NEWS FLASH : NO MORE PRISON BEDS!!!
Here are the twins sleeping in their new soft double bed!
Here we are going home with Brooks and Kendall's new twin beds, and above on the right is our new bigger fridge, with a freezer on the bottom. We have also recently purchased a large round kitchen table with 6 chairs, new very comfy den furniture and a cool machine that both washes and dries our clothes! I wish they had those in America -
Above, the infamous "prison beds"- functional but hard, tall and scary!










This is the size of our original fridge, about the height of an almost 6 year old!











Above Left : We're mastering the use of chopsticks, even with tiny little rice!

Left : Here is a picture of mustache-less Albert leaning on the new full water cooler that he ordered from the water company, even telling them where to deliver it, without using any English!!! Yeah, Albert!







We have had lots of small victories and fun stories to share from the last week or so. We are slowly but surely outfitting our apartment for what is considered a very large family over on this side of the planet, so that it will be comfortable for our time of learning Chinese. Renovations of our kitchen and bathroom should begin within the next week. That's both exciting and scary!

Here's a story that was not funny when it was happening, but is growing on us as time passes :
There is no bread available here in our city, plus you are unable to get an oven, bread machine, yeast, baking powder, baking soda or butter! When we were coming home from our vacation in Thailand last month, we found a single bread machine in all of the city where our international flight landed. We negotiated two train stations, two taxis and lots of miles and got my precious machine home safely. I had made one lovely, yummy loaf of bread, and Albert, the wonderful husband that he is, was washing the dishes after dinner. Now, even dish washing is not without its difficulties over here. We fill a large bowl with warm, soapy water to wash and then rinse in the small sink we have in our kitchen. If there are lots of dishes, you have to empty the wash water in some other place besides the sink, and in this case the final destination of the water was none other than our squatty potty. Does anyone know what a bread machine dash is, like the thing that makes it all work so that you can have that lovely loaf of bread? Can anyone guess what I am going to say? Yes, friends and family, the dash was poured down the squatty potty with the dish water. Now, as I said, there is no bread here to be found, and this was the only machine within MANY miles of our house. Add to this fact that we obviously hardly speak any Chinese, much less know the words for "bread machine dash", and the thought of having to somehow attempt to order a new part for my machine under those circumstances was a nauseating thought to me. Speaking of nauseating, I was thus willing to sacrifice limb and cleanliness for my new friend, the bread machine. I was getting the dash back, even if it meant reaching my entire arm down the squatty potty. And that, my friends, is exactly what I did. In a fit of passion for my wonderful new machine, I laid prostrate on the floor of our lovely latrine and got that dash back as the children shrieked in horror at what their mother was doing. All this time trying to convince them to stay as far away as possible from this nasty hole in the floor and now Mom is reaching down into the bowels of the beast. I am happy to report that after a thorough cleansing and boiling ceremony, we are back in the bread-making business. Each loaf has been a little more appreciated since that terrible day. And the children are still staying pretty clean, too! They understand now that a woman has to do what a woman has to do. After all, it was all in the name of providing for the family :)

I'm sure we will have equally hilarious adventures to share with you next week. Keep checking back to see what crazy stuff has happened in the Allen house, affectionately known as the funny farm! Until then . . . .