I need to remember this.
Love,
me
image via Pinterest
Year: 2011
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The Teeny Tiny Human Dilemma
Moving has forced me to deal with my life and my future with head on brutal honesty. In this “moving space” I have to answer for everything I own. It all needs to be justified and categorized and color coded (ok, not really… but if my friend Trish were here, she’d have different colored post-its all over the place).Sell it or give it away.
Store it.
Move it to Burundi.Sometimes this categorizing feels freeing, like a chance at a new pared down way of life. At other times it makes me mad. Mad that I have to categorize at all. Mad that I can’t just own something because it’s beautiful. I am tired of justifying the endless uses of a potato masher to myself before packing it in the “going to Burundi” box. I don’t get a moving truck, just the back of a vehicle and a couple of suitcases. There is simply no room for things that can’t prove their purpose to me. Which means you can usually find me following Ben around the house like a puppy with before mentioned potato masher in hand, waving it while yelling, “Do they have potatoes there?” “What about pasta, did you see any pasta?”
My boys, like all tiny humans, grow like absolute weeds and today I confronted the growing pile of itsy bitsy baby clothes that no longer fit my rolly poly 16 month old. They have been sitting there, staring at me, for months. Do I place them in storage in the hopes of having another teeny tiny human someday? Or, do I part with them here and now. Buying new clothes for a perfectly similar baby boy (just assuming, considering my track record) seems like a waste with all these cute baby clothes staring up at me. So does storing them if there’s never going to be another little man. Then there’s the additional, but unthinkable, variable… what if it’s a girl. That’s when my brain went into a tailspin and I began following Ben around, not with a potato masher, but with one big question… “Hunny, do you think we are going to have more kids?” Poor Coffee Guy, he just gave me a look like I had stabbed him in the side. Ok, so maybe that was a little too much pressure, but what am I supposed to do about this teeny tiny clothing dilemma?
You see, I already know what it’s like, opening those forgotten boxes. Staring at things you don’t remember ever owning and thinking to yourself, “Why on earth did I ever think this was worth keeping?” “How old IS this?” “Does this even work?” I’ve been there, I was the bride who stored her wedding gifts in her parents basement, never used, and took off for a faraway land. Is that kind of bride even in a category? Maybe like “Adventure Bride” or “Faraway Bride” or “Other Continent Bride.” Anyway, before I start coming up with even stranger bride categories, it’s here I stop, except to tell you that most of my little boy’s teeny tiny things now reside at the center for abandoned babies, Shepherd’s Keep, just two minutes from our house. I think they will be put to a much better, truer more beautiful use there. Letting go is a beautiful thing.
Luv,
Kristy (the mother of a toddler not a newborn)
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Willie’s Cacao
I love Willie’s Cacao. I love it so much that it makes me want to jump up and down and run around he garden shouting, “Free Willy!” Ok, that was a bit much, but you get the picture. Chocolate in it’s raw form, from a single origin, ready to be used in a million bah-zillion different ways. I am not sure that Willie sells his cacao in the USA yet, but I know that you can get his books here. They are full of recipes using cacao in both sweet and savory ways. I made Willie’s chicken mole one night and the hubs thought he had died and gone to heaven.
We also love Willie’s story. He’s just a guy changing the way we think about chocolate. He bought a cacao farm in South America, and from there his journey to change the way people think about chocolate began. He spent weekend after weekend punting his chocolate to people at the local farmers markets in the UK, begging people to try it. From there he began a revolution of change. As a couple wanting to do the same in the coffee industry, his story makes our hearts beat just a little bit faster.
Here’s a short video where Willie talks about a pet pig that ended up as supper. Willie is an amazing storyteller, but if you have no space in your brain for fact that pigs end up as bacon, you might not want to watch it.
Luv,
Kristy
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early morning brewing
I miss early morning’s that look like this. Ben making coffee while teaching the four year old proper brewing methods, you know… normal stuff. As Ben is away and the house hunt in Burundi continues, it is beginning to sink in that this is our last breath before the plunge. Our life in South Africa is rapidly coming to a close. It’s weeks now instead of months.
We have spent a third of our lives here and the community that surrounds us is voluminous. There are people here that it breaks our hearts to leave. Ten years ago, when we left our families and moved to this new place with just four suitcases to our names, we put down roots. We reached out and built relationships with abandon, and we found a new family. They in no way replace our family in the States, instead they are a whole different family… but no easier to leave behind.
