Language Charades

Yesterday evening we took my parents over to my husband's Grandmother's place for a new years lanche (snack). It was entertaining on all accounts.

Out of the 25 people attending from Mr. Rant's family, about 5 spoke English. That leaves my parents sitting like the big pink gringo elephants in the room.

The best moment is when the uncles come and chat. Their English is good for someone who doesn't use it regularly, but they still need help. That is when the impromptu charade games start. Even though I am there to help translate, the vocabulary they needed help on is super random. Examples from yesterday: exhaust pipe, chrome and off the shelf technical material. Fyi, between the two uncles and my Father they were discussing building motorcycles and military issues in both countries. Last time I checked you are supposed to have easy light chit chat when you don't speak the language.

Regardless, it was absolutely adorable to see all the effort going into making my parents feel involved and comfortable. Even one of the cousins came and took over as the official unofficial random word translator. A good time was officially had by all.

At one point though, Mr. Rant and his cousin wanted to play a joke on my Father and their Uncle. They wanted to tell the uncle the wrong word. For example, instead of translating seat, the word he wants, telling him hammer or something like that. Just enough to confuse the crap out of the two men. I said hell no. They gave me shit for not playing along.

What do you think? Personally, I think the men were having a hard enough time as it was. 

Serious Growth and I'm NOT Talking Mold

Living in Brazil has taught me so much about myself. We are talking serious growth here people.

Take my space issues for example. That has basically been beaten out of me, or at least it felt like that at the time. In Zona Sul, there is no space. And when it seems like you just may have founds some, you realize that there was a person on deck waiting to invade it. If you don't believe me, just try being pregnant down here. I had total random strangers rub my baby and lower down to talk to him. It was quite interesting and a bit of a boundary pusher for me at the time. I mean hell, go down a few more inches and you'd be talking to my vag. Yes, that is a little too close for comfort.

I have also started to become organized. This is directly related to the above space issue. While Mr. Rant and my Mother may call bullshit on this one, I do believe they have blocked the memories of my past ways out of their minds. Yes, it was that bad.

And not to be forgotten, I am damn good at pinning clothes. I like to consider myself a 1950s inner city wife. I do it well but keep it classy people, no clothes hanging out my window. Of course they are on my balcony but that's just between you and me.

Then there is food. My major source of nutrition in the states, if you could call it that, came in the form of a box and was heated in the microwave. I only have good genes to thank for not falling victim of the American Obesity trend. In my defense, I didn't really know how to cook and I drank a lot so crap food just tasted better. Of course I'm in Brazil now where, when I got here anyway, the only frozen ready-made food was basically Pão de Queijo or some stuff that I didn't even recognize. Not to mention the fact that there are so many fresh fruits and veggies that they basically fall out of the sky and right into your mouth. FYI, so odd to be saying this, don't swallow. Wash them first or they'll be going out even faster than they went in.

There's also the whole cooking from scratch thing. While I had seen my Mother do it, I just thought she was old school. Apparently it has quite a little following. My biggest shock was when I realized that I, Rachel's Rantings, is capable of making something from scratch that tastes a hell of a lot better than the stuff in a box (and keeps you much more regular thank you very much.)

All this stuff has me thinking that I was really immature when I came to Brazil for the first time at 23 years old. Oh wait, isn't the definition of 23 immature anyway? Sweet, there's my excuse!

Seriously though, how has where you are, physically or otherwise, changed who you are for the better? 

UPDATE

For starters, I'm still technically without internet. Thankfully my new building has a free lan house for residents. I get to come, get my fix, and also get to watch preteen mating rituals. Fun for the whole family.

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I hate Etna, the furniture company. They caused a mini drama at my place on Monday by not showing up. When we called they informed us that the truck was sitting there all day waiting for the last piece of our ordered furniture and it got too late for delivery in Zona Sul. Apparently their phones only work one way. In the end they showed up ridiculously late on Tuesday and only managed to put together the bedroom closets (still thank goodness for small favors!) and left us with even more boxes in the living room. Going with their own flow, they can only come back Saturday to up together the living room shelving. Not a pain in our ass at all...

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Not only did Etna screw me that way, they also screwed me in another way. I'm just going to let the dirty jokes leave your mind before I finish... I don't know if I have mentioned on this blog how Mr. Rant and his family consulate the phases of the moon before doing anything big. If the moon is out of phase everything will go to shit. Seriously, I was asked to plan my births around it. You could say that they take it pretty seriously. Of course seeing that I am a stubborn person I made an executive decision that we would buy the furniture even though the moon was out of course. And look what happened! Damn you Etna! The phases of the moon are going to control me for the rest of my life!

