Shopping for jeans is a perennially painful experience.
No point in trying to find jeans here in India, where ladies seem to fall into two style camps: traditional or trendy. For traditional ladies, a “suit” is a typical daily outfit. It consists of loose-fitting bottoms that gather at the ankles and a long tunic-style top with a scarf draped conservatively across the chest. It looks lovely on Indian women, but not on this pear-shaped girl. Trendy locals? They wear western designer styles that are generally too expensive for me.
So, I tend to wait for summer to search for wardrobe staples. This summer, I needed some jeans.
I browsed half-heartedly through the racks and hopelessly tried on jeans everywhere I went this summer. Finally, we visited Nordstrom, where I discovered the NYDJ brand. It sounded so funky and hip. New York DJ? Yeah! I’m not too old to visit a New York dance club in my hot new jeans, right? They fit me perfectly, hugging my small waist but leaving ample space for my out-of-proportion thighs. They actually made my butt look perky and round. And they came in a variety of styles and colors! I wanted them all!
On a retail high, I engaged the help of a young saleswoman, who sported a pleated miniskirt, two long braids and glasses with oversized dark frames. She flitted back and forth to the dressing room, bringing me every iteration of NYDJ jeans. Quickly I discovered my usual size was too big, adding to my excitement about this amazing brand. Really? I could wear a 4! I felt so petite and sexy.
“Ohhhh … yeah, lots of women find they have to drop a size,” said my little helper friend. “Not Your Daughter’s Jeans run a bit big.”
Ummm… hold on. Not Your Daughter’s Jeans? That was not petite and sexy. That was not I’m-still-hot-after-all-these-years clubbing in New York. That was tricky and malicious. That was dumpy, middle-aged soccer mom. That was desperate denial.
I paused to look at the tag. “NYDJ – With Lift and Tuck Technology!” it said. I turned around to check out my butt in the mirror. It DID look lifted. My gut also appeared flatter, tucked as it was. I took a deep breath and let reality wash over me.
I decided that if I had a daughter, her jeans would be too big and frumpy for me. I would have to find some cuter, more flattering jeans, and thus, this brand would be perfect. Not Your Daughter’s Jeans. That’s right! These jeans were way more sexy than my hypothetical daughter’s jeans! And so I bought them all.
For international teachers (well, probably for ALL teachers), summer is a time to relax and recharge, catch up with friends and family, travel and/or find a little stillness. During the school year, we often daydream of lazy days by our lake, biking on the trails, kayaking, finding our zen at yoga classes, playing with the nephews, maybe roadtripping around the region, drinking quality but affordable wine, grilling and chilling, and so on.
By that definition, this summer has been the anti-summer. Sure, we did those things, but not nearly as much as we wanted to, and not nearly with the usual laid-back seasonal spirit.
Every single member of my immediate family is experiencing a major life event this summer: Meg has a 10-month-old baby and is preparing to join her husband in Korea in a couple weeks; Mike retired from the Air Force and just moved with his wife Summer to England; Kate and John have a new baby AND decided to buy my parents house and let them live in the basement apartment; and my parents are moving into the basement AND buying a winter home in Florida. Although Mike isn’t here in Michigan to share his stress in person, the rest of the gang more than made up for it. For now, Megan and her baby, Kate and her whole family, and my parents are all living in the same house. And the stress they’re feeling? I feel it, too. Sigh…
As for Tony and me, we launched a massive renovation of our lake house, which meant we were tethered to it for most of the summer. We couldn’t wander off much because the workers seemed to have hourly questions, to which our answers were usually uninformed and arbitrary but caused us to second-guess ourselves for the rest of the day. (Did we want the bedroom door to open in or out? Did we want an extra light in the hallway to avoid a dark spot? Did we want clear or frosted glass in the bathroom window?) Although we still tried to enjoy our morning coffee on the porch, the construction noise and heavy metal music blaring from the contractors’ radio drowned out the birds. (This morning’s most notable tune was “The Bitch Came Back.”) A makeshift wall separated our living space from the construction zone, but it was far from soundproof. Sometimes we had to stop ourselves mid-sentence (or mid-fight) when we realized the men on the other side of that flimsy plastic sheet could hear everything we said. Perhaps the most stress-inducing part was the mental image of winged money escaping out of our bank account and flitting away into the distance.
We know the remodeled area of our home will be wonderful when it’s finished. Going for long walks around our island in a futile attempt to relax, we have met many neighbors and made some new friends, giving us a sense of optimism about future summers here. We also know the family issues will resolve soon after everyone unpacks and life gets back to normal. Still, we can’t help having a little pity party about our lost summer, compounding our stress with the knowledge that we’re heading back to India and our jobs in just a few days.
