Life: Idiotropic

Today I went with a friend to Dusseldorf to see a specialist for a 6 hour appointment. We had no idea what to expect. The small office was spread up and down a narrow hallway, so we entered, checked in, filled out the paperwork, then was sent down to the first waiting room. Instead of seeing a nurse, I heard my friend's name called over the intercom, so we stood up and walked out of the room looking around. A nurse about 30 feet away waved at us, so we went to her and were told to wait in a different waiting room. We talked. Then it was her turn. For 30 minutes I waited, read, and people watched. I found it interesting that the seating rules are different here. Newcomers to the room would not skip a seat like we do in the states. They would sit right next to a person even if there were plenty of seats available. So, though half the room was empty, I was soon sandwiched - an old woman on one side who looked as if she wanted to talk and a young man on the other who had no desire to chat with anyone.

Rita returned with instructions to leave and return in 2 hours. So, we left, took a long walk, and had a mediocre lunch at an Imbiss (schnell cafe).

Two hours later we returned to the second waiting room to wait for 40 minutes before she went in for another test. Then I found her in a third waiting room a bit later waiting for a third test. When that was finished, we sat in the fourth and final waiting area until we could see the doctor. That was the first time she'd met the doctor. All the tests were administered by nurses and techs. Then, when he'd reviewed her entire file, he brought her in to talk with her.

We'd arrived at 9. We left at 3:30.

So, Rita is in her 60's and has a problem with her knee: atrosis. She wants an alternative to surgery. At this clinic, they can inject her knee with radioactive isotopes that will somehow attack the atrosis and lessen the swelling that causes pain. It's interesting.

When can we schedule? Not August. The only manufacturer in the world, according to this doctor, of these isotopes is in Paris, France and they are getting a new reactor in August and will not be producing anything. In his broken English, "So in the world no one has this procedure in August."

This clinic only does this procedure on Thursdays and Fridays because the "stuff" is delivered on Thursday and with time loses potency.

The cost. Yep. We had to ask. "So, if my insurance doesn't pay for this..."
"Oh, but the insurance will pay."
"But if it doesn't."
"No, all insurance will pay." (That's the socialized medicine talking)
"But I have American insurance... it may not pay..."
"Well, with the initial exam and everything, about 500 Euro."

Wow. So, knowing how insanely expensive American medicine can be, think about what a weight that was lifted of Rita's shoulders.

A long, in depth 6 hour appointment with three tests, an injection, and several scans, AND the actual fancy Radio Scintography with this stuff that is ONLY made in Paris and has a two day shelf life - all of this for only 500 Euro. That is amazing. And such a blessing.

Today was the last day of school for Elise at the International Preschool. Some of you may not have realized that Elise was going to two schools. I haven't blogged much about it, but have talked about it here a lot with Kirk and my friends.

This year has been hard for me. With all the other girls I felt absolutely certain about their schools - where they should be. Decisions were made and I never second guessed myself - at least not much. But with Elise it's been different. I've spent this entire year deliberating my decision about sending her to the German kindergarten. Some days I love it and some days are just frustrating. If Elise loved it and ran in smiling every day, then there would be no discussion, but even after 6 months - even 8 months - she cried most mornings. She'd cling to me and cry - sometimes kick - and those poor teachers would have to pry her off and console her as I walked briskly away.

So, in March I found out that there was a two day per week slot opening at the International Preschool - the little school on base where both Arianna and Luci went when we moved here. There, the teachers are all German, but they all speak and teach in English. It's a happy place. So that last week of March Elise started and that first day she ran in smiling without the slightest hesitation. Her teachers told me that she went through her day with the other kids as if she'd been going there all year. That evening she sung songs perfectly that she'd just learned that day.

These last two months were those trial months. The time when I'd observe Elise and talk to Elise about her two schools. The time when I'd talk to Kirk and we'd try to come up with a decision that we felt good about. We had full time slots available to us at both schools for next year. We just had to know which one to let go.

And today, with Elise beaming from ear to ear, proud of her graduation and the certificate they gave her, running and playing with friends she'd known only months, but played better with than the kids she'd played with all year at the other school... today I knew.

And today I had the epiphany - that bolt of lightening - the realization that it wasn't just about her. The teachers at the German school are warm and wonderful. The kids have been sweet and helpful too. Elise has fun there and talks about it all the time. She has happy memories. But as I stood and talked to other parents... and as we made our summer plans and promises to get the kids together, I realized that Elise had none of that in Gillrath. Kids who live within walking distance might as well been countries away. I hadn't been able to connect with the parents. We didn't have play dates with those kids. Her birthday was a way that we reached out and they reached back, but that was monumental and may have been too late.