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So now that we have gotten rid of half of our unneeded belongings, minimalists anyone, we have somewhat of a home. I even threw away the old antibiotics I was saving in case of a zombie apocalypse. How many of you guess that one was about me? As a celebration, I decided to take advantage of building perks. Did you know my place has a sauna with a dive in enterance to the pool? I think I had a mini orgasm the moment I saw it. Best yet, very cute cougar bait as eye candy! Not a bad way to relax at all.

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Last but not least, it is finally December! I don't know what is going on in Rio de Janeiro because I can usually tell the month by the amount of sweat vacating my body. These days it's much more of a September/October level. Hell, I just may wear pants out this evening! So if any of you out there do not believe in Global warning pay attention, my sweat glands are telling you otherwise.

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So that is all for this ranter today. As I do not have internet, nor a computer set up, I am going to be inconsistant at best. We did talk to our internet company and should have it by now. My favorite part of that experience was that they told us we had to make an online payment before we could get our internet switched over. Of course we were calling because we do not have internet and they neglected to switch it as scheduled. Irony anyone?

10 Ways to Move Without it Ending in Divorce

As everyone in the world knows, I'm in the middle of a move. Let me share some of the pearls of wisdom that this move has bestowed upon me.

1. Allow for coping techniques. We are all different and need to cope in different ways. If that means that Mr. Rant needs to aimlessly roam around the only available 4 feet of floor space in circles for about 8 minutes in a moment of being totally lost, so be it.

2. Do not complain about someone's smell unless you've smelt yourself first.

3. If someone is in charge of a task, do not micromanage them. I have to say I'm pretty damn good at this one. Mr. Rant, on the other hand, is the micromanaging queen of the world. It's a part of his charm.

4. Have sex. I don't care if it is on a box. Someone should get laid during a time like this.

5. Remember that a possible zombie invasion is not a good excuse for keeping old crap that needs to be thrown out.

6. Less girliness ladies! Men can hardly handle it on a normal day. It's more than enough to push them over the edge in the midst of choas. Now if that was what you were going for, bring on the pink!

7. If someone is on the phone with a company, do not attempt to find out what is happening and/or start having your own imaginary conversation with the idiot the other person is talking to. I, for one, can not help but do this. I infuriate Mr. Rant as I am always wrong about what is happening on the other end and get way too riled up. What can I say, it's part of my charm.

8. Should someone have a mini meltdown, stay calm. This is normal with moves. Hell, I just had one this morning.

9. If you are the one who had the meltdown, apologize immediately if not sooner. Said it already but sorry Mr. Rant!

10. If all hell breaks lose, build a box fort and have a picnic. Humor can get you though just about anything.

They Took My Couch

Mommy and newborn napping on the couch

You all know I'm moving. I have been annoying you with the details for months now. This evening it really hit that life is moving forward and time is passing.

I gave my couch to my maid. I'm sure all of you are thinking "And?" The thing is that it was mine and Mr. Rant's first big purchase together, apart from the first apartment we bought.

That sofa supported us through many stages of life. It was the fabulously comfortable pull out my first American visitors slept on during my pregnancy with The Chatterbox. It stayed a pull out bed in our tiny living room for the first 3 months of The Chatterbox's life as we used it as our daytime bed/nighttime nursing spot.

We moved it with us to our new bigger place. It became the playroom couch. It's where The Menace laid as I played with the toddler version of The Chatterbox. It was my parent's bed, as well as anyone else who stayed here. And it managed to stay the same obnoxiously bright orange throughout chocolate milk spills, tent making, playing, movie watching, and guests.

Seeing it taken apart and leaving my place made me nostalgic. I felt myself saying goodbye to a piece of furniture that reminded me of the new adult Rachel, the new Mom Rachel, and the I hate this big freaking orange sofa Rachel.

I saw my skinny and hardly pregnant butt de-virginizing it upon it's arrival to our place. I can still remember the comfort of sitting on that sofa, over the old futon that it replaced, as my ass widened and my belly grew. It was where I was laying when my breast milk came it. I'm pretty sure there's still some in the cushions as I was a milk cow. It was the first important piece of furniture The Chatterbox peed all over as an infant, but definitely not the last.

Seeing it leave my place made me realize how far I have come from the girl that bought it. It's hard to say goodbye to her as I am quite fond of her sassy ways. And while I am looking forward to having a real "adult" apartment with planned and matching furniture, I look back fondly on the process of the first time furnishing a home. There is so much pride in your pieced together room, an appreciation we have a tendency of losing over time. Things just become things that can easily be thrown away. But when you are starting out and struggling to piece together a life you see the character behind the story of each item. I am going to miss that.

