I don't know what's going on with me. Last week I picked up that Russian book and it opened a door in my head and I'm tormented and thirsty for more.
Russian was my first language love. There have been other languages since then; languages which I have appreciated, respected, some of which I've gotten to know intimately, but none will ever hold a candle to that initial spark and then all-consuming passion that I felt for Russian.
We spent several tumultuous years together-- sometimes we got along, sometimes we didn't. In the end our paths diverged and I came to the painful realization that Russian just didn't fit into my life anymore. I moved on as was necessary, but have always thought back wistfully on the days when it all flowed so easily and I was still blissfully intimate with this rich, poetic language.
Since last week I've been haunted. I don't even know what purpose it would serve, but I need to, I MUST rekindle some kind of relationship, even if it's just for old times' sake. I've been reading everything I can get my hands on. Listening to the radio, watching videos, ordering music.
In my head it's pure chaos. I've never been good at switching between languages, and now that the floodgates are opening everything is sloshing together and I am rendered completely incomprehensible. At some point the dust has got to settle, but for now I'm holed up at home, muttering to myself and feeling the ache of nostalgia and lovesickness for my first great language love...
Yesterday I popped into a Russian supermarket to buy some treats for an old friend from Moscow days who is now living in the States. I got so nostalgic just wandering the aisles that I ended up buying some treats for myself, including a Russian version of Doctor Dolittle. I came home and devoured the first two chapters (they were VERY short!) and am so thrilled to realize that my Russian is still in there somewhere! Have found some resources on the web and have decided to dust off the cobwebs and get back to really, truly свободно говорить по-русский!!!
This was so eloquent and perfectly put that I've cut and pasted the full text from NPR's website. THANK YOU LILY COYLE!
The Minneapolis Star-Tribune published a letter from Satan to evangelist Pat Robertson, responding to his comment that Haiti's persistent troubles, including the earthquake, are due to a pact the nation made with Mephistopheles.
Actually, it wasn't Satan who wrote the letter but Lilly Coyle of Minneapolis writing in the persona of the hellish one.
I think she got it down pretty well. What say you?
Dear Pat Robertson,
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I'm all over that action.
But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I'm no welcher. The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished.
Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth -- glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle. Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake. Haven't you seen "Crossroads"? Or "Damn Yankees"?
If I had a thing going with Haiti, there'd be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox -- that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it -- I'm just saying: Not how I roll.
You're doing great work, Pat, and I don't want to clip your wings -- just, come on, you're making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad. Keep blaming God. That's working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
This morning I was out walking the dog when I came across a gregarious older man who started chatting with me. Sensing that he was lonely, I stopped for a minute to listen. He started out fine enough, but then he began talking about how badly the Germans treat him because he comes from Romania. And that that's just what Germans do, because look at the war. But not all Germans were bad, and not all of them knew what was going on. And anyway, look at the Jews! No one wants to live with them anyway. They're insidious-- they'll send one family member into a community to get established and then the rest of them come and take over...
At first I was just incredulous at his lack of tact, but at this point I became angry. Told him that there were members of my grandmother's family who died in concentration camps, and that it doesn't matter what one thinks about a certain group of people, no one deserves that! Then I walked away and left him sputtering.
A few minutes later I recounted the conversation to an acquaintance and she said: "Some people are just unbelievable! Yes, what happened in WWII was horrible. I hope nothing like that ever happens again!"
And I was shocked and said: "But it's still happening today! Look at what's happening in Sudan and the Congo!"
Her reply: "Yes, but that's Africa. Africa is a whole different story..."
A friend of mine has been scanning pictures and documents from Moscow days, including this ticket to Michael Jackson's concert at Luzhniki Stadium. I haven't thought about this concert in a very long time, so I dug out my journals and was shocked to read the following:
September 17th, 1993
Went to see none other than Michael Jackson in concert on Wednesday night. We paid a shitload for the tickets and then were stuck up in obstructed view, nosebleed, so-far-from-the-stage-that-the-performers-all-looked-like-ants seats. The way they set up the ticket sales it seems that the less you paid for the damned things, the better view you got. So it's pouring down rain, about 45 degrees in the outdoor stadium, and the concert got delayed by 2 hours.
