Life: Idiotropic

I recently heard this quote from a woman I know here and I love it. It says it all.


(Meaning, of course, it does suck in that it's a lousy vacuum cleaner that doesn't suck - a malady claimed by many German vacuums.)


And... on a completely separate tidbit, you all must know that while you're enjoying summer, I can't leave my coffee out for five minutes without it feeling refrigerated. My big brick house is cold, but I daren't turn on the heat knowing that by the time it heats, the heat wave will reign again and I'll be living in a brick oven. Not whining. Just stating facts. I'm cold. I have an aversion to socks, yet I feel compelled to wear them. That is just irritating.

Sorry for the lack of blogging. My mom is here, so we've been having too much social time for me to possibly sit long enough to type without seriously neglecting my much needed beauty sleep. Just tonight I sat through two complete episodes of Gilmore Girls - a show that Tiara and I are proud to have gotten my mother completely hooked on. It's not for everyone, but it's a intelligent comedy that feeds my undernourished sense of humor, so I am grateful for an excuse to sit and do nothing while watching it.

We went to Bruges, Belgium last week for a couple days - an absolutely beautiful city that I will blog soon. We've planted flowers and cooked and cleaned. We've gone to coffee shops and just had a generally mellow time which is very good sometimes. Sunday we went to Tongeren - one of my European happy places. And this weekend we'll have a little gathering here to celebrate Elise' birthday.

The kids are all great. Everything is generally normal which means that at least one of my children has some issue that I need to deal with. This week it's a registration tussle for Tiara at AFNorth and the continuing quandary of what to do with Arianna's education - the battle of American vs. German education systems.

Mom leaves Monday and I will try to catch up. I am embarrassed to say that I still need to blog the Austria trip from Feb, the Normandy trip from April, and now the quick Bruges trip. It will happen - really - as soon as... well, let's just say, soon.

Oh, oh, oh... and I just almost forgot. I will be blogging the Blue's Night! Think, German Blue's Band in the living room of a eccentric Romanian artist/cook/antique dealer living in a tiny village near our home. Prosecco and quiche. A ceramic pig with 4 baby piglets. And, of course, after only two photos, my camera battery died. I'll just have to go back.

I must remember to take paper with me when I bring Arianna to school. Very little is ever in writing. Even less is even told to me, and then I, with my busy little brain, am not necessarily good at remembering the vaguely told details, so when I was told that Arianna should come in the afternoon on Tuesday, I didn't really remember that I should go with her. So, today was a bad mom moment. My mom walked her to school, but didn't stay because I would worry. By the time she got back, I had to take Luci to dance and back and would not have had time to stay.

I did rush back to the school, but she had already gone home with my friend who had dropped her off... and I'd missed my mom moment to make a special cone with Arianna. Still, thankfully, my friend was there to assist, but to also allow the girls to make their cones themselves. Most other mothers did the cones for their children while the children played. This is the special cone that we will fill with treats and present to Arianna on her first day of Grundschule.

Let your imaginations fly and you can probably come up with quite a few places where you could go to hear really great Blues, a dark smoky club in old New Orleans, a historical bar in New York... but in your list, you probably wouldn't picture a little village in Germany.

I certainly couldn't. But a friend had heard the Blues and arranged a time to go back bringing a small American contingent with her.

Luckily, I was one of the contingent.

In a continent where ethnicities generally remain within their own borders, history has a way of moving people around, so here in this tiny German village of Dremmen, I encountered Blues at Cafe Curioso, a cafe that is the embodiment of eclecticism, owned and run by Marin Ionescu, a Romanian artist who was the head National artist under Ceauşescu. Paintings he did adorn his walls and, hidden among piles of old papers and books in his attic antique shop, we found old Polaroids of Rembrandts, reproductions that he most likely did. He now calls himself a carpenter, art director, multimedia designer and sculpture (many of his bronze horse statues sit in the old Aachen square), deals in antiques and art, and bakes many of the delicious cakes that his German wife sells in her cafe.

