Our Feet Are The Same

When You Don't Have Time to Write...

2011-03-23T12:50:00.000+01:00

With three kids it feels like a full-time job just keeping passports and vaccinations up to date... so just pictures.

Nicknames

2011-03-10T07:23:00.001+01:00

Since we haven't yet decided how to pronounce our son's name (i.e., Jonas or Yonas), we avoid using his name and refer to him with a variety of nicknames, including:

Sweet Ness Monster

Stinky

Bobble Head

Mr. Happy Pants

Sweet Poo (OK, Ralf doesn't actually call him this)

Blow Out Boy

Sir

Spring is officially on its way! Since I already wrote the definitive post on Spring I have nothing more to say.

I Love You but You're Annoying

2011-03-03T09:49:00.001+01:00

He looks so sweet, doesn't he?

And so he is... when he's sleeping. The rest of the time he's a bit of a disgruntled customer. Not to mention stubborn, opinionated and anal retentive.

(He'll be a fine German man.)

Boys and their digestive systems! Sheesh!

But we love him dearly. Good thing for him he's so cute.

Since this is my third child his cries don't send me into transports of panic. I cuddle him, kiss his silky little head and breath in his musky scent and wait patiently for the crying to stop. And occasionally I just let him cry for a bit while I throw in a load of laundry.

With my girls I'm a bit less patient: Over the weekend K wrote a note saying how desperately bored she felt so I made her clean her room for an hour.

She hasn't been bored since. ;-)

They've been wonderful, though. L gives J his bottle and K reads to L and teaches her math. Whoever invented big sisters was a genius.

Oh, hey, the baby's crying again. Gotta run!

House Project - Pictures

2011-02-23T10:39:00.000+01:00

We still need to hang a picture and real lights but you get the idea:

What is Down with Our Bad Selves?

2011-02-19T11:22:00.005+01:00

I thought K was a big eater with her fierce feeds every two hours on the hour but J makes her look like a lightweight. I've never had a baby that eats so much! Mind you, I've also never had a baby that can pee on its own head so even a mother of three can learn something new.

Have I mentioned he's lovely?

Naturally we've chosen this time to do some major home construction in the living and dining rooms, including re-plastering the walls and hanging molding.

To make matters more hectic, we decided to go with a cheaper contractor, who announced he didn't feel comfortable hanging real clay molding after he'd already torn up the living room. So we had to go crawling back to the expensive guy and beg him to come while all our furniture was still under plastic.

He was actually quite nice about it, in a sardonic way. When Ralf poked his head in the shop he was greeted with: 'Your guy can't hang it, can he?'

Ralf admitted this was the case. He also expressed some doubts about the molding we'd chosen, as it looked awfully big for the room when we held it up.

'Scared of a little molding, huh?' the interior designer asked amiably.

'Actually, I'm scared of my wife,' retorted Ralf with dignity.

'Aren't we all?' (This, of course, was a reflexive question and didn't require an answer.)

Then he offered to divert two of his workmen to hang the molding, which was very decent of him, and the final painting is happening right now. . . only the first guy's doing that so it's been a crazy week of rotating workmen.

But it's almost done...

I'll try to post pictures next week.

It's Nature, Not Nurture

2011-02-14T12:59:00.000+01:00

Now that I have three kids I feel entitled to say that their personalities come fully baked.

J, my baby, is up for anything as long as he is fed every hour. I predict he will remain easy going and be a good eater.

L, my 5-year-old, is the same sweet mama's girl she's always been. She's a little jealous of J but not one to carry a grudge. The other day she walked to the store with me, 20 minutes both ways without a word of complaint. When we got home she announced, 'I would never have let you go alone, mommy. It's too cold!'

And K, my 7-year-old, is the same clever, opinionated being she ever was. When I asked her if she wanted to walk with me to the store, her answer was short and to the point: 'No way. Too boring.' It's exactly the sort of thing she would have said as a newborn if she could have talked.

Ah, I'm a lucky woman.

Love, Love, Love

2011-02-14T12:48:00.000+01:00

The Big Unveiling

2011-02-05T11:52:00.002+01:00

His name is.... Jonas!

Thank you everyone for your kind wishes. More pictures to follow.

Are You a Snort?

2011-02-04T10:52:00.000+01:00

Our baby is here! And we finally settled on a name, although we still haven't decided how to pronounce it.

They say pride goeth before a fall. And sure enough, after telling everyone who asked that of course I planned to have an epidural - how idiotic not to in this day and age - there turned out not to be enough time.

Yeah. Not fun.

He's a cute little guy, not that I'm biased or anything, although I have to say that changing girls is a bit easier...

The day he was born he looked right at me and got a very doubtful expression on his face, as if he wanted to say: "You are not my mother. You are a snort!"

That's when I fell in love.

The Final Countdown

2011-01-06T22:38:00.000+01:00

My son will be born in 3 weeks.

I've been reflecting on my many blessings this holiday season and as you can imagine, this unexpected little boy* figures pretty largely in them.

*Yes, I know how babies are made, I mean that I expected another girl. Girls are what I know.

And although I heartily dislike being pregnant and babies are disruptive to one's professional aspirations and other activities one might prefer to engage in, I am able to find comfort in the reflection that:

It's only for 3 more weeks.
His head will smell deliciously musky for the first several years.
He will probably become a rich and famous soccer player, who will not forget his mum.
He may not marry someone I thoroughly disapprove of.
My cleavage will never be this good again.

But as many of you know, theoretical future good and fabulous cleavage are cold comfort in the final weeks of pregnancy. I'm uncomfortable and it would be quicker to tell you what parts of me don't ache than what parts of me do.

Sitting at my computer is also painful, which is why I haven't been around much lately. I apologize for that.

I probably will not write again until after the baby is born and may not be able to give your blogs the attention they deserve in the meantime but I sincerely wish you all the best in this new year.

We totally deserve it.

Happy Holidays!

2010-12-26T12:34:00.007+01:00

Happy holidays to all you wonderful bloggers who generously share my life while working, raising families and finding your way in the world. Together we are stronger.

Happy holidays to Renee, who has successfully lived without a roof over her head for years. I hope the new laptop will be useful in the new year and inspire you to new great things.

Happy holidays to my wonderful Grandma, who had such fun visiting Munich several Christmases ago and could still sing the Hansel and Gretal opera in German and (for some reason) the French national anthem.

Happy holidays to Laura, Emmanuelle and Abu, our three sponsored children in Africa and Bolivia. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas season and continue to do well in school next year.

Happy holidays to the amazing working moms I know and am proud to be friends with. (And all moms are working.)

Happy holidays to my two little girls, whose names mean 'Clarity of Purpose' and 'Enduring Light.' You are both perfectly named.

Happy holidays to my little man, who I can't wait to meet. Your name (after we considered hundreds of names, such as Dave, Gerhard, Logan, Hasso, etc.) means either 'Bringer of Peace' or 'Destroyer,' depending on whether one is feeling more Yiddish or Hebrew. I imagine there will be days when either name suits you, my darling boy.

Happy holidays to my fabulous husband, whose eyes light up with admiration and love when he looks at my perfectly round tummy and who makes up such amazing children's stories. He even liked his Land's End pajamas, although he fears the extreme softness of the flannel will make him weak.

(We finished our children's book and if anyone would like a copy leave a comment with an email address.)

Happy holidays!

No Dublin for Me This Year...

2010-12-13T11:10:00.000+01:00

I'm fond of the Irish. I mean, sure, I know some irritating Irish people but in general I like the way they talk, I like how they always bring a book of gloomy poetry as a housewarming gift and I appreciate the seriousness with which they regard breakfast.

I've liked people for far less.

That's why I'm rather bummed to miss the European office party in Dublin this year - I'm too big to fly - so Ralf will be partying, breakfasting, chatting up Rory and Fergus and touring the Guinness factory on his own this year.

It's not that I don't love having kids but next time I call dibs on being the dad...!

Homunculus Domesticus Americanus

2010-12-08T15:04:00.000+01:00

Nothing says Christmas like online shopping so while Ralf was in California I ordered him some soft shearling slippers and a pair of monogrammed PJs from Land's End.

Then I had a dilemma - you have 14 days to return items but it was more than 14 days to Christmas.

I had no choice: I had to get him to try it all on.

First the PJs, which he stared at silently before observing glumly, 'It's monogrammed. You can't send it back anyway.'

Good point. I re-wrapped the PJs and pulled out the slippers, which he stared at even more silently.

'You don't like them?' I prompted.

'I, ah, wouldn't have picked them out for myself,' he admitted. His eyes tracked longingly to his beloved tatty old house shoes.

'Why not?' I demanded. 'They're nice!'

'I'll look like a domesticated American man in those things,' he muttered.

Well, he had a point. A girl can dream, can't she? I mean, if I can wear a Dirndl, he can suck it up and wear Land's End liesure wear.

But... long story short, I kept the PJs and sent the slippers back. Baby steps.

While in California he received an iPad from our CEO in recognition of his hard work. K and L were highly excited about this, since the iPad games include a farting cat. They usually resent his long hours, but as soon as they understood that the iPad was his reward for said long hours L (5) shoved him toward his office and K (7) told him to try and earn us a Wii next time.

Oh, and a belated Happy Thanksgiving - heading into 9 months and my tummy's bigger than the turkey!

On Family

2010-12-02T10:16:00.000+01:00

Sorry I've been quiet but what with being 8 months pregnant, working and getting ready for Christmas I've been kind of busy. Oh, and being a single mom this week while Ralf's in California.

I'm looking forward to a quiet family Christmas this year. I have three stories to write up before the children's book I'm writing is finished and I have great plans for sewing extremely simple doll clothes over the next few weeks.

Next weekend we'll procure and decorate the tree, listen to Nat King Cole and bake gingerbread cookies - and I can eat as many Christmas cookies as I want because let's face it, I'm not getting any thinner until at least February.

I can even look out at the snow with a charitable eye because this morning my neighbor shoveled snow out of my driveway. I tell you, once you've known them for about ten years, Germans turn into wonderful, loyal friends!

Little Beauregard is doing well, although I hope I'm not about to change that with the slightly past its prime chicken I'm baking right now. Ralf read about how some woman had her baby at the Vienna Opera house and got a lifetime membership so now he wants me to start hanging at the Allianz arena. Just in case.

K is acting in a Christmas production and needs an angel costume, a requirement that caused me some anxiety since the child has no white clothes except t-shirts. And I'm not one of those moms that can sew a white dress and make glittery wings out of cardboard.

Yesterday she was absolutely frantic to knock next door and ask to borrow an angel dress. When I asked her why she was in such a rush she turned haunted eyes to me and said: 'Last night I dreamed I had to perform in a white t-shirt and polka dot leggings!'

Which, to be fair, was an option I had been considering. I congratulated her with a straight face on figuring out her own costume while chuckling to myself that she definitely knows her mum.

I guess family are the people who know you well and love you anyway.

Last Week's Search Key Words

2010-11-17T09:40:00.001+01:00

Last week's search key words - I'm delighted to be a resource for questions on Israeli men, cleavage and having a stuffed nostril while pregnant.

This is what I've accomplished today

2010-11-11T11:41:00.002+01:00

After a crazy work week - I haven't yet mentioned to my new boss that I'm part-time - I'm between projects, i.e., several big projects are either wrapped up, haven't started yet or are finished but awaiting input.

So... I'm working on a collection of short stories. The stories were invented by Ralf as bedtime stories. The girls each get to choose two story elements, which he then has to weave in. I apply my amazing writing skills and scan in pictures my girls have drawn that fit each story. In the end we will hopefully have a book, which the girls will get for Christmas.

Some of you may recall The Adventures of Tom, Pin Pin and Suzi, which also appears in the collection.

Unfortunately, I have writer's block. This is what I've accomplished so far today:

Life Goes On

2010-11-05T11:26:00.000+01:00

My Grandma died last week. She was a splendid grandma who lived to a ripe old age and invariably impressed my friends meeting her for the first time by waving her cane around and being up for anything. When I was young she read to me by the hour, baked with me, sewed for me, drew pictures with me, played endless games with me and taught me the chapters of the Bible, which I can still recite.

She was one of the most live and let live people I have ever known and after living almost a century had an incredibly balanced view of life. Although she wasn't much for talking about her own younger days, she would occassionally chime into a gloomy conversation about the state of the world with upbeat comments about how she grew up with coal ovens, asbestos, polio, etc., and lived through both world wars.

Life goes on, she would say.

She loved nothing so much as conversation, which made her final stroke especially sad. She was a talented musician and pianist and trained as an opera singer at Vasser before she married her father's top seminary student and started a family. She kept her voice well into her late 80s and her mental faculties until the very end.

She donated money to environment organizations and charities around the world and was a deeply spiritual person, although she never criticized me for concluding that organized religion is a load of hooey.

She was a fine looking carrot top in her younger years and bequeathed me my redhead complexion, my robust peasant girl build and certain angles in my face.

She was so pleased about Gerhard. Or Rocco. Or James Tiberius. I wish she could have met him.

Here are my grandparents. These pictures were taken when they were younger than Ralf and me, which kind of makes you go, hmmmn. But you can see where I get my good looks.

Good bye, Grandma. Thank you for taking such good care of me all my life. I'll miss you and will never forget you. Part of you will still be with us every day.

Love,
Laura

I'm NOT living through my children... exactly

2010-10-22T12:23:00.000+02:00

K has been enrolled in gymnastics class since she was three years old so I was getting worried when she turned 7 and still couldn't do a cartwheel.

I'm a fairly easy going mother. I mean, I'm strict about a few things, but I don't expect to live vicariously through my children.