Luv,
Kristy
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Riding Burundi Roads at My Peril
With internet spotty at best up in the highlands of Burundi this post will undoubtably be short. I just can’t help but share in what is taking place though. By far the most productive trip yet to Burundi I’m in a celebratory mood. Except that my sore back, hurting bum and broken ribs (long story about why you shouldn’t play rugby in Burundi with American Marines could be inserted here!) will let my celebrations be limited to a beverage of choice and early to bed.
The Beauty of Burundi is that I can sit in a “hotel’s” restaurant high in the hills of Burundi and listen to a Jordin Sparks (ya, I didn’t know until I googled her either) song on repeat being beat into my head. So if I type “just one step at a time….” it’s not my fault.
The past four days have been filled with incredible scenes of vibrant rolling hills, lush coffee trees pregnant with ripe cherries and aromas ranging from fresh sweet coffee smells to burnt roasting goat.
I want to tempt your senses to try and imagine fresh(ish) goat being roasted on an open fire with green bananas that taste like potatoes to accompany. How about hundreds of pounds of freshly harvested coffee cherries piled up ready to be washed clean of their pulp. Or my favorite aroma of sweaty stinking people piled on top of each other and me as we wind our way up the mountains in a mini bus.
Where do you drink coffee? Intelligentsia? Counter Culture? Stumptown? Dunn Brothers? Bean There? I’m visiting the very farmers that are producing their best coffee. It’s a good day in Burundi. It would be great if Kristy and my adventurer boys were here too. Just four weeks until we are all here!
I may never feel or smell the same again. But my discovery of this black gold is seductive and the hands that are processing it are the poorest and knurliest I have ever laid eyes on. The adventure has begun.
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supper time
Every night around the supper table we ask each other about the day. The goal being that the meal becomes more than just a battle to get the kids fed, it becomes instead our time to connect and “debrief”. Our time to teach our kids about what it means to take an interest in one other, care for each another, and look out for each other.
It’s our way of changing the focus of the meal from “getting the kids fed” and “shovelling it in” to appreciating the beauty of good food and a shared meal. We try to slow down and make eye contact, and not focus on our kid’s plates and our plates and the glasses being tipped over… with a four year old and a one year old this is a work in progress, but that’s ok, because the message of the meal will be the same for years to come.
I always smile when four year old Myles straightens his back, looks around and pronounces in a grown up voice, “Mommy how was your day today?” Today I spent most of my day in worry and anxiety, and I couldn’t help but wish for a “do over.” A chance to go back and fully embrace the words below. To live them. To understand the beauty of trust. A chance to have a different answer at the supper table.
Don’t fret or worry.
Instead of worrying, pray.
Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns.
Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down.
It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.
Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things
true,
noble,
reputable,
authentic,
compelling,
gracious—
the best, not the worst;
the beautiful, not the ugly;
things to praise, not things to curse.
Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized.
Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.
~Philippians 4:6-9 (The Message)
The thing about a harmony is, it involves trusting others, and it involves more than just one voice. Here’s to letting go of fear and anxiety, and embracing one excellent harmony.
Kristy
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Heidi’s Brown Butter Spice Bread
When I saw the list of ingredients in this cake I knew I had to make it. Browned butter? Roasted winter squash? Garam Masala? Yes, please! We have plenty of Garam Masala lying around from all our attempts at making a good curry. It’s a beautiful blend of peppery cinnamonny cardamummy goodness. Since I’ve been doing a whole lotta “stress baking” to avoid packing, now seemed like the perfect time to bake this up!
One of the things that I love about living in Durban is the really large and totally unique Indian community. *warning, incoming “did you know” fact* Did you know that Durban has the largest Indian population of any city, outside of India? It shows, we have curry coming out of our ears and I love it! You have not lived until you have tasted a Durban Bunny Chow, but that’s another story.
The name here says bread, but this really is a cake. Heidi who created the remarkable 101 cookbooks mentions you can skip the browning of the butter. You could, it’s true, but I don’t think I ever would. The browned butter gives this cake an amazingly dark and nutty favor. Plus I just love browning butter, and being around butter, and eating butter… you get the picture. This cake is soooo good paired with a doppio of espresso on a Sunday afternoon.
double click or drag above recipe to print
Love,
Kristy
all images Kristy J Carlson recipe via Heidi at 101 cookbooks
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House Hunting In Burundi
Here’s a clip of Ben’s house hunting efforts last week in Burundi. He didn’t find a house that worked for us, but we are crossing fingers and praying like mad that the right place will come along soon.
House Hunting in Burundi from longmilescoffee on Vimeo.