That said, the summer wasn’t a total bust here at the lake. Looking back at my photos, I realized we had a few good times.
Flare Night
This annual event includes a big party at our neighbor’s house, followed by everyone lining their lakefront property with road flares and lighting them at 10 p.m. We shook things up a bit by adding glowsticks to the mix.
Fireworks Night
Lake Orion put on a smashing show this year! During the day, we were happy to have our usual cookout and lake time with the usual guests (geez, I didn’t take any photos of the Grays) and special visitor, Cami.
Family Tine
As always, I was super excited to spend time with my family, especially the growing gaggle of nephews.
There is ONE big drawback to having little boys at your house all the time.
As the Summer of Stress draws to an end and as I read back over this post (and realize how whiny I sound), I must admit I feel pretty lucky. I have two days left in the States. My goal is to breathe in this fresh air, kiss and cuddle all the little people in my life, and feel grateful for summers off, no matter how chaotic they may be.
On the ride to work every morning in New Delhi, we slow down for zebu, the hump-backed holy cow of India. Locked up at night by their urban owners, they roam in little packs early in the morning, gnoshing on garbage or patches of grass. Imagine our surprise to see some of their relatives, living the high life here in Michigan. We spotted these little guys at the Oakland County Fair petting zoo.
I made this video at the beginning of the summer for Britt, who is stationed in Korea. We are totally over the moon for his little guy, William, and we feel so fortunate to have this time with Will and his mama, Meg, before they head to Korea to be with Daddy.
I know parents everywhere get weepy when their babies start school, but I am still in shock that this little guy …
… is going into first grade this fall! My first nephew. My baby Nico.
I realize this video ranks up there with the world’s most boring, if not downright painful, experiences for anyone not in love with Nico Jimenez. However, I cranked it out for posterity. Poorly filmed with my phone and quickly edited, it simply serves to remind the future us of how little he once was.
Congratulations, my precious little kindergarten graduate. And thank you, Mrs. Woods, for teaching and taking care of him.
Jack wasn’t the only new baby at the lake this year.
When Tony and I first got back to Michigan, we spotted this duck chillin’ in one of our front-yard hosta plants.
We named her Sheila because it sounded funny when we imitated her boyfriend calling her from the lake, “Hey Sheila, c’mon, there’s a big party under the willow tree. Sheila! You used to be so fun! Now all you do is sit around on that nest all day, geez.”
We presumed Sheila was nesting, so I did a little research. I am now an expert on mallard duck nesting behaviors. For example:
* Once mama duck has found a place to nest, she typically lays one egg per day, up to about 10.
* Incubation doesn’t start until she’s done laying eggs. Who knew?
* Once the clutch is complete, incubation lasts about a month, and then all the ducklings hatch around the same time.
* When the babies arrive, mama duck leads them to water, and they all paddle off to a safe source of food.
I also read that Sheila would abandon her nest if things got a little too loud or scary, so we stressed about her for weeks. Our noisy construction project, paired with all the Fourth of July festivities, would have persuaded me to waddle away, but she stayed put.
On July 8, I woke up early and walked out to the dock, where I spotted Sheila and her little brood at the water’s edge.
Hang in there, Sheila. Don’t let those randy drakes distract you from your parenting duties.
On July 9, my nephew collection increased by one fuzzy-headed 8.6-pound little bundle of love, John Morton Jimenez aka Jack. Congratulations to mommy Kate and daddy John!
A few days earlier, I went with Kate to her final ultrasound. I thought her other two boys, Paul and Nico, would be excited to see the baby on the monitor. Instead, they acted like ding dongs and had to sit in time out. By then, poor Jack was crammed in there so tightly we couldn’t really make out many of his features anyway.
The next day, Megan played hostess for a little baby shower dinner.
My sisters timed their previous babies without any consideration of my schedule, so I was particularly excited to be in the States for Jack’s arrival. My mom and I visited Kate in the hospital a few hours after she was induced, but there wasn’t much going on, so we went home for a dip in the pool.
My other sister, Megan, handed off her own baby to me and dashed out, determined to be present at the birth. Later, she reported sprinting down the hallway at the hospital, arriving at Kate’s room seconds too late. From outside the door, she heard Jack’s surprised wail as he entered this world.
Brothers and cousin, Emma, check out the new baby. Paul wasn’t too sure about this at first, but he has since warmed up to the idea.
My favorite part of summer vacation every year is re-connecting with friends and family. I always head back overseas in August wishing I had time to make one more interstate phone call or entertain one more visitor at the lake or take one more trip to see someone special.
This summer was more chaotic than usual, but we still managed to squeeze in a few meet-ups.
