A short list.

These have been my favorite words here:

1. Schneeman ("snowman")
2. Bodenschwellen ("speed bumps")
3. Glan Münchweiler (proper noun, a town nearby)
4. Niedermohr (proper noun, another nearby town, meaning "low moor") --I like saying this one followed by an evil cackle: NEE-DER-MORE!!! MUAH AH AH AH!!!

and probably my most used phrase:

5. Ich spreche nur ein bisschen Deutsch. (I speak only a little German.)

One Big Step Closer

For weeks now we've been making preparations for our move back to the states. This week, however, was a frenzied hurricane of activity as we got ready for most of our belongings to be packed and moved. You would think how complicated could it be? as we don't actually have to pack or move anything ourselves, and I'm sure for some (less anal) people, it may not be such an event. I figure the more organized we can be on this end, the smoother the packing will go, and likewise, the easier the unpacking will be on the other side.

When Thursday rolled around this week I could be found running around the house, making piles of our possessions based on room or function, or whatever other wacky way of classification that makes sense only to me. Things needed to be sorted into two very broad categories: staying or going. We have two packing dates, and the bulk of our items, including all major pieces of furniture were required to go this week. Our next pack date will be at the end of August, about a week and a half before we go ourselves, and at that time, all we'll be left with is what we'll carry with us on the plane. As I decided what things were necessary to our existence and pared things down to a reasonably small group of objects, I couldn't help but wonder how many of our belongings we could do without altogether. The task of disassembling, sorting, and grouping things was especially arduous because Evie was either napping (requiring QUIET organization) or wanting to "help," which, while very cute, isn't actually that helpful. She was very amused by the feather duster in particular.

The morning of the move, she and I were up and making final preparations by 6am. She then took a nap before they arrived around 8:30am. I did not nap. I paced around muttering to myself, unplugging appliances, making coffee for the packers. We had an especially fun moment that morning when Justin attempted to secure the front door behind him on his way out to pick up breakfast for everyone and the key snapped off in the lock.

This looks organized to you, right? Yeah...

We marked Evie's room as off-limits to the movers and filled it with everything that wasn't going with this shipment. It was filled with everything from tools to cleaning supplies to things to be mailed, clothes, things to be donated or sold, Chokydar's toys and kennel, diapering supplies, books, luggage...you get the idea.

The bathroom too was off-limits. We are not able to send any liquids, including lotion, perfume, detergent or cleaning supplies, so all of that was sent to stay in the bathroom. Oh, and a giant basket of laundry I hadn't gotten around to doing.

The packers were really quick about their work and did a good job. Thankfully the weather cooperated as well. Come lunch time everyone took a break and Justin went out to get lunch for everyone. When asked what they'd like (pizza, fried chicken, deli sandwiches, Taco Bell...) the movers responded excitedly "Taco Bell!" That amuses me rather a lot for some reason.

Originally we had scheduled the movers to come on Thursday and then to have the government owned furniture (the same stuff we had when we first got here--affectionately deemed the "Barney syphilis couches" because of their awful spotty purple upholstery) brought in on Friday, but the movers had to push back our date to Friday, which bumped our furniture delivery to Monday. This weekend then we're making due with impromtu horizontal surfaces on which to eat (i.e. boxes) and have two folding chairs in which to sit. To closer watch Evie while she played, I moved to the floor while I was messing on the computer. She proceeded to crawl over and create a new game--Mommy Is A Pony. She straddled the small of my back as I lay on the ground and giggled insanely as I called for help. Justin instead went for the camera. ;)

That's all for now. The typing is echoing in our cave of a place now and it's time for bed! It's been an exciting and exhausting couple of days, and more than ever it's hitting home that the move is real and that we're finally on our way.

In which I want an iphone so bad I could burst...

I can't believe that it's Sunday and that tomorrow is a week from when Evelyn turned 11 months. All week long I've been meaning to take her "official" month marker pictures, and have not done so. I've been busy, well, making busy work for myself mostly--obsessively planning things that are still too far out of my control to have any sway over (in this case, the PCS move), and yet still I plan. I research, I make excel spreadsheets (I'm not kidding), I organize my thoughts and print things out to put into page protectors and make little binders of crazy organization because it makes me feel like I'm doing something productive. In a way, it does end up being productive. I become really well informed about whatever it is that I'm obsessing about, but if I'm being honest, there's got to be a more streamlined, time-effective way of going about this all.

