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Simple Joys, Learning from the Birds.
We have an Acerola Cherry Tree. We didn’t plant it. We didn’t know it produced fruit. When it did, we had no idea what fruit it was. Thanks be to google, we now know our home to be equipped with an Acerola Cherry Tree.
They aren’t like any other cherry I’ve ever tasted. Somewhere between the flavor of a tart peach and maybe a crabapple crossed with a grape, yet with the texture of a soft plum, shrouding three triangular seeds, and encased in a vibrant red color, these little delights are delicious to snack on. I often grab a handful whenever I see their spectacular reds contrasting against the even toned green leaves surrounding them like ornaments on a decorated Christmas tree.
I dove into the depths of the interwebs, trying to identify this mysterious fruit tree in our front yard. Not quite a cherry, but also not a crab apple, how does one begin to search when the identity is difficult to describe? But google didn’t let me down. I learned some impressive facts about these little beauties. The Acerola Cherry is PACKED with Vitamin C. One cup of these sweet nuggets has the same amount of Vitamin C as THIRTY cups of oranges. Take that Florida! They also have a significant amount of antioxidants to help ward off….er….oxidants.
The little factoid that I didn’t expect was their shelf life. They last maybe two or three days being the reason you probably won’t ever see them in a store. A couple days. That’s it. I thought it was the birds stealing my snacks, but the reality is, those cherries just need to be eaten when you see them. You mustn’t wait or you’ll miss out. Maybe the birds know that too as I’ve seen plenty of red in the morning and not a cherry to be found in the afternoon. While that seems depressing, the reality is, this tree continually produces more and more cherries. I’ve picked the tree clean one day and harvested a heaping bowlful the next afternoon.
Having grown up on the heart of farm and ranch country, I’m all too familiar with the cycle of planting, tending, harvesting and canning. Harvest comes but once a year. A late frost, a stray hail storm, heavy rains, droughts, and the like, all drastically impact that one time of year where all hands are on deck to collect and store the bounty so we can enjoy it until next year. A continually producing tree seems more reminiscent of the Garden of Eden than anything I’m familiar with from my past.
When the Israelites meandered through the desert, the Good Lord provided daily manna (keyword: daily). They collected in the morning, enjoyed it through the afternoon and started the process again the following day. Some Israelites didn’t like the idea of a daily harvest. Apparently it’s too much work. Being lazy-minded yet disguised as prudence, some tried to store several days worth only to discover the manna didn’t keep. Maggots and worms rotted the daily bread, requiring the chosen folks to make a choice every day: harvest and eat, or sleep in and starve.
The parallels between mysterious manna and my mysterious cherry-like fruit are readily at hand. The Lord provides daily. And like those “prudent” Israelites, I can dupe myself into thinking I can get my fill of Jesus in bountiful harvests to last me through the week, month, or year. The reality, however, is Jesus is my DAILY bread (daily cherries). His unique flavor, subtle yet contrasting beauty, and necessary nutrition are experienced daily. As good as flavor can be, it is a fleeting experience. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. To experience the nuance, depth, and specific characteristics of any flavor, one must consume the food again to relish in the experience.
Jesus is all around me, inviting me to partake in his simple joys. Those subtle flavors of His goodness, His mercy, His grace, joy, love, peace, and tenderness are best experienced daily rather than periods of abundance and famine.
I’m okay sharing with the birds. God feeds them daily too. Why shouldn’t we both eat from a life giving tree? Maybe my winged friends know more about daily bread than I do.
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Temple Run
We wanted to learn more about Buddhism so we went to a temple. The temple we went to was called Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. This is what we saw. First, we had to go up a mountain. Then, when we got to the temple there was a market with Buddha souvenirs.
We had to walk up lots and lots of stairs and we saw butterflies and stuff. Also there where dragons made of tile.
Inside the temple, there were lots of statues, spirit houses, and things made of gold.
People were bowing down and burning incense. There were monks who were bald and wore orange robes. We have seen monks quite a lot at markets or walking on the side of the road. The monks at the temple seemed older than the ones that we have seen before and their robes seemed to be more of a bright orange color.
The Bible tells us we should not worship idols. I have never seen anyone worship an idol before, but now I have. I am glad I do not worship Buddha or a Buddha statue, partly because I would not like to go up those stairs every time, but mostly because God made Buddha. Buddha is a mere man who died.