Our first visitor came roaring up the twisty lake road to our house in her new-to-her RV. Jacquelyn popped by Michigan at the start of her summer-long U.S. tour. Read about it on her blog, Teaching and Travelling Around the World. Jacquelyn’s sweet ride included a kitchen, bathroom, beds and lots of little closets. So fun!
We “always” roadtrip across the border to Stratford, Ontario, for the Shakespeare Festival and fun with the Hossacks. Scott, Amy and Blake entertained us despite some dreary weather (no cycling this year, even though we hauled our bikes all the way there). We stayed at Legacy House B&B and enjoyed a spectacular rendition of “Fiddler on the Roof,” as well as a Shakespeare play neither Tony nor I had seen before, “Measure for Measure.”
It has become a tradition for Amy and me to pose with this scary Shakespeare statue that we think shoots laser beams out of his eyes.
Blake brilliantly hypothesized that he could launch this bubble rocket higher if he jumped on it from the tree branch. And one of the things I love most about the Hossacks is that they would never discourage such an experiment.
The Hossacks live down the road from Stratford in St. Marys, also home to the Canadian Baseball Hall of Fame. We saw George Bell and Tim Raines get inducted and then whack some balls in a “home run derby.”
We scored these awesome shades at a local restaurant.
While poking around Stratford’s Art in the Park, I saw a kid who looked familiar. Then my brain took in the whole scene, and I realized it was a family we knew in Laos! Moe Moe was our school nurse at Vientiane International School. Small world!
During our stay in Stratford, friends from Istanbul – Aylin and Cagatay – drove in from Toronto for a couple hours. We were so grateful they made the trip although we were disappointed we didn’t get to meet their gorgeous little girls.
On our way back to Michigan, we stopped by London, Ontario, for lunch with another fab family we knew in Shanghai: the Smith-Kellys. Now that we realize how near they are to our lake house, we anticipate plenty of future summer fun!
Just before crossing the bridge back to the States, we paused for drinks with Stephanie in Sarnia. She and I were first-year teachers in Istanbul, so we shared a lot of tears. Dang it, we forgot to take a photo of our little reunion … we’ll have to do it again next year.
Back in Michigan, we welcomed Cami for the Fourth of July weekend – second year in a row! Again, we feel deeply grateful for friends who go out of their way (and swallow their fear of flying) to hang with us.
With just a week left to go, I think we’re done meeting up with old friends. For this summer, anyway. See you in 2014?
As for family, well, they deserve a post of their own. Stay tuned.
I’m newly addicted to the HGTV show “Love It or List It.” A decorator and a Realtor face off to convince people either to remodel and stay in their home or put their house on the market and move. I love it because I’m living it.
In 2009, we bought a summer home in Michigan that had been divided into two living areas so the owner’s adult son could have his own apartment. We decided to let him stay and serve as a caretaker. For legal reasons (turns out our house isn’t ALLOWED to be a duplex), we recently asked him to move. Although we renovated “our” side of the house, we haven’t set foot in “his” side since we bought the house. Let’s just say it needed a lot of TLC. We knew we had a few options:
(1) Seal that part of the house until we could save up enough money to update and renovate.
(2) Avoid the hassle and sell the house.
(3) Give the space a facelift with a coat of paint and new carpet (even though we knew there was surely some wiring, plumbing and HVAC that was last up to code in the 1950s).
(4) Do what we always do and impulsively jump without thinking it through.
We opted for #4.
After perusing Angie’s List and contacting several contractors, we hired DA Home Improvement to tackle the job. Our plan? Rip out the downstairs kitchen and convert it into a garage. Bump out the upstairs to create a space over the new garage with a big bay window and new master bathroom. After hearing some estimates for the work, we scrapped the garage and scaled our project WAY back. Now we’re looking at a downstairs utility room and an upstairs master bedroom/bath.
Originally, we were hoping to finalize all the plans so the contractors could do the work over the winter months, communicating with us in India via email and FaceTime. However, DA said they would put two other jobs on hold to get our work done before we head back to Delhi! With only three weeks to go, we’re cautiously optimistic.
Here are some BEFORE shots.
Everything left of the tree is gutted.
The kitchen is gone.
This was a garage in our dream plan, but now it will be a utility room.
Upstairs, we’ll have a grown-up-sized bedroom. Woo hoo!
One half bath + one half bath = one master bathroom
This room was the original construction (with an outhouse in the back yard). It’s well on the way to becoming a spacious closet and bathroom.
In the olden days, Santa left Nerf weapons under the tree or next to our stockings in plain sight. After opening our presents, playing with our new toys, loading our PEZ dispensers, and eating cinnamon rolls, we would break out the Nerf guns for a family battle in the wrapping paper wreckage of our living room. We never questioned the idea of a Christmas morning war.