Michael finally came out and his entrance was accompanied by fireworks. We all danced wildly to "Billy Jean" and "Thriller", motivated about 75% by enthusiasm and probably 25% out of a desire to restore blood flow to our painfully frozen feet!
Poor Michael had a hard time doing his routines because at all times there were 7 to 10 guys in sweat suits on their hands and knees mopping up the water that was pooling up on the stage and making it slick. I don't know if it was because of that or just the stress of being out on the road and having all those lawsuits on him, but he broke down into big sobs twice!
All in all it was a really good show, but I get the impression that he's being torn to pieces and systematically devoured by his "adoring" fans. I felt like I was privy to the premonition of a blood bath. If this keeps up I wonder how long it will be before they find his crumpled, lifeless body on the floor of a posh hotel room?
We've had a lot of snow in the past week and it's beautiful here! S and B are spending a lot of time outside involved in dubious pastimes like racing their bikes down the icy street and then braking hard in order to do 180 degree (and sometimes 360 degree!) spins. *sigh*
This weekend they had a blast on their sleds. Friends built a ramp at the end of a hill which launched the sleighs airborne. It wasn't always easy for the parents to watch, and one kid landed badly and probably broke his arm, but they all had some spectacular rides and I got some spectacular pictures*!
*taken by someone else who had great reflexes, a great eye, and who was not preoccupied with visions of the last time S wrecked a sled...
For Christmas the kids got Scribblenauts, a video game in which the player solves problems by writing down the name of the tool he wants to use to get out of various scrapes. S and B speak English fluently but they've got definite holes in their vocabulary because they spend most of their day speaking German. With American music, movies, friends and family they'll catch up eventually, but for now this makes for some very amusing mistakes when they're searching for words.
This morning they must have hit a rough patch in their game and I heard them in the other room debating excitedly:
What do you call those things! ACK! What are they called? Bull? Bull-? Aha! I know! GUNBULLETS!
At least they don't break your kneecaps! (as far as I know...)
S: Why do Mafiosi do what they do? Me: What do you mean? S: Why do they knock on people's doors and ask if they have accepted Jesus into their hearts?! Me: ??? Umm, S? Are you talking about Jehovah's Witnesses? S: Oh yeah! That's it!
Every year on New Years Eve the Germans (at least in our neighborhood) go completely crazy with fireworks. They spend hundreds of Euros on spectacular displays that are thrilling for children but a nightmare for parents.
I spend the entire evening pulling my kids back to a "safer distance" and shudder when one overly-zealous neighbor chuckles about his yearly "incidents": some firework that tips over in its bottle and zooms off into the crowd of onlookers. Last year it was in our direction, this year it narrowly missed some friends and blew up in their garage! Let the good times roll!
Luckily we were able to close out 2009 without any trips to the hospital and we toasted with champagne and rang in the New Year with David Hasselhoff singing "I've been looking for Freedom" on tv! You can't get much more German than that!!!
Last night we watched Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer with the kids. And it gets to the part where the Abominable Snow monster is about to devour Rudolph and his family-- I almost wet my pants with fear at that part when I was little!
So the Abominable Snow monster goes: "RAAAAWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" and B starts to giggle and says: "Actually the special effects in this film are pretty poor quality..."
It's happening again. Every year it's the same thing-- December rolls around and I lose control of all the balls I'm juggling and everything crashes down around me. I don't know if it's due to the weather or the darkness or all the pressures of the holiday season, but I'm starting to forget things-- enough so that it's becoming embarrassing!
Last week I stood up a friend who waited for me in the cold for 20 minutes before she finally gave up. I forgot to send B to his after school reading group on Monday. Invited someone over to my house, but didn't give her my telephone number OR address! I've got overdue library books waiting to be returned, and yesterday I raced to the nursing home only to realize that I'd come on the wrong day!
I started to blog about this whole phenomenon, but then forgot to finish the post!
And the topper: this morning I went to the grocery store at the crack of dawn (because I forgot to do it yesterday) got to the end of the checkout line and realized that I'd left my wallet at home!
Luckily the cashier was really nice about it: she sent me home with my frozen stuff and I came back and paid and got the rest of my groceries later. How embarrassing!
(My kids are getting sick of me asking them the same questions over and over, but then again, paybacks are hell, guys, because your socks are STILL on the floor despite my repeated reminders.)