And so today - with her joyful face leaping around the playground with her friends - cemented the decision on which school stays and which goes. Elise has said all along she likes her "new" school better. She's right. This place is better for her. May be better for both of us.

'Cause I see something strange almost every day...

Yesterday I was driving down the back road towards Brunssum to drop Tiara off at the bus. (She left for a one-week beach trip in Italy) I was in a rush and driving quickly weaving in and out of these annoying artificial s curves in the road that narrows an already narrow road into a definite one-laner when I saw a middle aged women walking on the sidewalk just ahead. She was probably in her 50's, had on leprechaun green sweat pants on and a top that was quite tan. Or at least that's what I thought at first. I got closer. Her top was wrinkled. Closer. She wasn't wearing a top. Nothing from the waist up. And stupid me had to make the mistake of turning around. Ugh. Yep... definitely topless strolling along a well travelled road towards the Netherlands. I'm glad they have nudity laws in the states.

Today I was cleaning my kitchen and heard what sounded like yodeling coming from those tinny old-fashioned speakers... so I looked out my window. There was an tiny old tractor painted in bright red and green pulling a bubbly 60's style small camper in the same colors. There were 4 German flags attached to the tractor waving in the air as the tractor moved slowly down the street with a parade of traffic stuck behind it. I didn't see the radio, but there were definitely speakers in there somewhere because that old oompa music was loud. That was a camera moment. Couldn't get to it in time. But funny sight.

Yes. It's after midnight and I was all warm and cozy, settled into a pile of pillows with my open copy of Reading Lolita in Tehran. Was. But the constant flow of traffic and stuttered honking of horns one, then two, then a trio... is keeping me awake. I live in a small village in farm country in a nation where a grocery store that stays open until 8 is open late. There is almost never any traffic. Past 8, the streets are almost silent except in the sugar beat season when the large trucks rumble by late into the night. And soccer season. Fussball. Germany beat Portugal. Now they'll play the winner of the Croatia v. Turkey game. Everyone watches soccer. Even the non-sporty folks like me know what's going on. And I don't even have to watch a match. The honking tells all.

Ooo... a lull. If I hurry, I might be able to fall asleep before the next round of symphonic horn blaring. Wish me luck!

The Evil Eye on the wine bottle below is a gift from a dear Turkish friend who just moved. The Evil Eye is a very important and popular symbol there and can be seen in jewelry and artwork all over Turkey. This will ward off evil spirits... if it would only ward off dust bunnies...

First the coffees....

1.
This morning was the second to last Spanish morning which is sad. Really sad. I'm not overcome with emotion, though I think there will be a huge hole left. The language barrier is just enough where we haven't leaned on each other as much as some friends might. But for the last 2+ years I've kept my Friday mornings sacred and protected - those were only for the Spanish. We talked - A LOT. We shared ideas, stories, compared our countries... ate and cooked.

This morning I sat with Pepe who will move back to Murcia and is worried because she'll be living in the upstairs flat above her mother. In Spain it's quite common for families to share houses - for adults with children of their own to share and live in the same house with their parents. There are benefits - lots of them, but for a women with children of her own - and big ones at that who has been living here completely independently for 3 years, it will be a big adjustment and she knows that.

Carmen was there. She's a newcomer to our group, so I don't know her as well, but she is spirited and fun. She laughs - a lot - and completely, so though sometimes the conversations speed supersonic and I lose the joke, I still get tickled by her infectious laugh. She's moving too - to Madrid, may be? I'm not sure.

Joana was there. She's been there from the beginning. She speaks very little English. Never speaks English at our coffees. But she understands enough, so that if I get lazy and just can't summon the words en espanol, I can lapse into English without too much guilt. Joana is from Mallorca. She is freckled and fun, extremely passionate about politics and always vocal about what she believes in. An excellent cook - amazing, fantastic cook that makes everything look as good as it tastes. And she's just fun to be around. A bit emotional (she's Spanish - so it comes with the territory), she's spent most of the time I've known her battling one stress induced issue after another, but I think she's better now. We've seen her improve. We've laughed and cried. She's ready to be "home" though she's going to Madrid. There is sunshine there.