Except for one thing: the cartwheel. I require that all of my children can do a perfect cartwheel by the age of 8.

Why? Because I never could, dammit. I practiced all summer when I was 8 and I totally sucked. I never got over it.

I reckon some people just aren't at their best when flying through the air.

Recently we found a new hard core gymnastics class that meets 2 hours twice a week. And after only 4 classes K can execute a flawless cartwheel.

She has now satisfied all of my vicarious ambitions for her.

Of course, I would also like see to see her happy, productive, self-confident and married to a good man with three kids and a satisfying career but I don't insist on it. I'm just the mom here, not the puppet master.

Mind you, I'm not done yet messing with my children's lives. L already do a fine handstand but we still have to nail that cartwheel. And little Gerhard won't be able to do a cartwheel for quite a while.

You want to call him WHAT???

2010-10-15T09:26:00.001+02:00

Me: Honey, I have the perfect name!

Ralf leans back in his chair and regards me warily across seven years of blissful matrimony.

Me: Gerhardt! Isn’t that a great name?

A pause during which several expressions cross his face, followed by no expression at all.

Ralf: You want to name our son Gerhard?

I nod.

Ralf: Gerhard Schroeder.

Me: Uh huh. I like that name.

Ralf: As in the former German Chancellor?

Me (frowning): Well…. yeah. Why not? He was a good Chancellor.

Ralf: Why don’t you just name him Elvis Presley?

Me (primly): It’s not at all the same thing. People have heard of Elvis.

Ralf: Or Barrack Obama?

Me (rolling my eyes): Way more people have heard of him, too.

Ralf: Yeah, in… He struggles to come up with a suitably obscure location. Texas! THIS IS GERMANY!!!

Me: Hey, what about Tex?

No response besides a slight widening of the nostrils.

Me (regrouping): Anyway, I want to spell it with a ‘t’ at the end, so it’s not even the same name.

Ralf: I refuse to discuss this.

That means he feels strongly about it.

Me (in a wheedling voice): We could call him Gary. Or Hardy. No one would need to know.

Ralf: Go now. Buy a fish. Name it Gerhard or Geronimo or whatever you need to get out of your system.

Me (parting shot): It’s not like I want to name him George Bush!

Sheesh. I guess we’ll have to call him Deke or Garbanzo after all.

My Big Man and My Little Man

2010-10-12T12:02:00.000+02:00

My little man is growing and kicking up a storm but until my next doctor visit I probably won't have any news about him. I'm growing, too, and people no longer tell me I look exactly like Kate Moss.

I miss that.

If the baby had been a girl I would have named her Annika but her surprise sex change has left us struggling for a male name that both Germans and Americans can pronounce and doesn't sound too Biblical.

For example, my favorite name Ethan is pronounced 'Ay-tan' here, which is stupid. Ditto with other names I like: Justin = 'yoo-steen.' Jason = 'ya-zon.'

My favorite German names have been overruled by Ralf, who assures me no self-respecting German would gives these names to a child: Markus, Dieter, Johann.

Cool international names such as Iago and Merrik have been overruled on similar grounds.

Other names ~~we're~~ I'm considering: Starbuck, Annikin, Meriadoc, Vlad, Iorich, Albus and Saturn.

But now a call out to my big man, who thinks I'm beautiful (or is at least wise enough to pretend he does) and says all the right things, for example:

When I was worried about cosmic radiation from flying: "The gummy bear needs to man up."

When I was worried about bringing another person into a crowded, depleted, irresponsible world: "Don't worry, this one will be the one who saves us all."

When I tied a jaunty ribbon around my middle: "That looks completely st... great!"

When I tried a new recipe: "Figs. With cheese." A pause. "Yum."

Isn't he wonderful? :-)

It's probably time to mention...

2010-10-08T10:30:00.001+02:00

I recently posted a picture of me in my new dirndl. A few people correctly pointed out that you don't see much of the dirndl in the picture.

This was intentional. The dirndl picture camoflaged something I haven't felt ready to announce until now:

I'm pregnant!

Yes, it is true. Sorry, Kristina, I know this will upset you.

Although I thought I was done having children - and in fact swore never to be pregnant again last time around - a passing moment of baby notalgia changed my mind for about 5 minutes and that was apparently enough.

There are numerous reasons not to have a baby but there are even more reasons to have one, such as:

Maternity fashion has come a long way since I was pregnant with L. Back then you had a choice between a too-short baby doll top with unflattering stretch pants or a floral mu-mu dress. Today, long empire-waisted tunics are in, praise the Lord.
I have absolute power. I can yell, 'GET ME SOME FOOD!' day or night and I will be obeyed by total strangers.
I somehow never threw away any of our baby stuff. . . it felt too wasteful to give away stuff before it was worn to threads.
Actually, scratch number three, because IT'S A BOY!!!
I'd never had an amnio before and I was always curious.

An amnio is where they stick a needle through your stomach into your womb to gather genetic materia in order to screen for down's syndrome. It's about as much fun as it sounds.

I don't know how it is in the US but in Germany they give you a brochure with a graphical cartoon of a baby floating in a disembodied womb with a big needle sticking in from the outside.

I found the picture distressing but received a disapproving frown when I cheeped in dismay and inquired if it had to be so. . . graphic.
"That's what happens," I was informed sternly by the medical assistant. "What else would the picture show?"

Ohhhh kaaaaay.

The doctor who did the procedure (recommended because the baby's small intestine echoed funny and was 'too pale' in the ultrasound, whatever that means) patted my hand kindly and informed me that although the procedure isn't fun, at least in Germany they use 'thin' needles.

It felt a bit like being congratulated for not having my baby in a barbarian country like the US where they still use railroad spikes but I appreciated the thought.

I was warned I would feel a prick and some pressure but it was way more than pressure. It starts with a prick sure enough but right as you're thinking now would be a good time to stop the needle continues to punch through your stomach muscles.

I had sore muscles for two days but the procedure only lasted 40 second. And we had our results the next day so I really can't complain, especially since our baby has the normal number of chromosomes.

Let me mention here that my regular doctor was on summer vacation when I was refered for ultrasound because the baby's kidneys looked a bit irregular. When my doctor returned after all the excitement (ours, not his) he raised a perplexed eyebrow and inquired mildly why we did an amnio in the first place.

We told him the whole kidney ultrasound story, whereupon he informed us that swollen kidneys are pretty common in boys. Then he rolled his eyes. 'Geneticists!'

We're actually still waiting on one more test for cystic fibrosis, not because anyone thinks our baby will have it but because - according to my doctor - as long as they have all that nice genetic material they like to test it for stuff.

Or they could be cloning me to introduce more American genes into the German genepool, but somehow I don't they are.

So... I'm about 6 months pregnant and still trying to pretend my life isn't about to completely change. I even went to my kick boxing class about 3 weeks ago but decided to give it up when I saw how nervous my high kicks made everyone.

K and L are thrilled to have a baby brother. L drew me this picture showing the baby growing in my tummy:

Oktoberfest 2010 - New Dirndl!

2010-09-19T13:57:00.000+02:00

Anatomy of a Birthday

2010-09-12T13:39:00.001+02:00

A batch of pink cupcakes for K's birthday.
A batch of chocolate chip cupcakes and a chocolate cake to take to school.
A sour cream chocolate cake with chocolate icing and smarties and a batch of pink and blue cupcakes for the birthday party.
A cheesecake and chocolate chip cupcakes for Sunday coffee with friends.
A flourless chocolate cake for the parent's association.

That's pretty much been my week. Oh, and the birthday party itself, which was yesterday.

The invited kids were a mixed bunch of different ages and genders, so we needed a variety of program points.

Ralf was worried that the children would not follow the program.

I shrugged. 'So we'll crank up the music and toss in a bag of chips.'

I never worry about stuff like that. My worries are much more abstract.

We started with snacks and music, which the girls danced to on the table while the boys hid behind the book shelf.

Then, for the little ones we played 'bang the pot', which is where you blindfold a child, give them a spoon and send them tapping around on the floor while the other kids yell, 'Warm! Cold!' until they bang the pot. They get to eat the sweet that is under the pot.

The big girls sat in the corner during this, nonplussed, while the boys ran up and down the stairs.

Then we set up a 'beauty corner' and the big girls were roped in to put make up on the little girls. At the same time, we gave everyone a new t-shirt and invited the to decorate them with specially ordered iron on decals.

This won over big and small girls alike but the boys were still bored.

Next Ralf took all the kids outside for relay races and ran them mercilessly for about an hour while I ironed on the fiddly decals. I hated to miss the games but could hear how much fun they were having. Ralf may have missed his calling as a camp councilor or little league coach.

The girls kicked the boys' butts.

After this we had cake and presents and then the parents came to collect their worn out, t-shirt sporting offspring.

Whew - one birthday down, the next one in less than two months...

I'm the only man in Germany...

2010-09-10T10:49:00.001+02:00

Recently Ralf and I had a minor argument about the division of household duties. We both work - although he works more - and we both have evening calls with California. He generally takes the kids to childcare and I pick them up, drive them to gymnastics, play with them, finish up any homework, feed them and put them to bed. I do all the shopping and most of the cooking and regular doctor's appointments.

I also supervise our maid, which Ralf never helps out with.

Ralf handles all 'projects', such as the garden, garage and bathroom fixtures, as well as interfacing with any Bavarian handymen. He also bathes the kids about once a week, files our taxes and insurance claims and plans our vacations.

Our kids aren't very clean.

Some of the things I used to do in the US now fall to him because they either require more boyish charm or knowledge of German bureacracy than I have or more patience than I can muster without my head exploding.

Things recently came to a head when it was time to buy K's school supplies. We got a list from the teacher and you know how the Eskimos have 13 words for snow? Well, those wacky seal-fur wearing nomads with their frozen water obsession don't have a patch on the Germans, who have about 51 words for 'notebook.'

To make a long story short, I delegated the procurement of school supplies to Ralf.

I suppose as a married man with a wife known not to be in a wheelchair or hospital, Ralf may have lost some face doing women's work like buying school supplies. Which he then grumbled about at home.

Ralf: I'm pretty sure I'm the only man in Germany who isn't divorced or widowed that has to go buy school supplies for their kids.

Me: Really? That's probably why most of the German men we know are divorced.

Actually, that's not fair. Although there are a number of single dads at our Kindergarten, two are widowed, and none of our married friends are divorced yet.

Then we had our recurring, 'You want me to buy school supplies, let's move back to California' discussion while I was making dinner.

Now, of course, I can make fun of Ralf for just about anything. For example:

"I'm the only man in Germany who has to put the toilet seat down!"

"I'm the only man in Germany who has to put dirty clothes in the laundry basket!"

"I'm the only man in Germany who has to carry his dishes to the kitchen!"

You get the idea.

Tracking Your Blog Stats

2010-09-09T11:41:00.000+02:00

A few people asked me how I knew what keywords led to my site.

Blogger actually provides this service for free. When you go to blogger.com for your profile, there's a new 'Stats' tab:

If you click into 'Traffic Sources' you'll see where your visitors arrive from and the key words:

Google Analytics does a more thorough job but you need to add code on your blog to get it to work.

If you don't use Blogger, try Googling 'track blog stats'.

Keywords

2010-09-08T10:30:00.000+02:00

I was just kidding yesterday when I said explanations are tedious. I usually love explaining things but I spent hours on Blogger trying to upload more than one picture and gave up in disgust. I'll try to circle about about our vacation, unless I get distracted by some other topic.

In the meantime, here are some recent searches that have enticed a global audience to my blog:

I've Been a Mom for 7 Years

2010-09-07T15:24:00.002+02:00

Hello! We're back from vacation. I had some work to catch up on and it took a few days to download the pictures but now I have my ducks in a row.

But first, happy birthday to my wonderful 7-year-old daughter K. I felt deeply connected to her the minute she was born and she is exactly the child I expected to have with Ralf - tall, smart, competent, impatient and determined. She's all alpha and we couldn't be more proud.

Happy birthday, baby girl!

In contrast, the constant senseless joy and playfulness radiated by our youngest child raises certain genetic questions. We adore L heart and soul but neither of us is sure how we got her.

And now some vacation pictures from the Italian alps and Lanzarote in the Canary Islands.

On Vacation

2010-08-15T22:47:00.000+02:00

We're off on vacation again. It's school holiday, after all. We'll be in Italy this week and the Canary Islands next week.

(It sounds more exotic than it is. We're driving to Italy to meet old friends and Canary Islands was the very last family package available for last minute wafflers like us.)

I wish you happy summer days. All it does is rain here, but if it's hot where you are and wasps are a problem try this great trick: put a wet penny or two on the table. Wasps can't bear the smell of oxydized copper. Try it, it really works!

Ciao!

There'll Be No Cake in Hell!

2010-08-12T10:15:00.002+02:00

Ooops - I accidentally published my latest post on my other blog: There'll Be No Cake in Hell!

Not sure I'm raising my kids right...

2010-07-31T21:28:00.000+02:00

On weekends Ralf and I try to sleep in. A lot of preparation goes into this: The cat must be locked in the pantry for the night. The morning cookies for the kids must be accessible. The shades must be drawn. The alarm clock must be turned off. Friends and family must be under strict orders not to call before 9AM.

Yes, it's sad but true. We consider sleeping in until 9AM an extravagent luxury.

Once the kids wake up it's more of a half sleep than a real sleep. We hear them moving around and going downstairs in search of cookies and parental ears tune in automatically to make sure each child adheres to the rules about the quantity of cookies per child. So, when we hear K going downstairs too many times, one of us usually wakes up enough to yell, 'One cookie!'

