Friday :) 

The slightly beautiful beauty regimen: What a minimal make-up wearer puts on her face

I, like most women, have a make-up bag...this little Clinique bag that my mom gave me one spring when they do their special promotion thing. She usually keeps the make-up, but I’ve gotten a lot of little nice bags :) 

It’s not very big and it doesn’t have very much in it, and out of what is in it, there’s even less that I actually use. If I put mascara on, I’m sufficiently made up. I sometimes feel like being more painted, I guess, and for those moments when that fancy strikes I keep an eyeliner or two and some shadow on hand. But that fancy doesn’t strike often. 

However, I recently hit upon a few items that I enjoy using, and two of them are absolutely invisible! Which, I suppose, disqualifies them from being in the make-up category, but I put them on my face regularly anyhow. Here’s a rundown of what I now consider my essentials:

1. Olay Complete Care Day UV Cream, SPF 15

I have been far too lenient in my sunscreen application, I’m sorry to tell you. I love a good tan and have preferred to go out bare-faced rather than lathered up with SPF, but that’s all changing. I live in one of the sunniest places on earth, I think. The winters are sunny, the summers are sunny, and there’s a good chance that fall and spring will be sunny most of the time, too. I think my face has taken enough of a beating (or burning, in this case) over the years, and a few years in ZA may, if I’m not careful, earn me a new nickname: raisin cheeks. 

The most important thing in a day cream is, of course, the SPF (just read what the pros say about it). Regardless of where you live, if you’re waring a moisturizer that doesn’t have UV protection, you should think about chucking it. 

2. Neutrogena Ageless Intensives Deep Wrinkle Moisture, Night

If one calls what they wear during the sunlit hours a “day” cream, you can infer that they probably slather on something of a different formula at night. I used to just rub my excess hand lotion all over my face to take the dry, tight edge off, but now I’m using something that may be a bit more beneficial. Before anyone laughs at me I know I’m not wrinkly, not yet anyway. And no, I’m not obsessed with staying youthful forever. But, this cream contains a retinoid which is good for keeping things from getting too saggy, and it can help with the appearance of pores, which I find more interesting. You can’t, of course, make your pores disappear, but you can try to prevent them from getting elongated. I look at this as my elasticity booster...I use it in the hopes of keeping my face and pores from sagging down to my shoulders. 

The reason you look for a retinol in your night cream is because it’s not advisable to wear a product containing retinol in the sun. The cream can, actually, dry out your face so some recommend wearing it every other night. This particular product isn’t as strong as a prescription product would be, though, so it hasn’t aggravated my face too much. If I feel like I need a break, I just wear my day cream to bed.

3. Garnier Skin Naturals BB Cream Miracle Skin Perfector

It’s been a long time since my foundation-wearing days. I had some as a teenager that I wore until...I guess 18? I got out of the habit. I didn’t have horrible acne and I wasn’t good at blending. I think the contrast between my face and neck was a little strong  sometimes, and who honestly wants to rub something that feels like mud into your face? 

I read about BB creams just last week and decided to give them a try. They’re light on your face and work like a tinted moisturizer. This one also contains SPF (and hey, I’m all about SPF!). This is a product that started in Germany, gained popularity in Asia, and has only been marketed in the USA for the past couple of years. I highly recommend this one! BB stands for blemish balm, or beauty balm, and works like a silky charm. It’s good if you don’t want a deep cover up, like a traditional foundation would be. I put it on and just feel a little more even, just slightly more polished. I seriously only wear a tiny bit, I can’t even give you a good measurement. I just put a pearl-sized amount on my index finer, dot it around strategically (focusing on my pore areas), and blend it over my face. I ask Todd to tell me if my face looks orange or if there’s an obvious difference between my neck and face, to which he has always answered “no.” 

I think some people may apply a loose powder over their BB cream, but I’ve not found it to be too glossy without. And plus, having to apply a powder would just be too involved for me ;) 

4. Cover Girl LashBlast Mascara

This is my old standby, my absolute favorite mascara for many years now. Mascara has always been my favorite make-up, and is most often the only element I take the time to apply. 

Mascara commercials are ridiculous, in case you haven’t noticed, and they all promise the most stop-stare lashes you or Minnie Mouse could ever imagine. This one, though, does not make hollow promises, not in my experience. This mascara, which I wear in blackbrown, coats, elongates, and separates to perfection. I don’t plan to ever switch, provided they don’t change their formula...I used to be a Revlon Fabulash follower, but they changed to a formula that flaked and crumbled while on my lashes. They forced my hand something like six years ago and after finding this bright orange tube, I never looked back. 