When walking into the cafe there is a narrow entryway cluttered with antiques piled upon antiques, some fine and some not so fine. An old door with a stained glass window, a beautiful sideboard, piles of books and knick-knacks. Straight ahead is the small stairway leading up to a tiny room set up with more antiques and the aforementioned Polaroids. To the left is a very tiny mini-hallway leading to what looks like some one's living room... couches, little tables, little chairs off to the side. Paintings on the walls, antiques and oddities, a ceramic pig with 4 baby pigs on its back... The kitchen in the back contains an large oddly shaped island that Marin created from old church pulpits. That is where he and his wife served a beautiful spread of quiches. The "living room" was set up with a little stage area, drums in front of the cold case where the cakes sat, speakers and other sound equipment by the sideboard where the pig statue stood, and the equalizer control box right by the kitchen door where Marin stood most of the night puffing away on his big cigar and moving the little levers back and forth to control the sound.

Marin was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt big enough for a man 4x his size. I truly wish I had a photo or would have written it all down to give you a better mental picture... but he is older, with a long grey beard, long grey hair pulled back, the shirt, red athletic shoes - a short man who walks with his shoulders slightly forward and the cigar hanging from his mouth. He's a character, but he runs the show. There is nothing weak or slight. Though small and quite odd in appearance, there is no doubt that we were at his place and he was in control.

The band that played was a German band - it's lead singer in his late 30's, the guitarist a bit older, and the drummer probably only 16. What was amazing was the sound. It didn't sound like Germany. Closing my eyes, I could have been in any Blues bar in the U.S. - any where, but Dremmen, Germany. Watching the singer's facial expressions was hilarious. That man put all his heart and soul into that music. So for hours that night, in a room packed completely with Americans, we all stood listening to the soulful sound of America coming from this German band in a cafe run by a Romanian artist. It's a beautiful thing.

Served prosecco as we arrived, quiche at the break-time, and cake with coffee towards the end of the evening, those who stayed latest were there until after 0100 dancing, enjoying the moment. We left at 1130 - with books in hand - books that Kirk found there - amazing books documenting the 1936 Olympics in Germany complete with photographs pasted in that the owner would have had to get at cigarette shops. They are an interesting piece of history.

So, that's night one of more to come. All who went want to go again. All who couldn't go want to know when the next night is... it looks like we might have to have a party soon.

Don't laugh.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a suburb far far away, lived a girl, who, at a very vulnerable time at her life, wore pink. It wasn't her fault, of course. She was young. She had acne. She was struggling with that young teen time of life when life is just plain difficult. It was the 80's and ruffles were in. She wanted to dance. She wanted to look pretty. And no one bothered to tell her that hot pink ruffles were not the ticket!

Long story shortened, my mom finally emptied the closet and brought my 8th grade graduation and 11th grade prom dresses here, so my girls, after a bit of side-busting laughter, could play dress up.
The little ones love them. Tiara thinks they are downright hilarious. "You wore THAT??!?!?!?" "In public?!?!??!"

The pale pink was eighth grade graduation. I actually remember picking out the fabric. That was during a particularly homely phase of life when I had short permed hair - not good. The hot pink dress I wore to prom with Tim Sheridan - a really tall senior. It was, well, pink, with lots of ruffles. Scary. Mom made them both - to her credit. Who knows... may be they'll be "in" when Elise hits high school...

Tonight, while Tiara was in ballet, Mom, the three little girls, and I decided to try something new and went to Ernesto's Mexican Cantina at the markt in Sittard. It was long and narrow and decorated wall to wall with random souvenirs from Mexico ranging from the moderately nice to the downright tacky. At our table hung a metal skeleton - not the most appealing dining companion, but the girls enjoyed him. Ok, so we ordered the Topopos Grande and quesadillas to share. The Quesadillas were average - I mean, we were at a Mexican cantina in The Netherlands, so it isn't going to be phenomenal, but the flavor was good and if you're desperate for Mexican, it's passable. The Topopos consisted of a basket of thick overly salted chips with three small bowls of salsa, guacamole, and garlic sauce. It was average. Good to know it's there, but I don't need to go again.

