In the Circle of Life, The Egg Came First

Micah has the answer to the age old question of the chicken and the egg! In his experience this past year, the egg certainly came first, that is, given the condition that “dad” already has a hen.

You see, last year, about this time, Micah, Grace and I went to the market to buy two laying hens, Dalmatian and Pinky. A few weeks later, Micah's hen (that is the one that he named) had laid her clutch of eggs and was now ready to begin her three-week sitting marathon of incubation. However, early one evening, Micah and I pulled a fast one on them. You see, not having a rooster to fertilize these eggs, we knew that no chicks would hatch from these eggs. So, instead, Micah gathered his chore money and we headed off to the market to buy other people's eggs. And that we did, Micah bought 12 eggs with his money which we then exchanged with the eggs under “his” hen – Dalmatian. And so the excruciating 3-week wait began.

“Hey Dalmation, are those eggs cooked yet?”

In mid-January, a surprisingly high percentage of the eggs hatched, giving Micah 10 tiny chicks and a potential huge return on investment (eggs cost about 16¢ each, but a full-grown chicken sells for at least $4.50). All we had to do was raise these chicks through to adulthood.

Micah, carrying Dalmatian, leading the chicks inside the coup for safety.

Sadly, a brown chick, named Caramel, died on day two. He was my favorite at the time, which was especially sad for Grace. And so to appease her grieving on my behalf, I chose another favorite, a nice yellow chick called Treasure. Well, later that week, I came home from the office one day to learn that Treasure was no more. Although we never got the full details, we suspect she was dropped (or thrown) and internal injuries cut her life short. And so once again, I chose new favorite – this time a black one with a  white chest. He was known as Penguin.

After a few weeks, our family went to the capital city for some meetings, entrusting the care of our chicks to our housemates. Upon our return, we were informed that all the chicks were doing well, except one that had disappeared, likely grabbed by a cat. Any guesses of which chick that might be? Yep, a quick head count and sure enough, it was Penguin! After that, I stopped choosing a favorite chick and wouldn't ya know it, all the remaining seven chicks successfully grew to reach adulthood. (That, and Micah and I built a stronger coup.)

Building a New Coup

The first return on investment came in late August when two of the Bible translators wanted to treat their families to a chicken dinner. Each paid Micah 100 birr ($4.50), and happily invited Mr. Pink and Cat Breath (whom I had once rescued from a cat's mouth) home for dinner.

200 birr ($9) might as well be a million for Micah!

 In early September, Micah's female chicks, now grown into young hens began to lay their first eggs. In October, we were raking in 3 or 4 eggs a day, many of which made it onto our breakfast plates. In November, we decided to let our young hens, with the help of their one remaining brother J, complete the cycle of life on their own. And in the span of about week, we successful got three hens sitting on eggs: Shiney, Squawker, Redneck, followed by one more, Almond, about a week later. And so the waiting game began again.

 

Shiney's first two chicks, discovered early Sunday morning.

On November 27, the life cycle was completed, when Shiney hatched 6 new chicks, followed later that week by Redneck's 7, and Almond's 3 (we shafted Squawker by yanking her hatching eggs and planting them under other chickens – why? Because Squawker earned her name with a loud beak, and one of our coup rules is that loud beaks get invited to “dinner”J).

A “once in a lifetime” invite to dinner!

So Micah's initial investment of $1.92 in 12 eggs, has him now sitting on $15 for the sale of three roosters, 4 adult hens valued at $14, and 16 baby chicks  with the potential of raking in over $70 in the May/June marketplace – that's a grand total of nearly $100 or an over 5000% return on investment. I suppose that doesn't figure in the dad who bought the original hen, a year's worth of food, building supplies for the coup and whole lot of elbow grease.

The Loyal Customer

Inspired by a lunchtime conversation among colleagues, Andrea and I gave a crack at browsing through yet another personality profiling book. One of the traits that popped up in several of the categories was loyalty, and I found myself asking, would I consider myself a loyal friend? Is loyalty one of my strengths? What does loyalty look like anyway?

