Movers remorse: Red line vs Orange line

It's been 3 weeks since we moved.
I can literally jog to the Shady grove metro, ok jog is a strong word, but it is a 10 minute walk. Compared to my 30 minute bus ride to Vienna metro, this is a piece of cake. I get to office in half the time.

Shady Grove metro is unbelievably run down. The trains work, praise God! but the place is an old mess. I'm told New York has some really lousy stations but S.G takes the cup. I thought is was built in the 18th century but it was opened in 1984. The Vienna metro was opened in 1986 but it got a make over last year so right now I suffer from withdrawal symptoms. The comparison doesn't help.

Why didn't anybody tell me that everybody and their dog live in Maryland? There should be a sign post inscribed with the words"ALL ROADS LEAD TO MARYLAND!" For all the 11 stops no one gets off until we get to Shady Grove. With the Orange line, I knew loads of people would get off at Court house, Clarendon and Ballston, then there would be space for the rest of us to sit. But now eh! you wait paka you give up. As if that is not enough, there is only one escalator leading off the tracks. We all clog at the escalator like a swam of bees attempting to pollinate a single flower. It's not funny! People cut in and even push. So far passengers on the red line are rude and impatient, they don't say much but their actions speak loud. Even though Virginians were quick to speak when their feathers were ruffled, I still think the Orange line has a more courteous, organized and gracious lot.

Did I mention that the trains are tattered? Well, the red line trains are tattered beyond! On occasion I have hopped on to some decent ones but mostly they need a serious makeover. Once, I looked around and thanked God I didn't suffer from OCD otherwise walking to work would be a viable option. The cart walls were a blackish grey, with stains from eons ago. Evidently they are cleaned but I couldn't get past the stains. Your careful not to move around or hold anything lest you catch some crazy bug.
And why wasn't I told how unreliable the red line is? On my third day the train stopped at friendship heights and passengers were asked to disembark. They walked off like it was no big deal. The captain announced that someone was sick on board. Hmm strange! One passenger is sick and 1000 people are asked to get off? Wouldn't it have been easier to get the sick person off instead? In the two years I used the Orange line, only once were we asked to off load the train and that was because one of the cart doors couldn't close.

I may be suffering movers remorse - a version of buyer's remorse.

Did I tell you Maryland has friendly neighbors? Aha! It does. Once people are off the stress of the commute they turn into decent folks again. Our lawn has been mowed, we have been welcomed to the neighborhood. The little kids smile and talk freely.
Who said I was complaining?

Massage phobia; On again, off again

After a few odd encounters, I vowed not to visit another massage therapist. Ahhh but alas! My feet led me down that path yet again. With strains from moving house and a sudden urge to get fit I jogged along the trails in our neighborhood  and that's where my woes begun. My muscles locked in knots, my neck and back tensed up like a tight fist; clamped like the lean meat of our Teso chicken in whose flesh one could lose a tooth. Only a massage could knead them loose however, I chose not to solicit in-house services.

I located the spa recommended by a friend but whose services I only now considered. Submerged in a busy shopping mall, one would need to be looking for it to find it: "SPA WORLD!" Its wall had pictures of fountains, steam baths and swimming pools - my nerves sensed the calming effect already.

A nice young male receptionist opened brochures of possibilities:
7 sauna options,  poultice rooms, a swimming pool, a bade pool; Basher wall, dream bath, bench jet, wave jet... , a gym, Shiatsu massage; 30 minutes, 90 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours ... A two hour massage? really?. Body scrub, foot scrub... I thought, "err...lets keep it simple!" This Ugandan girl can only do so much, let alone wrap her mind around this wealth of activities. I was welcome to stay for 24 hours at no extra charge - how cool?!

A cue begun to form behind me, so I stood aside to reexamine the brochures. Eventually I stepped up and declared my preferences. I was handed a key to a locker with space enough for one pair of shoes. I later found out the key would not unlock until one had payed their dues. One could attempt an escape without shoes but I doubt many people ever considered the option.
Then I was handed an orange uniform similar to Kazinda's prison outfit.