Normally such a bout of extreme mental-fog might be worrying, but it's a small comfort that this happens to me at about the same time every year. (Perhaps THAT should be cause for concern?!)
With so much fumbling around lately I end up scrambling to compensate for all the things I've forgotten and hoping nobody notices. It seems I'm living the life of an alcoholic, but then without the alcohol, the wild parties or the made-for-tv movie to document the drama!
Our livingroom is set up so that you enter from behind and only see the backs of the people in the room. This morning I walked in and was just about to scold S for standing on the couch when I realized...
he wasn't. His feet were firmly planted on the ground and he was towering over the seat back.
Christmas market season has begun here in Germany, and last weekend we headed "downtown" to check out the festivities in our little village. I gave the kids a couple of Euros for s'mores and they raced off to hang out with friends in front of a bonfire.
Yesterday S started animatedly recalling B's sticky adventures and that it was amazing that he didn't throw up after eating so much junkfood.
"Wait-- how many marshmallows did he eat?!"
S started counting thoughtfully and ticking off his fingers: "... four, five, six"
"Six marshmallows?! Yuck-- that would probably have been enough to make me throw up!"
"What?! NO! He ate six portions! That's 18 marshmallows and 42 cookies!"
Had a bit of a sad day at the nursing home yesterday. After helping out with lunch I sat for a while with a woman who's 94-- she started crying and saying how unhappy she is-- that she doesn't LIKE noodles, but they keep giving her noodles. And that she used to be strong and busy and she could HELP people, just like I do, and now she can't even regulate the thermostat on her radiator.
She was just so distressed, and I let her rant, because that was about the only thing I could do. Held her hand and stroked her hair, and I ended up crying myself, because I can imagine exactly how she feels-- when you're feeling crummy and all you want are potatoes and you keep getting served noodles instead...
This? Is my friend's parents' front yard. Her mom was just about to go out and weed the garden, but was dragging and stopped for a cup of coffee. She was sitting in front of that window when she saw the driver lose control of his truck and plow right up into the yard! Thank God for caffeine addiction, because otherwise she might have been flattened right along with the begonias!
The weather has been gray and crappy lately, so the women in my Aikido group decided we should all go to the sauna together.
"You know everyone's going to be naked there, right?" asked B, horrified, when I got home.
It's true, ze Germans have a much lower threshold for getting naked than we Americans. I've been to the sauna on several occasions with other friends, but it was always during Frauentag, when only women are allowed in, which doesn't bother me at all.
This time, however, we went to the Mineraltherme in Böblingen, and it was gemischtes Sauna-- open to both men and women.
I'd heard stories from friends before, but still wasn't quite emotionally prepared to parade around in my birthday suit with a couple hundred strangers. And it would have been fine if they were all minding their own business, but I saw several men who were quite obviously there as spectators.
At one point we entered a sauna and were faced with 30 naked people squeezed elbow to elbow on benches arranged in stadium seating. I sat at the only free space at the bottom next to the stairs, and every couple of moments someone passed by and I was eye to eye with an unknown manly appendage as it passed by me on the way up to the upper rows.
It was very, very weird.
After visiting several different saunas the Aikido ladies and I sat in front of a fireplace and had a coffee. I was finally getting used to the general atmosphere and was feeling relatively relaxed.
We finished our coffee and went to go take a shower and get dressed and go home. I followed G into the locker room, relieved to have finished the ordeal without bursting out in inappropriate laughter, and smiling about the blow-by-blow description I was going to give M as soon as I got home.
We took off our bathrobes and entered the shower area, and were suddenly confronted by the sight of 4 burly, naked men who looked up and smiled in greeting as we came in...
Today was a regular school / workday here in Germany so we had an abbreviated version of the traditional Thanksgiving dinner.
Thursday is kids' cooking day lately, so B and I spent the afternoon preparing spicy sweet potatoes, turkey breasts with sage dressing, salad, and mini pecan-pies. The latter was a real treat-- pecans are scarce here, and once I'd finally scored a couple of bags I realized I had no way to shell them.
We actually had a lot of fun massacring them with a pair of M's pliers-- sometimes they exploded and spread shell and pecan shrapnel across the livingroom floor. Which is no problem when one owns a Labrador.