                                                                                          

As our minds have been shaped more and more by different languages and different cultures, there are increasingly more and more concepts in our minds that can only be truly captured by a non-English word. One such word is the Amharic word “dembenya.” We use it all the time, but if you'd asked me to translate it for you, I'd definitely have to take a rain check until finding time for further consideration. If you ask an Amharic speaker, they often translate it with “customer,” but something about that never sat well with me. A “dembenya” not just a customer, it is a LOYAL customer or a patron. When in Addis Ababa we always by our meat from the same butcher, a few paces back toward our house and you come across our regular chicken and fish store, followed by our hole-in-the-wall that sells milk and mobile phone cards, and lastly the fresh bread store. Keep in mind that most of these places have identical stores within walking distance, sometimes right across the street, but a true dembenya customer will never be caught dishonoring his/her loyalty. Being a loyal dembenya is supposed to come with its benefits as the shop owner will give you preferred treatment and when it comes to fruits and veggies, they give you the cream of the crop. It’s a win-win relationship, and one I very much enjoy.

 

I was reminded of the value of a dembenya relationship last week when we drove from Addis Ababa out to the countryside. You see, about 2.5 weeks prior, when driving into Addis Ababa, we stopped at a familiar restaurant in a city called Dejen. As soon as we walk in the door, everyone who remembers us from previous visits, greets us with a big smile and the very common half lament, half accusation, “T'afachu!” (translated: Hey you disappeared! – ie. we missed you). Well, as we ate our lunch that day, two large transport busses pulled up and the passengers filed out and into the tiny restaurant. In an effort to not be swallowed up by the masses, we quickly paid our bill and gave up our seats. Once back in the truck and down the road a bit, Andrea realized that she had left her Nalgene water bottle in the restaurant. No worries, we thought, we are dembenyas of that restaurant, if they find it, they will hold it for us.

 

And so, 2.5 weeks later, here we were travelling back through that area. We stopped for a cup of tea (a bit early for lunch this time) and sure enough, as soon as the “Hey you disappeared!” greetings were finished, and without our even asking, out came the now-dusty blue Nalgene bottle that we had inadvertently abandoned. We are loyal to them, they are loyal to us. It's really a beautiful network of relationships and one that I feel is rapidly dying back at home in America, where if you can manage to slip by the megastore greeter, you can shop and self-checkout without ever having to interact with an actual person.

 

Snap, Crackle & Pop

No I am not writing about the three silly mascots for Rice Krispies cereal, rather I am writing about the three methods we have been employing for controlling the mice population in our home.

Snap refers to the tried and true method of using traps, of which we consistently have two set in different places in the house. My secret weapon in slathering the bait (usually a raisin) with peanut butter, both on top and underneath the trigger. It always seems to snap a few mice on consecutive nights before the others learn the trick and steer clear. And so I wait a week or two and hit 'em again.

Pop is a fun one, a bit more of a cat-and-mouse game where speed and reflexes win the day. To date, the score is humans 3, mice 2. The game starts when we see a mouse running along our floorboard (usually in the evenings) and hiding in what we suspect to be an advantageous corner. We then corner him in and systematically begin removing the stuff from the corner in which he was hiding. When he tries to make a run for safety, we spring into action with shoes and brooms to POP him one on the noggin'. Twice the mice have gotten away, either by slipping past our POP, or by hiding somewhere safe in the first place. But 3 times now, we've hit our target and added one more mouse to our compost bucket. 

My favorite POP was when three of us got in on the action. Having see a mouse run into a corner and hide behind a large plastic tub, Andrea, Paula (one of our summer interns) and I geared up for the fight. Andrea and Paula, each armed with brooms stood poised along both walls exiting the corner. My job was to pull the tub out and cover the middle ground. With our plan in place, I quickly pulled the tub into the center of the room leaving the little mouse exposed. He ran toward Andrea who brilliantly swept the little critter off its feet and sent it sliding across the tile floor into the middle of the room. I, still off balance myself from having pulled the tub, couldn't catch my traction any more than the mouse could which made for a hilarious tandem slip-fest like two baby Bambis playing tag on the ice. Paula, however, playing the role of sure-footed Thumper, left her station against the opposite wall and, with her broom, delivered the deadly POP that incited cheering, I'm sure could be heard across the neighborhood.

Crackle is a very unique method of killing mice, that, while very effective, is not very reproducable. One night, after the kids were in bed, we were sitting in the living room writing thank-you cards, or reading or whatever, when suddenly a power cut left us in pitch black. Nobody jumped up to find a light, I suppose we were all waiting for someone else to do it. As for me, I was content to keep rocking in my rocking chair where I often rest at the end of the day. CRACKLE! I felt a bump under my rocker, which isn't all that unusual as the rocking chair slowly shifts to the left with every rock and had there been a toy or piece of dried food left nearby, I was sure to find it eventually. I simply moved the chair over a bit to avoid hitting it again, and continued my rock. That is until about 4-5 minutes later when the power flipped on and I looked down to see an unlucky mouse who had tried to make a break for it at just the wrong time.