I ordered a cappuccino. Here, in Europe, you can't order a cappuccino and just get a cappuccino. They come with cookies, little wrapped bars of chocolate, or, in this case, a delicious chocolate covered cream puff (profiterole). Three doors down at Die Twee, a cappuccino comes with a little class of whipped cream covered eier (egg) liquor. I can be happy with a cappuccino just about anywhere.

I think this is the place to go if you want to stay out ridiculously late. They are open EVERY day from 5 until 2am, and, most nights, they have live music. The poster that intrigued me the most had a picture of a row of Russian Matrioshka dolls on it and in large letters, it read, "Ernestos Presenteert: Russische Disco met Transit 55 "Gipsy Groove." Russian disco???!?!?! Hard to imagine.

The highlights of the snack at Ernesto's was in the conversation.

Arianna -- "For Halloween, I want to be a vampire."
Me -- "No, you can't be a vampire for Halloween."
Grandma -- "Those are icky."
Luci -- "No they're not! They're the coaches from baseball!"

Last week Luci studied the letter U at school. U is for umpire.

A few minutes later Arianna was doing her usual rant about how Luci always gets pink (i.e. the pink bowl, the pink plate, the pink pen, the pink fork, etc...). After a moment Luci asked me, "How do you spell 'I don't ever use pink all the time?'"

Happy Mother's Day to all those amazing women out there! I have truly come to the conclusion that motherhood is the hardest job out there. One 24/7/365/until-death-do-us-part and then some job with no real vacations. (I'll save that for another rant...) But, beyond the challenges like sibling rivalry and disdainful bodily fluids of all colors, I am rewarded daily by immeasurable love and humor, and the hugs and kisses of little girls. So, I took pleasure in today. My day.

Luci and Aria had made little gifts at school. A "Best Mom" pillow and a felt tulip from Aria, and a cute little yellow flower pot full of grass from Luci. The woke me up with their treasures. Elise hugged and cuddled. Tiara avoided me a little embarrassed that she didn't have a gift for me, but I understood and I didn't need the gift - it was nice to know that she cared. It was a nice morning. We went to church - an experience that showed a) the generosity of my girls or b) how much they don't like me.

Instead of a story before children's church, the pastor told all the mothers to stand up, then gave the children all long-stemmed red roses to pass out to the moms in the congregation, reminding the children that there are some mothers whose children were not there to give them roses, so they will be able to give roses to more than one mother. I stood there proudly waiting for my two girls, Aria and Luci, to argue a bit over who got to give me my one rose. Arianna got hers. I smiled and watched as she turned and ran down the aisle towards me, then started looking around at other ladies, veered to the other side of the aisle, stopped, and gave her rose to another mother! Luci - my beacon of hope - the one who I hoped would not only appreciate me, but also save me from the embarrassment of standing there - turned beaming in my direction. Yes, I'd be able to sit. Finally, appreciated. No. She ran right to me, then reached over me to give the rose to my mom. Fine. That's appropriate. So I got one more shot. Arianna was already back for her second rose. I, again, was hopeful. And, again, Arianna found another woman to give it to. So, finally, being one of the last women standing, a nice child (not mine) came and put me out of my misery with a red rose. Children. Happy Mother's Day to me.


An uneventful church service followed. Luci and Arianna made hand print art during Sunday School that was still goopy wet when it came home and the kids were lined up telling their mother's what they were thankful for. Luci mumbled. Arianna, I think, thanked me for feeding her. They're such little ego boosters, aren't they?

Cafe Rodebach in Stahe was our breakfast stop. I'd heard about their cakes, but hadn't eaten there. It was a little dingy and small, but ok. The minimal smoke made it bearable. The cakes and ice creams look delicious. The breakfast was nice, but there was no menu which felt odd. I, at least, like to know what I'm getting myself into. Instead, I just ordered fruhstuck for 2 adults and 4 kids and hoped that what came would be enough. It was. Mom and I both got coffee and orange juice. The kids got kakao (hot chocolate) and juice. Then we had a large assortment of brotchen and breads, cheeses and meats, and jellies and nutella to eat. It was good. I ordered a 1/2 strawberry kuchen to take home for later. Then, in spite of impending rain, the 4 girls walked the mile-ish home and mom and I enjoyed a few minutes of quiet at the house before they arrived. That, in and of itself, is a gift greater than any church rose. Looking at my watch and fretting, I opened my door to look for them and saw them coming with a big bouquet of wildflower weeds in their hands - queen anne's lace and buttercups.