I will be following this with a ridiculous montage of photos of said couch in respect to our daily life. Enjoy:

Baby Chatterbox with his pet spoon and couch. Yes, he had a pet spoon. 

Playing hairdresser/dress up with Mommy in front of couch

Annoying napping Tio (uncle) with a friend as he napped on couch

The Menace chilling with Batman in a tent made on couch 

Do you have/had a piece of furniture that holds memories like this? If so, do tell! 

Grandmothers: The ambassadors of the World

Great Grandma Cleo Nice with her Great Grandson Chatterbox 

I just spoke with Mr. Rant's Grandmother. It's her birthday. 87 years young. We decided that she is much closer to 25 yrs old than 90.

The conversation reminded me of when I first moved here. I never felt weird attempting to talk to the Grandmothers, on either side. They know/knew zero English. Nothing. But they accepted me as one of their clan.

In all fairness, they were/are both used to taking in strays. Both have/had adopted many children and raised them as their own. It was common at the time. You have a sister, brother, or cousin of a sister or brother who not afford the newest and left them with these women to be raised well and with love.

My first visit to my husband's late Grandmother on his Mother's side was the most comforting thing for this new expat. I walked into her apartment, which smelled of home-cooked food, and she put her arms around me. Just that was enough. Whenever we were in the room together she had her little arm around my waist, as it had no hopes of reaching my shoulders. And she held me as if I was someone who had not been held by family, other than my husband, in a long time. You know what, I hadn't and it was exactly what I needed.

The Grandma on the Father's side declared to me that she is also my Grandmother. That, of course, came after thanking me for marrying her bachelor Grandson. It had been 5 years since his last relationship! Gasp! She was concerned that he would never settle down.

The funny thing was that I felt at home with them. They both, with all their sass, reminded me of my Grandmothers. They filled the hole, so surprisingly well, of my family. And surprisingly to me, the Queens of the family Monarchs made me feel so apart of a family that I wasn't sure would accept me.

To this day I look forward to family lunches just for this. Now I get to take my children, who quickly run around spastically like all children are known to do, and both women proclaim/proclaimed with pride "These boys feel at home here and they are!"

Two women from my husband's lineage gave this struggling expat a light in the dark at a time where I was afraid to be a woman, much less knowing how to be a wife. Their strength, stories, and ease with acceptance showed me a side to the chaotic Brazil that made me want to belong.

Not to mention the shock value of an 85 yr old telling you how important it is to give your husband sex when he wants to. Lion in the bedroom ladies!

Classic! 

Mr. Rant Thinks I'm Insane

So Mr. Rant and I were discussing possible vacation options for next year. We're thinking something that is fun for the whole family. Here is what each one of us came up with.

Mr Rant: Disney World
Me: Italy

He thinks I'm insane. I think he lacks imagination.

He thinks hanging out in Italy with a 5 yr old and a 3 yr old is asking for trouble. I think that we can go to Disney World anytime... Italy too for that matter but I'm dying to go see something new.

Mr. Rant then dared me to ask you guys what you think.  Like he had to dare me. I'm not even going to use my super duper skills of persuasion to get you on my side.  Am I crazy or is Italy a good idea?

Top 10 Things Husbands and Wives Want

About.com has a list of the Top 10 things Men want from their wives and vice versa. I thought that it would be fun to compare this list.


Men:
1. Believe in his capabilities
2. Understanding
3. Affirmation of his Accomplishments
4. Acceptance
5. Less Chatter
6. Affection
7. Respect
8. Free Time
9. Trust
10. To be a Companion

I'm sorry but I looked at this list and wavered between preschooler and dog. If I had to convert all 10 items into two sentences and one word it would be: "Yes, it was a very good presentation but the game just started. Can I have a kiss and we will talk about this later? Thanks."

Of course the women's list isn't much better:


Women:
1. Telling her daily that she is Loved
2. Understanding and Forgiveness
3. Conversation
4. Willingness to make time for her and your children
5. Saying 'yes' more than saying 'no'
6. Listening well
7. Affection and Kindness
8. Sharing Household and Child Rearing Responsibilites
9. A Day Off Now and Then
10. Commitement to Take Care of Yourself Both Physically and Emotionally

First of all, reading this kind of makes me feel like my husband's bitch. Say yes more than no? Why does he get the deciding word? And forgiveness for what? About.com explained #2 like this:

There will be days when your wife will make mistakes or when she will be difficult to be around. No one is perfect. She both wants and deserves your willingness to understand and forgive her. Remember that no relationship can be sustained without forgiveness.