My favorite color is green, so I thought the buddha statue made out of jade was pretty cool.
I remember hearing the church bells ring at my home in America. They did not have church bells, but they did have a really big gong at the temple.
There was a platform that gave a really good view of Chiang Mai and we saw a rainbow because it was raining. We liked to watch airplanes fly by since we could see the airport.
When we were done, we went back down all the stairs and drove on to our next adventure.
I might not agree with all the things that the monks at the temple believed in, but I still really liked to see it. I think you should know about it, too, because then you can get some idea of what Thai culture is.
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Crazy Cool Fruits (Part 1)
In Thailand you can go to a market and you’ll see soooooooo many fruits that you never even knew existed! There are mangosteens, rambutans, guava, durian, and soo many more. Let me show you some!
Mangosteen
This might be my FAVORITE fruit ever! It is called a mangosteen. It’s very dark purple on the outside but a pearl white on the inside. You know if it is good if the peel is a little bit squishy. And to open it all you have to do is gently squeeze until the peel cracks open and then peel the rest of the peel off and enjoy! It tastes so good and sweet and unlike any thing else! Also you will notice here that mangosteens are not allowed in hotels because they stain really bad.
Guava
This might be my SECOND favorite fruit! 🙂 It is called guava. I only like a certain kind of guava that I like to call neon guava. I call it neon gave because they take the guava and dip it in some sweet juice that gives it a neon green color and makes it sweet! The seeds look kinda like teeth lol and really hurt your teeth if you bite them. I really like the flavor but I don’t know how to explain it. I guess you’ll just have to come here and find out 😏
I’m sure you’ve had watermelon and cantaloupe but the one I’m eating in this picture is guava.
Durian
Next up is durian. Durian also isn’t allowed a hotels because it smells like dirty socks that got puked up by a skunk and it tastes even worse. To learn more about it, go to Josiahs post about stinkfruit.
Rambutan
Have you ever heard of a rambutan? it is a red fruit with what looks like grass growing out if it. It does not have much flavor, but the flavor that it does have is really sweet and delicious! You open it a lot like you open a mangosteen. But the redder the better!
Which of these fruit would you try?
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100 Flavors
A little while back we went on a little family trip to Doi Suthep, the biggest mountain in Chiang Mai, right after church. We drove up the windy roads all the way to the temple on top, making a few stops at the markets and towns along the way. The temple was huge. After climbing a ton of stairs, we were high enough to watch planes land and take off from the airport below us. There were souvenir shops and coffee shops and restaurants and great view points all the way up and down the mountain. We ate dinner at Beast Burger, which has the best burgers we have had since we moved. But my favorite part of the trip by far was 100 Flavors.
Our Thai Teacher recommended this little place and it sounded fun. We had it for dessert after our burgers. We found it in a back alley road in a crowded area of town. It wasn’t very big but it was nice and clean. As soon as we walked in we saw four freezers with dozens of flavors. A man was standing right by this big sliding door with the pictures and names of several different flavors that this place has made.
The man told us there were around ninety flavors available and told us a little about the flavors. There are three different categories of flavors: sweet and creamy, sorbet, and savory. The sweet and creamy is what you think of when you hear ice cream. That is where you get your basic vanilla and chocolate (though they didn’t have anything so plain as vanilla or chocolate). The sorbet is the sour fruit flavors like raspberry, lemon, and blackberry (though they didn’t have anything so plain as raspberry, lemon, or blackberry either). And the savory is where you get your savory and spicy like Khao Soi (spicy noodle soup), or Pad Gra Pow (spicy ground pork and basil), or ramen (they did have these flavors). He also told us that this place has created well over 1,000 flavors of frozen cream.
We got a family pack of 15 different flavors but they gave us two free flavors as well, so we tried 17 different flavors. We all had our favorites and we could agree for the most part what flavors were worth coming again and what were “steer clear.” There were too many flavors to recall but my favorites were Charcoal Mint Chocolate Chip, Seven Flowers Sorbet, Cappuccino, Mocha, and a couple more on the tip of my tongue. This was my second time having charcoal ice cream and I love it every time. It barely affects the taste, but the color is really cool and it actually has health benefits. And I just love Mint Chocolate Chip. The Seven Flowers Sorbet tasted exactly like sour Berry Bing Su (shaved frozen milk and berry sauce, although there are several different things like chocolate you can use). And the Cappuccino ice cream tasted like Cappuccino ice cream. And the Mocha was almost the same thing but with chocolate. Even though some of the flavors didn’t seem original, they had so many fun flavors like Avatar Way of Water, which was maple syrup and chocolate chip dyed bright blue, and Spider-man, which was Thai buttercream (would not recommend), and so much more. They were almost all delicious.