For a while K would come in, gently kiss my face and softly whisper, "Mommy, can I get another cookie?"

'Mmmmph,' I would say, which K would happily interpret as, 'Whatever, honey, just get one for L, too, so she doesn't come wake us up!'

Finally we upped the ante to 2 cookies in order to skip this little scene, which worked pretty well.

Until yesterday - I had baked chocolate biscotti the day before and they were really yummy. Adictive, even. K found herself irresistably drawn to them and we heard her sneaking downstairs once, twice, a third time with 4-year-old L in tow.

Ralf stood up with a resigned groan and headed for the stair, intercepting our red-handed little ones on the way back up. Everyone froze - I know this because I was listening from bed and the stairs stopped squeaking.

K (brightly): Papa, I brought you a cookie!

Ralf (dryly): Really? That was thoughtful of you.

In bed I smiled proudly to myself, reflecting that my oldest girl can totally think on her feet.

Ralf: What about L, did she bring me a cookie too?

L: Mmmph hmmph.

Ralf: What's that, L? Your mouth seems to be full. It isnt' full of cookie, is it?

L (after a slight pause): No. No cookie.

In bed I smiled proudly to myself, reflecting that my youngest girl is bold as brass.

We'll, um, work on the lying and stealing later. Confidence and quick-thinking are harder to teach than honesty and trustworthiness, right?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

On a personal note, I'd like to give a special thanks to those of you who comment regularly. I haven't had as much time for blogging and commenting lately as I would like but I really enjoy hearing from you. I usually try to respond to comments by commenting on your blogs, but since the folks over at Content Writing India don't have a personal blog to comment on I just wanted to say thank you for reading and commenting.

I Can't Believe How Much I Rule

2010-07-28T10:06:00.001+02:00

First of all, thank you for the kind birthday wishes. Our American friends came later that afternoon and we had a great birthday dinner and several fun days exploring Munich with them. Although last year's birthday party was hard to top, this year came really close.

And now, if you are feeling blue for any reason, I invite you to watch the following short video. We can all learn a few things from Jessica:

Birthday Playlist

2010-07-17T11:13:00.005+02:00

Today is my 37th birthday. Well, somewhere on the time continuum.

Last night Ralf and I had a date night, which has been months in the organizing given our (mainly his) work schedules. Unfortunately it was about 100 degrees in the restaurant but still good.

This morning my children woke me with about twenty rousing rounds of Happy Birthday while Ralf was out buying cake and flowers. Then we had my 2nd favorite breakfast, which is cake - my 1st favorite breakfast is chicken curry.

Then I got my presents: pictures from the girls, a check from my grandma and a spa gift certificate and CD from Ralf.

I get a home-burned CD every year for my birthday, which should tell you how easy to please and low maintenance I am. All year when I hear a song I like on the radio I write it down in an email to myself, then I send Ralf the list and he procurs the songs and burns them on a CD for me.

Sometimes he tries to put his foot down:

Ralf: Maneater? No way! That's Nelly Furtado's lamest song.

Me: It's her BEST song. I want it.

Ralf: OK, but I'm not listening to it in the car.

Or:

Ralf: If you really want The Unforgiven we should get the Metallica version. It's way better.

Me: No way, Jose - I want the chick version. Metallica's stupid.

Offended silence.

In the end I got everything I wanted except Lady Gaga, which I'm sure is an oversight.

Next we played the CD while spring cleaning in preparation for friends visiting from the US this week. One thing this family knows how to do is party!

Then Ralf took the girls to Baumarkt so I could catch up on my blogging.

A fine birthday.

Some favorite lines from my birthday playlist - see if you can name the song:

Control yourself, take only what you need.
This power needs some room to grow.
Believe me when I say, today's your lucky day.
If you like it why don't you put a ring on it?
You don't know anything 'bout me.
I'm bringing sexy back.
Viva Las Vegas!
Dance, F#!*er, dance!

And here's the playlist:

Paul the Psychic Octopus

2010-07-11T12:07:00.004+02:00

It turns out that the world cup is not a real contest because the results are pre-ordained by Paul the Psychic Octopus:

Apparently he has never been wrong.

Anyway, don't cancel anything to watch the finale today because Spain's gonna win.

Soccer Mom - Not

2010-07-08T13:53:00.005+02:00

Last night Ralf went to watch the big Spain-Germany game at a friend's house while I stayed home and watched Glee. He came home later looking pretty low.

Now let me just mention here that I haven't been following the World Cup at all. During the first week I had to keep asking which tournament it was again so Ralf took to sprinkling his public comments about the world cup with verbal cues for me so I wouldn't embarass him.

Eventually it sunk in. World Cup: check. Germany playing: check. German flags on cars everywhere: related to World Cup.

Generally speaking, I've been very supportive, even when Ralf watched some big game last Saturday instead of picking me up at the airport. And I bought trading cards for our daughters, who can name all the team captains.

Anyway, professional sports aren't really my thing but I wanted Germany to win. I mean, it's nice to see the Germans excited about something. Plus I like black uniforms.

So, as I was saying, Ralf came in looking pretty bummed and I'm very caring and empathic so I paused Glee and asked him who won.

Ralf (curtly): Spain.

Me: Well, they're nice. Who lost?

Ralf (in disgust): You're kidding, right?

Me: Um... Germany? Wait - does this mean Germany doesn't get to play in the final game?

No answer, just a head shake.

Me: Do you want to talk about it?

Ralf (struggling to find to find the right words): Not with you!

Me: What? I'm trying to be supportive.

Ralf (heading up the stairs): Don't try.

Me: You could have married a German, you know! Or a MAN!!

Ralf (morosely): I know. Good night.

Reunion

2010-07-04T13:22:00.008+02:00

Sorry I've been MIA. I've been to California and Oregon, for work and my college reunion. Unfortunately my wireless connection was so slow that whenever I tried to comment on blogs my connection hung. So I definitely owe some comments.

I loved college. And I love my college friends. Seeing them again, hanging with them, sharing a dorm with them, eating in the cafeteria again, all made for a very special weekend.

You never make friends like that again. At least, I haven't. There's something about living with people and staying up all night and saving the universe that makes for a special brand of friendship.

Just for the record, I love cafeteria food too. I guess seven years of boarding school followed by six years of higher education instills that into you.

OK, enough about me and my proletarian eating preferences.

Here are a few reunion pictures at my beautiful college with my dear old friends Sean, Zan and Kristin:

Serenity... not so much

2010-06-14T11:46:00.005+02:00

I belong to an exclusive sports club. Actually, not that exclusive since they'll let anyone in who is willing to pay their exorbitant monthly fee, but it's where Boris Becker sometimes plays tennis.

They offer a friendly staff, child care, horses, an upscale restaurant, state-of-the-art machines and all sorts of classes. Plus the odd Boris Becker sighting.

It's my one luxury.

My favorite classes are Fighting Fit, which involves lots of kicking and punching to music, and Monday yoga. I've taken a fair number of yoga classes by now and I can tell you that Caroline, the instuctor at my gym, is unusually good. She pushes you just the right amount, does a good balance between stretching and muscle work and speaks in a well-modulated Kathleen Turner voice that every famale yoga instructor should be required to have.

The only false note is the Iron Man class next door. As we yogis slowly and serenely greet the sun, focusing on our breath, we can hear Iron Man screaming, 'EEEEIIIINSSSS!!! ZWEIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!! DREIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!! VIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR!!!!!!!'

Iron Man is a little soft spoken guy but he really gets excited during his class, which is hugely popular with extremely fit women who like being yelled at.

The most jarring part is at the end when we do our relaxation. We lie on the floor exhausted and sweating while the harp music plays and Caroline softly takes us through several mediation phases. . .

Caroline: Close your eyes and breathe deeply.

Iron Man: WAKE UP, LADIES, NO FALLING ASLEEP!!!'

Caroline: Feel the sensation of relaxation traveling up your bodies, starting with your toes.

Iron Man: DON'T RELAX! WORK HARDER! GIVE ME MORE! YESSSSS!

Caroline: Feel the stress leaving your body through your fingertips...

Iron Man: WORK IT! MORE! MORE! MORE!

Caroline: Feel how you are one with everything. Feel the entire universe around you. Don't focus on anything. Let yourself go.

Iron Man: FOCUS!!! THERE'S NOTHING BUT YOU AND THE MAT.

Contradictions and conflicting directions. Part of life, I guess.

On Family

2010-06-05T08:44:00.005+02:00

Some of you may recall that K got a couple of hermit crabs for her last birthday: Lily and Emma. Lily was the smaller, intrepid one, Emma mostly just sulked. And a few weeks later, Emma dropped dead out of her shell, which was kind of sad and icky.

Lily toughed it out alone for a couple of months, burying herself for longer and longer periods, no longer her usual cheerful self. K largely ignored her but I worried because hermit crabs are social creatures. Finally I badgered Ralf into ordering two new crabs, which K named Bruno and Manuel.

Don't ask, I have no idea where these names came from.

Manuel has a long, thin shell and we rarely see him. Bruno is the easiest to find because he's gigantic. In the beginning I feared he'd eaten Lily, although hermit crabs aren't supposed to be cannibals, but she re-appears from time to time.

Because Bruno is too big to hide and fairly active (he bangs on the glass with his big claw when he wants something) I have grown unexpectedly fond of him. Not quite love, more like active good will.

Which is why when I saw his shell-less body lying lifeless I nearly cried.

But wait! It wasn't his body, it was just his skin, which he'd somehow peeled off entirely, eye stalks and all. The rest of him had crawled back into his shell to grow new skin. Apparently they do this periodically.

Because we have a personal connection, I felt interested and proud instead of completely grossed out, a bit like when one's child blows it's nose properly for the first time.

You'll be happy to know he's doing quite well.

The crabs are not our only pets. We also have a cheesecake-eating cat and the neighbor's bunnies are bunking with us for a couple of weeks. And I discovered yesterday that both of my children possess an impressive fur collection, i.e., a pile of cast-off fur from our own and various neighbor's pets.

My aunt started the trend when we visited her last year. As a parting gift to the girls she presented them each with a small tuft of fur from her angora cat.

You should have Ralf's face. . . it was glorious. I took the proud lead in the strange family competition that day, mwa ha ha ha ha!!!

You can't buy memories like that.

So that's our little nuclear family: mama, papa, kids, crabs, cat, various visiting animals and a growing pile of fur that will one day destroy our vacuum cleaner.

MacGyver Mom

2010-05-25T09:11:00.014+02:00

I was like MacGyver over the weekend.

It was hot, hot, hot and the kids wanted to swim. I dimly remembered an inflatable swimming pool in the bowels of the garage and after some looking found it under a pile of cobwebs and various gardening tools.

I tried blowing it up with a bike tire pump but it didn’t fit. Then I remembered we have an electric pump to pump up our air mattress and searched the house for it – even in Ralf’s lair, where he keeps his tools – and finally unearthed it in the guest room under a pile of clothes.

I triumphantly marched into the garden brandishing it and yelling, Who’s number 1?

Then I noticed it was an American plug. Bloody heck. So I went up to our bedroom and unplugged the heavy converter we use for our US-bought TV and lugged it downstairs.

Whereupon after hooking everything up I realized the pump didn’t have the right size adapter to blow up the swimming pool. There may have been some ladylike swearing at this point, you know, shucks, darn, that sort of thing. Then I got some duct tape and spliced it.

Perhaps you’ve seen Apollo 13? It was like that.

Ralf, who lives with me, at first didn't believe I spliced anything. And once he believed he laughed heartily about how annoyed it must have made me.

To finish my story, after about an hour the pool was finally blown up and filled with water. ‘It’s too cold!’ my dear ones complained, refusing to go in.

Envisioning all my hard work going to waste I found myself lugging buckets of warm water from the kitchen like Laura Ingalls.

That's kind of the end of the pool story.

Anyway, I thought you’d like to know.

On event horizons and being the last person in Munich

2010-05-23T17:31:00.011+02:00

K: Mommy, where does the Earth end?

Me (sagely - this is an easy one): The earth is round, darling. It doesn't end.

K: Yes it does. I'll show you.

She fetches a small ball.

K: Now look, Mommy. (She finger walks around the ball.) If I go around the ball like this it never ends. But. (She holds up one finger to make sure I'm paying attention.) If I go this way it ends right where it begins. (Her fingers leave the surface of the ball in the direction of infinity.) See?

Wow. It's true - the Earth does end at its surface. I stare at my 6-year-old, thinking that she can already think in 3D and has just discovered event horizons. In a flash I picture presenting to the Acadamy of Physics, tall, blond, precise, wowing an audience of unkempt men in tweed suits. I feel a thrill of pride.

Although part of me would like my children to pursue useful careers like accounting or medicine (useful to me, I mean), another part would be thrilled to be the mother of this generation's Einstein.

Science camp here we come.

BTW, Ralf is gone.

No, not forever, just a long work week in California. It's vacation time and my girls and I are the last people in Munich. But we are not alone - we are feeding the neighbors' pets while they enjoy their family vacations.

K already gave the rabbits 2 week's worth of carrots, which they have consumed. They eye me hopefully when I go in the garden but I have nothing for them.

The shops won't be open until Tuesday, I tell them, showing them my empty hands.

They twitch their noses to tell me they understand perfectly and would I now please bring them some more carrots.

Yes, of course, on Tuesday, I answer.

I think the isolation is getting to me...

Technical acronyms and projectile vomiting

2010-05-17T12:06:00.006+02:00

I've been a bit quiet lately, I know, but I've been writing a lot - just not here. I blog about compensation and talent management trends, I write FAQs, I write data sheets and value statements and white papers. I write little emails to various people.