What? I'm sorry but we're counting mistakes now? Oh shoot, the dishes have spots. Mommy has to go sit in time out. Daddy won't you please forgive her. Yeah, I don't think so. I'll take the understanding part but not forgiveness because if I am being difficult to be around something tells me that you may have a part in that (minus give or take 6 days out of the month or when I'm on the pill.)

Here is my list for Mr. Rant:

1. For you to go back in time and remember your "moves" and use them on me again. I obviously thought they were hot. Of course you still are hot but didn't you do things that made me turn on in a second or was I just easy? On second thought don't answer that.
2. To come home early and declare that you are making us dinner. FYI, it needs to be something both the kids and I will eat and that does not require a trip to the store.
3. For him to chat with me in bed before we go to sleep. I heart pillow talk. It is a Mr. Rant pet peeve as it is time to sleep and if we were going to talk it should have been before we went to bed. Things pop into my head when I lay down and I like to chat about them. See the issue.
4. To be told I'm gorgeous, sexy, and awesome. Ok, he told me I was gorgeous the other day, kind of as a joke, but it totally still counted.  Hey Mr. Rant, would love it if you did it again!
5. For him to bring up a cute, funny, or random memory from our past. It's cool to hear our history from your point of view.

Ok, I can only come up with 5. I have it pretty damn good. But if I had to make up 5 for Mr. Rant they would be:

1. To Insist on Sex Constantly. For some reason after a long stretch of marriage men get a bit lazy to put on the real moves. I'm sure that he would be stoked if I just stripped down and asked "would you please take me?"
2. Took Up Cooking as a Hobby: Mr. Rant likes to eat and although I am doing pretty damn well in the cooking department I still can't even hold up a burnt piece of newspaper up to his mother, much less a candle.
3. Anal-retentive Cleanliness: Mr. Rant is so very Carioca in that nothing from outside should ever enter inside. In his ideal world we would change out of "street clothes" before even sitting on the couch. I like to run around Rio de Janeiro in flip flops and thus am constantly filing my feet to get the soot off. I drive him insane this way.
4. Be into Botafogo: Mr. Rant is mellow in that he wouldn't demand that I watch all soccer games with him but I know that he would love me to sit and watch Botafogo games. I used to watch in that early part of our relationship. Of course I used to just nap on his chest...
5. Take on more of the Bureaucratic responsibilitiess of the household. I like to blame being a foreigner and not speaking perfect Portuguese but we both know it's pure laziness. Dude, it's just a bitch to fumble your way through that muck of government. He knows his way through. It's so much easier for him. Of course that whole having a full-time job thing sometimes makes it difficult to wait an hour for a piece of paperwork. We all have our crosses to bear.

What do you want from your partner? Do you agree with the about.com lists?

Do the Dishes and Get Laid

A new study shows that women find their husbands more sexually attractive if they help around the house. Dr. John Gottman scored massive points with his wife the day he published that paper of gold!

I for one am instantly more attracted to Mr. Rant when he helps out around the house. (Mr. Rant, are you reading this?)

Honestly, I have moments where if I see one more dirty dish I feel like throwing them all out the window. Don't even get me started on food preparations, laundry, mopping, putting away toys after the kids put away toys, de-urinizing of the bathroom and so on and so forth.

This may even go double for Brazilian men. By cultural nature, the Brazilian man is quite spoiled. They are not used to helping around the house, with meal prep, nor with children. Don't get me wrong, the ones I know aren't getting drunk at the dive bar at 10am or anything like that. No, they are just are a part of a culture where many homes have maids and what the maid doesn't do the woman of the house does. Seeing that there is help, the other stuff isn't that big of a deal.

At the same time, Mr. Rant doing the dishes or hanging the laundry is a total turn on. For starters, he isn't doing it for himself. In his world his boxers fold themselves and walk right into his drawer. When Mr. Rant washes dishes or does anything else in the house he is basically doing it so I won't have to. He is coming in and taking a bit of the load off.

That my friends is freaking hot! There is a lot bigger chance of me being down to get down if I'm not feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, or pissed off. Hell, if you do all of the housework I may even throw in a costume.

The thing is that men do not understand that the household work can sometimes sit on us like a constant hangover. The moment you are ready to relax you remember that there is a load of laundry in the washer or that the kids will be hungry soon.  As they have yet to master the culinary arts that too is your problem.

Personally, the day I come home to find the house clean, kids bathed, dishes washed, and dinner done I'm going to throw Mr. Rant onto the dining room table and take him. Of course that will totally traumatize the boys but when I explain it to their future spouses they will completely understand!