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A Little Blue Book With Enormous Privilege
The Passport of the United States of America is in many ways, unremarkable. Sure, it has all sorts of security attributes similar to the American financial currency in an effort to combat counterfeits, but in reality, its nothing more than three and a half by five inches in size, several blank pages, some inspirational and patriotic quotes, personal identifying information, a picture or two and a stiff cover. It isn’t bullet proof. It isn’t fireproof. It isn’t even waterproof. It won’t save your life in the event of a water landing or keep you from unwelcome calls about your vehicles’ extended warranty. It truly is just a little blue book weighing no more than a few ounces. Yet in spite of its physical weight, the weight of privilege that book carries is beyond measure.
For those of us born in the US of A, we typically have very little interaction with our federal government. No matter how much we complain about their action or inaction, we take for granted the significance of being an American by birthright. If any natural born citizen stays within the physical borders of the Land of the Free, there is no reason to need the little blue book of privilege, therefore there are likely millions of Americans who don’t even have one. It is only when leaving the fruited plains and entering a foreign land where that book that can’t be of more significance and value.
Posted clearly on the first page of every US passport under the Great Seal of the United States are the following words:
“The Secretary of State of the United States of America hereby requests all whom it may concern to permit the citizen/national of the United States named herein to pass without delay or hindrance and in case of need to give all lawful aid and protection.”
The words themselves are just a string of letters and spaces. The Great Seal itself is nothing more than some ink and artistry. But what they represent is the full force, power, weight, significance, and dignity of our country. That little blue book that fits in any pocket is backed by the entire worldwide reach and influence of the Red, White, and Blue.
As I find myself now living in a foreign country as a guest of this host nation Thailand, I have spent more time dealing with immigration paperwork, procedures and officials in the past few months than I’ve ever spent in my previous 39 years in America. I’ve stood in line. I’ve waited for my number to be called. All the while praying that my proverbial ducks are in their proper rows in order to be permitted to stay in the Kingdom of Thailand. While the process has been stressful, maddeningly inefficient, chaotic, and at the same time boring, the truth is, I am still a citizen of the United States of America. I have a home country in my pocket and not just any country, the country with the blue passport.
The Kingdom of Thailand has every right to rescind the privilege of residing in their country and as much of a bummer that would be, I could freely return to the USA. Additionally, if I need emergency help while in the Kingdom, I can visit the consulate or embassy of The United States. I am lawfully and rightfully granted access within the walls of the nearby consulate because of my little blue book where any other color book is turned away. The consulate or embassy are just extensions of my home turf. Walking into the consulate is stepping foot onto American soil. The value and power of that book are tremendous, and every foreigner knows the importance of always having their passport accessible, as well as the potential ramifications of misplacing it. That seemingly insignificant book is proof positive of who you are and which country you belong to.
Why is all this important? Because having a country is something I take for granted, especially considering my country is the world’s preeminent superpower. I have started reading the book of Nehemiah alongside the men I work with. Within the first few sentences of the first chapter, Nehemiah is informed by his brother Hanani that their capital city of Jerusalem as been sacked. The walls have been broken down. The city is on fire. At hearing the news, Nehemiah wept for days. For context, Nehemiah is in exile. He is prisoner in a foreign land and has just learned his home country’s capital city ceases to exist. Trying to not just read the printed words on the page but rather attempting to immerse myself into what Nehemiah was experiencing, I’ve tried to comprehend why he would mourn for days. While I would be horrified if Washington DC was sacked, I’m not confident my emotional reaction would be on par with Nehemiah’s response upon learning Jerusalem’s fate. The closest memory I can conjure was the raw nerve exposure and vulnerable feeling I had watching the twin towers collapse on a Tuesday morning in September. Everything I thought I knew about the safety and security of my home country was shattered watching the events unfold on the tv screen.
