Sound Board

Word count during a one hour interval the other day:

Maddie: I don't have to if I don't want to (12 times)

Caleb: Hey, guys! Wait for me! (20 times)

Katie: Um...[followed by silence] (25+ times, I lost count)

Tim: Be careful, guys (22 times)

Time in a Bottle

After being away for three weeks in Guatemala and then four weeks in Omaha, I became sentimental about cherishing the small moments with the kids. You know, they won't be young forever.

30 minutes squatting next to the toilet with Caleb as he battles constipation.

Ear-splitting yell contests in the car.

Maddie wakes me up when she comes into the bed every night at 1 a.m. Caleb then wakes me up coming into the bed every night at 3 a.m. (At which point the bed is overloaded and I move to the couch.)

Teaching Maddie to swim at the local pool (the water tastes exactly like sweat and is so foggy one cannot see one's feet).

Just some of the special moments.

35 hours

That's how many hours until Katie and the kids arrive in Omaha. Not that I'm counting.

Lone Man

After one joyful week of no work, no school, just kids, I am again a solo lobo. Sigh.

Western Nebraska smells like cow poop. Omaha, no poop smell. Phew, I was getting worried.

Guatemalan Traffic Laws

Green means go.

Red means turn on hazard lights and go.

Otro

One week to go. Making T-Shirts. Doing street surveys. EOQ. NPV. We're rocking it out.

Saw a four-inch scorpion. Creepy. Saw some Mayan and Olmec ruins. Cool. Miss my family. Not cool.

Micro

Carmen spends hours each night making elaborate piñatas by hand. She sells them at the market in the center of town. She's in the the second-aisle from the center, behind three other piñata stores with more variety. So she charges less. For her hours of effort, she makes about $1 profit on each piñata.

We're working with a butcher. He is the fifth of seven butchers on a street of nothing but butchers. They all have the same providers, the same prices, the same selection.

Granizadas Las Delicias is a mobile snow cone cart. Berta is the proprietor. She has to sell 16 snow cones per day to meet expenses and repay her loan. She sells 10 on a good day.

Marketing surveys are underway. We're working on logos and signs. We're contemplating coupons and "frequent flyer cards." Hopefully we'll find a breakthrough.

La Abuelita

Norma makes "Cafe de Cereales." She charrs corn, rice, wheat, and other secret ingredients and then grinds it, by hand, and packages it as La Abuelita, a wholesome coffee alternative. I helped her make a batch on her make-shift wood burning stove.

So far she makes about $20 a week, which supports her father and her sister and her two children. We're trying to help her brand it properly and scale it. The cultural distance is bigger than I anticipated. This is hard.

Asuntos

We have a pet cockroach. I call him Cookie. He's my midnight snack buddy. He's always there waiting for me by the fridge when I get up in the middle of the night. So I sit and talk to him about the roach's life until the wee hours. It's not easy being a despised Arthropod.  Really he's just a misunderstood freegan.

I feel like I'm playing Super Mario Cart every time I get in a car.

The local food is great. McDonald's gave me food poisoning. Go figure.

Me in Reu

Place of Deer

I'm in Mazatenango (Mayan for "Place of Deer"), Guatemala. I miss Katie and the kids and I'm only a day in.

The streets are crawling with skinny, diseased dogs that make me a little queazy and the sweet stench of compost is ubiquitous. On the bright side, the drive from Guatemala City to Mazatenango was breathtaking as we dropped 4,500 feet in about 15 miles. There is a volcano for every flea-infested, open-sore covered dog. And the food is awesome.

I spent three hours today trying (failed) to dig a well in densely rocked terrain. Blisters. Back ache.

I've been assigned ten local businesses that have received micro-credit loans. I hope I can help.