Who does the chores in your house? Does your spouse helping out make him/her appear more attractive?

On a side note, here's another interesting article about housework and sex: CNN: Housework and Sex

Questionable Internet Behavior?

Mr. Rant and I had a chat this evening over questionable internet behavior. The thing about internet is that it leaves access to gray areas that could or could not be questionable depending on the relationship of the person.

That then goes directly into the "privacy" aspect of internet and relationship. What can a partner read and question without getting the response of "Did you go into my account?" Is it ok for a spouse to enter your account? Is it ok to do questionable things under the umbrella understanding that one won't use the known password and check on the other?

I have always felt that, seeing Mr. Rant has all my passwords, he will one day check up on things. Personally, I call it healthy curiosity instead of prying. But let's be honest, we all like to pry. We want to know the dirty secrets of the person we are with, even though the person we are with isn't supposed to have any dirty secrets.

At the same time, how boring is it to not! My solution, to have dirty secrets with the one you are with! Oh the ideal world I live in.

In all honesty though, it comes down to perspective. And in the internet society we live in we have to have perspective. I'm sorry but at one point or another your significant other is going to either 1. download more porn than you are comfortable with 2. overly compliment someone else to a point that you are not comfortable with 3. have internet sex or 4. try internet bestiality (sheep are getting crazy smart these days).

So where is the line? Is it password use or activity? Is it communication over lack there of? How much contact are you comfortable with you spouse having? 

Mr. Rant is Traumatized

I approached Mr. Rant with some mindless conversation today obviously because I'm his wife and that is my job. I casually mentioned that I made myself a doctor's appointment for a couple of reasons but that I really wanted to talk to her about the patch.

He literally yelled "NO!" at me. I was a little confused at first. I was talking about the nicotine patch because I'm sick and tired of slipping back into a cigarette here and there (and maybe that will help me jump this nasty little hurdle). That's when it hit me, he was talking about the birth control patch!

That made me laugh out loud and simultaneously console him. Poor Mr. Rant is traumatized when it comes to birth control. You see we have had our own psychological ups and downs with those special little doses of hormones.

When we first got together I got on the pill. I knew that I'm not the coolest person in the world on the pill but I figured the honeymoon sex action would make up for it.

Well, Debbie Downer is not that attractive to most men. The pill made me cry... over everything. I swear one time he turned around, just turned around. I however broke into tears and asked why he turned around like that at me. Seriously people, I was crazy.

That started the birth control merry go round of what keeps us away from condoms while not getting me pregnant and not making me crazy.

The special one that really traumatized Mr. Rant was the shot. Poor guy confuses it with the patch, probably a reaction from his Rachel birth control Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. The story goes like this: somehow my Gyno and I thought that if I couldn't handle daily doses of hormones shooting 3 months worth in one go was a good idea. I tell you this, I wasn't weepy.

Oh no sir, I was Satan.

Honestly, I balanced between zero sympathy for the human race and full on hatred. If Mr. Rant dare turn around in a funky way I would just knock that head right off his shoulders! Ok, I never actually got violent but you get the picture.

While I was rational and knew I was Satan, it still took a good couple of months for the hormones to even out. Sadly the race to a good birth control killed the very thing we were working towards: honeymooners disorder (ie. banging like bunnies).

In the end we went back to the exact thing we were trying to avoid, the good old fashioned condom. At least I can say that it gets the job done without making anyone go insane.

Stream of Consciousness Sunday: Fuzzie Moments

I had a moment when I was standing with my boys at the cake table last night at Chatterbox's birthday party. We were waiting for Mr. Rant to finish rounding people up and sending them over so we could sing "Parabens" (Happy Birthday) in full Brazilian style.

I stood there looking at all the faces and cameras. I thought of all the good madness of the couple hours before. I then looked at the row of excited kid faces at the front of the cake table. Both my boys were standing there sweaty, exhausted, covered in sugar of all kind, and happier than hell. 

This is exactly the type of childhood I wanted for my children and I didn't even know it. I felt so lucky to surrounded by awesome people all there to celebrate my son's life, as well as eat some of the DAMN GOOD food we were serving. 

So when the singing started and the smiles broadened, I was on cloud nine. That's when more warm fuzzies hit. Once the Portuguese singing stopped a goof friend's super cool husband (who earned total brownie points) starting singing Happy Birthday in English! And since it is pretty much the most uninspired and simple song in the history of the universe, everyone there knew it too. The entire group, foreigners and a hell of a lot of Brazilians sang Happy Birthday to my little man in his other language. 

I suppose my little man can have it all after all! 