Where my first-hand experience falls short is that as bad as 9/11 was and the overwhelming emotions that flooded me, I was still within the borders of our great nation. We still had so many aspects of what makes America great available, even while the towers were in rubble and thousands took their last breaths. But Nehemiah’s home country wasn’t the size of modern-day America. Israel is roughly the size of New Jersey. Think if the USA was just the size of New Jersey and the towers were on the other side of the bay in Newark rather than Manhattan. With that in mind, now picture 9/11. Imagine that feeling of exposure. That is the context of Nehemiah.
Nehemiah was more or less a prisoner of war. He was quite literally a prisoner in service of the government that forcibly removed him from his home country. But there was hope that maybe his home was still home. Hanani’s words shatter the little hope Nehemiah might have had. In comparison, the privilege I feel having my passport is because I have a powerful country backing that small blue book in my pocket. Nehemiah didn’t have passport, and even if he did, his country ceased to exist. Without my country, my book is no more than ink and paper, a reminder of former significance. Without the USA being the beacon of freedom for the entire world, my security is no longer secure.
Have you ever thought about the significance of having a country to call home? I personally know people who don’t; they have absolutely no country to claim. Every place on earth makes them at best illegal immigrants and at worse invaders. They have no government to represent or aid them. There is no social safety net. No rights. No protections. Nothing. My blue book carries much more significance than just boarding planes and enduring international flights.
In a few days, it will be my first-time celebrating the Fourth of July without a homefield advantage. Independence Day takes on a new significance for me. The circumstances are reminiscent of a tree and branches. We now live out on the tip of a proverbial branch, far from the security of the mighty trunk, and ever mindful of the terrifying ease at which we can be cut off. Trees can live without a few branches, but branches can’t live without the tree. Makes me think of another pertinent analogy told about vines and branches. Guess that will be a topic and post for another day.
In an effort to bring this thought train to station, enjoy your Independence Day. Celebrate it with friends, family, BBQs, fireworks, apple pie, sidewalk chalk, parades, potato salad, car shows, flags, brownies and ice cream. Keep the America I love going strong. Look after your neighbor. Kiss your spouse. Love on your kids. Laugh with friends. Befriend a bald eagle and teach him to light bottle rockets just like George Washington. Belt out the Star-Spangled Banner at the top of your lungs. Raise a flag. Kneel and say a prayer thanking God for the blessing of being an American. Folks like me, who rely on that little blue book of privilege, count on people like you, ensuring that book never loses its power.
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Stinkfruit Stinks!
I just had Durian for the first time and it was awful. Durian is also called stinkfruit. The fruit has sharp spikes all over it so the people harvesting it have to wear protective gloves when they pull it off the tree. It has a gross, slimy texture and the smell of rotten fruit and garlic. The taste was the worst part though. It tasted a lot like it smelled but also like Tutti Frutti Ice-cream that has gone moldy with onions on top. It is by far the worst fruit I have ever tasted. People here seem to like it though, Dairy Queen even has a new blizzard here: Durian ice cream with black sticky rice and coconut cream. It was DISGUSTING.
If you ever get the chance to try a durian you totally should. Just keep a trash can handy.
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“IT COULD BE WORSE” IS NOT THE SAME AS BEING “GOOD”
It’s amazing to realize how fast I can adapt to new surroundings and at the same time fail to understand the impact of that ability. If you have been following us, you’ve likely seen us post about the air quality in Chiang Mai (like Alisha’s post from a few weeks ago: https://ourparadoxology.com/breathing-paradox/). From mid-January through late April or May, villagers in Northern Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar routinely burn the jungles, fields, ditches, and rice paddies. There’s debate as to the reason for this practice but the results are the same. Due to the mountainous terrain, lack of seasonal rainfall, and shortage of wind, the rising smoke has nowhere to go and subsequently hovers like a suffocating blanket over Chiang Mai.
Having lived on open prairies of North Central Nebraska, I never once thought about air quality. We were always breathing fresh air. “Bad air” was how we might have referred to seasonal pollen, but, even then, the pollen signified vibrant and healthy ecosystems all around us.
The Air Quality Index (AQI) has six color ranges: Green 1-50, Yellow 51-100, Orange 101-150, Red 151-200, Purple 201-300, and Maroon 301+. The air quality in Atkinson, NE, regularly hovers in single digit territory, or comfortably Green. When we stepped off the plane in Chiang Mai, the air quality was about 125 – orange. By mid-April, we had air quality readings in excess of 500. Just this week, it has dropped for the first time since we’ve lived here to below 100 – yellow. Comparatively, we now feel incredible, and yet, we are still a long way from the air quality we’re used to.