This week I'm trying to explain why our SaaS/EIB/XML/SOA/LOL/LMOA is better than their SaaS/EIB/XML/SOA/LOL/LMOA.

To give you an idea, I considered calling this post, 'Technical acronyms flying out of my butt' but decided against it.

Anyway, while it's great getting paid to write, at the end of the day I'm too shattered to sit down and write more. Y'know?

But don't worry, the Germans are bound to do something soon that I won't be able to help writing about. I can feel it, they're up to something.

In the meantime, I have something to share. A couple of weeks ago L (4 years old) had an impressive bout of projectile vomiting after I let her eat a large chocolate ice cream cone instead of lunch. I cuddled her while she hurled over and over again into a bucket without getting a drop on the walls or carpet. She's such a good girl.

K (6 years old) came in, frowned thoughtfully at her little sister, patted her on the head and announced that she was going to make her a present. Off she went for about ten minutes then returned with a drawing of L being sick surrounded by things to make her feel better (i.e., a princess, a unicorn, the planet Earth, etc.).

L felt better soon after K gave her the picture and was able to get up and start playing again.

Here's the picture with amazing healing properties:

Life-Changing Invention

2010-05-08T09:20:00.012+02:00

I've had the greatest idea that I can't wait to patent: a cell phone that rings on command.

I am positive that my invention will change the world. It will help people escape boring meetings, wriggle out of awkward situations, or even flaunt one's newfound happiness at one's ex.

How many times have you prayed in vain for the phone to ring? For example, at work:

Boss: Do you have some time right now? I wanted to discuss how to convert our 6,529 escalation requests to a new format. I'm afraid it'll have to be done manually but the new format is much better. It has blue column headers, which are way nicer than orange, so we really need to do it and I'd like you to be in charge. I'll expect status reports every half hour and if you have any ideas about how to work more efficiently, run them by me first.

ring, ring

You (pretending to answer the phone): Hello? Grandma? Grandma!! Are you OK?? Oh my God! Don't try to get up, I'll be right there!!

or

Colleague: Hey, I was hoping to meet with you for a few hours today to discuss new naming conventions for effective dating. I've got some great ideas about this but we need to do a detailed impact analysis and of course survey all of our customers. We wouldn't want to just pick a name at random, ha ha. Do you have some time right now?

You: That sounds awesome, thanks for including me. Let me just...

ring, ring

You (pretending to look at the incoming number): I have to take this one. (pretending to answer the phone) Talk to me. What? When? That's not good. He did? You gotta be kidding me. The Big Guy wants me to handle it? OK, then I need you to forward me ALL the paperwork, yesterday. Great, thanks, I'll take care of it. (to your colleague) Sorry, I gotta run but let's definitely catch up about this later.

There are useful non-work applications as well. For example, what if you run into your ex on the street, the one you stalked for 6 months after he dumped you as an embarassing prelude to spending the next 6 months hiding out in your apartment eating Ben and Jerry's.

Him (embarassed): Uh, hi.

You (big smile, eyes wide, shoulders back, chest out, show those pearly whites... you know the drill): Well, hi! Fancy running into you here. You look, um, really great. I was just...

ring, ring

You (giggling self-consciously): Oh, excuse me just one second. Hello? (in a lowered voice) Hi, darling, I was just thinking about you. No, I'm not busy. Yes, I did, that was so thoughtful. They're my favorite. I didn't have enough vases so I had to donate some to the senior home. I hope you don't mind. What? Yes, of course I like jewelry, why? A surprise? When? Paris?? Oh, darling, that sounds wonderful. I can't wait. Me too. I love you more. No, I love you more. Bye bye lover, see you tonight. Mwa! mwa! mwa!

Am I a genius or what?

Man Up and Make a Plan

2010-05-03T09:06:00.050+02:00

I know I've been a bit spotty lately on blogging but there are reasons. The main reason is that I just started a new job and at the same time I've been taking two classes: one in business German, which is fortunately over, and a certificate program in Talent Management at Cornell university.

Cool, huh? Soon I will have a piece of paper that says Cornell on it.

The German class was pretty easy, since my German is mind-blowingly good (just kidding- it's decent) but the whole thing with commute took about 8 hours a week. The Cornell program takes about 4 hours a week. And then, of course, I have a new job. And kids. And a house. And a cat. And three hermit crabs.

And of course I have to make all these new avatars of myself. So, I've been kind of busy.

Last year wasn't much fun, what with late night calls and a rough situation at work. I was feeling almost sorry for myself until Ralf told me to man up and make a plan.

Man up this, I said:

Ralf was intrigued by this response but didn't quite see the relevance.

So I made a fine plan to get a Ph.D. in organizational behavior or cognitive science while perfecting my roundhouse kick.

Ralf suggested I try to come up with a more practical and lucrative plan.

Feeling slightly aggrieved that he didn't want to move the entire family to the East Coast and pay for me to explore my inner Dr. Laura, I updated my resume and applied for various paid jobs.

I usually apply for one job at a time because I usually get the job and I hate saying no. This isn't quite as cocky as it sounds because I research and apply for jobs I have an excellent chance of getting.

That makes it sound easy but it's not. In fact, I'm glossing over months of hard work and a helping hand from some good friends.

And it's not like finding a job is a ticket to happiness. I've had tough work experiences: I've been fired and re-organized and offered jobs that disappeared after I accepted. I've worked very long hours for very little money. I've had bosses that didn't take me seriously or whose sole purpose in life was to grind me into dust. Etc., etc., etc.

(I've had good jobs, too.)

Plus, as a mom of two small kids living in Munich and working for Californian companies I'm. . . well, I tell people I'm the modern worker.

Anyway, over the last 6 months I applied for about ten jobs, just to see what fetched up.

In the end I had to choose between several offers, which meant figuring out trade offs, such as, Can I work from home? Do I have to wear a suit? Will I have to travel? Will I be on the phone every night? Is this a completely new role for me that will require 80 hour weeks for the first 6 months? Am I willilng to relocate? Is this a lateral move or a career step? Can I learn anything from my boss? Where do I want to be in 5 years?

Of course, for my ideal job, I'd relocate, wear a suit, commute, travel or eat mushy bananas but none of them was quite ideal.

One of the options we considered involved moving back to the US, which was tempting. Munich's a nice city but it isn't home. The biggest problem is language, and I'm not just talking about embarassing mistakes like that time I said 'I will throw up on you soon,' instead of, 'Let's discuss this later.' It's a LOT of work to function as an adult in a second language.

But... it wasn't the right time.

So anyway, after all that marvelous self contemplation and a chance to do something completely different I opted for a similar type of job at the same company.

Also, I now devote 10 minutes a day to manning up.

What are you afraid of?

2010-04-23T08:28:00.014+02:00

Although I try not to give my fears a front seat when it comes to living my life, I'm afraid of lots of things: I'm afraid for my kids. I'm afraid of cancer. I'm afraid of flying. I'm afraid of spiders. I'm afraid of car accidents. I'm afraid of what we're doing to the environment. I'm afraid of collapsing financial systems. I'm afraid my money will vanish mysteriously or be stolen. I'm afraid I'll someone will hide drugs in my luggage and I'll live out my life in a 3rd world prison. I'm afraid of wrinkles. I'm afraid of depending on other people. I'm afraid of losing my passport. I'm afraid I'll be the first person to get AIDS from a mosquito. I'm afraid of running out of coffee. I'm afraid of scary movies. I'm afraid of legal documents.

So, the usual things.

Just for the record, I'm NOT afraid of snakes, rodents, cockroaches, crazy deadlines, math, bitchy women, people who yell, being laughed at or standing up in front of hundreds of people. And I can drive a stick shift.

Ralf isn't afraid of too many things. Why should he be? He has a strong physical presence, a military haircut, loads of boyish charm and no shortage of self-confidence. He's also a rescue diver, which means he doesn't require immediate access to oxygen to survive under water and won't freak out if he temporarily doesn't have any. Plus he thinks people are basically good - even when they prove otherwise he assumes they're stupid rather than evil and would definitely do the right thing if they weren't handicapped by their inferior brains. Basically, even if Scheisse happens, he's not expecting the world to throw him any curve balls he can't handle.

It must be nice to live in his world.

There is one thing he does fear, however, one thing that causes him to pale and break out in a nervous sweat:

Legal documents that need to be countersigned by me.

Yup. I can't blame him, really. It can get pretty darn scary when I need to sign something.

What are you afraid of?

Kids Be Gone

2010-04-22T10:10:00.003+02:00

As a grad student, Apple helped me generate countless spell-checked research papers. Years later they're still there for me, helping me be a better mom.

Thanks to iPhone, parents can now legally - secretly - torture their teens with an application that emits ultrasonic noise only they can hear.

It's called 'Kids Be Gone,' aka 'Mother's Little Helper.' I've also heard it referred to as 'Vex a Teen.'

(Tempting, I know, but please be careful not to use around small children.)

Bedouins, Camels and Viagra

2010-04-16T09:06:00.013+02:00

As some of you know, Ralf and I just got back from a week in Egypt, specifically in Sharm el Sheikh, which is a small beach community near the Sinai national park that is inhabited largely by Bedouins.

Sadly, no one got my 'Bedouin Breakfast' pun about our hotel. I tell you, my wit feels wasted sometimes.

Our favorite pasttime during the week was to sit in what we referred to as the 'Hooka Shack', a quiet beachfront shisha bar where you can sip Bedouin tea (black tea with lots of sugar in a little pot) and smoke an enormous water bong while reading and watching the waves.

We also went diving, although I had to give it up after the first day due to ear problems. It's sad, really. I am a Padi certified advanced diver. I have done night dives, retrieval dives, navigation dives, wreck dives, shore dives, boat dives and deep dives. I can take all my gear off (mask, oxygen, the works) 20 meters under water, swim away from it, swim back and put it all back on without panicking (much) and dying a horrible oxygen deprived death.

I don't enjoy doing these things, you understand, but I can.

Nonetheless I have an ongoing battle with my ears and usually have to stop diving and go to the doctor before the end of each vacation. You may be wondering how I got certified in the first place, to which I can only respond, 'Sheer bloodymindedness.'

Still, I didn't mind skipping it this time. What with one thing and another, I was happy not to dress up in a rubber suit and lug around a heavy oxygen tank. I carefully divided my vacation time between lounging about, snorkling, sipping tea, staring at the horizon, reading and visiting my friend Barbara, who is lucky enough to call the desert her home.

And now two tableaus from our vacation involving Bedouins, camels and Viagra - I know you're gonna jump right to the Viagra one:

Tableau 1: The Father In Law
One of the dive instructors was a friendly Bedouin fellow named Nur, who's married to the boss's daughter. After Ralf's first dive on the second day (I was on the boat but not diving) Nur got a radio call from Umbi, the boss and his FIL, to bring our boat out to Umbi's yacht during the lunch break. Apparently, Umbi had dropped something in the water and wanted Nur to dive for it. Nur rolled his eyes and muttered, 'It's probably a coffee spoon,' then slouched off to get suited up again. When we reached the yacht, Umbi waved at us good-naturedly and Ralf asked him if he always makes his poor SIL do extra work for him. Umbi grinned and answered, 'Nur was supposed to pay me 5 camels for my daughter and I haven't seen a single camel yet. He owes me!'

Tableau 2: The Viagra
After I visited the doctor and was told I would be fine in a week but would have to take a break from diving, we stopped by the pharmacy to get some medicine to speed up the re-absorbtion of the blood that had pooled behind my traumatized eardrums. Uh... TMI? Anyway, we got the medicine (everything for about $2, it's SOOO cheap!) and the pharmacist looked at me, looked at Ralf, grinned suggestively and handed him a free packet of Viagra. Ralf, not to be outdone, grinned back even more suggestively and returned the packet. I didn't quite catch what the pharmacist said as we left but it sounded a bit like, 'Strong man!'

Pictures here and here.

More Egypt Pictures - Story to Follow

2010-04-15T14:56:00.010+02:00

Amazing Pictures

2010-04-14T15:26:00.002+02:00

Does this count? I think it's pretty amazing that I'm making it public.

More (less) amazing pictures to follow soon...

Walk like an....

2010-04-05T21:50:00.003+02:00

I'm going on vacation for a week so don't be alarmed if I'm MIA.

Guess where I'm going... A hint: It's not a Bangles concert.

Confucious say... (can't take credit for this one)

2010-04-03T10:54:00.002+02:00

Confucius say,

"If you are in a book store and cannot find

the book for which you search, you are obviously in the....

Who wants to look like Barbie?

2010-04-01T12:40:00.004+02:00

Despite my efforts to minimize my daughters' exposure to the Barbie brand, we inherited a Barbie Farietopia movie: The Magic of the Rainbow.

What can I say, it was GREAT! I was totally sucked in. So, against my better judgement I went ahead and ordered the other movies in the series.

K: Why didn't you want to order them?

Me: Well, darling, some people think Barbie dolls make little girls think they need to look like Barbie. And I want you to know you're beautiful the way you are.

K (frowning at me like I just said something crazy): Who wants to look like Barbie?? She's not even real!

Well, what do you know? A new generation of smarter women.

Me: And you know you're beautiful just like you are, right?

K (shrugging): Yes.

Me: And you know it doesn't matter, it's what's inside that counts, right?

K (complacently): Uh huh. But I'm beautiful, too.

I am such an amazing mother.

Ooops - Chop the Hazelnuts!

2010-03-31T11:12:00.001+02:00

My last post, which was a recipe for chocolate hazelnut biscotti, had a mistake: I forgot to add that the roasted hazelnuts should be coursely chopped.