We drank coffee - at least Pepe and I. Joana always takes just a little warm milk, like today, or herbal tea. And ate tomate - pureed tomato with a bit of garlic on bread with olive oil and salt. And talked about the moves - and the transportation strike that has all four ladies worried that their household items might not get to Spain - at least not in a reasonable time frame. In Spain right now they are throwing eggplant and zucchini in the streets and dumping out large barrels of milk. And it saddens my friends here... there are poor people in Spain who could use that food that is wasted thrown, broken, and trampled on the street. Do we have problems like this in the US, I'm asked. No, yes, but no... not like this. It would not be permitted to happen like this - not to this extreme. But, as I've learned from coffees before... something happens in Spain and "no pasa nada." Nothing happens. The government is impotent.

We met at Maria's house today - one of the original. I remember the first day she and Joana came to my house. I was so nervous then not knowing them at all... fussing about the table, trying to make everything right. After a few weeks, they relaxed enough to get up and microwave the milk. Spanish only take warm milk in their coffee. And then I learned to do that first to have it ready for them.

I think that of this handful of ladies, Maria and I are the closest. She speaks the best English allowing me to communicate my feelings more. We shared similar frustrations with the German schools trying to make the best decisions for our children. We share similar ideas about politics and what's right. We can just relax and be. She seems serious, but has a fun sporty side to her. Willing to try most anything - even cheddar cheese with an apple slice which is quite odd to them. She always smiles - always. She's leaving a year early because her youngest has had such a difficult time here in German school. We're spoiled with the American school here. The other nationalities don't have the same benefits. Now, she's treading water... ready to go. Work to do at her house - a new house they built just months before moving here. She's ready to relax and be home. And I'll visit... I need to visit. She is one of those people that I must stay in touch with.

2.
Just three blocks away from Maria's house is Lorella's house - an Italian friend. And it is humorously obvious that it is the house of an Italian when you drive up to it - especially today in the pouring rain with the dark grey skies and the street lined with similar orange brick houses and you see this Italian villa - this bright burgundy red stucco house just sitting there among the brick like they'd helicoptered it direct from Verona.

She goes to Kenya to have beautiful leather, beaded, and woven treasures made. Today was her open house, so I went to look at handbags and shoes, fabrics and jewelry. All bright and beaded and beautiful. I went to look mostly and to sneak in a short visit before I picked up Elise. Lori and I have been more acquaintances than friends up to this point, mostly because of time or lack of, but I think after today that will change. As friends leave new ones step in not to replace, but to fill the void. She and I had a marvellous time talking together today - about language and living in Germany, children, traveling in Italy, food... she approved of my methods of making tiramisu. "You learned the right way," she says. And then she told me her "secret" to make it that much better. At 1220, when I had only 10 minutes to drive from Geilenkirchen to the base to pick up Elise, she poured me a coffee. "Oh, I'm sorry... I really need to go and get Elise." "You have time. It's just a coffee." And she shot hers as if it were tequila on a hot night. And I sipped quickly, then shot out the door. Later I returned to pick up a couple things from her shoe collection... we chatted some more and then she asked me to take her 11-year old son, whom I'd never met, to his school (which is very near to my house). And, wow. I'd never met a more polite, confident boy in all my life. And he speaks English, German, Italian (and I think Spanish too) all fluently. Amazing.

Ok... so the photos:

1. The conscripts. Germany has them. They're young and they march a lot. I don't see them daily, but every month or two I'll see them marching, walking, or running down a street somewhere in the area. Sometimes they are in a long sprawled out line, so you'll only see a couple at a time. Sometimes they are in an organized clump like this. This is normal. Though at first it's strange to see German boys in uniform carrying (what I'm sure are un-munitioned) weapons and a guy in a sling, it becomes kind of almost normal. Still turns my head though, so today I took a few photos. This is just one clump of them and probably only a quarter of the total today walking right in front of my house.
2. And, though the German flag is not flown much here, it is flown A LOT now during soccer season. Everyone is talking about futbol no matter who they are. (Except the Americans, of course, and the Canadians who get more excited about hockey until they lose to the US like they did last month.) The Spanish - even the ladies - go to games, watch the games, and fly their flag. All over the area are Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, and German flags adorning windows and cars. It's fun to see people get excited. And when a game ends, we know it by the line of cars honking as they speed down the B56. (All the women are particularly impressed with the Portuguese team this year. Apparently they have a couple, ahem, decent looking players. :) A video of them is going around - though I haven't seen it yet - may be I'll google it now?)

Just because this could be fun... I read this recently on a random blog and it's kind of a fun little exercise and could be a fun way to find some interesting books.