What I am learning through all of this is how easily I adjust to circumstances around me, regardless of if they are positive or negative. When adversity becomes normal, I adjust to the new normal without regard to the consequences. It is like the slow boiling frog analogy. I think It is easy to understand the metaphor of the water increasing temperature just like the air quality getting worse. Just like the proverbial frogs, I acclimate to the harsh environment around me. One might argue to be an enviable dexterity of personality. What I don’t as easily recognize is that when the environment starts to improve (the water temp drops or air quality cleans up), I become excited and thankful for the relief, but don’t even realize that the new present conditions are still worse than what I should expect or desire. A water temperature of 120 is far less than 212, but not remotely close to the temperature a frog would normally be expected to thrive in.
While it’s a skill and positive attribute having the ability to function amid turmoil, tribulation, adversity, or hardships, the danger is being content with the new normal, or adjusting to a dangerous situation that isn’t as bad as it was at its worst, but still worse than it was before the situation arose in the first place. To put it another way, a child may start off clean but when he finds an irresistible mud puddle and proceeds to cover himself head to toe, the first action is to hose him off. It’s true that he’s cleaner than he was when the mud was caked in his hair, but it’s not the same as being clean.
My spiritual journey is the same. I may not be as flagrantly bad as I once was, but that’s not the same as being as clean as I should be. My ability to adapt is not a strength when it comes to getting comfortable to the sin around me, even when I experience great relief from previous degrees of sinful bondage. I think Satan uses the skill of contentment as a weapon against improvement: I’m better than I once was, but that is not the same as being as good as I should be. It’s not an argument for effort. I can’t clean my sin away more than I can make it rain to clear the smoke. My ability to adjust easily to new situations can subsequently be a barrier preventing me from experiencing the necessary cleansing only Jesus’ blood can offer.
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Som Tam
Today I tried Som Tam. We ordered it on Food Panda and it came in this big bag, which is pretty normal in Thai delivery. Thai coffee shops often deliver their drinks in bags like these with a cup of ice next to them.
Som Tam is Thai Green Papaya Salad. It is usually made with unripe or green papaya, Thai chillies, garlic, peanuts, fish sauce, and limes. There are hundreds of other things you could add of course but those are the basic ingredients. This one also had shrimp, green beans, and tomatoes.
Som Tam is one of my dad’s favorite dishes. I loved the flavor. It was a perfect balance of sour papaya and vegetables. One thing they didn’t balance though was the spice level. My mouth was on fire. I was melting ice cubes in seconds by breathing on them. I could only take a couple of bites before my eyes started watering. I offered my sister, Selah, 5 baht (Thai currency. Only about 15 cents, but it goes pretty far.) if she would take a bite. One bite and she was tearing up too. The other thing off balance was the texture. It was crunchy and stringy and kept getting in between my teeth.
I would strongly suggest trying Som Tam, but when you do, order it “not spicy” or prepare for your last meal.
Part of the reason I wanted to order Som Tam is because I tried some potato chips a while back that were Charcoal Grilled Chicken & Som Tam flavored chips. The chips tasted like a BBQ chip at first but then I really got the chicken flavor. And then, when I swallowed the chip, the sour Som Tam flavor hit the back of my tongue. They really did taste almost exactly like Chicken and Som Tam.
P.S. My dad came home and tried the Som Tam and said it wasn’t the spiciest ส้มตำ (Som Tam) he has had. That made me a little mad.
P.P.S I was not lying about the 5 Baht (or Haa Baht). If the exchange rates are good, 35 baht is about one dollar.
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Breathing Paradox
In the life we left behind, I was the kind of person who avoided shampoo with parabens or sulphates. I paid a premium for natural deodorant even though it stains your clothes (and admittedly doesn’t even always “cut it”). I chose all-natural soaps and lotions, but also felt that taking care of our skin was actually more about what we ate than what we put on it: so we avoided processed foods and ate a lot of fresh meat and produce. I chose organic when I could and most of the meat that filled our freezers were from animals that were raised and processed within 15 miles of our home. I loved having our own chickens to supply organic eggs and kept a compost bin so that I could grow garden produce and care for our landscape in a way I felt was most consistent with the garden of Eden. My kids ate more vegetables than most and knowing that I was doing all I could to keep them healthy was important to me: a part of my identity, really.