I fixed it.

Sorry.

Chocolate Hazelnut Biscotti

2010-03-30T14:08:00.005+02:00

Amazingly, nothing funny or embarassing has happened to me for several days, unless you could L inquiring hopefully if she gets all our money when we die.

Therefore I am going to take this opportunity to document a secret family recipe for Chocolate Hazelnut Biscotti that taste divine in the morning with a cuppa.

Ready for bliss? Here we go:

You'll need:
7 oz (200 g) hazelnuts
7.5oz (215 g) flour
3.5 oz (100 g) sugar (and remember that raw is more ayurvedic than white)
dash of salt
half tsp cinnamon (optional)
half tsp baking powder
2 eggs
block of dark baking chocolate

Roast half the hazelnuts in a non-stick pan until a bit browned and grind the other half.

Chop the roasted hazelnuts into smaller pieces - just spread them on a cutting board and use a knife to chop them coarsely.

Mix flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and ground nuts in a bowl.

Add eggs and mix - you probably need to use your hands. It's worth it.

Make two long, flat loaves.

Bake 20 minutes at 375 F/190 C.

Remove and cut the loaves into individual biscotti.

Now bake again (biscotti means 'baked twice, get it?) at 275 F/140 C for 25 minutes.

Allow to cool while you melt the chocolate, ideally using a double boiler or put one pan on top of another pan that has boiling water in it.

Spread the melted chocolate on the biscotti.

Stick in the fridge so the chocolate can harden - once hardened you can put them in a cookie jar or tupperware.

Enjoy!

Really?

2010-03-24T13:04:00.002+01:00

L (my 4-year-old): Mommy did you go to the dentist when you were a kid?

Me: Sure, honey.

L: Did you go to my dentist?

An uncomfortable silence.

Me: Ah, no. I don't think she was born yet.

On God and Ayurveda

2010-03-23T11:18:00.011+01:00

My 4-year-old daughter L has this to say about God: I want to be God. He doesn't have to wear socks.

I think that sums it up way better than that stupid Lord's prayer about dying in your sleep.

Last weekend I attended a class on Ayurveda cooking. The instructor was in her mid-to-late 40s and had clear, unlined skin and calm, alert eyes that caught my attention. In the past I have pondered why so many health food junkies who eat lots of raw vegetables always look gamey instead of healthy. Ayurveda philosophy answers this question and others.

Ayurveda boils down to three key points, or at least these are the three points I came away with:

1) Love food. Prepare food with love, eat with attention and enjoyment. (Parents of small children have permission to laugh here.) When you cook, the food receives your energy, positive or negative. Stir with intent.

2) Be satisfied after a meal. This means you have to include all flavors (sweet, sour, spicy, salty, bitter, etc.) or you will be left wanting. Order is also important - for example, it is best to end a meal with a bitter flavor so you feel satisfied and don't keep eating, which means salads do better as a final course than a starter.

3) Take care of your digestion. Eat foods that are quickly digested in order to get rid of inevitable toxins as quickly as possible. This is the key to staying healthy. Completely raw food is not recommended because it takes longer to digest. Ditto cold food.

Some of the healthiest foods are: organic chicken, olive oil, radiccio (that bitter purple cabagey thing you use in salads), tumeric, garlic, organic milk, oats, walnuts, broccoli, salmon, herbal tea, apples, lentils.

Some general tips for more Aryuvedic eating:

1. Drink warm water once or twice a day.
2. Don't cook honey. (It's apparently toxic)
3. Speaking of toxic, don't cook with olive oil or butter, either. Olive oil is very healthy but not when cooked. Use ghee or coconut oil to cook.
4. Never use sunflower oil, cooked or otherwise.
5. Avoid eating animals that can't sweat, such as pigs and mussels. They build up toxins.
6. Eat dairy products alone, don't mix with, say, fruit. An exception is mangos, so mango lassis are very good - just throw fresh mango, plain yogurt and a bit of water in the blender. Yum!
7. The fresher the better.
8. Eat real food, not processed. So, raw sugar is better than white processed sugar.
9. Go easy on raw and/or cold food. Don't mix fruit with other foods, give it time to digest first.
10. Try not to use a microwave - it pretty much kills the food. Best is fresh cooked meals, if you must reheat use a pan or a steamer.
11. Don't eat until you're hungry, then eat until you're satisfied.
12. Your stomach is about the size of two fists. Try not to eat more than that at each meal.

How to make your own ghee:

Ghee is butter that has been cooked to produce curds then filtered to remove them. The curds are basically animal fats and additives and are toxic when cooked, not to mention high in cholesterol. Starting with a good organic butter, cook it in a small pot on the stove. As it melts scoop off the foam with a spoon. It will boil and slowly clarify, producing small white curds. When the curds just begin to brown, filter into a jar using an unbleached cheese cloth or coffee filter. You can cook with this - nice flavor - and it never goes bad.

Now, this is a lot of work but what convinced me is that the remaining curds can be used as a moisturizing facial scrub and mask. Of course, if you don't wash it off thoroughly you will smell like rancid butter but your skin will be luminous.

Scheisse happens

2010-03-10T10:38:00.020+01:00

I've been reflecting on how I ended up in Germany. The obvious answer is that I'm married to a German but it's not that simple. It kind of evolved through a series of events.

Years ago I was an application developer, managing a small team responsible for designing and implemeting an HR solution for the Japanese market. About midway through the development cycle someone had the bright idea to split up the functional and technical teams, both of which I managed along with the QA team.

I resisted as long as I could and since my team was working on the biggest and most complex product requirements of the release I had a lot of say - until the release was over, that is, and then they calmly carried out their diabolical plan to make me specialize. Everyone else had already made the switch and I was the last hard core generalist standing.

Given the choice between functional work (i.e., defining requirements and designing solutions) and technical work (implementing solutions) I chose the functional path because it seemed to be the rarer skill, by which I mean that fewer people seemed to be good at it. Most of the people I worked with were either subject matter experts with no design skills or technical experts who designed like engineers - i.e., for other engineers. Few of them were what I considered great application designers so it seemed like a promising niche.

(For an example of engineer-driven design, go use gmail. I hope Google doesn't blow up my blog or delete all my contacts for saying that - and I'm thinking I won't be Blog of Note any time soon - but it needed to be said.)

Not long after I felt underchallenged in my new specialized role so I made a decision to leave the US and spend an exciting year or so abroad. Oh, and I also planned to marry Ralf, whom I'd met on the job, but I couldn't count on that happening so mostly I was inviting the universe to fall in with my ideas.

The tricky bit was finding a job in Europe when my only other languages were Japanese and Russian. I put my name 'out there' and was offered a job in the European sales team at the same company, which I eagerly accepted. Accordingly, I quit my job as functional analyst and put the paperwork in motion to move abroad.

Then disaster struck.

A couple of weeks before my planned departure date the offer was withdrawn! They decided to give the job to someone else already living in Europe, AFTER making me a formal offer. Rotten, I know, but believe it or not people pull crappy stunts like that all the time. Unfortunately, this particular crappy stunt left me jobless, homeless and with not much of a savings.

The good news is that I was also single, mobile and good at my job so I didn't despair. Much. And sure enough, about three days later I got a call from the manager of the German sales team with an offer. A bit less money but based in Germany. The only catch was that I had to learn German but they would pay for lessons.

What, am I stupid? I jumped at it! Ten days later I was in Munich struggling to learn German well enough to do a passable sales demo as well as learn a completely unfamiliar product area, because right after hiring me my manager was demoted to head up the financials product, rather than all products. Now, I'm a smart cookie, but there are limits to human ability and there was no way I'd be up to speed any time soon.

That's a fancy way of saying I sucked.

Meanwhile the manager of the consulting organization adopted the strange and offputting habit of coming to the door of the sales room to glare at me several times a day. We're talking resentful glares of hatred here and I really didn't understand what I'd done to offend him. My German manager soon clarified the matter: One of the key projects was dying a slow hideous death and they needed someone with my skills to save it - and meanwhile here I was wasting everyone's time trying to sell products I knew nothing about in a language I couldn't speak!

When he put it that way it kind of made sense. So, to make a long story short, I was soon after absorbed into the consulting group, helped save the project, got promoted to project manager (accompanied by more glares of hatred - I learned later it was his only expression), managed another project then joined the product strategy group. And married Ralf. Over time we had two kids and left our jobs to join a start up company.

Blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, my point is that some of these changes were planned by me, whereas others just kind of happened. And really, that's the way things go in life. You're never prepared for the sucker punches and you never know what will turn up when they happen. Also, there are a lot of great people out there, like my awesome German boss who offered to stand up for me and even get fired if I didn't want to change jobs.

(He has since emigrated to Ireland and is now a professional chef. Not because of me. Probably.)

You just never know. That's what faith is for.

The Help and The Bachelor

2010-03-03T02:50:00.002+01:00

My book club just read The Help. At first I thought, Oh, no, not another book about oppressed blacks. I mean, I grew up in LA where people mainly oppress the Mexicans, so black oppression is not a topic that is near and dear to my heart. Plus I was afraid it would be sad and I'm all about happy down time.

Still, both my book clubs (California and Germany) are reading this book so it was like a twofer and I dutifully ordered it and started reading. And it was AWESOME. What a fine, well-written book. I highly recommend it. That's all I'm saying.

Last night I watched The Bachelor at my friends' house. It was the final episode where Jake chooses Verruca over Placenta, or whatever their names were. After several clearly scripted dates, the main point of which was to show off three sets of oversized fake white teeth, we were treated to a drawn out taking leave of Placenta, during which she wept and thanked Jake for showing her how to love again. After Verruca got her ring and recited a touching speech about soul mates there was a talk show to discuss why on earth Jake prefered Verruca over Placenta.

The talk show host actually said, 'America is talking about this,' and I thought, 'Yeah, right, people don't have anything better to talk about.'

Little did I know. This morning in the car Jake's controversial choice actually was the big topic on every radio station I tried.

I feel so current.

Maybe I got married too soon....

2010-02-26T14:17:00.002+01:00

Wellness Weekend

2010-02-24T07:58:00.003+01:00

Hi everyone,
I'm back but getting ready for a business trip to the US so this is just a quick note to say we're home safely. We had a great time in Austria and even met some new friends, although they unfortunately live in Berlin instead of Munich. It's another family just like us except they have 3 kids and the dad is an FBI attache rather than a software designer.

Other than that, separated at birth.

After two intense days of playing with their oldest girl and K's new BFF, K remarked tearfully, 'I'm really going to miss... what's her name again?'

Gone Skiing

2010-02-17T22:45:00.001+01:00

Actually I probably won't be skiing much. I will hopefully be basking in glorious solitude while my loved ones ski.

See you Monday.

No Tentacle Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T18:02:00.004+01:00

This weekend my FIL had his 70th birthday. Some of his oldest friends came out for the birthday dinner and Ralf went over this afternoon to visit more with people he's known since he was a kid.

Soon after he left the house, the phone rang. It was Ralf.

Ralf: 'I'm such a schmuck. I forgot Valentine's Day.'

Me: 'Really?' (I'd totally missed it, there's much less hype about V Day in Germany.)

Ralf: 'Are you mad at me?'

Me: 'I am now.'

Ralf: 'I shouldn't have called.'

Me: 'No, you should have. I'd have figured it out eventually.'

Ralf: 'Tomorrow the Americans don't work so we don't have any calls. How about I make dinner?'

I like this idea. I agree. Then I have an idea that makes me even happier.

Me: 'You could shop for dinner ingredients too.'

A brief silence. I'm raising the stakes here but he owes me for forgetting. And although I don't mention it, he'll have to clean the kitchen after dinner, too.

Ralf: 'Any requests?'

Me: 'Nothing with tentacles.'

Ralf: 'Deal. I love you.'

Me: 'I love you, too.'

Cupcakes

2010-02-08T12:58:00.003+01:00

I had the most awesome idea! I will cook my way through Julia Child's cookbook and BLOG about it. Then people will send me money, they will make a movie about me and I will also be an excellent cook.

What? Really? Oh, damn.

Well, at least I still have my Sweet Friends award, from my sweet friend Reforming Geek, or RG as I like to call her.

I now have to pass this award along to two 'sweet' bloggers so in honor of Julie & Julia (who totally stole my idea) I bestow this award on Sara and Sara.

Well deserved!

Great Expectations

2010-02-02T11:24:00.008+01:00

I'm always amused by the grand sounding names of the kids at L's Kindergarten.

The boys in particular have a lot to live up to:

Alexander
Maximillian
Benedict
Dominic
Jonas
Sebastian
Korbinian
Gabriel

The girls seem destined for somewhat less greatness:

Lisa
Lena
Lauren
Liv
Laura - well, OK, that's a pretty hot name
Charleen

Solipsist, I don NOT have Teutonic hair!

I think I'd like to write for a magazine like OK, where the truth doesn't matter, only the facial expression, and not even that matters much. Yesterday I splurged and bought three magazines for gym. All three had Brad and Agelina on the cover.

The headlines:

OK - 'Brad & Angelina: What Will Happen to the Children?'
In -'Only Hate Remains! How Angelina Now Makes Brad's Life Hell.'
Gala - 'The Love Vow - No Chance of a Separation!'

There was also an article about Angie's Russian lover, complete with a picture of Angie looking sneaky, a cheesy hotel, a whip, a bottle of vodka and a jar of Beluga Caviar.

I could totally do that. Let's say I have a picture of Angelina in a sushi restaurant: I could spin up a whole story about her Norwegian lover and how he likes to rub raw fish all over her body before they run naked in the snow.

