Happy Thoughts

Goal of the Week: Register car.  Sound easy?  It’s not.  The husband’s company refuses to help us (it’s not in our contract!)  HR casually provided us two locations, both of which were WRONG.  Fail.

  • Transportation taken: bus, train, train, train, bus, train, train, bus
  • Stopped at two incorrect locations before finally locating DETRAN
  • Caught in rainy season downpour with no umbrella
  • Became nauseous and felt the need to destroy something
  • Was given this to do list (of which I understood four words):

  • Printed payment ticket from machine, turned away at Banco do Brasil, 15 minute walk to Santander Bank in the rain, paid taxes upon returning to Banco do Brasil
  • Second floor… did not have proper documents… car STILL NOT registered
  • Defeated, suppressed tears, walk of shame to the train
  • Threw up on metro.*  During rush hour.  Not. Kidding. 
  • Developed hate of all things new and difficult
  • Arrived home.  Rested.  Large car fire in garage. 
  • Fled building in pajamas.  Met numerous neighbors while sick and half naked. 
  • Acquired headache from burning rubber and gasoline smoke

*Getting sick on the metro is not funny yet.  Unless you are my unsympathetic husband who proceeded to laugh as I laid in bed after THE WORST DAY EVER.

SO… as I prepare to return to DETRAN this afternoon, I am choosing to focus on pleasant memories from our previous weekend at the beach. 

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Our good friend Suzanna already did a lovely post on our weekend jaunt to Praia de Camburi so you can just read hers.  I figure I earned a lazy post after vomiting on strangers while enclosed in a contained space yesterday.  Photo tour, commence.

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Jeff, the husband & Alex enjoying lunch on the beach.

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Our adopted dog for the weekend, Tuku.

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A little mother-daughter beach bum for your Friday.

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Myself, Suzanna, Jana & Tara in our conservative swimsuits.

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Paddle boarding.  Apparently, quite hard if you are tall.  Or hail from Minnesota.

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Husband, left.  Jeff Jones, right.

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Our charming pousada was located two blocks from the beach on this dirt road.

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Pray for me as I partake on round two of registration today.

Happy thoughts. Puppies. Coconut juice. Rainbows. Hugs. Books. Picnics. High fives.

Embu das Artes

My husband secretly cooked me meatloaf on Monday.  (It is feasible that it was less covert and more my avoidance of the kitchen.)  The dish was stuffed with sun dried tomatoes, had melted mozzarella on top, and was delish.  So here I am, two days later, eating a cold meatloaf sandwich (of which I have gone without for a minimum of seven months). 

Eating food that can justifiably be smothered in ketchup is distracting me from the fact that my husband has been in Rio for three weeks straight.

Smart move, husband.  Well played.

Meanwhile, he has also left me with a list of priorities:
1. Puzzle
2. Anything else

Apparently, someone wants his table back and three pieces a day is not considered sufficient progress.  I have been given a deadline of ten days to complete the hardest puzzle ever.  (Thanks for that Lisa.)

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A few weeks back we took a day trip to Embu das Artes to celebrate some birthdays.  Technically, it was only Suzanna’s birthday… but she kindly shared the day with me (since mine was on hold until we could make friends to celebrate with.)

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Embu is located 40 minutes outside of São Paulo. The town was founded by Jesuit priests in the 17th century and still maintains buildings from the colonial period.

It is a charming city with cobblestone streets, handicraft shops, and plenty of spots to drink the day away.  We opted for German fare which represented inhabitants that settled in the area generations ago.

On weekends and holidays, there is a handicraft fair which has been occurring for more than 70 years and attracts people from all over the country.

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AND there were puppies… which makes this my new favorite weekend jaunt.

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I have a new found love for all things guinea fowl.

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Taste testing artisanal cachaças.

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The floating head might be advertising hair braids.  I’m not sold.

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My husband ‘humoring me’ after I asked him to muddle for the picture.  There’s a first for everything. 

Also, I have officially become my mother with the use of that phrase.

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Have you met… THE CUTEST PUPPY EVER?!?

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Sampling toasted nuts and candied coconut. 

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Sampa is what the locals affectionately call São Paulo.

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As with any good celebration, we rounded it out with Farkle and an exorbitant number of shots.  I won the contest for most farkles.

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Here’s to thirty good years, and seventy more to come.  Happy birthday Suzanna!