Meme 123
Directions:

1) Pick up the nearest book.
2) Open it to page 123.
3) Find the fifth sentence.
4) Post the next three sentences.
5) Pass the meme on to five more people, and acknowledge the person who tagged you.

God has blessed me with an incredible family both immediate and extended that I am both proud of and proud to be a part of and a circle of beautiful women all over the world that I can call my friends.

But today I had to say an extremely sad "see you later" to one of the greats -- I think it's the saddest good-bye I've ever had to say to a friend.

It's silly... but I kind of think friends are like shoes. You know, we have different kinds of friends to fill those different needs in our life, so just as shoes come in different colors and styles, we have funny friends and coffee friends, friends we can cry with and friends that we shop with, friends we can be fancy with at the theater and friends we sweat with at the beach. Some of our friends might fill several niches just like my black slides can go with jeans or skirts... but it's rare when there is someone who can do it all. I thought I'd come close...

And then I came here and I met this crazy lady that, at first impression (for who knows what reason) seemed Canadian. And she taught me to laugh, but allowed me to cry and listened when things didn't make sense. She gave me to gift of reading and filled a prized corner of my bookshelves with amazing literary nuggets of wisdom and faith while inscribing them with her own. We shopped for antique oddities and Italian treasures. We traveled, shared a room with an amazing view, ate food so good we giggled, drank the best coffee and watched fancy old women who were simply fabulous. We shared moments. I could be honest to a fault. Catty and rude, silly and frivolous, or completely overly serious. And it was ok. She went with every mood, every occasion and we had fun. She's wise, but doesn't make me feel like a kid. And she always knows what I need to hear - not what I always want to hear. She has faith in me and won't let me be less than what I should. The cornerstone of the great triumvirate. My right hand and my left brain. That was Holly. That is Holly. And yes, I know it's not good-bye and I know I live in this amazing age of internet and cheap phone calls. But she is that magical pair of shoes that goes with everything. And now, what will I wear?

Living this life where I move every couple years, I know good-bye. Good-bye stops in frequently here, creating distance between family and friends, testing the bonds, making us cling to the memories we cherish as if they'd sprout legs and run. Good-bye sneaks up quickly with that sideways glance that is sometimes mocking, sometimes sinister, but always hard to read. I don't like him. I don't like "see you later" either. The computer is ok, but you can't hug it.

And if I'd had the slightest inkling of who this was when I met her by the rasta cows on Schliefweg that day, I would've knocked her over with a big hug right then and there.

Today I attended two events at the girls' school. First, was the young authors tea, an opportunity for the students, (Arianna in this case) to show off their work to their parents. Parents and students congregated in the library where the kids, armed with large overstuffed portfolios, read to the waiting adults. I was absolutely impressed with the imagination, creativity, and skill in which Arianna wrote and illustrated. She's amazing. As soon as that was finished, the kids rushed to the MPR and changed. Then we saw the 1st grade classes put on a vocabulary parade in which each student, dressed like their vocab word of choice, marched across the state and gave us the definition. Arianna chose habitat. She wore my old green girl scout uniform, a green vine, a green hat, and flowers, then had a monkey hanging from her arm and a frog on her hand. Some kids got elaborate... we saw a cage full of hearts, an aquarium, a rubics cube, a globe, and a boy wrapped in a narrow tube of poster board made into a map with cars glued onto it - so tightly that he has to walk with very short steps, penguin-like, across the stage.

Run here. Run there. Fahren. Immer fahren. (driving. always driving) Tinny laughed the day she told me that I drove too much and I replied with "Ich bin taxi." Laugh, but it has its truth.

Today wasn't so much taxi fahren, but a list of things to do and places to go and only so many hours.

This morning was up, breakfast, feed kids, shower, bath Elise, wrap present, make grocery list...

Drive to Valkenburg and pray that I didn't run out of gas since I was too low and didn't have time to drive out of my way to a gas stations that would accept my ration coupons... attend birthday party for a friend of Elise' from her International school at the Valkenier which turned out to be a rather amazingly fun amusement park exactly perfect for her age group and just a smidgen over.

Yeah. It rained. And yeah. We got our pants wet trying to ride wet rides. Next time I'll bring a towel - just in case. But, Elise had fun! And I have to admit it. I had fun too. She could do all the rides even if she wasn't tall enough, if she rode with me. We didn't have a lot of time, but she really liked it there, so we'll go back. The fish are there too... in the small lake. You can buy food and feed them and they go crazy writhing around trying to get to the edge and eat. "Cooper" - at least that's what they are in Dutch.