 Although I can't take much credit for the kill, it gave us all a good laugh and one more tally on our column of the mouse killing scorecard!

Happy Birthday Papa with a Big Bowl of Crowder

Happy Birthday to Papa (that is, Andrea’s dad)! We wish you were here with us as we have plenty of Crowder to spare. What’s that you ask? What is Crowder? Well it is the special meal we enjoyed tonight in honor of your birthday!

It all started this morning as we were translating through the final verses of Philippians. A brief glance out the window and we saw a boy leading something on a rope. He stopped in front of our office, clearly wanting our attention, which we were very willing to give. “What is it? Let’s go see.” I say as I led the charge outside. “Looks like a monitor lizard,” one of the Gmz translators said. “No,” I said, now with a good view, “that’s a crocodile!” As with our last adventure with Candy Girl the dik dik (small antelope), it’s not unusual for people to bring animals to our gate in the hopes of making a couple bucks. And so after playing with it for a while, we negotiated the price and soon had ourselves some meat for a very special dinner indeed.

Our lunch hour ran long as we prepared the croc.

Adding a few potatoes, corn and milk, we had ourselves the very best crocodile chowder any of us have ever tasted before!

Happy Birthday Papa!

On a Day of Mourning

It was May 1^st, 2016, a day unfortunately book-ended with crocodile tears. The end of the day was quite sad as the kid's bedtime mean goodbye to dad, who would be catching a midnight flight to Thailand. Lumi is too young to know what is going on although I know she noticed my absence over that next week and a half. Grace seems to push aside goodbyes with a curious ease, which could either be a sign of age or an adaptation to her ever-transient lifestyle. Micah, on the other, is the opposite. Goodbyes hit him hard with the reality of an unwanted separation, and without a true sense of the difference between one week, one month, and one year, it's hard for him to let go. So with the necessary tears shed and ample assurance of my return after only 12 “sleeps,” he got started on the first quite nicely in the end.

The morning tears on that same day came as somewhat of a wake-up call for me,  “Daddy, Candy-Girl is dead!” Grace announced as a reason for the raucous I had heard coming from downstairs. Yes, indeed, Candy Girl, our pet dik-dik, whom we had brought to Addis Ababa for safe-keeping and care, ended her journey with us sometime in the night.

It was just over a month ago, that Candy Girl came to us. A tiny baby dik-dik (which is a small African antelope), brought to us by  rural Gmz man wanting to make a couple bucks. Given our kids' love for animals, especially small ones, I knew I didn't stand a chance at turning it down. And so the bidding war began at 200 birr (about $10), I countered at 50 birr ($2.50). He slashed his offer in half to 100 birr ($5) at which point Micah said, “Come on dad, he only wants ONE 100 birr bill…you have LOTS of those and he only wants one!” Yea, thanks for the bartering help Micah!

Seeing how small and weak this little gal was, I said, “I'll pay 50 birr today, and if it survives 2 weeks, I'll pay another 50 birr.” Done deal.

Candy Girl, as Micah promptly named her, immediately receive abundant attention, including 4-5 daily fills of powdered milk fed.

At about the 1 week mark, we were quite sure that we were going to lose poor Candy Girl. her energy was gone and whatever milk we could get in her was just running right through her system. However, taking a stab at giving an antibiotic, we slowly saw her gain both strength and the will to live. Soon, she was up on her feet and enjoying her new family.

When it came time to come to Addis, we feared that she wouldn't get the care she needed, so we popped her into a box and she made the 10-11 hour trip with us. The next day everything was fine as she enjoyed tasting the leaves around our compound, however, that night turned out to be her last. I had checked on her before going to bed and all seemed well. However, by morning she was gone. Without a thorough autopsy, it's impossible to tell what got the best of her, but I suspect that some of the strange leaves she munched on are at fault. A friend pointed out one variety in our compound that is known to be poisonous.

And so, when tears had been cried, we dug a hole in our garden and gave Candy Girl her final resting place. She is missed even now, but Micah and Grace seem to have gotten over it quite well. After all, with our lives over here, we never know what the next animal adventure will be.

