Pedigrees and Paradigms

Laurel used to marvel at what she referred to as my "pedigree".

The immediate preceding branches of my family tree could not be more different.

East Coast, white collar, well educated, mimosa drinking, thimble thin, tightly wound Irish Catholics on one side...

West Coast, blue collar, live off the land in Alaska, beer drinking, quick to laugh, husky Germans on the other...

I could not love one side more than the other. They are equally as wonderful, loving, supportive, eccentric, world wise, street wise, Godly, faith filled, full of love and family as the other. My family is amazing and I would not change them or our history for the world. I am so blessed.

My sisters and I, aptly dubbed “The Brandt Girls”, have grown into this balance with as much grace as a bull in a china store could hope for. In that I mean to say, that we are two seemingly opposites forced into one body that must now manage to find peace in who we are and where we come from…

We are like bulls in a china shop... but at
least we manage it, though, we do not own it – yet. For many years, well, most of them in my adult life, I have found each of these sides advantageous in one way or  another. It can, though, at times be a bit disorientating

Fall in love with a guy who lives in his VW bus? 

But, of course.

Graduate from an esteemed university?

Check.

Accompany a friend to med school graduation?                                                                      With pleasure.

Navigate the back allies of Tijuana handing out freshly made burritos to prostitutes and heroin addicts?
Okie dokie.

Work as a PA to an NGO director in Hong Kong? Distribute vegetables from a local farm while living in a laundry closet? Move to the DRC? Drive a sports car? Drive a 4x4? Drink espresso? Try pastiche? What country have I woken up in? What do I wear? Will I be cold? Will I be over dressed? Wait, where am I again? What the hell am I doing here???

This week I feel the equatorial straddling of these polarized mores.This week I will go from mud huts and 4x4s to crowds of symphony goers in the Swiss Alps. 

How, you might ask? A magician never reveals her secrets – especially when she has no idea either. As a matter of fact, I am just going on a whim of faith that I will not freak out. It might be just fine and I will not skip a beat or it might be a revisitation of the post-Haiti bread isle in Alberston’s reverse culture shock freak out of 2003.  

But heck, I won’t know until I try, right? 

Plus, I have a real hankering for good wine and being outside at night without fearing for my life. So, here I am, mid-transformation. Do you know how much work it is to shave your legs when it is only worth shaving them every 8 weeks? If not, count yourself lucky. The ridiculous implications my daily life has on my personal hygiene habits is enough for a whole other blog post. No, really, I have already given it much thought long before this.

But for now, do not dwell on the nastiness of man leg hair  – Instead, marvel, along with Laurel and I, at just how good a strategist God is, at how such an odd coupling of gene pools could yield offspring that is perfectly fit for the ridiculously polarized life of a humanitarian aid worker.

I laugh at it – or rather, myself – on a daily basis.

I could be being dramatic, quite honestly, I could be.

However, I started writing this in Entebbe and now, sitting in Dubai I honestly feel like I am living someone else’s life – or perhaps that life I just left behind was someone else’s and this one is me?

Side effects from too little sleep? Perhaps.

I cried like a baby watching Soul Surfer on the plane, it made me so homesick I swear I could taste ocean water on my lips and feel the salt drying on my eyebrows. Strange teary effect often felt in airplanes? 

(It is real, TAL validated my suspicious of its existence) 

I sure hope so, or I have more things to worry about than another sleepless night in another airport.

I need to go find a corner out of these halogen lights.

Far too many of these sentences have begun with "I".

Time to find some other subjects before I bore you...
... or myself.

Oh, and P.S.

Has anyone else ever notice how flipping difficult it is to format blogspot with photos? I spent over an hour trying to let my OCD be OK with how this looks and it is still driving me crazy.