From there sweating it to Schinnen where I could get a little gas... not a full tank because although it's our support base, it's in the Netherlands and gas is more expensive on that side of the border... so just a bit. Then groceries for the Greek dinner I was going to cook the next night for friends.

Back home, unloading groceries and getting ready...

drum roll, please.

Spa and Food. Hmmmmm.

Tonight I was completely honored to be included in a going-away night for some of my Spanish friends. There were 6 of us - 5 Spanish and 1 me. We went to the Carolus Thermae in Aachen - a large spa there and I was nervous, really nervous. After all, this is Europe. Modesty is different - sometimes non-existent. And a German spa is nothing like the hair, nails, massage, pampering place that I've seen in the US. They do have massage and beauty options, but they also have restaurants and bars, a huge sauna area, and the focal point: the pools. And not for swimming. It was beautifully done though. We got a chip that fit into the key in the small valuables locker. There were small rooms for changing privately, then a locker room on the other side with large lockers corresponding in number to our small lockers. So we wore our key bracelet and had plenty of space for our things. Then there are the pools... a large pool with contoured beds built into the sides so you can lay in the water and allow the jets to massage you, seats with those same relaxing jets, and lots of space to move around in the highly mineralled water. There were 3 hot tubs of different temperatures there that I saw (but may be more) and a cold tub, a relaxing room with music, and a sauna, then two outdoor pools, one with similar beds and a large waterfall, and the other with a whirlpool that swept us along so quickly we had to "go fishing for Spanish" and grab our friends as they circled to help them out when it was time to go. I felt like we were on a tour sampling each pool for a just little bit before the group moved off to another area, but it was nice, really nice. And when it was time to go, we took our time getting dressed up, then going out to the long counter area with mirrors and outlets where we could make ourselves up pretty before we went out. I pulled out my curling iron and Carmen asked me to show her how to use it. She'd never seen one before.

Then comes the food. We drove to a little corner of the city just a block from one of the old city gates and next to a park where we had reservations at a small, but immensely popular Vietnamese Restaurant that served absolutely delicious and exquisitely presented food - the perfect compromise between the sometimes too heavy flavor of Chinese and the often too spicy Thai. This was one to come back to... I'm already planning the day! We had egg rolls, a platter with 4 different meat dishes (chicken, pork, duck, and beef) with perfectly cooked vegetables, and a light ice cream for dessert. Each plate had a pink orchid on it. Noemi and I each ate one just to try it and it was good... crunchy almost with that light wateriness of the water chestnut.

Home by 11:30. Such a great night!

If you are four and have listened to the stories of E.B. White, then all spiders are named Charlotte. This is just how it is. Elise illustrated this fact once again (as all of my girls have talked sweetly to spiders) today while sitting on the toilet. There, she noticed the tiniest of baby spiders dropping down onto the toilet paper roll. And, instead of reacting with disgust or fear, she said, in her softest sweetest voice, "hello, Charlotte." And then a whole conversation started with Elise talking most sincerely to this spider as if she expected an answer, and then quite disappointed when, without even a good-day, the spider disappeared. And I'm hearing all this from the kitchen while she sat on the toilet. "Charlotte, Charlotte, where are you? Where did you go, Charlotte?"

Later in the evening...

Elise is telling me about her German school yesterday and how a spider crawled up the arm of her jacket and I ask her if that spider was Charlotte too.

"No, that Spider's Angry. She's the mommy spider and she's angry that her baby didn't come home for dinner."

Gas seems to be a topic of discussion everywhere. You all complain in the states and we all complain here. After all, our gas rations are supposed to be a bit lower than the US national average and it tends to be on the higher side making us wonder where that excess goes. Still, by doing the math and seeing what locals here pay, I am grateful for our coupon books and understand better why bicycles are so popular here. If I had to pay $9/gallon, I'd be riding my bike too.

We purchased 100 liters today for $109.53. In Germany, the price for 100 liters of gas is 149.90Euros. It's even more expensive in the Netherlands. While we are driving around Germany, it's not so bad. We can buy gas at Esso stations which can mean driving out of the way sometimes, but at least we get gas at our price and not theirs. The problem is longer road trips. Driving outside of Germany is expensive if you have to fill up with gas there. We've paid over $150 just to fill one tank of gas in France... and that was when the dollar/Euro conversion rate was a little kinder.

The math...