Or a picture of Shiloh eating a cookie: I could write about what terrible parents Brad and Angie are because they only let their kids eat junk food.

Or a picture with Brad's mouth open (or closed, for that matter): I can see the headline now, 'Brad Tells Angelina: 'I Can't Take It Any More!'

Or a picture of Brad's beard: 'Brad will keep his (horrible) beard (that looks like creeping moss) until every orphan on Earth has a loving home.'

Or a picure of Angelina's tatoo: 'AIDS scare!' (Did you know she had an AIDS scare when she got it because she had done it in a dive shop when totally wasted and that the symbols actually spell the names of her ex-lovers?)

Piece of cake, just give me a picture, I'll give you a story.

The Social Net

2010-02-01T10:26:00.006+01:00

I thought I'd write about Germany today, although I haven't done any actual research so don't quote me or do any life planning based on this post.

The tax and social insurance rates are really high in Germany.

Income tax is fairly whopping. There are also various special taxes such as church tax and subsidizing the East Germans (which we now can't get rid of because they are a big voting block and keep voting for the free loser money, excuse me, re-integration money), as well as paying off various debts of shame accrued by the mostly dead grandparents of the current working generation.

Not to mention a popular problem faced by other countries: Keeping huge companies alive whose executives may be greedy, souless morons but employ a lot of people.

Then there's VAT tax, which is like 19% or something crazy like that and applies to EVERYthing you buy, including services, so if you want to redo your bathroom you need to budget an extra 20%.

I could go on but suffiice it to say that things are more expensive and salaries tend to be lower.

The social net is stronger, however. For example, parents get a monthly sum to help raise the future taxpayers of the Fatherland. Kindergarten (if you get a spot) is free. And there is very generous unemployment insurance to keep people off the streets... don't quote me but I believe it's up to two years with re-training if you qualify.

Now, here's the interesting thing. If you're unemployed you don't just get to sit home drinking beers and collecting your check. You have to show you're looking for work and you may be expected to retrain in a field that is in demand. Sure, an expert in bureaucracy can drag it out and maximize time off and/or free training, but the bottom line is you gotta shake your tail if you want the cash.

They want you back at work, not at home watching reruns. The system helps those who help themselves and those that don't help themselves can bite me... I mean, the system.

I think that's kind of smart. Of course, I hate bureacracy and jumping through hoops so it all sounds mega-annoying, but it serves the dual purpose of making unemployment undesirable while giving working families a longer lifeline before they lose their homes.

A good social network does more than just hand out cash. It does so responsibly and treats social problems from several angles.

Anyway, it's not perfect and I could write for hours about various problems for working families (like school getting out at noon), but there are fewer people on the streets in Germany than in countries with a weaker social net and the standard of living is still pretty high.

Isn't that the job of a social net?

And Solipsist, I have not gone all Teutonic!

A Fresh Start

2010-01-30T09:39:00.004+01:00

It's Saturday. No work, no errands, short post. All week long my girls get up early and go to school. K trudges through the snow for 20 minutes - she'll be one of those know-it-all grandmothers some day. Sometimes when I pick them up in the afternoon I have to work.

There's not much time for free play because there's always someplace to be, although we're not so crazy with the activities and play dates as many families we know.

So this weekend is about play. I toyed with the idea of going to Ikea after viewing Karin's inspired presentation on organizing space but scratched that. Besides I prefer to go with Ralf so he can carry the heavy stuff.

My kids are upstairs playing dress up. They sound happy. I will go check on them soon and make approving noises. Unless they are making a huge mess. Then I will... do nothing. Maybe a mild, 'Is this really necessary?' sort of comment.

I shoveled snow again today. You have to or you're liable if someone slips and hurts themselves. It's a lot like mucking stalls, really, and I've certainly done my share of that. Poop, snow, same diff. I'm even good at it, but don't tell Ralf. I don't want him getting any liberal ideas.

Here come my girls. They want to show me the belly dance they've been practicing, with costumes.

Smile.

Take Another Little Piece of My Heart Now, Baby

2010-01-29T09:12:00.007+01:00

Ralf is in California for a week and I'm alone with the kids in a very snowy place. Between being sick and the constant snow, it hasn't been an easy week.

The other night I had a call with a really great customer. I scheduled it for 9PM, which is about an hour after the kids are usually asleep. They're good sleepers so this strategy generally works well. But for whatever reason, L couldn't sleep and pattered downstairs at 9:30PM. I ended up having to barricade myself in the bathroom to finish my call in peace. L cried for a bit then eventually went back to bed on her own. I ran up after the call to apologize and cuddle her.

Long after she forgets all about it my heart will still have a little chipped piece.

This morning I found a note from the teacher saying K's been late to school several times this week. I should have known, really. When it's warm the kids ride their scooters to school but in the snow they walk, which takes longer. But they leave at the same time. The older girls in the group can go a lot faster and they've been leaving K behind. Not her fault at all.

So, I was calculating how quickly I could get L dressed and drive K to school when the phone rang. It was another mom saying her kids were leaving early today. Perfect! I helped K into her boots and gloves and opened the door - only to find that the big girls had already left! I was about to go grab L to drive K to school in my bare feet when Kaye from next door ran back and grabbed K's arm to hurry her up. Yes! But no, K burst into tears.

Exasperated, I told Kaye to go ahead and pulled K back into the house angrily, scolding her for acting like a baby. I was angry because now I had to run to get myself and L dressed, go outside, scrape the car and drive her when she could have just gone with Kaye. It's one thing if she gets left behind, it's another if she bolluxes a perfectly good solution.

It all ended well with Kaye's mom driving both girls but I can still hear my own angry voice in my ears. All I want to do now is drive to the school, pull K into my arms, hug her very tightly and tell her how wonderful she is.

There's plenty of literature about how parents can damage a child with harsh words but none about the damage parenting does to parents, about how it breaks your heart a little bit every day when you aren't as perfect and loving as you'd like to be.

At this rate, my heart will be in ragged splinters by the time my beautiful girls grow up.

A heartfelt TGIF to all you multi-tasking mamacitas!

I'd Rather be Throwing Up

2010-01-28T09:33:00.005+01:00

Thank you for your kind wishes yesterday and all that virtual chicken soup, which was really all I could manage to eat. I feel better today, although still weak as a kitten, and alas, several pounds thinner.

Just kidding about that 'alas' part.

I've said this before but want to mention again how much respect I have for single parents. This morning there was nothing I wanted to do less than stand up, dress two kids in full winter gear, fix breakfast, pack lunches, check homework, assemble stuff for a school project, scrape ice off the car and shovel snow out of the driveway but there was no one else to do it. So I did it.

It'll be a long week, especially if this snow keeps up, but then my hubby and chief snow shoveler will be home. Men and women who do this alone don't get a break.

Now a few words about snow. It's really a bit sad that Ralf is gone this week because it's exactly the kind of snow he likes, clean and powdery. And I just read a lovely post about the joy of shoveling snow.

I hate it. I should have people for that.

Then again, I insisted on marrying a German, although technically, I didn't realize Bavaria was part of Germany at the time. And it wasn't exactly Ralf's idea to spend his life with a delicate LA orchid like myself, at least not until he proposed.

So, here is my winter litany - I'm still working out the kinks:

'I am a lucky woman. I love my husband. I have two beautiful children. I have floor heating. Winter sucks - I mean, winter is my friend.'

At least the girls like it.

Whiny Wednesday

2010-01-27T10:21:00.004+01:00

Ralf is in California this week.
L was home two days with the flu.
It's -10 degrees outside.
I feel sick.

On the bright side, my neighbors are being very supportive, watching my kids when I have calls, stuff like that. No casseroles as yet.

Ooooh, I shouldn't have thought about casseroles. Or food. Food baaaaad.

Germans are very helpful once you establish a relationship. Maybe that's why they're a bit standoffish with strangers - I mean, if the expectation is that you help people you know, you have to pick and choose who you know carefully. Maybe friendliness to strangers only works in a culture where no real help is expected.

I think I'm babbling. Must lie down now. . .

Politically Incorrect Sunday

2010-01-24T10:35:00.014+01:00

In grade school we told jokes on the play ground.

Knock knock. Who's there? Orange. Orange who? Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

What's black and white and red all over? A newspaper.

We made fun of different races - for some reason the Polish were popular:

How many Pollocks does it take to change a lightbulb? (I forget how many.)

There were the Chinese jokes that either zeroed in on the inability of Chinese people to pronounce the letter 'R' or else made fun of their names.

'Yellow River' by We Pee Freely.

Incidentally, the Germans have their own version of these jokes.

What do you call a Chinese butcher? Ping Sau Hi (in Bavarian this means, 'Bang! Pig Dead').

None of these are particularly funny (unless you're 6, in which case they're hilarious) but at least the humor is comprehensible.

Years ago when I was a starry eyed computer programmer we had a global team meeting in Madrid. Yes, those were really the days. One night at a tapas bar a French colleague tried gamely to explain several French jokes with absolutely no success.

For example, there was this story about a small dog crossing a busy street in which the humor lies in the double meaning of the punchline, which was, 'Bang zee dog!!!!'

Then, to everyone's surprise and increasing alarm, he collapsed onto the floor howling with laughter. 'HAAAAAahahahaha HOOOOOOhoohoohooooo WAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!'

Finally he pulled himself together, reclaimed his chair, lit a cigarette and informed us calmly, 'It's funnier in French.'

I guess it must be. It can't be less funny in French.

My Friend Julie's Status

2010-01-22T09:03:00.002+01:00

What ever you give a woman she will make it greater. If you give her sperm she will make a baby. If you give her a house she will give you a home. Give her groceries she will give you a meal. Give her a smile and she will give you her heart. She multiplies and enlarges whatever she is given. So, if you give her crap .....

On Bodily Fluids

2010-01-20T14:30:00.003+01:00

Don't worry, it's not as gross as the poop post.

I mentioned recently that my cat Guthrie now expects me to cook for him. Although the vet warned us this isn't such a good idea, the other day I made lamb stew and he was so excited I caved and gave him some.

Ralf warned me not to in Guthrie's hearing, which may explain what happened next. As if to express disapproval of Ralf's warning while at the same time validating it, Guthrie threw up in Ralf's shoe.

There's more. We're a family of four and mess happens. Last night L snuck into our bed and peed. Fortunately this doesn't happen often but it happened last night.

There was, however, a sliver lining: K lost a tooth yesterday and I had completely forgotten to put something under her pillow. When I got up to change the sheets I remembered.

So it all worked out for the best.

Well, except Ralf's shoe - I've been trying to spin that but I got nothin'.

On Lame People and Infused Water

2010-01-18T12:16:00.006+01:00

To continue the thought from my recent post about the Josephine trilogy:

In the end, Napolean was defeated not by brilliant strategy but by the greed, mediocrity and lack of gratitude of those closest to him. He divorced Josephine in order to provide a 'blood heir' to France, although most of his family who shared his blood deserved slow death.

It was sloppy, sentimental thinking on his part but then he didn't have me to advise him.

Anyway, the Josephine trilogy was a great read that did not leave me wondering why I bother with book club.

Now a few words about infused water.

One evening last week after dinner Ralf presented me with a gift certificate for an Ayurveda relaxation massage. Yes, I know, he's taken. Anyway, Ayurveda relaxation massage is code for 'scented oil rubdown.' This includes a scalp massage, which I think is why people get massages in the first place.

After the massage I was given a glass of water infused with herbs. Very refreshing.

I frowned speculatively at the herbs floating in my water, thinking I could do that myself at home. So when I got home, I filled a big pitcher with filtered water, a stick of cinnamon, and a handful of cloves and cardamoms, then let it sit for a bit. It tasted great!

Now I'm all about infused water. I'm going to try cucumber and mint next.

On Breaking Eggs

2010-01-17T13:09:00.003+01:00

K: Mommy, can I break the eggs when we make pancakes?

Me: No! Last time you got egg everywhere.

K: I know but I want to try.

Me: I know, Sweetie, and I'm glad you to want to try things, but I don't want to clean up a big mess right now. Can you understand that?

K: Yes, Mommy. Can I break the eggs when we make pancakes?

Have I mentioned how much I love my children?

Josephine

2010-01-14T12:28:00.003+01:00

My book club is reading the Josephine trilogy by Sandra Gulland, which is a historical romance written in a diary style. Not at all my type of book.

(I prefer sci fi romps with political undertones where the bad guys get told off scathingly before they die.)

And yet, it's really good. Believable. Intriguing. The villains are strangely charming and likable. Josephine is a kind person trying to keep her children safe while taking enormous risks to help others. Napoleon is scrawny but still kind of hot, with his cold grey eyes, huge personality and complete lack of humor.

The worst people in the book are Napoleon's immediate family. I hate them. I want to slap them upside the head. Whereas I have a sneaking fondness for the architects of one of the most monstrous civil wars of all time.

Everyone is in debt, everyone socializes with murderers, everyone is feckless and desperate and yet... you gotta like 'em.

Now, that's good writing.

Saved by the Antifreeze

2010-01-12T09:06:00.005+01:00

Me and my world famous arms were driving to the gym the other day in below freezing whether when I discovered that the windshield wiper fluid was empty.

For those of you who have never driven with frozen water vapor on your windshield, that's bad. I made a mental note to discuss this seriously with Ralf if I survived.

My window was rapidly icing over with traffic coming from the other direction and there was nothing I could do about it. My wipers scraped pathetically over my windshield with a loud crunching noise. I was flying blind.

For several seconds that felt like hours I debated pulling over but my cellphone was dead and I didn't fancy being stuck on the side of the road until spring.