We rarely had sugary drinks, and never artificial sweeteners. Although we loved fresh-squeezed lemonade for a treat, we drank a lot of water…and GOOD water. For a while, we lived near springs that I felt must supply our well because we had the most delicious drinking water at the ranch that I had ever tasted. When we moved away from the springs, we ran our (still very good quality) city water through a reverse osmosis system to make it the best we could. And then got a fridge and ice dispenser that filtered it yet again. Our water bottles were stainless steel or glass…because that is easy enough to do if what they say about drinking from plastic is true. Our leftovers were stored in glass containers, too, and we didn’t even have a microwave. These were all healthy choices I had the luxury to make in that life: and prioritizing the health of my family felt right and good. After all, God made these bodies of ours and gave them to us to use in serving him and to enjoy living in every day.
You know what else we had? Something I never considered as a notable factor in our health: the air we breathed. I took it for granted. We lived in a small town surrounded by more plants than people. The air we breathed each day was probably among the purest on earth, EVEN when the wind blew the smell from the sale barn into town.
Then God, my God, the God who loves each member of my family in unspeakable ways, asked us all to move to the other side of the planet. For the last few months we have been breathing THE WORST quality of air on earth. This is not an exaggeration, but a confirmed fact:
Thai City Tops World Pollution Table
We’ve all suffered headaches and noticed just how tired we feel each day, despite the fact that we have equipped our home with several air purifiers and are able to stay sealed indoors during the worst of it. It has been hot and sunny, and yet the sky has been nothing but shades of gray.
This is a part of the paradox we live.
I no longer have a budget that can support my all-natural body care regiment, nor access to the same kind of food options to feed my family (though I am finding new treasures in the local markets). The water that comes from the faucet must do for showering, washing dishes, and even brushing our teeth; but it is not safe to drink…so we have drinking water delivered in big re-usable PLASTIC bottles. But all of these adjustments confronting our bodies pale in comparison to the difference I see and feel in the air we breathe.
I once spoke on the the Breath of God: teaching that the Hebrew word referring the the Spirit or Breath of God was the same as the Hebrew word for wind. In some mysterious way we are not able to fully comprehend, I believe the air we breathe is 78% Nitrogen, 21% Oxygen, and 1% other gases AND ALSO 100% the Breath of God. So it truly saddens me to see it so polluted. It breaks my heart to realize that most of the people we now surround ourselves with have NEVER known the kind of pure air I’ve breathed my entire life. Nor do they know of the life-giving, soul-cleansing, power that comes from the knowledge and acceptance of the Breath of God.
A few days ago we finally had a major cleansing rain. The difference between the air today and the air a month ago is stark. We can now see far enough to know that our entire city is surrounded by mountain ranges not just smog. However, now that I know how one measures air quality, I am aware that even when the air looks this clear, it is still not as clean as the air back home at its worst. And I imagine our Nebraska ranch land air is nowhere close to as perfect as it was the day God breathed the world into existence. (This idea has Rod thinking in kingdom metaphors as well, see his post: https://ourparadoxology.com/it-could-be-worse-is-not-the-same-as-being-good/). Someday, the kingdom will come and the whole earth will be made new. I pray my new neighbors will be with me in that kingdom, when we taste the Breath of God free of all contaminates. Come Lord Jesus, Come.
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แมงมุม! (SPIDER!)
Living in Thailand has its privileges but it also has its downfalls: like sharing our home with unwanted guests. We have found countless geckos and ants in our kitchen, but everyone (in my family) can agree that geckos are better than these disgusting, eight-legged fiends that trespass into our dining room.
แมงมุม was very smart and hard to kill, even with the state-of-the-art bug smasher my mother created with my father’s shoe and a broom.
Somehow we got it trapped in a container and set it outside. And, while we were still freaking out, Dad came home, shook up the box, dumped the spider on the road, and stomped on it.
P.S. Just know that if God ever calls you to Thailand you will have unwanted critters in your house. No doubt about it.
P.P.S. My mom is not sure about the factual basis of that final statement. She still has hope that it is not true.