I pay $1.095/liter or $4.145/gallon
They pay $2.374/liter or $8.986/gallon

Since I'm ALWAYS the one holding the camera providing me with TONS of beautiful photos of Kirk with our girls and almost NONE of me, I finally made an appointment with a photographer who just moved into town. She's absolutely wonderful and we had a good time. Here are the photos!

http://picasaweb.google.com/CatherineSparks/StalhaumFamilyPortraits


And, since she is trying to set up a legitimate photography business here in Germany, she isn't accepting payment yet (wants to make sure that there are no glitches in the legit business - it's difficult here), so we'll just make a donation. This is the charity that she supports... a beautiful thing. https://www.nowilaymedowntosleep.org

On our way to the Keukenhof last month, Elise had to go to the bathroom. Knowing that the autobahn was a long stretch with no facilities, I convinced Kirk to pull over by some trees on a narrow dirt road. Elise was uneasy at first, but finished triumphant and giggling in that "I just did something not entirely acceptable" kind of way... she was thrilled. She said it was fun to potty in the grass.

Today I was walking outside to talk to Kirk while he grilled our dinner when Luci passed by me informing me that she was getting tissue for Elise who needed to go potty. So, I walked by Kirk and went into the garden to find her. No where in sight. "Elise?" The leaves of the hedge rustled and there peaked out my youngest, bare bottomed with her underwear and skirt in her hand. "I had to go potty," she said. "Have you gone yet?" "No." "Well, then get in the house and go!!!"

Silly girl. You'd think I had boys. Guess she's ready for a camping trip.

I've had a difficult time focusing on this blog lately. Not because there isn't anything going on. The kids continue to grow and do amazing things that make me burst with both laughter and pride. My life continues to bless me with opportunities and people, events, and bits of culture. And, of course, I still have some absolutely amazing trips to properly post before I start off on any new ones.

Really, truly, it will come. I need to do it for myself and my children as much as anyone else. But this is a season of mixed emotion.

Many of the current happenings here are tainted with good-byes. I don't like good-byes in any form unless, of course, it's a swarm of ants or something. Unfortunately, these aren't ants I'm saying good-bye to. These are my best friends. People who have given me the invaluable gifts of friendship, memories, and laughter. So in every party and celebration that we attend now, there's a precious friend who's leaving, one who will say good-bye with the hope and intention of staying in touch, visiting again, and continuing the growth of a friendship. I do hope that I am diligent enough to keep those friendship alive.

And then there's grandpa. When I was a little girl I wanted to learn to speak Hungarian so that I could talk to Omi, my great-grandmother, but she passed away before I learned even a word. This last year I kept getting busy or for some reason, put off writing about the many trips we took. When I did write about one, I would get a nice note with a poem and some family photos from my grandfather who would thank me for the "email" and praise my writing ability. Grandpa wrote and painted. His praise holds immense value to me and now it's gone except for the pile of precious hand-written notes I've saved

Last time I saw grandpa he asked when I would send another "email." Soon, grandpa, soon. And now it just doesn't matter - as much. I never blogged my trip to Austria - grandpa's birthplace - or Spain, a place he'd been. Or Brugge...

I will continue. There is importance still and I do want to get my memories down before they fade, but when it slows, and when I take these pauses... it's sometimes just too hard. I can't write about any of those trips from last year without that tinge of regret that my grandfather will not be able to read them. And I see so much of him here in this continent where he was born... memory is bittersweet.

This evening Arianna asked me if she could play dress-up. I said "yes" and she did a little jump and whispered "yes" triumphantly as if I'd just told her she could have a pony, then she ran upstairs and that was the last I saw her for a little while. I was busy with other things. At some point Luci and Elise joined her... and then they all ended up outside. Pretty soon they wanted to play on the back street - and they said that Tante was out there so I let them go.

A bit later I went out to check on them and saw Luci in her frilly pink dress skating around in roller blades. Arianna was on the bike. By the time I got my camera they'd switched, but this is how they spend a couple hours this evening - the skater biker princesses. Elise is the only normal once in the bunch - at least today.

That was the plan... but 2/3 kid parties ended up cancelled, changed, etc... so only Arianna got to go to hers. I, however, went to three parties this weekend. Not bad.