The day continued with quiet and a little bit of peace. Tiara kept the little ones quiet long enough for me to doze off which is one of the greatest Mother's Day gifts ever. Kirk was in Italy, so it was just a day for moms and daughters which was very nice.

Below are photos from the sunset that evening. The light was so bright in the windows, it lit up the staircase. There are 13 windmills visible in the photo on the left.

Today was Elise' 3rd birthday.

As usual, the girls all got up and stumbled into the playroom. Aria and Luci started getting dressed and ready for school. And, as usual, Elise plopped herself down on the bench ready to watch morning cartoons - a VHS recording of PBS cartoons that my dad made for us.

"Happy Birthday, Elise!" This was my cheery morning greeting to my special birthday girl.
"No! Don't say that!!!" That the grouchy reply complete with furrowed brow and terse tone.

Being her mother, I couldn't just let it go and allow her to be a grouch on her birthday, so I sat gently next to her and hugged her and explained that she isn't two anymore but three and now when people asked her how old she was, that she should say, "three." Then I had to test it.

"How old are you, Elise?"
"I'm two."
"No, you're three now."
"I don't want to be three! I WANT TO BE TWO!!!!!"

I got the hint and left her alone. We finished the morning routine, got the sisters off to school, then met with some friends and went to a absolutely fabulous cafe in Beeck for an all-you-can-eat (which is VERY rare in Germany) breakfast. While sitting next to me eating her toast with nutella and chocolate cereal decorations, my friend asked her, "Elise, how old are you now?"
"Four." A completely deadpanned response.

So there you have it. Three is not possible here. She is two or four, may be even five. Who knows.

The rest of the day was good. We played. We baked cupcakes. Then late tonight, after Tiara's 3-hour dance rehearsal, we decorated our own cupcake, sung happy birthday, then opened presents. She was very calm about the presents - no emotion or excitement. But as soon as she was done, she sat down to play with one and handed the other two to Arianna and Luci to share, so they each could play with something new. It was nice. We'll do a "party" in a couple weeks with friends, but Kirk is still in Italy, so we just did the family thing today.

Photo: All my girls with their cupcakes. Mom is here visiting and she brought these 4 darling silicone cupcake cups with feet, so I baked the cupcakes in those and the kids decorated them. They enjoyed the silliness.

Unrelated: Today Tiara, along with the rest of her 6th grade class, spent the day with the 7th grade at AFNorth International School in The Netherlands. She took the bus from our house and rode with some older friends in our neighborhood. She was REALLY nervous, but came home happy and excited. She just got her hair cut yesterday so she'd feel good today and I let her wear a TINY bit of eyeshadow - something that always makes her feel more grown up. So, my first baby is growing up... and I couldn't be more proud of her. She's a great kid.

Elise and Misha are kindred spirits. They've always taken to each other and remain both gentle and loyal. This afternoon I walked into the living room to find them resting together - quite a sweet pair.

Last year on April 30th, we had just had guests arrive that day jetlagged and ready to sleep when the tractors sounded off all night. The following morning our guests awoke grumbling about our loud "alarm clock."

This year we went to the May Day party downtown with some German friends and saw a lot of the craziness first hand.

May Day is two things - first, it's German Labor Day, a day off for most people which is great because many are hung over that morning. Second, it's, well, some old-fashioned mating ritual that involves beer and uglified trees.

So we met our friends just before 9pm and walked to downtown Geilenkirchen to the market square where the party was going on. We went first for some vorspeisen (appetizers) at a little restaurant right on the markt and people watched. Kids and adults of all ages were out and about walking around and enjoying the evening. We shared a large table with another couple outside. Just 10 feet from us a group of 8 young boys were sitting on benches with1-2 6-packs of beer each, drinking and having a good time. A couple large trucks (not Ford - think large farming work truck that can hold several tons of sugar beats or about 20 drunk boys) went by full of drunk boys and music. One had a party ball spinning in the back. It was shocking to see young boys drinking openly like that. Even our German friends shook their heads frustrated by the abuse of alcohol and drugs that is becoming a growing problem among the youth here.