Oh, just to warn you, I don't advise going waterproof with this one; good luck getting it off if you do. 

So, there you have it; my staples. I should also add chap stick to the list (I’m lost without my chap stick). As you can see, it's not a flashy or particularly interesting regimen. Maybe I've gotten too old and too married to care ;)

What we did for PopTarts™

Milk, powdered sugar, chicken, broccoli...tick, tick, tick. I really hate going to the grocery store on a Sunday, it’s over-crowded, for some reason, but as long as I’m there, I make the most of it. Over the weekend our fridge and pantry began to resemble that of old Mother Hubbard, so we had quite the list of supplies to pick up. 

As I came around the baking aisle corner towards the dairy, Todd met me at the end-cap. 

“I’m getting these,” he said. Todd’s not usually one to make declarations so he got my attention. I assumed he meant something he'd already put in the cart, but then he reached onto the end-cap shelf and took down exactly one box of eight-count cookies and cream PopTarts™. 

I was shocked! Like I literally gasped out loud. Real, American PopTarts™, in a South African Spar? You’re kidding me. The boxes had little American flags or the olympic rings with “USA” printed above them, claiming that they really were genuine, imported booty. There were four or five kinds on the shelf, two of which were of the unfrosted variety (criminal), and the others were the highly sugarized, cookie-and-candy type.

Just as startling as happening upon a box of PopTarts™ in Africa is noticing the price tag on them: 61.99 Rand, which in dollars comes to about $6.20; I saw why Todd had been so emphatic. “I’m getting these” is probably the best way to convince yourself and others that you don’t care what the price is, the product is totally worth it, though perhaps only this once :) Would I have ever paid over $6 for eight PopTarts™ back home? Goodness, I hope not. They’re not $6 there, are they? If they are, y’all need to switch to the Wal-Mart brand and just keep telling yourself that a PopTart™ by any other name is just a toaster pastry. 

But for me, it’s nice to open my cupboard and see that familiar box beaming back like a dear childhood friend. Extravagant, you say? Yes, probably...but my electric bill is only $30 a month and I live without central heating. Junk food lover! you accuse? Oh, definitely. But I had an apple and some lovely rooibos tea for breakfast this morning, so at least I proved that I can exhibit some self control. Crazy, you say, in a last attempt to make me feel guilty for our indulgence? Granted. 

Is that all you’ve got? Well, you keep thinking about it while Todd and I split another fine American delicacy.

Hot Chocolate and Flip-Flops

First of all...

Happy 4th of July :) 

I’ve only been able to say that to two other people today because the vast majority of people around me couldn’t care less that it’s July 4th. I can’t say that I blame them; I don’t celebrate their nation’s birthday either. I’m trying to remember if I ever said “Happy 4th of July” when I was in America. Hmm...maybe. 

Last 4th of July, Todd and I had red, white and blue pancakes for breakfast, and then spent most of the day “partying” at the pool with his family. Then we went to see fireworks in Johnson City, and just generally had a really great day. You can check it out here.  

This 4th of July is only the 4th of July. There’s no celebration, no cookouts (oh, excuse me, braais), and no fireworks. I’m also wearing a hoodie instead of shorts and a swimsuit, or bathing costume as they call them here. Bathing costume! Ha! 

This isn’t really unique to July 4th, of course; it’s the whole northern/southern hemisphere thing. It’s July, and my flat is freezing. It’s July, and I wore a coat in to work this morning. It’s July, and how many marshmallows would you like with your hot chocolate? 

But for all of the wintery things we’re doing in ZA right now, I need to let you know that every single day of this short winter has been beautiful. You can count on the sun being out, every day! Most days are cloudless and I don’t even remember the last time it dared to rain. It might be freezing cold inside but I’ve not had so much as a frosted windshield to scrape before I can pull out of the driveway, and I take afternoon jogs in shorts and a T-shirt, no problem. 

It’s really only being indoors that reminds you which season you’re in. The mornings and evenings are cool outside, but all day long our flat is like a refrigerator. I’ve found, though, that I’m really quite prepared. Growing up (and for crying out loud, she’d probably even say it to me now if I was there) mom used to tell us that if we were cold, we’d better just put on more clothes because the thermostat was on 68 and she was not turning it up. It was good preparation. Todd and I bundle up in sweaters, wool socks, and a very fluffy pink house coat (ok, I use the pink housecoat) in the mornings and evenings, and when we’re at home during the day, we open the front door to let the warm air in. It’s the craziest thing.