I enjoyed a leisurely Friday with my kleinest daughter and my closest friend driving over hill and dale looking for a little antique store that proved to be quite a gem. Actually, we found two gems that day. First, a beautiful gift shop in Hillensburg where I found an old enamel pot, then, after stopping by and not finding anything worth the long line at the cash register at the rather pathetic commissary case lot sale, we ended up in a little Dutch town at a beautiful antique shop full of architectural finds, old signs, wooden flour troughs, and large bread boards. It's a store that I could be quite dangerous for me. Too many fun things to see... and buy. Elise played with the small antique ice box while I perused the rest. This was a well-filling place. An artsy, fun, inspirational little shop of fun old stuff and ideas. The drive there was nice too across the green rolling Limburg hills with sprawling brick farmhouses littering the countryside. I'm going back this Friday. The only downside to this excursion was that we got thirsty and Elise was hungry, so we stopped at the first (not the best idea) place we saw. Functional, but not fun. Yucky, overpriced, greasy food... and poor, slow, not even with the slightest hint of courtesy service.

So while I'm driving to find food, my phone rings.... and it's Kirk... so instead of driving and talking, I pull over then (hence the icky cafeteria). He'd been invited by the general to a scotch tasting at his house, so, Friday night, Arianna was off at her friend's sleepover, Tiara watched the youngest two, and Kirk and I headed out for a social event. The boys all ate bar food and had a scotch tasting (they had more than a mere taste)... and the ladies all walked down to a new Italian restaurant in town - a very good one at that and enjoyed conversation and delicious food. The ladies clearly made the better choice. We returned to a yard full of humorously silly, but slurring men who eventually ended up in the swimming pool playing some sort of game where they had to keep a beer in their hand at all times. The great thing is that they didn't talk about work during that pool time - a topic that the guys have a hard time avoiding.

The night ended at midnight and I should have been home not too long after, but we drove one of Kirk's friends home (still not a problem)... and I made the mistake of heeding the advice of my not-perfectly-clearheaded husband and instead of backtracking and going the way I knew, tried a different way (the problem) and ended up meandering around narrow dirt forest roads clearly marked "no vehicles" for a good 30+ minutes. Finally took my own advice and back tracked. Got home at 0130.

Saturday I cooked and cleaned all day for a party I threw at my house that evening for Holly, my closest friend here who is moving to Texas in two weeks. :( Trying not to think too much. I'm really going to miss her.

I made raspberry sour cream cheesecake, tiramisu, puffed pastry cones stuffed with chocolate custard, baked brie in puffed pastry, stuffed jalapenos, and a delicious nectarine wrap (recipe to follow). YUM. The other ladies brought food as well and we had wine, sangria, and iced sweet tea.

Conversation, lip syncing to Queen, swing dancing, story telling and a lot of laughter.... I won't need a going away next year. This was good. The people were all there. The photographs will be priceless.

Kristi took a group photo of all of us and I asked Tante Tinny to come. We waited and waited wondering what was taking her so long... then she came out, having changed into very nice dress clothes to join us taking both Holly's arm and mine while we sat together on the bench.

We all invited her to stay and eat with us, but she didn't come back in until around 11 when she came in clanging a bell and laughing with us all. (About 15 ladies came)

Last guests left after midnight. Another 0130 morning.

Sunday was relaxed... church, Immendorf for coffee and cake afterwards, then a neighborhood social that evening. A perfectly balanced day.

Now the house is reasonably clean and I have a day to rest, fold laundry and recoup before this week gets busy as well.

Here's a recipe worth making... it got RAVE reviews!

The bright yellow rape fields have finally shed their blooms but almost instantly, the poppies have come up in their place and the wheat fields are exploding with their whiskered stalks.

Thursday was Corpus Christi day, a Catholic and German holiday, so Elise had no school and Kirk didn't work. Instead, I took Kirk to one of my favorite haunts, that beautiful cafe in Beeck where I take friends all the time. Kirk hadn't been there - ever - but he loved it and asked why we don't go once a month! Since today was a holiday, they added salmon, fresh tuna, mettwurst and wine creme to the usual hearty breakfast buffet. We stuffed ourselves on fresh breads, cheeses, and German meats. Elise ate brotchen and schinkenwurst - her favorite. With no schedule to follow, we took a leisurely walk by the wheat fields after breakfast where Elise and I were happy to see a tiny golf-ball sized baby pheasant hiding among the trampled wheat stalks between two wide tractor tracks - may be not the best place for a nest.

This has been a relaxing week with three days spending time at the ceramic center at one of the bases pouring, shaping, and cleaning up ceramics. Clay therapy.