I've been meaning to post more lately, but I'm still soaking in all of this "having my husband living with me thing." It all seems totally normal now, but in a large part, this blog was a means to express myself in his absense. I came here to chronicle Evie moments for him to see or to chronicle ideas when I didn't have anyone else to act as a sounding board. In all of that I really found that I enjoy writing as an outlet, although I'm still horrified that I'll come back in a few years and cringe at all of the things I write about...that ALWAYS happens. But as trivial, mundane, eccentric, or silly as any of what I write about may be, it helps me to keep moving forward, to serve as another mechanism for organizing my thoughts and motivate me to do more, do better.

In the coming weeks, I'm bound to blabber on about our coming move. We're about 12 weeks out now from moving back to America and are starting to make concrete plans for shipping our belongings home, our travel arrangements, where to stay, what to buy, etc. It's now been over 3 years since I've set foot on American soil and as I make our preparations I've started to have this creeping feeling of apprehension...I think I may have a bit of culture shock upon returning to the states. Of course, I have researched this too:

Honeymoon Phase - During this period the differences between the old and
new culture are seen in a romantic light, wonderful and new. For example, in
moving to a new country, an individual might love the new foods, the pace of the
life, the people's habits, the buildings and so on.

Negotiation Phase - After some time (usually weeks), differences between the old and new culture become apparent and may create anxiety. One may long for food the way it is prepared in one's native country, may find the pace of life too fast or slow,
may find the people's habits annoying, disgusting, and irritating etc. This phase is often marked by mood swings caused by minor issues or without apparent reason. Depression is not uncommon.

Adjustment Phase - Again, after some time (usually 6 – 12 months), one grows accustomed to the new culture and develops routines. One knows what to expect in most situations and the host country no longer feels all that new. One becomes concerned with basic living again, and things become more "normal".

Reverse Culture Shock (a.k.a. Re-entry Shock) - Returning to one's home culture after growing accustomed to a new one can produce the same effects as described above. The affected person often finds this more surprising and difficult to deal with than the original culture shock. (via Wikipedia, that most reliable of sources)

I love the little casual throw away addendums, "Depression is not uncommon" or about reverse culture shock being "more surprising and difficult to deal with." Sweet. ;) Oh, and I almost forgot--not only is this returning to America from Germany, it's returning to civilian land from army world. I never knew it was different until I crossed over. It's a happy and sad thing, but I'm not sure I quite fit in anymore.

But seriously, Justin and I were watching the previews on a borrowed DVD the other day and I was taken aback. Not only had I not heard of any of the movies (or some of the actors), but there were tons of cultural references being thrown around that simply flew over my head. And then there are the phenomenon I am aware of, but completely detached from--Twilight? Yeah, couldn't care less. Highschool Musical 3? 4? What are they on now? Sorry, I haven't watched television or most movies in over three years. I think there may be some catching up that is possible, but really, I'll just have to get used to having a pop cultural reference gap from the years 2005-2009. I missed those years. Sorry. Ask me something about schnitzel or Belgian beer.

And THEN, (and this is really another post in the making) I've started researching things we'll want to buy on our return to the states. We're going to be in the market for a car, cell phones, a dining table, a washer and dryer, etc. Tons of stuff. These are all normal purchases people in America make from time to time in their lives, but I am totally overwhelmed by all the new cool stuff that is out there. The iPhone?? So what if I haven't used a cell phone regularly since 2005, I need a phone that can voice recognize and answer my questions and has a built in digital compass for when I get lost in the woods. I have such gadget lust, it is hard to describe to you. I vascillate between being totally convinced that this phone will CHANGE MY LIFE to realizing I'm being seduced by the dark side. Not that there's anything wrong with the iPhone--not that I wouldn't love to have one...I'm just thinking it may be overkill to jump straight from training wheels to a corvette. I've been living a very laid back lifestyle over here, not so much by choice as by necessity, but it is what I've become used to.

Anyway, it's all stuff rattling around in my head. If any of you would like to give me product endorsements on things I really should look into getting, please by all means send them my way! ;)

In which I am in SO much trouble.