To illustrate this concept for you (and I mean literally “illustrate”), we have an artist’s rendering of a real South African winter, done by my very own resident artist :)

First, here's an idea of what you could be doing outside on, say, today, for instance, minus the clouds:

And, here's what you'll want to do after your walk:

Yep. That's about right. Note Todd's earmuffs and my hooded head :) 

 We hope you all have a wonderful 4th of July, remembering the God who made it possible and the many men who sacrificed much. 

Ingenuity at its finest

I remember being petrified when we left the Johannesburg airport just over five months ago, and to this day I don’t call it completely irrational. I had heard how crime-riddled South Africa is, and when the OMer who collected us from the airport pulled into a gas station parking lot I waited for the van to be assaulted and my purse to be ripped away. I walked smack up against Todd towards the shop, expecting at any moment to ward off pick-pockets who would, doubtless, assume that my obvious great wealth would be contained in its entirety in my small yellow handbag. 

Many people here (I might even go so far as to say most) have at least one story that begins with, “when my car was stolen...” or worse, “the first time my car was stolen... .” House break-ins are not that uncommon either, so we don’t leave our “valuables” lying around when we leave the flat. When we get in the car, my purse goes out of sight as we’ve been told leaving things like handbags, GPSs, and laptop cases out in plain view is great incentive for a “smash-and-grab,” which is exactly what it sounds like: someone smashing your window and grabbing what they see.

Before we got here I never found myself praying that the car wouldn’t be stolen and praise the Lord, we have not had a single crime-related problem since we arrived :) I’ve calmed down a lot and don’t get nearly as nervous to walk around a shop by myself. Yesterday was a good example of just how far God has brought me. I thought about it as Todd and I went our separate ways at one of the malls. I needed to go to the drugstore and grocery store, and Todd had some banking business to handle. What would have at first taken us twice as long to do we now feel comfortable enough to accomplish using the divide-and-conquer method. Progress indeed. 

On this particular solo shopping adventure, I ran into something that...made an impression. I went to the drugstore first, which is like Walgreens or CVS. I like it (except when I’m looking for chap stick which was almost impossible to find). The main reason I like it is the rewards card it offers. I don’t go to the drugstore very often, but the rewards card has come in handy multiple times at the cinema, where we use it to get our movie tickets half off. Good job, Africa :) 

Anyway, I'm getting off track. I got what I wanted at the drugstore and then made my way to the grocery store, just down the hall (malls here include grocery and drug stores along with the normal mall-ish vendors. Sometimes I think it’s a great set-up, and other times I wish I could just stop at the store without having to park and walk all the way through a mall. The grocery store we usually visit, Spar, is in a strip mall, though, so it’s quite convenient).

As I entered the grocery store, a PicknPay, one of the attendants approached me and said something I didn't quite catch. He gestured me over to a little counter and I was afraid he wanted me to put my bag from the drugstore in some kind of holding place to be picked up when I left. I wasn’t excited about leaving my stuff with someone else, but if that was the policy...

I shouldn’t have worried. This is all the guy wanted to do: 

It cracked me up inside. Never, in my entire life, have I ever had a bag sealed around my wrist. Ingenious? I think so. Having neutralized any shoplifting threat I posed, the attendant released me to go about my business. Just another day in the life in Africa ;)

The Kind-of-Jurassic Park

It wasn’t hot or cold as we began our trek up the side of a little mountain. It was rocky, though, and the trail narrowed considerably at times. It was very wild. So wild, in fact, that you didn’t need to muster much imagination to envision a large snake popping up out of nowhere, or some big, fiendish “cat” sunning on a boulder. It was peaceful, and still, except for...

BEEP, BEEP-BEEP!!!

rrrrRRRRRRRNNNNNNDddddd

CHOP..CHOP..CHOP..CHOP

In case my attempts at city-life-based onomatopoeia are lost on you, I'll go ahead and let you know that we weren’t really in the sahara, or kalahari, or anything close to traditional “African” safari-land. We were at Groenkloof Nature Reserve, a park situated right outside the city of Pretoria. As in, there were several points on our otherwise remote-looking hike when you could see the smoggy city skyline, and the hum-to-roar of the interstate was an omnipresent reminder of our true location. 