And then it happened. A truck driver zooming past in the opposite lane cleaned his own windshield and the excess spray somehow found its way to my windshield in passing. The ice melted and my wipers authoritatively nudged the slush aside. I could see again!

Who says miracles never happen?

Mazel Tov! (Hope that means thanks...)

2010-01-07T11:43:00.004+01:00

My new BFF Magda has awarded me this award. Well, strictly speaking she awarded it to all of us because you guys are so awesome.

No, really, here's exactly what she said:

"She even has the best commentors. Sharp, stylish, funnier than shit. Well informed. Goddess. Are you sure it is ok that I share the blogosphere with you?"

Well, that's just about the nicest thing anyone ever said to me. Except maybe Absence of Alternatives, who said I have Michelle Obama arms. I've been preening in the mirror ever since, trying to look more stylish and godlike.

Anyway, I accept on behalf of all of us fabulous bloggers with Michelle Obama arms.

Although I'm willing to exclude Solipsist from that last bit. You're welcome.

I'm supposed to pass the award along as Magda did so beautifully (you should check out her blog list). My problem is that all of you deserve it and many of you already have it.

So, if you follow this blog consider yourself awarded and thanks (as always) for the great comments.

New Year's Resolution

2010-01-05T10:04:00.005+01:00

I just have one: I want to be better about keeping my laptop turned off and packed away when my kids are home.

If it's work, that's one thing, but I want to limit personal computer usage to times when kids are out of the house or sleeping. Like on weekends. I don't want their foremost mommy memory to be me hunched over a black box. I've made good progress on this during 2009 and in 2010 I plan to make even more until I'm like a real mom.

Other worthy goals like excercise, eating more cake, etc., can wait. I mean, I excercise anyway, sometimes, so why add pressure? And it's not like I need more commitment to cake.

I have vacation until Thursday and it's been nice having so many days off in a row at home. I've baked cookies with my girls, done a bit of sewing and spring cleaning and we've caught up with several of our good friends like Claudi, who designs technical outdoor wear and has an office full of buttersoft fleece samples. I could spend all day in there.

I've also been working on the illustrations for a children's book I'm writing. Probably not for publication but some day we may self publish and then I'll do a giveaway or something like that. The stories are dreamed up by Ralf at bedtime and written down by me. Here is an example.

And here is one of my illustrations. As you can see I'm not an illustrator but I've been inspecting lots of kids books and they don't seem to be that picky about artistic talent.

OK, everyone looks kind of flat and, er, broad-shouldered but it's my first drawing in about a decade. I'm bound to improve. Right?

Auld Lang Syne

2010-01-02T08:48:00.009+01:00

You can never go back to a nicer time but you can (and in fact, must) go forward. And who knows how nice the future will be?

This year was our turn to host the NY party. We were supposed to do it last year but I was too sick. So you can imagine how sick I was. This year I was also sick but nipped it in the bud so the party was on.

It was a great success, although I did almost burn down our house when I put L's ski jacket on a candle while I helped her take off her boots. Ralf is still making snide comments about that even though it's a whole new year and it's time to move on, don't you think?

So, party? I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Mostly. Welcome to our home. You look marvelous. Please come in and have a drink. Dinner will be served shortly.

Getting ready to party with my girls.

Of course, the secret to any successful party with kids is an attic and a DVD player.

I love the illusion that that's all my hair. Dinner. Food is important.Fireworks at midnight followed by dancing.Kids still going strong.Kids out by 3AM, party starting to wind down. Happy New Year!

You know it's a new year when...

2009-12-29T09:27:00.005+01:00

Yoga class is standing room only, in honor of the pending new year. In about a month it'll be practically empty again, except for the hard core students.

That's my big 2010 prediction, by the way. I'll take everything else as it comes.

Our cat: For 15 years our cat was estatic eating dry food and water. In fact, if we offered him something more interesting he turned his nose up at it. These days it's a bit different. He jumps up on the table while we're eating, wakes us up early so we can turn on the shower for him (he likes shower water) and expects me to cook for him. Nothing fancy, just chicken or lamb, lightly salted.

And now a couple of short family conversations to set the mood for 2010.

On presents:

K (indignantly from behind a mountain of fabulous presents): I didn't get anything on my Christmas list!

Me: Of course you did, darling. You got a math book.

(As it turned out she also later got a gold necklace from her godfather and was somewhat appeased. But I'm afraid she's concluded that Santa is totally bogus, or at least has an attention span problem.)

On cheeses:

Ralf (during dinner): Is this Comte cheese? You've gotta be kidding me. The French piss in a bucket, sell it to the Germans and laugh their asses off. Never buy Compte again.

Me: Um, OK.

On a final note, I noticed that in this picture of Ralf and me you can actually see a Dark Shadow looming over us:

How cool is that? Ralf says it's just a shadow but I know better. If I had any photoshop skills I would change it to a golden aura. I tried making us both gold but the dark shadow remained and it looked like we were burning in a nuclear fire so I gave up.

There are times when I regret my limited artistic ability.

Friends, I wish you all a boring 2010. I would wish you an interesting 2010, because it sounds better, but it's too much like the ancient Chinese curse, 'May you live in interesting times.'

So let's just go with boring, shall we?

Merry Christmas

2009-12-27T09:55:00.010+01:00

Another Christmas, another round of antibiotics.

True to form, I came down with strep throat on Christmas Eve. Last year it was bronchitis, only I waited a month before going to a specialist for antibiotics and by that time I needed cortisone to heal some internal damage, including several microtears in my ribs that still twinge.

This time we called the specialist immediately so I'm already on my way back to health.

This is my first strep throat and I had no idea it was so agonizingly painful. The back of your throat swells to twice it's normal size and swallowing is a private microcosm of hurt. Technically, it only hurts when you swallow but how do you not swallow?

Still, it was a fine Christmas and I for one am heartily grateful that 2009 is nearly over. Even though there is a high probability that 2010 will get worse before it gets better, it's still nice to see the back of 2009.

Don't worry, we're all fine (well, except me, I've got my annual plague but I'm on the mend), and there have been some memorable high points, but all in all it was a very difficult year.

Anyway, enough about me. I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas season and a very Happy New Year.

On Snogging and First Cousins

2009-12-23T09:36:00.002+01:00

While in Dublin I attended two parties, the office Christmas party that I already mentioned and a private party. The private party was a posh affair with champagne and finger food from Marks and Spencer being carried around on trays while people talked shop.

I myself chatted at length with a couple of Irish investment bankers living in London named Fergus and Rory, unless they were kidding about that.

Fergus has 108 first cousins. In a tiny town like Dublin this means you run into family quite a bit. And of course everyone attends Trinity University, so you have to be a bit careful who you snog at a party.

So sayeth Fergus.

I don't have any first cousins and found this insight into large families quite fascinating.

Incidentally, word about the American girl with no first cousins made the rounds pretty fast. When we took our leave several people I've never seen before in my life expressed sincere (albeit cautious) optimism that there might somehow be cousins in my future.

Merry Christmas, people. May you have many first cousins.

Let's Have a Pint

2009-12-21T12:39:00.004+01:00

Hello, everyone. I just got back from Dublin, where our company had its European Christmas party. It was my first trip to Dublin, although I've visited most of Western Europe, and it reminded me of a small, racially homogenous London where people go for a pint before a party.

And after.

Great place, Dublin.

On Sunday we had a traditional Irish breakfast at Beweley's, a popular restaurant that is carbon neutral and makes a mean latte. Which goes to show that being carbon neutral doesn't mean you can't enjoy the finer things in life.

Ironically, while in college I never wanted to visit Germany because I was afraid I'd be arrested and disappear forever, which is of course nonsense, but American elementary school education kind of stops talking about Germany after 1945 and neglects to mention that all that militant heritage is now channeled into glaring at other people's children and recycling.

Naturally, I now live in Germany, because the universe has a sense of humor.

Then I didn't want to visit Ireland because I was afraid the IRA would bomb me and I was unconcerned with factual trivia like the fact that they don't actually bomb things any more.

Happily, I made it out of Dublin un-bombed, except in a purely literal sense.

Here's a picture: Separated at birth?

Earth to Brain

2009-12-18T11:50:00.003+01:00

This post will probably offend some people but I need to get this off my chest.

The environment is a big topic, which means no one can predict exactly what will happen. There are several schools of thought and each does their best to discredit the others.

Common sense dictates that whether or not you believe global warming is caused by CO2 emmissions or by natural planetary evolution, the fact is that there are a heck of a lot of people on this planet using up resources and causing polution and that's a problem.

Can we at least agree on that?

And yet, I find otherwise rational people making the most far-fetched arguments against there being any sort of problem at all. Key words seem to be communism, conspiracy and Al Gore.

A summary of the key defense against global warming being true:

'Al Gore lives in a nice house. Therefore he is an evil capitalist lying about global warming to make money. The global warming message is a Communist plot. Therefore Al Gore is a Communist.* Communists lie. Therefore global warming is a lie.'

*Maybe he's a Communist during the week and an evil capitalist on weekends.

Feel free to leave a comment disagreeing with me but please don't use the C word.

I mean, Communism.

Playing the Hand You're Dealt

2009-12-17T11:37:00.004+01:00

Princess Leia's cinnamon bun hairstyle wasn't Carrie Fisher's idea. In fact, there was a very real risk she'd go down in history as as Princess Dork Hair and be laughed out of Los Angeles.

Instead she carried it off with aplomb and became a Hollywood icon.

Make of that what you will.

Perspectives

2009-12-16T08:47:00.002+01:00

Recently K has been very interested in anatomy. She wants to know things like how blood is pumped and why its red. The other day we were discussing the heart. After dealing with various technicalities of the heart's important job (none of which I understand very well so I made most of it up) she made the following observation:

'The heart is so icky.'

This prompted a surprisingly intense flashback. While I was getting my MA I worked as a research assistant in the political science department. That's probably why my political observations are always so spot on. Anyway, one day I was researching or smoking or whatever it was I did for a very small amount of money when another female student walked in.

We got to talking and it turned out she was a pre-med student who had just done her first autopsy and was clearly excited about it. Eyes glowing with the passion of someone who has found their true vocation, she said:

'The heart is so beautiful.'

I guess it all depends on your perspective.

'

This Is for PattyP

2009-12-14T13:01:00.004+01:00

Patty's comment about bacon wrapped prunes:

"The key to victory on any of those [cooking] shows comes down to one factor: bacon. Whichever contestant puts bacon in the dish invariably seems to win."--Michael Pollan

Apparently you can wrap bacon around just about anything, and they'll go fast.

Thank you, Patty, for this timeless observation. I couldn't agree more and this one's for you:

Courtesy of Big Daddy Paul.

Also, 'chacon', courtesy of Kristina:

This and That

2009-12-13T08:59:00.004+01:00

First of all, this breaking Human Resources news - snuggies are banned from the workplace. Read all about it here. This is the biggest HR news since the financial crisis broke, at least for Kristina.

I finished Hornet's Nest. It was good, although the end fizzled a bit. Please read it, it's way better than average.

Two more tips for you (I'm in an expansive, helpful mood):

1) Watch the movie 'Laura', an old black and white classic with Gene Tierney and Dana Andrews; and

2) For delicious and easy appetizers, wrap prunes in bacon strips and back until bacon is cooked. If you want to be classy, stick toothpicks through them. Make a lot, they go fast.

Finally, K's long-awaited Christmas wish list - she didn't bother with any sort of greeting or salutation to Santa, just the list:

1. robot horse
2. math book
3. more hermit crabs (to ignore)
4. story CD about some magic horse with a weird name that sounds like 'Sternschweif'
5. real gold necklace
6. real sivler bracelet
7. tatoo pens
8. tatoo stickers
9. tatoo

Needless to say, she'll be getting the math book.

More OnThe Hornet's Nest

2009-12-11T08:49:00.004+01:00

My name is Bondssen. Johann Bondssen. From Wisconsin.

I'm about halfway through The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest and so far ich liebe es, although I'm not sure why exactly. Maybe it's the strong female protagonist, maybe it's the whole idea of overturning a government conspiracy, maybe it's the clever, understated dialog, hell, maybe it's the fish sandwiches. Whatever, I haven't enjoyed a new book so much in a long time.

On the other hand, I have to say I'm a bit disappointed in the Swedish secret police. Since the original bad guys are more or less dead, it's unclear why the new generation is so paranoid about keeping old secrets buried. Also as villains go they're pretty lame. I mean, it's convenient for our heroes that the secret police don't know seem to know the first thing about counter-espionage and have to hire a tame burgler to break into someone's apartment and don't realize the significance of PDAs and other handheld devices, but I find myself thinking, 'Really, Stieg?'

For crissake, people, I'D be a better spy than these guys. I even know someone who knows how to tap phones. But so far the plot seems to depend on them being not very good - and, to their credit, not evil enough to kill innocent people - or the book would have been over after the first chapter.

Also it's an interesting study of the Swedish political system. Even once the Prime Minister and about half the government and police force have been informed and agree there's a problem and want to stop whatever's going on, it still isn't anywhere near over because no one seems to have any actual power. It's a bureaucrat's Shangrila.

Please note that these are just my preliminary observations since I haven't actually finished the book yet. Knowing my boy Stieg, he still has something up his sleeve to tie it all together neatly and surprise me. I'll keep you posted, although I won't spoil the ending for you.

BTW for some reason blogger is not emailing me comments reliably, although I can check them directly in the posts. Is anyone else having this problem?

Perhaps they are being intercepted by the Swedish secret police, which probably has some sort of search engine looking for references to 'Stieg Larsson' and 'fish sandwiches.'