With Mixed Emotion in Thailand

I'm filled with mixed emotions, sitting in my air-conditioned 12^th floor hotel room in Thailand, on the cusp of 10-days of our international conference. This time last week, I was happily zoomed down, focused in and soiled by the trenches of translation, pushing forward in a first draft of Romans 5-6, this week I'm “cleaned up smartly” (as my English roommate might say) and asked to radically zoom out my “Google Earth” picture to see instead the whole world in one screen shot. I’m excited to engage with some of the issues facing our organization at the global level, but at the same time respectfully terrified of their magnitude and significance, especially at this important transitional stage in the history of Bible translation. I'm humbled and privileged to be a delegate seated among top leaders from all around the world, yet very aware of my inexperience and near ignorance of the foreign language of “business” and “management” in which meeting will be conducted. Eager to learn from the wealth of experience in the room, I can't help but notice and feel my youth, as I'm having trouble identifying anyone younger than myself. With transition of leadership, with challenges in funding, with imperfect channels of communication between grassroots and global, in all that we do, we pray that grace of God would prevail, manifested in the unity we have in Christ and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, as I and the other 200+ delegates represent our respective constituency and at the same time, catch a vision of where we might be headed and how that might be implemented alongside our partners in Ethiopia. That is my prayer, would you pray with me?

Well-Served

Last weekend, our family piled into our truck and made the one hour trip down to another mission's retreat center where we and all the other homeschool families were invited for the annual homeschool retreat. After two very busy and VERY stressful weeks for me, I knew that I, and probably the rest of the family, very much needed the getaway. Now, spending a long weekend with over 100 people, most of whom are near strangers to me, isn't exactly an introvert's idea of rest and relaxation, but I packed along my positive attitude and hoped for the best.

Due to limited cabins for such a large group, we volunteered to be one of the families who tent camped, which turned out to be perfect. We pitched our borrowed tent way out in the corner of the compound, a non-trafficked area behind another building where we had all the privacy we needed to settle in for 3 nights.

 Highlights from the weekend included the beautiful surrounding, excellent food, fun worship songs for family worship, talking with some friends in deeper conversations, and even playing some rowdy card games on the evening of the last night.

 One particular couple from Belgium, notorious for their creative large group games, challenged us (the whole group) to complete a long list of challenges in only one hour. If we accomplished them all, he promised to give us candy. If not, he would eat it all! Required activities, to be divided among everyone, included: 1000 sit-up/push-ups; saying 100 pleases and thank-you's; memorizing and reciting Colossians 3; drinking 20 liters of water; tying 100 knots; coloring a white sheet of paper completely black with an ink pen; coloring mustaches on 5 females with permanent marker; someone wearing 30 pieces of clothes for 30 minutes; and many, many more. Our family unit volunteered and successfully completed the "20 meters of clothes", where we tied together basically every piece of clothes we had brought for the 4-day retreat and presented it by stretching it lengthwise across the basketball court.

Micah, however, took home the grand prize when he volunteered for the bonus activity: have his head shaved to 3mm length and get "Belgium Gold" – that is, the world's finest chocolate (according to the Belgians)! So Micah, who had been wanting a haircut for some time, agreed, but his dad, yours truly, made a bit of a mistake. I set the borrowed shaver at 3, thinking of the #3 guard on our shaver at home. And rather than testing the length in an inconspicuous place, I ran it straight up the middle! Needless to say, we were all surprised, when that particular shaver's 3 setting was about 1mm, instead of 3mm. I reset the guard to 5 and finished the job, leaving an awful strip right down my son's head, a runway clear enough to be seen from 5000 feet elevation! 

Well, the mistake paid off in the end, as Micah was given two strips of Belgium Gold at the final ceremony. And hey the difference of 2mm won't be too bad in a week or two!

One of the most memorable things about the weekend was one of the most unexpected – a Chinese teenager named Charlie. 

Charlie was one of about 20 high school students from the Black Forest Academy (boarding school in Germany) who came down to Ethiopia to help with the kids' program at our retreat. These students (and their leaders) led Micah and Grace in their morning activities, a first for Grace as she stayed the whole time with her "class" all three mornings! 

Another one of the "jobs" of the Black Forest Academy students was to help families, especially at meal times. The very first dinner, Andrea and I waited in line, longing for, yet dreading the buffet table that lie ahead. How would the two of us get 4 plates of slippery spaghetti, 5 drinks, 8 pieces of silverware, and napkins off the buffet table, out the door, down the clumsy steps, and over to the picnic tables outside? The answer, it turns out, was Charlie. Although he wasn't necessarily assigned to us, Charlie sought us out each and every meal, offering us two amazingly helpful hands, delivering us safely to a table, and often running back inside for whatever we had forgotten. It may sound simple, but the burden that that took off of Andrea and me is really quite inexpressible. How many plates of food made it to the table that otherwise would have bitten the dust in route? There's no telling, but Charlie's service to our family definitely made the weekend just that bit more of a refreshment that both Andrea and I needed. And we praise God for that!

