HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CECILIA!

Friday, February 24
At 8:30AM, after leaving a conspicuously placed note "be back soon--GG," I left a very quiet apartment on a birthday mission to get Cecilia a gift. Walking one block back and one block over to the Real Market, I was hunting and gathering goodies for Cecilia's birthday party. Kinda' felt like a Top Chef assignment, with pouty-lipped Padma Lakshi instructing, "Chefs, your challenge for today is to prepare appetizers to be served for a casual family pizza dinner tonight. You have no idea how many might come, or at what time you will be serving. Your challenge starts now."

I decided to look for wholesome snacks that could be munched while waiting for pizza delivery. How about antipasto stuff? C loves hearts of palm and olives; in the basket they went along with pickled jardiniere. The produce department had some fresh herbs that disappear from the bin by midday, so I was delighted to grab some things that looked really fresh and smelled fragrant green. Will and I like beets; the 9-inch long green beans looked good too. How about those big shell pastas? Bet I could find something to stuff in them.

This time when I went to the register and the lady said that one word that brought me to tears two weeks ago--entrega--I knew what she was asking me. "Do you want your groceries delivered?"  Nice, but no thanks. If I'd had a meltdown with one missing vocabulary word, imagine how much fun we could have trying to give all the info necessary for them to successfully deliver the goods?!

The morning was fresh and breezy, and I had taken the long way to the store; but now, with seven plastic grocery sacks sagging in my grip, I was not stopping before I reached the apartment door. (Where were those dark-glassed, black SUV's that wait to sweep the Top Chefs back to their kitchen?)  Slowly, I trucked my gathered foodstuffs two long blocks back to 291 Praia de Icarai.  I hoped that somehow these weighted sacks would help the batwings on my upper arms disappear.

The front desk clerk pressed a button that opened the latch of the service entrance when he saw me pass the main entrance. Still chugging along, I made it to the service elevator and rejoiced to find it waiting for me to enter. One less time to put the bags down!

Note--the elevator doesn't move until you press your floor.  Note, too--once the inner metal accordion door opens at your destination, the outside door does not open by itself, like the elevator doors do in America. So . . . on my way back DOWN with the groceries, the workman that got on at the 7th floor was a little puzzled when I stayed onboard at the main floor. A grin and shrugging shoulders have universal meaning. Again on floor 11, I dove through the outer elevator door, into the hall, and entered our sleeping apartment.

I had a pleasant day in the breezy kitchen, and by 5PM, the fridge was full of fresh pickled beets, blanched seasoned green beans, shells stuffed with fish and herbs, fruit salad. The jars of delicacies were chilling as well. Time to lay down for a pre-party rest.

Gringa is learning to pace myself a little better. The rhythm of get-togethers here in Brasil is very different from that in Texas. Clocks are, well, . . . absent. In Texas, a party/meal is usually planned for a specific time, say 7PM. It's polite for people to show up around 6-6:30, eat around 7-ish, visit, play games, or have coffee and dessert, then leave around 10 or so. After 5 weeks in Brasil, I've learned that a schedule is much more of a general vision here. In the first place, dinner is a meal served way past 8, or even 9, or even 10PM. People are invited, and whoever is able to come gets there when they arrive. Also, Cecilia told me that Brasilians consider it very rude to stay for just a short time--3-4 hours. So, a visit, party, or even just a family get-together usually lasts a minimum of 6 hours, no matter when it starts. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not being critical of the Brasilian way or the American way.

I've gained a new perspective on an interesting clash of cultures. I'm learning that clocks and schedules and my endless to-do lists aren't nearly as important as people. I'm very grateful for this new insight--that I need to loosen up when it comes to having things run 'on schedule.' There have been a couple of times since Daniel came home when I've needed to excuse myself from visitors and go to my room for a nap (or at least to lay flat on my back for a while). New grandmothering has depleted my hospitality skills, it seems. Or maybe the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. At any rate, I hope my new family and friends realize that my absences are not a reflection of rude American behavior, but rather a sleep-deprived 62 year-old with a kidney stone! (Probably TMI--sorry.)

So Cecilia's Birthday Party got started. While Daniel decided to keep the Birthday Girl engaged, the appetizers were well-received.

Friends Julia and Anao

Joao (C's nephew) Poses

C's Cousin Tacio

Not sure what time it was when the pizzas were ordered by phone, but Daniel and I had a date in the rocker while Cecilia, wearing a pretty white and yellow summer dress, left the bedroom. The party-goers cheered her entrance and chowed down together.

l-r back row:  Anao, Julia, Tacio, Helio, (Maria) Cecilia
front row:  Joao, Will, Cecilia, the birthday girl!

Men (and Woman!) in Black

Black With a Glimmer of Sunshine

Vovo Dora and I played tag-team with the baby while Cecilia enjoyed her special night.

Daniel with His Lion Blanket
Pretty sure his eyes will be dark blue!
(forgive the red-eye . . . I haven't mastered Will's Photoshop yet)

Vovo Dora has a magic touch.

 The pizzas were delicious, the company was mellow and fun. Love was apparent.

Will's gift to Cecilia--
placemats for their wonderful new table.

It's (Not) My Party
And I'll Cry If I Want To!

Don't know what I was expecting to be different about birthday parties in Brasil, but the only difference was the words to the Birthday Song. Same tune--B Portuguese lyrics sung twice with clapping. The cake ingredients were different from your basic Devil's Food or such. Dora brought a beautiful creation made of layers of vanilla sponge cake and passionfruit mousse, iced and decorated with a passionfruit glaze. (So glad this Top Chef candidate was not assigned a dessert, because we all would have missed this slice of heaven!)

C and Her Cake

Trying to Light a Sparkler

Still Trying to Light a Sparkler

Anao and Helio are still trying to get that sparkler lit.

A new sparkler--same result.

Will lights a kitchen match and sticks it in the cake.

Everyone tries to sing The Birthday Song through twice
before the match goes out.

Make a Wish!  . . . but there's nothing to blow out!

It's now after midnight, and February 25th,
which is Julia's birthday! 

This is what "hangin' out" looks like in Brasil.

Good Friends and Family

Another special gift came by email early on the 24th. It was from Steve/Dad. When Steve was in the Navy for 6 years, one of the skills he perfected was talking very clearly in a voice that sounds just like Donald Duck. He used to talk that way to Steve Jr. in utero. And my Christmas present every year has been listening to him sing in Donald Duck-ese "The Twelve Days of Christmas." I laugh until my eyes sparkle so much I can't see straight. And so, Steve/Dad had recorded himself singing the Birthday Song in his best Donald Duck, and emailed the recording to Cecilia. While I won't link you to the video for fear of embarrassing my shy--yes, shy--hubby, I can tell you that Dora doubled over and had to leave the room for a drink of water after her viewing.

Happy Birthday, Cecilia!

Compassionate

Engaging

Considerate

Independent

Loving

Intelligent

Adventurous

I'm very glad you were born!
With much love--the Gringa