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R$300,000 Plus Your Wife

Negotiations in other countries can be different from what you are used to. Take Rio de Janeiro for example, it's totally Kosher for someone to ask you to throw in your car.

I heard about someone who made an offer on an apartment and the people basically accepted it on one condition: they wanted their car. Seriously!

So now that I am selling my place, I am wondering how far this negotiation strategy can stretch. Such as, would it be inappropriate to accept someone's offer as long as they include 200 hrs of free babysitting? Or what if you wanted to purchase someone's place but their price was higher than you think the apartment is worth. Would it be ok to request ownership of their dog to make up the difference? Lastly, is it immature to demand their left flip flop just to see if they'd do it?

If you think about it, things could get pretty indecent proposal on you in these situations. Say you just don't have the last R$30,000 but your wife is pretty damn cute and just got a new rack (reason why you don't have the money in the first place). Is it tacky to offer her up or are you just getting your money's worth out of the new hardware?

That's why I personally prefer to play it clean. I'm very much a 'do you have the money because I have the stuff ' kind of girl. I mean, buying shoes here is a paperwork nightmare. Could you imagine buying an apartment, giving away your car, and offering up your wife?! That is going to kill you in lawyer fees!

Though I have to say that I am a bit offended with our negotiation proceedings. No one has asked me to throw in my Havaiana collection nor my children. Don't even get me started on poor Mr. Rant. If he doesn't get propositioned soon I may end up having to pay for therapy!

Oh well, I've never been the world's best sharer anyway.

Have negotiations ever gone weird on you?

Immigrants Are Coming Home

Word on the street is that many Brazilian expats are returning to their homeland. Contrary to the 1st world countries out there, Brazil's economy is doing well. 

While I only know a small handful of people who have returned to Rio de Janeiro from abroad, I can say that I have seen an attitude change in the Brazilians here.

When my husband and I first visited in 2003, the general consensus was that we should live in the US. Of course that does not include my Mother-in-Law. She is a believer in working to live not living to work and is also very Brazilian in that "ahhhh, everything will work out here. It always does."

Mr. Rant's and my motives were still questioned when we officially moved here in 2006. Even though Mr. Rant had a good job upon arrival, people still questioned our decision. Since he was legal there, why move back? Weren't opportunities better in the US? You can buy everything there! Isn't it also safer? 

Those questions always led into some story about someone's cousin or best friend's brother who was making it big American style. As if Guilherme's (or whomever) story would just push me over the edge and make me pack my bags. 

Regardless of other personal issues bringing us back to Brazil, Mr. Rant also wanted to be a part of changing his country. We had a whole conversation about it before our move. Just like this article, Mr. Rant said that all the young educated workers have left or our leaving his country and that they needed to return in order for Brazil to become great. 

Fast forward to around 2009 and people stopped asking about why we chose Brazil over the US. This was big being that a foreigner's living status here the #1 conversation starter for all people you cross paths with. Even taxi drivers would turn to me and say that I did good choosing Brazil and that life here is better.

While I know part of this new way of thinking are the new developments in business down here, I'm  thinking there's more to it. There is something about the US economic crisis that hit home for Brazilians. They are no stranger to this kind of thing. Actually, in comparison to what Brazilians have dealt with in the past, what the US is going trough is is merely a kick to the balls. You recover eventually from that.  

Brazilians have a way of taking these things in stride, relatively speaking. I remember watching a documentary where they showed where the happiest people lived. No, it was not Iceland or anything Utopian like that. It was Brazil who was named the country with the happiest people as no matter what is going on around them, they find time to enjoy life. There were clips from bbqs in extremely poor neighborhoods, people having beers on the street when the market was apparently going down, and of course they showed people watching soccer games. 

That, my friends, is the difference in the quality of life down here. People don't let money problems rain on their parades 24/7. If you lose a job you have a support group in family and friends to emotionally, and some times financially, help you out until you get on your feet. And let's be honest, the country is pretty damn beautiful too. 

I figure that Brazilians are thinking that if the US isn't going to be stable, they might as well come home. Not only is the country doing well, the lifestyle is a simpler and happier one. 

What is your take on this? 

Where is My Social Portuguese!

Photo by: http://www.comicartfans.com/gallerypiece.asp?piece=444647&gsub=92296

This weekend we went to a bbq with the families from my 4yr old's class. It was a great way to get to know the parents of my kid's friends, eat some meat, and realize that I don't understand half of what they are saying in Portuguese.

Yes, this weekend was a wake up call in that I have become a selective Portuguese speaker. I speak the Portuguese of our close Brazilian friends and Mr. Rant's family. The Portuguese of a random mix of people still comes out a half jumbled mess.