In the ladies locker room I considered this endeavor a possible mistake on my part. Ladies walked "freely"! Whatever had they done with the orange uniforms? Probably didn't like them either. I sheepishly traced my way to my second locker, which thankfully was in a corner. I wore my orange uniform and headed to the bade pool. The notice on the door could be summarized in one word "strip!". Oh well, enough of that.

A little Asian lady dressed in white led me to a dark room. Its walls whispered soft  instrumental music. When she begun to walk and skate all over your back I concluded East Asians were rightly blessed with the massage art, I was silently thankful for her brief stature. She attempted to separated my neck from my head, my shoulders had snippets of life disassociated from their sockets. I thought my legs would be handed to me. *Note: Do not under estimate energy that comes in small packages!

Alarm bells sounded when she complimented my body. Was this my cue to make a speedy exit? The theory that massage therapists are payed to compliment their customers is quickly crystallizing in my mind.
Memories of my first massage at Fang fang hotel came rushing back. The lady's gaze was transfixed. She asked why I married so young. Uncomfortable with compliments from a female stranger, I begun to panic but I realized it was harmless, not that I returned to find out.

As I grow older, I realize the need to embrace these compliments, one day I will look for them and they may not be found.
Besides, the benefits of renewed energy and fluid muscles out weigh the risks, the trick is in visiting a different spa each time ;-)

Parenting! You just never know

When that cute bundle is placed in your arms it’s indescribable. Dreams of a bright future flood your mind. But unlike Mary the mother of Jesus you never know what will happen the next day, the next month or the next year. Are you raising the next Beethoven, Kony, Einstein, Amin or Chimamanda?  Will you light candles until you are grey or cry your heart out when the candles are snuffed out too soon?

Each day presents a unique set of circumstances.

When the police car with red and blue flash lights  pulled up to the side walk and the officer walked up to me, I silently wished he was a mirage. He shook my hand and introduced himself.  He pulled out a pen and paper from his side pocket and proceeded to ask a series of questions: “Where does he usually play?” “Is there a neighborhood kid he likes to play with?” “How was he dressed?” "Can you show me where you live?" I wanted to pee in my pants. My son was missing. He left school without permission. Then the officer made a profound statement, he said “I’m sure he is not in any kind of trouble. Kids do silly things all the time. I know. I’m a father of four”. I could have hugged him at that point but it would complicate matters. The reassurance from the officer turned father helped my sanity, he was familiar with parenting.
He suggested we search together. He opened the back door of the police car and invited me to get in. This was not what I envisioned when I subscribed to motherhood but I'm sure the parents of  Kiprotich, Inzikuru, Obama, Trayvon or Snowden would say something similar.

 I sat quietly, a little overwhelmed with my surroundings as you may imagine. The officer and I were separated by a bullet proof glass shield. The back doors had no handles inside just a plain flat surface - the door could only be opened from the outside. I was trapped. Trapped in a police car. Trapped in a whirl wind of thoughts, emotions and questions. Where could my son be? Was I a good mother? What role did I play in orchestrating this unique set of circumstances? Was I training my child to follow instructions and stay safe? Was I providing a safe nurturing environment for him? Did I miss-communicate that morning? Was I building the right relationships in the neighborhood? 

Constantly faced with decisions and choices, a parent's life is filled with ups, downs and merry go rounds; Caution, discipline, instruct, medicate, exhort, enroll in extra classes, buy the tools to improve skills. Walk with, talk with, play with, pray with.
Listen, wait and hope that someday in the future the labor was not in vain.

A committed parent  faces forward determined to tackle every straight and curved ball that swerves their way. I have learned the most important thing is to look up! Up to the father of heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows. Every good and perfect gift (your children) come from Him. The plans He has for them are good. He says He will come to them and fulfill His good promise to bring them back to safety. He has plans to prosper them and not to harm them, plans to give them a hope and a future.
Call on Him and come and pray to Him and He will listen to you. Seek Him and you will find Him when you seek Him with all your heart. He will be found by you and bring you back to the place from which He carried you.

In the busyness of life and parenting, do not be discouraged. Remember, these little gifts are really God's and He will show you how to take care of them.