Luci went to the zoo on Thursday with her class and liked it, but didn't say a lot about it. She's more interested in the critters that she can take home. Elise has two days off school because of the holiday and had a good time "hanging out" with mom. Arianna went to her first sleepover this week at a friend's house and was the first one to fall asleep. Tiara got to babysit twice this weekend and made some cash - a teenager's favorite thing.

Just a little thing we take fore granted. Language. It slows things down here. Had an ultrasound on a Thursday at a German clinic. The doctor's report was, of course, in German. I brought it to the American clinic on the Friday. That was over a week ago. The paperwork (though it's only a half page in length) has to go to a translation service. I went in today. The doctor hadn't seen it. They expect it back Friday of next week - a full 3 weeks after I originally turned it in. Good thing I don't have some fatal, time sensitive issue going on.

Of course, for me, the major frustration is that I was told that because it was short, that they would translate it there for the doctor and I could go ahead and make my appointment. It is frustrating to get up early and make special arrangements, go to the MD and have them say, "so why are you here? I don't have any paperwork." Yep. That's life here. Wonderful in most ways, but extremely irritating in others. Sometimes I feel like we live in another epoch long ago.

A friend of mine took her son to the emergency room on Sunday. They told her they don't take children. She had to drive 45 minutes to the next one who prescribed antibiotics. The hospital didn't have a pharmacy. All the pharmacies in town were closed. It's scary how ill prepared they are for some things here... how many things people just accept and don't make better. Medicine seems basic. Especially at a hospital.

Advil is prescription only here. Poor Tinny had the most horrible headaches sometimes and has nothing that works for them. Once in a while she'll ask if I have something and she is always so happy when one simple little advil tablet will quickly work.

Herbs are pushed here with the same vigor that medicines are in the states. Somewhere in between lies a balance that I haven't seen attained. A mentholated bath, menthol tablets, menthol tea, even menthol enemas to cure a cold... people use these things here. Doctors prescribe them.

... and I can't find the buns!!! Seriously... have the hotdogs and all the extras, but there is not a bun to be found at Schinnen. 240 packages should arrive on Wednesday, I'm told, but that won't help me now. Hot dogs on hoagies? Will have to do, but not what I had hoped for.

Not stressing, not stressing...

Ok, it's not working. It's not how I'm wired. I was born to stress. Mellow is so not my style. I stress over the most organized parties. I stress over work that's already done. I never allow myself to mellow until the event is over. Though at times I am successful in appearing nonchalant, my husband and children know the manic me.

I'd be worried if this was a normal American birthday party, but it's instead a "normal" American birthday party with about 8 (I think) or more German children attending. Somehow that has the pressure on to make it special. Really, this could be the only time that some of these children are in the home of an American or experience something like this... it's got to be good. The list of activities is done... the games are ready... I made a pinata and bought one... cake is done. Mentally preparing. Kirk will translate. I think we'll have about 10 kids.


So, I wake up the day of Elise' party after staying up late preparing for an absolutely fabulous back yard bash with all the games and outdoor fun a kid could want. My alarm goes off at 0700. Kirk tells me it's raining and isn't going to stop all day.

Shifting gears. Almost all activities planned required the good ol' outdoors. So, I looked up activities, stressed, worried, and grumped. Cleaned and got food ready. I expected 10 kids.

At noon the doorbell rang and a steady stream of German children came in with their mothers. At the end we had over 18 kids - and only 3 of those were Americans. That number didn't include ours either. But it was fun. The kids played in the courtyard and the Schlachthaus with balls, chalk, and bikes. They played in the house with the legos and choo-choos that I'd gotten down. My friend, Kristi, painted faces for hours. We ate, we did two pinatas. And, I think, the kids had fun. Three parents stayed. That was it. 3.

And that absolutely amazed me. Imagine your 3-5 year old child is invited to a party at the home of a non-American. You don't know them. You've never been to their house. Will you drop off your child for 2 hours? They did. Yeah, I see them at the kindergarten and we exchange basic pleasantries, but I am not part of their community, really. I'm an outsider. I don't speak their language well. And they really don't know me. But there they were leaving their kids here and the kids were ok too. They played and talked to me as if I should understand every word. Surprisingly enough, I understood enough. They were sweet, well-behaved, and so fun. I can't wait until next year. One parent took the time to record 6 German children's music onto CD's for Elise and wrote out every single song on the back for us. They were so kind.

Here I wanted to impress them and they definitely impressed me. They made me feel like a lot less of an outsider and more like an accepted member of the community. And I got to hear Elise talking with her friends auf deutch which is just incredible to hear.