It was great. We were sitting around tables, Mr. Rant and I separated at one point as the men were having the universal Brazilian conversation about soccer. Sitting there alone, I missed half of what was going on with the women. The combination of background noises, accents, and people talking over each other made me feel like the half deaf and semi-senile Grandpa who falls asleep at family events. Note to self, bring a recliner next time around so I have an excuse to doze off.

All and all it was a wonderful afternoon. I had some good one on one and two on one chats. The kids ran around like cracked out monkeys and thoroughly exhausted themselves. I was even complimented on my Portuguese as it is rare to meet an American who speaks it so well. While part of me wondered if I should be offended for my countrymen, it was too true of a statement to try to debate.

The most ironic part was Mr. Rant afterward. While he was fluttering around like the social butterfly he is, he stated later that it was kind of awkward. He felt that he didn't have that much in common with the other parents other than being a parent. Duh. Of course, I envy that ease as I didn't feel I got to know anyone enough on a superficial level in Portuguese to judge if I have anything in common with them or not.

Yet another reminder that I have hit the glass ceiling in world of learning Portuguese via osmosis.  I suppose I will have to get off my lazy American bottom and get myself a teacher. At the very least just being American and understand enough Portuguese to get by is sufficient enough to impress. 

Crushes, Divorce, and Regret

The Little Hen House, an awesome Mommy blog, posted something that caught my eye: 70% of people who divorce regret it within a year later .

The entire post was about a married woman's crush on someone other than her spouse and how to handle it. The post touched home because I am a little crush magnet. I constantly have crushes. I just can't help it! Apparently I am 12 going on 31. If only they made a movie about that.

The best part of the post was the how it is "normal" part. Honestly, I have always found it normal! Marriage was created as a means to secure property. You can thank an ex for that fact, but it is true. Just marry a Brazilian man and you will see that the potential-other-hot-partners observational skills do not die after marriage. They still see them and they feel far less responsibility to hide that fact than us North American/Europeans.

The things is that just because you are married doesn't mean that you will not notice others whom you would want to "mate" with if you were single. It doesn't meant that at all! What marriage means is that you'll not hook up with them in spite of the attraction. Oh yes, the hook up potential is still there, it's just not worth what you would have to give up.

Personally, I take that as a far bigger compliment. Find ladies attractive. Wonder if I would be willing to do what you hear they do. Whatever you need to do to get through your day. What is essential is that you find your relationship with me more important than any other curiosity that may cross your path.  There really isn't anything more complimentary than that. It's a big old "You rock my world so much that I am going to make a constant effort to be with you, even though I really hate how you leave your bras hanging off the doorknobs in the bathroom!" Not that I do that or anything...

The point is, crushes are awesome because they demand nothing more than our imagination and they are ok as long as they stay that way. Crush on people! It's a great way to feel a bit naughty without actually being it!

So tell me, do you have a crush? 

What is Farofa?

Farofa confused me the first time we met. There I sat at a table filled with beautiful foods and a bowl of course-looking flour. I asked Mr. Rant what it was and of course he exclaimed Farofa, just as he would say duh.

That's when he remembered I was still in the beginner's course of all things Brazilian. Hell, it was my first ever meal in the country.

Mr. Rant, being Mr. Rant, broke down the eating of Farofa in a very politically correct way that went something like this: Everyone has a personal preference when it comes to their farofa. Some keep their rice, beans, and farofa separated. Others mix it all up in a pile. Some like the farofa with just the beans and others only use it to dip their meat into. You have to figure out how you like your farofa.

That was impossible to do in one lunchtime so I just copied him. Beans on rice and farofa right next to it. I mixed with each bite and fell in love with the salty grainy goodness.

So what is farofa? Well, there are countless versions of this Brazilian delicacy. Sometimes it's made with bananas, sometimes sausage, and even eggs. Basically the key is a lot of butter, garlic, and farinha de mandioca (cassava flour). All the rest is extra.

It's the farinha de mandioca that makes all the magic though. The sand-like texture messes with your mouth as the seasoning plays with your taste buds. Not to mention, it's gluten free.

But I'm getting off target. The point is that it makes farofa. Farofa comes with just about every classic carioca meal. It's the step-sister of black beans, which in Brazil means they are cousins. It's just how it's done here people.

Now I have my own personal farofa style. I enjoy putting my beans on top of my rice for maximum bean juice absorption, a dabble of hot sauce, and farofa on the top. Then comes the mixing. Now that is one big pile of stomach bloating goodness.

On that note, I'm going to have to let you go now. I have some leftovers in the fridge who are now calling my name.