Golden Locks

Ok, so I finally gave in. It's no secret among my girls that I like it when they wear their hair long. I definitely can't keep from smiling at seeing my little girls in piggy tails, especially Lumi's, which now stick straight up off her head. 

And who can resist the Unicorn stage?

Little blonde pig tails are a definite highlight for this stage in my life as a father. Oh, that, and when Grace lets me comb her hair after she's taken a bath.

Well, the heartbreaking day finally came, when I knew I could no longer ignore Andrea's petition for Grace's first hair cut. Almost three and a half year of growth, and Gracey's golden locks were reaching down to the middle of her back. But with more and more fussing over the morning bed-head brush and with the really hot season knocking on our door, I finally gave in.

And contrary to my fears, I love Grace's new look!

  

My YouTube Saviors

Our internet service out here in the tiny town of Gilgel Beles isn't always the greatest, but the patience to persevere in downloading an occasional YouTube tutorial has paid off on a number of occasions. The first I can remember was back in the time when I had just begun the 50km commute between home and the translation office on my motorbike. One night away from home, the internet connection was quite strong and so I did some internet research on changing a flat tire on a motorcycle. I ended up watching several tutorials on YouTube and then ordered a kit of tire irons and nozzle holders and stuff that would make the job much easier. Little did I know, but later that same week, my rear tire found its first nail about 15km from home. Unfortunately, I wasn't yet equipped with the fancy tire iron kit, but information I had seen on the YouTube video was put into immediate use: propping the bike up on a large stone...

 and asking the Gmz around me to bring their hole digging tools, the theory quickly became practice. Thank you YouTube!

 Last November I went on a bit of a YouTube binge, not because I had extra bandwidth to burn (our plan only allows 1GB upload/download per month). No, rather I had questions that needed answers. A few weeks prior, our mechanic in the capital city finished his work on my truck's engine, but he failed to tighten the clamps on my battery terminals, which of course I didn't realize until I was driving it through some rather bumpy territory and the engine died. Thankfully my airplane mechanic (that is, Andrea) spotted the bare negative battery terminal which led to a rather simple roadside fix, but starting then, my glow plugs were no longer preheating the engine for cold starts. Grrr… 

YouTube to the rescue, I learned how to test glow plugs and relays, finding both of them working just fine and discovered that if I brought electricity directly to the relay, the engine would pre-heat and start nicely. 

That temporary fix kept our truck going long enough to last until a reliable mechanic was visiting our area. After three minutes of testing, he found and replaced a burned wire over on the alternator and everything has been great since.

About that same time, I was also struggling with some major back/neck pain. An Andrea massage was very much appreciated, but only kept me functioning for about a day. It was getting to the point that I would have to stop work some afternoons, knowing that the pain and headaches were only aggravated more by my horrible posture while typing on the computer. YouTube to the rescue! I watched many chiropractic videos of stretches and exercises recommended for such upper back/neck pain, many of which “guaranteed” to eliminate the tension. Well, many guarantees fell flat before I came across one young lady demonstrating something her Yoga master once taught her – the wrapping of a belt (or in my case, a long scarf) around the upper back and shoulders and pulling tight in the front so as to restrict the shoulders from creeping forward in the hunched computer posture that was killing me. It seemed too easy, but when I tried it out, I noticed an immediate difference. 

The next day in the office, I explained to the Gmz translators my strange new fashion statement, and they quickly grew accustomed to it. By the end of the week, my tension pains and headaches were history, and now, three months later, I still testify to the answer to prayer God sent me through YouTube. On days when I feel particularly tense, I just pull out my scarf and life continues as normal! Goodbye Ibuprofen!

Maybe I should change the name from YouTube to MyTube, just think if we had the bandwidth allotment to stream anything anytime, think of all the stuff I could learn…then again I realize that such a pursuit quickly deteriorates from legitimate research to ridiculous frivolity. One minute I'm learning “How a Hot Water Heater Works,” then suddenly up comes “The Real Location of the Ark of the Covenant,” and before I know it, I'm hooked on watching “16 Baby Chihuahuas Sing Carol of the Bells Outside of the World's Largest Taco Bell.” Yea, sometimes I'm thankful for slow internet…

2016 - The Williamson Year of Visitation

I saw on the internet something about 2016 being declared the Year of the Monkey. Not quite sure all that that means, but I guess some zookeepers have gotten pretty excited about it. The Catholic Pope recently declared 2016 as the Year of Mercy – a welcome pronouncement for us as the text of Luke's gospel and its many powerful examples of mercy will be given extra attention this year – hopefully using the new Gmz translation of these texts.