After our snack, we paid our 3 Euro entrance fee into the party area - a fenced off area with a big stage, live music, and tons of food. There we could buy tickets for drinks and great food cooked on a giant hanging grill. I had bratkartofeln (tiny round potatoes cooked with bacon and onions). My friend had pork and saurkraut. It was crowded - the kind of crowded where you really have to push your way to get anywhere. Again, these things are reminders of personal space rules and the lack of them here with people brushing past without even a glance. We ate a little, got something to drink, then got up close to the band and watched.

The band was amazing. A Night In Paris has 4 lead singers! Each had a distinct voice and a range of styles he/she could do. They all took turns singing American, British, and German music from the 60's until now and they nailed each one. Most of the time I tried hard to catch a mistake and couldn't even tell they were German singers. Then one song came on that was so wrong, it was laughable. I can't now remember the title, but I knew it and started to sing along only to find that the singer was singing completely wrong lyrics. We all laughed. The local hits, of course, got the crowd singing along.

There was dancing up front and the oddest mix of people. Our friends' 10 year-old daughter was walking in with a group of friends after 11pm as we were walking out. Kids were there. Older folks in their 60's were there. It was a crazy mix with everyone singing and having a good time.

As we entered our village driving home, I saw a large (12') birch tree walking down the side of the road. It was horizontal, elevated above the ground, and had two sets of legs whose bodies were completely covered with branches. A truck was parked further up.

Families are warned to put potted plants in and BBQ's. The groups of boys start around 11 cutting off large birch limbs or cutting down entire smaller birch trees and filling their trucks driving around all night long with loud music, flags waving, and disco balls swirling. To me, it seems very American redneck - drunk guys in the back of a tractor or truck waving flags and cutting down trees. Silly. But, it's here. We heard them go by several times in the night.

I was awakened at 0630 with more loud music that wouldn't go away. They were parked across the street. I watched them unload a couple large branches, tie crepe paper streamers onto them, then hoist them up Paul Bunyon style and carry them down the street towards some poor girl's house with friends behind carrying ladders and rope. They put the tree by the house - I saw some sitting in the top of chimneys, some tied to pipes on the side of the house, some up on the top floor, some sitting on the ground, some tied to other trees making them look like they were also planted. They were all big and garishly decorated with streamers.

Our friends also have a 15-year old daughter. She'd been out to a party that night. She expected several trees and hearts at her house. Her mom said she had to get up early to cook breakfast for all the boys. I asked how many and she didn't know. This won't ever happen at my house. There is no way that I'm going to get up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for a bunch of hungover hoodlems who just happen to have a crush on my daughter - no way.

This morning coming home I saw three girls dragging a large decorated birch down the street behind them. The trees and hearts will be up for about a month as will the giant May Poles in most town centers.

It's always a bit sad when childhood starts to slip away... the first time a child realizes who Santa is, and who to hint to when those last couple teeth fall out. All three of my little girls just recently had one of those slightly sad moments when reality wins over whimsy.

When Kirk was in Korea he told us about the giant Korean Marshmallows that he saw all over the fields there. That stuck and when we moved here, the girls would get excited over the huge white plastic covered bales of hay. "Marshmallows!" "Look, Mom, marshmallows!" They'd all start shouting in unison as we'd drive by a field.

Then a friend of theirs, a very level headed young girl, told my head-in-the-clouds, Arianna that they weren't marshmallows, but bags of garbage. It was a sad day and Arianna was upset.

Now the girls all properly state that they are bags of hay. It isn't quite as charming to hear, "Look, Mom, big white bags of hay!" when driving down the street, but I do still enjoy their excitement over the little things in life.

This day we had a special treat when we drove home. A tractor was in the empty field next to our house creating a giant Korean marshmallow right in front of our eyes, so, with childlike wonder and excitement, we all stood to watch until the tractor finished and drove away.