Do you like Farofa? If so, how do you take yours?

Living in Rio de Janeiro Forever?

I am usually asked about if we are staying or going. Are we going to be in Rio de Janeiro forever? Forever is a long time so it is a difficult one to answer.

Logistically, we will be here forever. Mr. Rant's job is here. We own a home. Our children have been born and raised here so far. And as much as I love Target, the idea of picking up the entire family to indulge my consumerist tendencies seems slightly selfish (even if I'll be mainly buying for them).

Then there's the other side of the story. Rio de Janeiro is an amazing place to raise small children! First off, they are widely accepted anywhere. Seriously, Cariocas love small children more than small dogs in Louis Vuitton bags. It's a special place like that.

Don't even get me into how life in Brazil is heaven for children. Even ignoring the natural beauties such as the beach and waterfalls, you also have the extravagant birthday parties and commonly late bedtimes. Kids are the dictators and people pretty much like it like that.

The only thing that worries me about living here is the general lack of stability, although the economy has been going strong for 10 years now. Brazilians my age have memories of inflation dramas, change of currency, minor epidemics, and general nervousness of parents surrounding government stability. As an American born in the fabulous year of 1980, I'm used to a government who averages a life of butterflies and rainbows. Of course that is not counting natural disasters, wars, and the current state of the economy.

None the less, I have realized in my young age that stability is in the mind of the beholder. Living within one's means makes all the difference in a world of flux. Just to clarify, I'm not saying that I do that. Of course I so immaturely blame Continental and their extremely high priced tickets from Rio de Janeiro to the US. That and my 8 suitcases full of crap that I just HAVE to bring back. Consumerism is a drug more addictive than crack and I am not even close to accepting that I have a problem, so don't even go there.

But back to the main topic, we live here. Taking away the little issues, like being thousands of miles from friends and family, we have a good life. We are happy. My children are well adjusted, bilingual, and love every aspect of the culture of their Motherland.

And when I live in a place that makes the 3 most important men in my life happier than anywhere else, how can I not want to live here forever? 

Rachel and the Electric Kettle

Bear and the Kettle having a Moment

One visit my Mom brought me an electric kettle as a gift. She had mentioned it, very excitedly, before she arrived. I was going to love it, or that's what she told me!

Personally I had thought 'what the hell kind of gift is that?!' Of all things you could bring me from the US you are bringing me an electric kettle?! Sure, it was great for Mom as she drinks as much tea as about 3 Brits a day. Myself, I just boil water for cooking. I would have preferred an electric kettle sized amount of licorice, thank you very much.

Of course I wasn't going to tell her that. She had already bought it. Hell, at least Mom would be using it when she was here visiting. So when she arrived I unpacked it and plugged it in. It was cute to say the least and was much more practical for boiling water for coffee. Yes, I had to boil my own water for coffee since, at the time, I didn't use a coffee maker. We made coffee the Brazilian way (aka. impractically and inefficiently).

But just as the tides my opinion changed. I'm totally sold now! Seriously! I use that bad boy daily. I don't even boil water on the stove anymore. 1 minute and I have my boiled water for steaming veggies or cooking pasta! Hell, I even boil my water in it before making Brazilian rice. It takes at least 15 minutes off the cooking time!

I love that kettle so much that I'm blogging about it without even getting a free one! My question is though, how did Mother know I would fall for it? Is it because it's just that good or because I have already turned into her and will not admit it to myself? And if the latter is true, does the fact that Mr Rants has stayed with me make him a kinky bastard?

As for you people out there in Internet land, what is the one unlikely appliance you have fallen in love with?

How Mr. Rant Got Me

The early days

I've been thinking about doing this post for a while, an inspiration from fellow expat/Mommy blogger Stay at HomeBabe. An email from Mr. Rant during our long distant courtship. I figure, 4th of July is the perfect day! He is the reason why I'm missing it anyway (which does not bother me 363 days out of the year)  

Mr. Rant and I spent 3 months in long distant limbo, not quite knowing if we were going to be able to meet again or not. Here's the original email he sent to let me know he was coming to San Diego:


hey!
first, a random question, did your parents liked the
statue? how did your mom reacted?


second, wait for me in a month or less, i spoke to the
girl and they selected someone else to the job, she
said they found somebody with very good experience on
the third sector, that is non-profit orgs...


so i take that as a sign in our behalf.


wait for me!


i will see what or how i can do to get my brasilian
skinny butt over there.


gotta go and talk about this with my parents.


love
daniel


Btw, the statue he is referring to is a lladro my Father asked me to get for my Mother while in Spain. Daniel helped me pick it out.