Volcano Life!: Football and Pujaa

Almost there.

We are glad to be here in Nevis after a good day of travel on Wednesday. We got a giggle when, after reviewing her airplane beverage options, Ava ordered "crapple" juice" from the flight attendant instead of cranapple. Ha. Get out much?

Our last flight was a low island hop, at sunset, so beautiful it hardly mattered that the plane was old and tiny. Here is the refueling crew on the tarmac in St. Maarten. In Nevis, we went directly from the airport to our favorite restaurant. Turns out Bob has not refilled the propane since depleting it last month. All this time, he has been cooking using only the microwave and the electric rice steamer. I might use the microwave to sterilize the kitchen sponge, but that is it. So...here's hoping the gas gets delivered Monday. I have already started in on my emergency supply of smoked trout.

Only one of our six pieces of luggage was selected for inspection by the customs officer. It was full of boring stuff, and Bob told me later I was lucky they didn't find the bow and arrow I had packed. I guess I'm so used to my 2nd Amendment rights I think nothing of a primitive stringed instrument. I looked back at the customs declaration I signed and discovered that not even toy weapons are permitted. Oops! How am I going to channel Legolas if I can't practice? Yes, it is Ava's bow and arrow. Bob asked Ava what she was going to shoot anyway, and before I could get a reply out about a feedbag stuffed with dried grass, Ava says, deadpan, "Goats and sheep." But Ava loves goats and sheep! We were confused. Turns out, Ava didn't want to kill them, just slow them down so she can catch them. She spends a lot of time chasing them around and trapping them in the yard. She figured shooting them first would make that job easier, plus have the added benefit that she could then nurse them back to health. And what eight-year-old girl doesn't love helping out wounded animals! And the little guys would learn to love her during convalescence. (Yes, I read that one. Stephen King.)

Good News! The IGA is OPEN FOR BUSINESS

It is clean, bright and well-stocked.

Brunch at the Hermitage

I took the Christmas tree down and packed it away with the decorations. We've been swimming in the ocean every day, watching football, and last night we went to Shirley's housewarming. She and Vic have been building a new home for years, and now they are moved in. We were expecting to give hugs and drop off a gift, then mosey on over to a friend's house for Saints v 'Niners. Once again, we are treated to a reminder that we are not in Kansas anymore. We walked into a full blown Hindu blessing ceremony: the living room had not a stick of furniture, and it was packed tight, everybody dressed up and seated on large pieces of cloth on the floor following the lead of a swami, singing, chanting playing drums and other instruments. We were the only white people there, obviously coming in late. Not awkward! Shoes came off. People made room. Ava plops down and starts singing in that toneless way kids do when they don't know the words or the tune. Or the language. Good for her. We grinned through rituals involving bells, beads, banners, coins, the polishing of unidentified objects, admiration and adornment of framed photograph, ghee, oil, water, fire, incense, soil, cotton, etc. etc. Both my legs fell asleep. An elaborate offering of food was painstakingly created, but it was for display only. We were hungry. There were preparations of a feast happening in the kitchen. There was no program. No sign of an intermission. Bob had a bag of kielbasa and sauerkraut in the car calling his name. They were still going strong when we slunk out the back door in pursuit of more familiar rituals of beers and ballgame. Got there in time for the 3rd quarter. Life is good!