(Yet another thing for which I am thankful...)
Once we'd eaten I retold the story of Thanksgiving and M asked the kids what they are thankful for.
S nodded sagely and said: "you, Mama, D, our health, our family and our friends."
Then we turned to B, who was wiggling on his chair: "I'm thankful that my bed isn't made of nails..."
hauled myself to the bakery at the crack of dawn to pick up supplies that were ordered for a class field trip (*M was reading this over my shoulder and reminded me that I actually got there 1 1/2 hours BEFORE the crack of dawn. ;-) )
hiked 5k
somehow survived a grueling 1 1/2 hour yoga class
comforted a 1,000 year old woman at the nursing home and let her cry into my sweater
grabbed a shovel and plastic bag and followed the boys down the street to pick up someone's pet cat who'd been killed by a car
practiced handstands with S
learned how radio frequencies are transmitted at the Kinder Uni in Stuttgart
raced to school to bring books to a certain child who forgot them thereby heading off unmitigated disaster
taken that VERY SAME CHILD after school to a friend's house to pick up a copy of the weekend homework, thereby heading off unmitigated disaster
done laundry, cooked meals and oohed and aahed over a new rocket car design that this same sweet child thought up all by himself. (it had very nice mirrors!)
And now I am pooped and am ready to fall comatose on the couch.
Made this on Friday and we LOVED it! I'm not a big cake-eater, but this is the perfect combination of sweet and sour and bitter. It's dead easy and is absolutely delicious!
Description: While you might be hesitant to use olive oil in a dessert recipe, such fears are groundless. Olive oil gives this cake a unique flavor and richness that is balanced out by a little sweetness and the light freshness of lemons. Hesitate no more!
Instructions: 1. Combine zest, juice and olive oil in a small bowl.
2. In the mixer combine eggs & salt. Mix on medium for 2 minutes. Slowly add the sugar and continue to mix until pale and thickened.
3. Turn mixer to low and slowly sift in the flour and baking powder, followed by the olive oil mixture. Do not over mix at this point; just incorporate the ingredients.
4. Pour this mixture into a cake pan or muffin tin. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes for cupcakes and 35 minutes for large cakes. Poke with a toothpick to check for doneness.
5. Serve with Greek yogurt and fresh strawberries. Enjoy!
My mom and dad asked for a recent picture to take with them when they visit my grandparents later on this month. Somehow I don't think these shots were what they had in mind, but this pretty much captures the essence of life with two lively (lovely!) boys!
(Note: This is a follow-up to yesterday's post. If you haven't seen that one yet you might want to read it first.)
"Hey S, do you know what happened to those condoms and the wrappers?"
It's the crack of dawn and S is wrapped up in a blanket on the sofa waiting for breakfast. He nods sleepily, crawls under the sofa and drags out a box of condoms and two wrappers and I feel relief flood through my body.
And then the humor of the situation hits me and I start giggling like a maniac.
Yesterday could have been so much worse. The poop? On the landlord's shoe? That was only the tip of our slumdog iceberg here! At least when he walked in the door S had the good sense to hide the goods and throw out the unrolled, slightly rumpled condoms that were lying on the dining room table amidst the Halloween candy wrappers and school books!
OK, I guess I should backtrack here:
S came home from school yesterday wanting to know what a condom is. Someone had made a joke about one and he had only a vague idea that it was something bad or dirty. So I gave S and B an in-depth explanation about birth control and disease prevention and I even brought out a box of condoms and gave them a couple so that they could unwrap them and see what they really look like.
There were a couple of remarks that had me stifling a nervous laugh: "Wait?! This is supposed to fit around my penis?! It's HUGE!??"
Afterwards of course they blew them up like balloons and let them fly around the room. I asked them to clean it all up and get back to their homework. When I left the room they were laughing about a greasy smudge the lubricant had left on the dining room window.
We have a tiny yard. I mean miniscule. It's only big enough to house a few good sized dandelions and an unidentifiable conifer. Consequently, the only one who uses the yard is the dog, if you get my drift. Which is fine by me-- it's an easy way to let her out at night before going to bed and every few days I get out there with a bucket and a shovel and clean it all up.