As I am reflecting on the turn of another year, and look ahead at what 2016 might hold for us, part of me optimistically sees it as a year of great progress, meaning, since moving our family last May the 50km up to where the project office is located, we have hit a settled into a new pattern of accomplishing the various stages of the translation project. Continuing this routine for the coming 12 months, I could easily see us take the project from another 20%-25% closer to completion. (that would be the completion of 2 Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, 1&2 Peter, 1,2, 3 John and maybe even John's Gospel.) Yes, indeed, I look forward to looking back on the year 2016 as a year of great progress.

In our personal lives, 2016 is looking like a Year of Visitation. We are currently in Addis Ababa awaiting our first visitors in Grandma and Papa Rockey, coming for their second visitation to Ethiopia.

Yes, that is Baby Micah

Later in February, there is talk of the organization which funded the recording of Luke and Acts to make a visitation to the project to help promote and distribute the recordings. That will be a very exciting event, if in fact it happens.

In May, I have the opportunity to visit with SIL and Wycliffe people from all over the world at the international conference in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Apart from brushing shoulders with the top leaders in the fields of Bible translation and linguistics, I have the opportunity to visit with three friends from Moody, currently working in Chiang Mai. I wish I could take the whole family, but the busy conference schedule doesn't give me a lot of free time to be with (and help) Andrea and the kids. Plus another opportunity for family travel is penciled in for later in the year.

Within a week or two after returning from Thailand, we will likely be welcoming our next visitors in the form of two young ladies from Moody Bible Institute who will intern with us this summer. We are really excited about hosting some more interns as they add so much to both the project and our lives at home.

In September or October, there is talk of us visiting with Grandma and Grandpa Williamson in a "destination visit" at a cabin in the Pyrenees mountains of Spain, the generous owner of whom is a client of my dad's for many years. Visiting Europe has always scared the dickens out of us as the price tag is so high, but with connections like that, it's an opportunity we have a very hard time passing up.

Lastly, although still only in the "hopeful" stage, there is talk of my roommate from college flying over for a Thanksgiving-time vacation with us. 

2016, the Williamson Year of Visitation, is shaping up to be quite fun, assuming, of course, that God's grace is more than sufficient to carry us through!

Savoring the New Year

As I was beginning work on Friday morning January 1^st, many of you were counting down the final seconds of 2015. Old news for us as Andrea and I had celebrated (though in our sleep) way back while your bean dip was still cooling in the fridge.

Not that the event makes much of a stir over here in Ethiopia where they flip their calendars on the morning of Sept 11 every year, but as with most holidays Andrea and I try to do something "fun" or incorporate some reminder of home. If you ask me what things I most associate with a New Year's Eve celebration, the answers that first pop into my head are quite unusual. It's not the staying up late and watching the Times Square ball drop non-climatically an hour early for us in the Central Time Zone. It's not being with good friends, as I think last year was one of the only times I can remember ringing it in in such company. It's not even the ugly "sombrero" chips and dip tray my family breaks out on only this occasion.

No, the first things I think of are "The Blues Brothers movie" and a "cheese and sausage tray." Once upon a time, I remember my family watching the Blues Brothers movie on New Year's Eve. Then the next year, seeing that it wasn't programmed to be showing, we went to the local Blockbuster (remember those?) and rented it. And thus the association stuck in my mind. Well, we don't own the blues brothers movie over here in Ethiopia, so the closest I could get was in listening to the songs "Rawhide" and "Sweet Home Chicago." A poor substitution I know, I had to imagine Princess Lea unleashing her spray of bullets in the sewer followed by the nearly 3,000 Chicago PD cars piling up in the ridiculous final car chase. Sad.

 And so to make up for dropping the ball on the movie, I certainly enjoyed the cheese and sausage tray to the hilt this year, thanks to a summer sausage "log" we bought last March and the Wisconsin straight-from-the-factory blocks of cheese I carried back when I was last in the States. When combined with some crackers bought here in country, we had ourselves a true New Year's Day treat! And, trust me, things like this just taste that much better over here!