Over the years, this tradition morphed a bit as adult children reunited for the holidays. Sometimes we delayed the war till later in the day or played a more mellow version, such as lining up cans for targets or aiming our sticky darts to fly through an upstairs window.
We often laugh about the year my parents hosted a Sri Lankan college student, Iranga, for the holiday. (When my parents lived in Saudi Arabia, where women aren’t allowed to drive, Iranga’s father was my mother’s driver.) Tony and I were living in Kansas at the time, but we traveled to Michigan for a Dickinson family gathering. On Christmas morning, my sisters and I were surprised to find no armaments under the tree. Did Santa think we had outgrown this annual event? Presents were distributed, and as per another family tradition, the youngest child opened all of hers first. Finally, it was my mother’s turn. As she unwrapped her last gift, we began to chatter about plans for the rest of the day. “Oh wait,” my father said. “There’s one more box hiding back here behind the tree.” He passed it to my mom, who gingerly peeled off the paper from a large cardboard box. She opened the flaps, peeked in and then quickly whipped out a huge Nerf blaster and passed a second one to my dad. They both pelted us with ping-pong balls as we dove behind furniture, crying with laughter and howling over the unfairness of being unarmed. Poor Iranga didn’t know what to think.
Although Tony and I moved abroad and skipped 11 years of family Christmases, we kept a photo on our fridge of my sisters in the heat of battle, Kate ducking behind an overstuffed chair and Meg peeking out from under a pile of wrapping paper. Returning to Michigan for Christmas 2012, we weren’t sure what to expect, but we invested in a couple Nerf guns, disguised them with tissue paper and stashed them in a gift bag, just in case.
My sister Kate and her family live a short distance away, but they spent the night Christmas Eve so we could all enjoy seeing Nico and Paul wake up to Christmas. Adults rose first and made coffee, warning the boys to stay in their room until we had set up with our cameras. As expected, the neighbor had left a Christmas cake on the front step. Our fridge and freezer were stuffed to capacity, so we had to leave it out there. Finally, we called the boys and got the morning under way. Everything was normal … for awhile.
I love this shot of their sweet faces!
William with his loot. The youngest kid gets to open his presents first.
“Look, Buddy, you got a new belt!” said Nico. Or, a new collar, maybe.
Nico loading his PEZ dispenser.
Megan and Britt had given each couple, including themselves, a “family present.” They opened theirs first: Dart Tag vests with orange safety glasses. They high-fived, and we knew the game was on.
Suspense built as each couple opened the gift and donned their gear.
John and Kate
Me and Tony – I was trying for gangsta, but my jammies killed the look.
My brother Mike was oddly oblivious. We kept telling him, “Open your gift from Meg and Britt!” but he sweetly and innocently insisted on waiting to open joint presents until Summer arrived on the 28th. We all knew that would be too late …
After everyone unwrapped their presents, my dad brought the Christmas cake inside and asked if anyone wanted any.
However, he still had a couple gifts to open, so I stood up and moved the cake box from his lap to an end table. It felt suspiciously light, and I had a feeling all hell was about to break loose. I quickly set my camera to video, placed it strategically on a bookshelf and stepped away. Sure enough, Dad called Nico over to help him uncover the “cake.” Inside the box, were two Nerf guns. And this is how it unfolded:
Favorite moments from the initial attack:
* Everyone trying to be covert, reaching for their stashed weapons as Nico lifts the “cake box” lid.
* My mom protecting her face with the gift I brought her from India, a papier-mâché mask I found at a handicrafts fair in Delhi.
* My clueless brother shouting, “Hey, where’d you get the guns?” while holding the baby.
* Sidney, the Jimenez family dog, laying still through all the chaos, looking annoyed and a bit worried.
* Britt taking cover behind the sofa with his arsenal of Dart Tag guns. (He and Meg bought five Dart Tag sets, gave the vests and glasses as gifts and then kept all the weapons!)
* My pregnant sister, Kate, shouting, “I think I peed my pants!” followed by, “Watch the ninnies!”
Yeah, we’re all class.
Eventually, the action moved beyond the living room with teams spread out upstairs and downstairs. I claimed to be an embedded journalist, but that didn’t stop them from blasting me with their velcro darts, which stuck to my vest like little badges of courage.
Nice cover, Kate.
Tony reloads while Paul has his back.
Mike, finally armed, and trusty guard dog, Buddy.
Thank goodness for safety glasses, eh Dad?
Eventually, someone called a truce and everyone regrouped in the kitchen to enjoy another Dickinson Christmas tradition: cinnamon rolls. And then there was peace.