Have I mentioned all of the houseguests we've had lately? Two weeks worth of revolving door guests here at Chez V, which means I've been distracted from less visible tasks like scooping poop. That's what? 14+ piles of fragrant goodness clustered in a 2 x 5 meter space.
Today the landlord dropped by unannounced to read a meter. I hate it when he does this, because it's just embarrassing to have him sniffing around our place while we're in the middle of lunch / homework / sportsbag hell. I clean up in the mornings and in the late afternoon, but frankly at 3 pm this place looks like the projects!
So he read his meter and we discussed a neighbor's tree that's becoming overgrown and is blocking the view. He promised to check on it, said goodbye, and left.
I made a comment to S about the state of the house and was just saying "...but at least he didn't go out into the yard" when S spotted him walk past the back door! I got outside just in time to see him in the neighbor's yard scraping poop off of his expensive leather loafers...
Somehow I'm thinking we can kiss our deposit goodbye...
Was just realizing how little I've blogged lately! We've been busy and I've written so many posts in my head but somehow they just never make it Online. Here are a few brief notes to bring you up to date:
An American friend took us onto the military base last Wednesday to see "Where the Wild Things Are" at the theater there. It was a real American movie experience including salty buttered popcorn (rather than the nasty sweet stuff they serve in Europe) Twizzlers and Whoppers. Oh, yeah, and the film, which was also really enjoyable.
S and B went off to sit up front with the other kids and when they met up with us afterwards they handed us their boxes of half-eaten candy-- it had been too much, even for them!
M popped a handful of S's leftover Whoppers into his mouth and was chewing happily when S piped up:
"You know what?! When I opened those the bag ripped and they spilled all over the floor. So I picked them all up and put them back into the bag. But I must have picked up lost candy from other people as well, because some of them tasted a bit rotten!"
If only I'd had a camera to take a picture of M's face at that moment!
***
I went to the doctor on Thursday and got myself vaccinated for the seasonal flu and the swine flu. When I asked if that wasn't a lot for my body to handle at once I just got a sneer from the perpetually crabby nurse who then barked at me to roll up my sleeve.
My suspicions were confirmed: For two days now I've had fever, chills and muscle ache-- I feel like I've been through a couple of rounds with Kimbo Slice! If only I could still move my poor shot-weakened arm I would head down and shake that sadistic nurse until her teeth rattled!
***
Speaking of roughing up evil Germans, we watched Raiders of the Lost Ark today with the kids. I originally saw that movie as a 11-year-old Florida girl who had never been further than North Carolina. S and B, on the other hand, could actually follow the German dialogue between the Nazis. That, and thanks to their trip to Cairo last year they were able to pick out discrepancies in the Egyptian scenes. Like the fact that Indiana Jones didn't become incapacitated by diarrhea after eating those dates which you saw get rinsed off with tap water...
Man there's a lot of violence in that movie! And the drinking!!! Do you remember Marion doing shots and drinking that Nepalese guy under the table? Well, I didn't either, but it was in there and was completely inappropriate for a movie supposedly targeted at children. Made for a very interesting debriefing session at the lunch table afterwards!
***
Thursday the kids attended a workshop at the National Art Gallery (Staatsgalerie) in Stuttgart, where they were able to visit a temporary exhibition of Edward Burne Jones' works. There was an entire section devoted to Sleeping Beauty with the treacherous briar wood where brave young soldiers and tender damsels fell into an enchanted sleep.
After the tour the kids were taken back to a studio where they painted their own masterpieces depicting how they would have broken out of the briar bushes in the enchanted forest. S came back with a lovely painting of a suit of armor and a sharp sword. B's solution? A formula 1 Ferrari with a protective mesh around the cockpit...
***
S and B are also attending the Kinder Uni, a special set of lectures for kids in which different professors from the University of Stuttgart give talks about 4 different timely topics.
A couple of weeks ago they got to learn how emails travel from one computer to the other. In November they will see how sounds are transmitted to your radio. The kids all get to sit together in a real lecture hall at the university and the parents aren't even allowed inside-- we watched the proceedings on a video screen in another room! I don't know who enjoyed the whole experience more, me or the kids!
***
Tonight is Halloween and the kids both have plans to stay over at friends' houses! Oma and Opa are here and M and I are going to take them out to dinner.