But despite the ambience, the park was great! It’s nice to be living in the city but still have this rural oasis for hiking, biking, and sightseeing. It’s not the only one of its kind in Pretoria, and not the first one we visited, but so far, it’s my favorite for one very large reason:

Giraffe.

If you visit a “nature reserve” in the southeastern United States, whence Todd and I hail, you might be lucky to see a deer, really lucky to see a coyote, and insanely lucky to see both. I have family who have seen an actual, real-life black bear, but that’s not normal. My mom danced around a snake once, but we don’t speak of that *hi mom*.  I think when we use the term “nature reserve” back home, we mostly mean a place you can hang out around the flora and fauna, but you have to leave your gun at home.

However, at a South African nature reserve, you can count on a handful of African animals to be milling about, and it’s kind of an exotic feeling. I imagine it’s about as close to being at Jurassic Park as most people can be.

I had a pretty good idea that we wouldn’t see too much wildlife when we started our hike up the mountain. We would need to be in flatter, grassier places, preferably downhill, as that’s the way water tends to run. When our hike afforded us a view of the valley below us,Todd and I would scan the horizon in search of black and white herds, or large concentrations of bok (springbok, impala, kudu, etc., we just call them all “bok”), but what we really wanted to find was a giraffe! Not all the parks in Pretoria have them, so this was my chance!

The tracker in me (ha!) kept an eye on the ground,  but I’m not sure what I was hoping to interpret from the various droppings we stepped in. 

“I wish I knew my poop,” I said to Todd at one point, trying to deicide what manner of beast would have left that particular mess.

“I think you’re tracking a horse,” came his expert opinion. Well, the park does offer horse tours...

I had to face that I have absolutely no idea how to tell the difference between zebra, horse and giraffe droppings, and it would probably serve me better to keep my eyes out rather than down. As we neared the end of our hike, winding around on a rocky trail overlooking the road the 4x4 vehicles take for sightseeing, we looked out over the valley, and that’s when we spotted them.

At least six huge silhouettes. They were incredible! I wanted to scamper right down the uncharted side of the little mountain and take whatever fate would befall me (which would be me, falling), dead set on getting some close-ups. But Todd (the two words I use to describe him when he knows best and therein ruins my fun) thought it would probably be wise to keep going on the trail a bit farther. He thought it would meet up with the main road eventually, at which point we could backtrack to the sighting.

I was panicked. I’d waited all morning and come out here with the express intention of seeing and stalking giraffe, and here I was, this close! I kept looking down towards them every time there was a break in the trees. At one point, I noticed they had started walking, single file, to who knows where! Todd finally gave in and we took what appeared to be a bok trail down the side of the hill, hoping not to meet with a ravine. 

It didn’t take us long to realize that the giraffe were heading towards us, just as we were racing headlong down the hill towards them! We got really close...like probably 10 yards away! They stopped and stared at us, the giant horses they are. We followed them around for probably 20 minutes. They weren’t in any real hurry, and didn’t seem particularly bothered by us, snapping pictures and whistling at them to get them to look our direction. At one point, Todd tripped on some rocks which startled the whole little herd and they comically skipped back a few steps.  

The coolest thing they did, though, was gallop. Have you seen a giraffe gallop? Or more interestingly, have you heard them gallop? They didn’t do it but for a couple of seconds, but while they did they sounded like massive horses, running in slow-motion. It was so cool. Totally worth sneaking around in shoulder-high grass to get pictures of them watching us curiously. 

To get back to my Jurassic Park metaphor, the giraffes are like the brachiosauruses, the great tall things that eat plants and are majestic to watch. The zebra are like some other little abundant herbivore; they can be the stegosauruses. The ostriches are like the velociraptors. They’re super intimidating, ugly, and mean. 

While there are much cooler car safaris you can take in other parts of South Africa, where things like elephants, leopards, hippos and lions pop up, there’s something really...adventurous about walking around with giraffe :) 

Giraffe are so cool :) 

Here's Todd for a proximity reference. See how close we are‽

The zebra. Todd got a bit closer than this, but frankly, zebra are so much less interesting when there are giraffe to be had.

They're like donkeys, really. 

This is a velociraptor shot we got at a different park in Pretoria earlier this year, but it's just to remind you of the evil disposition of the ostrich. We saw one lone ostrich at Groenkloof,  but he was too far away to capture photographically.