Christmas Reflections

2009-12-10T09:24:00.005+01:00

Ralf comes home today. I have several nice surpises for him, like food and picking him up at the airport (which he knows, the surprise part is if I make it there on time without accidentally getting lured onto the sneaky road to Deggendorf).

I also have one or two unpleasant surprises in store, such as that I bought an Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas CD for the kids. I loved A & the C when I was a kid, and how Dave always yells, 'AL-VINNNNNN!' It totally rocks.

Then on the weekend Christmas will officially begin. We will acquire a tree and hang things on it. There will be music - possibly not the Chipmunks, my favorite Christmas music is Nat King Cole. We will get ready for the Christmas party we're having on Sunday. Cookies will be consumed with chai and/or coffee. Frangrant candles will be lit. Stuff like that.

Ralf and I each sponsor two children with the Christian Children's Fund and the SOS Kinderdorf. Well, actually, he sponsors two kids in Sierra Leonne and I sponsor one girl in Bolivia and an SOS Kinderdorf in Germany, where data privacy laws prevent you from sponsoring an individual child. Each sponsorship costs about $30/month and includes food supplements, education and medical attention.

Ralf read somewhere recently that it's good for the soul to give away 10% of your wealth to those in need. That's enough to notice but not enough to diminish your own quality of life. I haven't actually calculated if we actually do 10%, which means we haven't hurt our quality of life, but we definitely notice the money going out the door. So we're probably about right.

My sponsored child's name is Laura. I picked her because she has the same name as me (I'm very vain), lives in a very poor country and looked so sad in her picture. I first had the idea when L was born and I was home watching Roseanne alll day. I couldn't bear the thought of not having food or medicine for my perfect new baby and it actually tortured me to imagine any mother in that situation. So when the CCF commercial came on I picked up the phone. And once it turned out to be legit, Ralf did, too.

One of Ralf's sponsored children is truly poor. Her mother works in a different city, her father has some mysterious health issue and she lives with her grandmother in a small hovel. She once had a goat but it was stolen. Early pictures of her looked like she was jaundiced but since then she makes a healthier impression. One picture showed her at school - standing at her desk because there were no chairs. The other, a boy, lives in a Kinderdorf. His parents are dead. We receive occassional pictures and he looks very well-cared for.

My sponsored child is older (she's 8 now) and her family is less poor. Her father is a carpenter and her older siblings attend some sort of college. Once when I wrote to her and mentioned seeing a Harry Potter movie she wrote back to say she had seen it, too. Still, they are far from wealthy and there's no doubt with four children a bit of extra cash comes in handy.

Earlier this year I had a small crisis of faith about giving away my hard earned money. Last Christmas I sent Laura $50 as a combined birthday and Christmas present. It was a lot but I thought she could put it away for emergencies, higher education, what have you. Instead she bought a new designer bicycle.

This bothered me, which also bothered me, because a gift giver doesn't own the recipient. But my own kids drive used bicycles and their presents added up to about $20.

After thinking it over I decided I wasn't upset with Laura - who could blame her for wanting a flashy new bicycle? - but with the CCF that advises the family. Finally I wrote them a note explaining that they shouldn't assume I'll always have an extra $50 to give away and they should have encouraged the family to save the money. I added that I signed up with the CCF to fight true poverty, not buy luxury items.

They wrote back about how much Laura needed a bicycle and how used bicycles break faster and how excited she was. And there the matter dropped.

I still sponsor Laura, although I rarely hear from her these days. I remind myself that I was a lousy corresponent when I was 8, too, and trust she's enjoying school and life. The money I give to CCF benefits the entire community, not just her, making school and medical attention available to more people. So it's all good.

But this year she gets $20. Same as my kids.

The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest

2009-12-08T11:59:00.002+01:00

The third Stieg Larrson book just arrived. It's fat. I'm excited.

A word about the trilogy's heroine, Lisbeth: She is a genius with a photographic memory. She is perfectly peacable as long as people leave her alone. If they try to harm her, she takes over their computer, then kills or maims them.

It's easy to see why these books are so popular.

Turnen

2009-12-08T08:31:00.005+01:00

Yesterday the girls had Turnen, or gymnastics. I'm making a Christmas video of the girls for my mom and grandma and I took it along to film some footage.

Tournen is fun to watch because there's just nothing cuter than a bunch of little kids gallumping around giggling. I have great respect for the teacher Ingrid as well - because, let's face it, the job is like herding cats.

Because I was filming, K was on her best behavior. She repeatedly hugged her sister and helped her balance on a bench they were supposed to walk across. Not that she's usually mean to L, she's actually pretty decent as big sisters go, but yesterday she went all out.

This means she has figured out that it pays to act nice when people are watching.

Yes!!

Putting Away Childish Things

2009-12-07T12:02:00.003+01:00

I finished The Girl Who Played With Fire yesterday. The ending was a bit over the top if you think that someone who's been shot in the head and buried alive wouldn't normally be able to dig themselves out and go on a killing spree but I still enjoyed it and just ordered the third book.

While I was making dinner for the kids I overheard this conversation:

L (4 years old): Santa is just a man in dress up.

Ex-cuse me? Where did that come from?

K (6 years old): You're not supposed to say that. I know it, and Mommy knows it, but Papa doesn't know it.

Really?

L: Oh.

K: You can't tell Papa or he'll be sad.

L: OK.

Poor Ralf. I'll have to try to find the right moment to break it to him.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

2009-12-05T12:36:00.006+01:00

Ralf is in California. The girls are with their grandparents.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.

It often surprises people to hear this - I guess because I'm kind of loud - but I am an introvert. Some of you may already know this, but being an introvert does not mean you fear people or spend all your time in creepy chatrooms while hacking into the national security database. It simply means you recharge when you're alone, as opposed to extroverts, who recharge in the company of others.

Before having kids, I used to spend several hours a day alone, or at least incommunicado, mostly reading with a cup of coffee (add a fish sandwich to that and I could be mistaken for a Swede!). If Ralf or some other boyfriend wandered into the room, my curt responses soon drove them off again, unless they came bearing food.

If I didn't get this downtime I got kinda cranky.

Fast forward to married me with a job and two kids. I've adjusted my expectations and no longer expect to spend two hours a day reading with no interruptions. Which is good, because I'd be very cranky indeed all the time, instead of just mildly cranky.

When Ralf is gone the girls get to sleep in our bed with me and the sound of their peaceful snuffly breathing fills me with such deep happiness I can't describe it.

But when everyone is gone for a day and night, I get to be me again. Here are the exciting things I've done since last night:

1. Fixed a tray of bread, cheese, prociutto, grapes and a glass of red wine.

2. Watched 3 episodes of Buffy, season 5. I've seen them all before but still enjoy them. Riley recently took off and Buffy's relationship with Spike is evolving. I miss Riley, he's competent and clean cut like Ralf, but I like Spike, too.

3. Went to bed at 10:30 and woke up at an extravegant 9:30.

4. Enjoyed 2 cups of hot, fresh coffee and homemade biscotti in absolute silence while reading The Girl who Played with Fire by Stieg Larsson. Despite everyone being a bit slow to follow up on various leads, it's an excellent read.

5. Although not particularly religious in a churchy way, prayed for Stieg Larsson and thanked him for providing me with such a peaceful and enjoyable morning.

At 15:00 I'll go to my Nike Fighting Fit class, then pick up the girls. Tomorrow we'll hang out at home and watch Year Without a Santa Claus together.

I wish you all a peaceful weekend.

Another Beauty Secret

2009-12-03T11:48:00.004+01:00

Yesterday I divulged my secret cookie diet. Today I will let you in on my favorite skin care secret.

About a year ago I noticed that L'Occitane had a line of expensive facial creams containing olive oil. I reasoned that if the key ingredient is olive oil, I could skip all the costly parabens and go right to the source.

That's right, I tried putting a light coat of olive oil on my face before bed and the results have been at least as good as using some $50 cream full of carcinogenic ingredients and neurotoxic fragrance. (Oh, you didn't know the FDA doesn't regulate 'fragrance'? Watch The Story of Stuff if you haven't already.)

Anyway. I don't do this every night because it makes me shiny and, um, hungry but roughly a couple of times a week, especially in winter when everything's so dry. It absorbs pretty quickly in winter.

The only drawback is that olive oil comes in such large bottles, completely unsuitable for toiletteries, so I recently purchased some sweet almond oil for travel.

This works almost as well, although Ralf says I smell like a big marzipan.

I'm not sure if that's better or worse than smelling like a bread salad.

Thoughts?

The Amazing Cookie Diet

2009-12-02T08:32:00.003+01:00

The diet that works for cookie monsters, who can resist anything except really good cookies. It's very simple. Eat only cookies in December. The rest of the year you won't want to see anything resembling a cookie. You will probaby gain about 5 pound in December but lose 10 over the rest of the year. It really works, I kid you not.

Disclaimer: If you're more of a potato chip or salty snack monster, this diet obviously won't work for you. Sorry.

An Apology... of Sorts

2009-12-01T11:02:00.006+01:00

Tina the Athiest had a birthday party on the weekend, which K attended. Since I was off to my Nike Fighting Fit class, and Tina has a younger sister that L got on well with in Kindergarten, we thought maybe L could go to the party as well.

Accordingly we dressed her up in a cute little skirt and tights and even brushed her hair. Then Ralf set off for the party with the girls and I headed out to the gym.

When I got home K was still at the party but L came running to greet me. Apparently she was not allowed to stay at the party, for reasons Ralf was unable to explain satisfactorily. So we read some books and played Memory until it was time to pick up K.

Yesterday during gymnastics after school Tina's mom approached me. "Sorry I couldn't invite L to the party this weekend," she said. "But it was really for older girls. I think K had a nice time, though."

I assured her that I totally understood.

She continued: "My youngest daughter didn't want her there. She doesn't like L."

I found this additional explanation unnecessary and somewhat offputting, but allowed that chemistry is important at parties.

There was more: "K and Tina get along so well. Maybe we could do a playdate at our house. Just K, though, since my youngest daugher detests L."

Please note that 'detest' is my translation of, 'Sie kann L nicht leiden,' and is probably harsher than intended.

I managed to respond that play dates are fun and omit any reference to flying pigs.

Later I reflected that I may have been too hard on her, at least in my thoughts. She has three small kids and the last thing she needs is an extra kid in her house that her middle child won't play with. And it's not like I've never been so intent on explaining something that I offended somebody about something.

But still. Who could resist this sweet little schnookums???

Dear Santa

2009-11-29T08:34:00.000+01:00

Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year I would like the following:

1. Chocolate Santa
2. Chocolate croissant
3. Lollipop
4. Chocolate muffin
5. Chcolate streusel cake

PS This is my muffin note.

Sincerely,
L (4 years old)

Physical habits

2009-11-28T09:27:00.003+01:00

At the company I work for an email went around asking us not to work in Explorer because of some new security threat that Microsoft hasn't patched yet. So here I am checking out my peeps in Firefox, which opens a new tab every time I link from my blog list to a blog. Once I have read a post and left a comment, I close my browser. And each time I think, AAAARG , I was supposed supposed to just close the one tab. Then I have to reopen my blogger dashboard and start over.

I've been doing this all morning. Apparently I am incapable of learning a new physical habit. Fortunately the kids are at their grandparents this morning so I have all the time in the world to be inefficient.

On a side note, if you're feeling a bit unfit (fat) after Thanksgiving gluttony, or starting to think about Christmas presents, check out these shake weights.

Mwa.

Teeny tiny little pictures of what I am thankful for

2009-11-27T11:14:00.012+01:00

On Cheating

2009-11-25T13:10:00.003+01:00

Is anyone else out there a little behind hand on turkey day planning? We're having Thanksgiving at our house so Ralf's cooking the turkey and I'm making stuffing and our friends are bringing the rest but I still feel intimidated by un-put-away bags of groceries standing in my kitchen while I write this.

To be honest, I'm a little off my game since K started school. She leaves at 7:30 AM and L doesn't go to Kindergarten until 8:30, so we get up at 6:30 and it's almost 9AM before I can start my actual day. It takes its toll.

During this extra hour L is thrilled to have me all to herself and we read books, play games and sometimes fold laundry. Her favorite game is memory, which is probably because she wipes the floor with me. Seriously, I don't let her win, she totally kicks my butt, usually with a pair ratio of about 4:1, or make that 2:1 on rare occassions when I'm really on my game.

This morning I caught her turning over a third card when the second card was not the one she expected.

'Don't cheat, darling,' I said.

She stared at me with those ginormous blue eyes, confused.

I explained: 'You don't need to cheat to win this game, Schnuggie.'

Still confused.

I tried again: 'You should only cheat if you're losing.'

That cleared it up.

Questions?

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

2009-11-23T12:52:00.003+01:00

For the first time ever, I finished a book after book club. Usually if I don't finish before I don't bother. But The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was an exception, even though I already knew how it ended.

It's a smart book, well written with good dialog. The main character Mikael Blomkvist is plausible and likable. There's a gripping plot with a murder mystery and a twisted serial killer. There's a mysterious violent background. There are politics and high tech and big business.

All the elements, in short, of a best seller.

There is also an intriguing aura of 'foreigness' that permeates the book, possibly due to the large quantities of coffee, extramarital sex and fish sandwiches enjoyed by most of the characters. I'm not saying there aren't Americans that drink a lot of coffee or cheat on their spouses or even both - but fish sandwiches? I don't think so.

The book is the first of a trilogy. I just ordered the second book.

Sadly, the author is dead, after stating he knew exactly which literary elements to include in a best seller and then writing said best seller.

That seems wrong to me.