Okay, I think I've officially enterted inspiration overload mode. In the last couple of days I've come across SO MUCH visually inspiring stuff, I think it may have actually fried my brain. It's so much, I can't process it all. I need to let it settle just so I can make sense of it.

I keep my pictures on flickr and have enjoyed the "Explore" function for a few years now--long before I started uploading my own photos there. Only recently, however, have I started using the "favorites" feature to start a little bookmarking portfolio of other people's images I find enchanting. So here's the rabbit hole...I find an image, bookmark it and then of course keep looking through the person's images for more inspiration. More bookmarks. Then, I think, AH HA! If I like this person's stuff, what are the odds I will like the pictures THEY have marked as favorites? So then I go and check out THEIR favorite images and suddenly I have about 20 new favorites, and 20 new people to look at all of THEIR favorites! IT NEVER ENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, as if I needed more, now I've discovered two additional sites, ffffound.com and behance.net. They both are full to the brim of visual inspiration, and like I said, I think it's all become too much. My head is going to explode.

February 2008- Pisa, Florence, & Switzerland- Part IV

Ah! Finally! The last set of pictures from the Italy/Switzerland trip of last year. Now I only have to squeeze in all of March's pictures by...tomorrow. Who thinks that will happen?

Most of this set is more from Florence. These first two were taken from the rooftop cafe terrace inside the Ufizzi.

These next two were taken from the famous square, Piazzale Michelangelo, which, as you can see, has a fantastic view overlooking Florence. On the way up we had our second helping of gelato and realized we'd been waaaay fleeced as tourists the first time around. Our first sampling was on the famous Ponte Vecchio, a bridge spanning the Arno lined with shops of all varieties. We are pretty saavy travelers and should have known better than to buy something as touristy as gelato in a place as touristy as the Ponte Vecchio. I think we were charged something like 14 euro for two cones--something to the tune of $20 for a couple of scoops of ice cream. Yikes! The prices weren't listed and we were too sheepish to back out once we had the cones in hand. Anyway, the next day we stopped for more on the walk up to the Piazzale Michelangelo and when the woman held up 4 fingers, I fished out 8 euro, thinking we'd found a deal on two cones. No, no she gestured--4 euro for BOTH cones total, not each. We got MUCH more gelato for WAAAAAY less. Live and learn.

We almost didn't make the trek up the hill in the first place, actually. I had to beg Justin to walk up to the piazzale--it's kind of out of the way, and obviously uphill. His default setting is resistance when it comes to "adventures," but is always agreeable once I get him going. He would much prefer to be curled up snug at home with a good book or writing. I am really a homebody at heart too, but I do enjoy traveling and a good adventure.

We knew this about eachother, but we also learned a valuable lesson during this trip, as illustrated by...

THE PARABLE OF THE MATTERHORN!!!!

(to be said loudly

and with an eerie echo)

Ok, so the THE PARABLE OF THE MATTERHORN!!!! begins innocently enough. We checked out of our hotel in Pisa and started the day trying to find the Army installation, Camp Darby, that is nearby. We wanted to make a pit stop there to pick up gas coupons so that we could avoid paying through the nose for gas on the Italian economy. Unfortunately, Camp Darby is not well signed and we got lost, not having an address to put into the GPS. It took a couple of hours longer than we had planned and by the time we'd FINALLY found the darned place and filled up on gas, we were way off schedule and a bit frazzled.

The inital plan was to drive back through Switzerland at a leisurely pace, taking in the beautiful and scenic views of the Alps and breaking that night near Lucerne. Easy. I had, maybe a bit ambitiously, hoped to see both the Matterhorn and drive through Interlaken as well. It was going to be maybe a 7 hour driving day, but that's not too much for me.

My problem, however, is that I plan for the "best case scenario" and in the face of reality I will often Pollyanna my way into trouble. Having had such a delayed start, we should have nixed the Matterhorn, but I just couldn't. I COULDN'T! I figured we were never going to make a trip back to Europe just to see the Matterhorn, and it was oh so famous--our lives would certainly be imcomplete without witnessing it and all of its glory in person. To be SO close (relatively) and NOT see it was certainly a crime. Here's where our default settings got us into trouble. Justin was sitting there arguing against going to see the Matterhorn. It's too far away. We don't have enough time. All I heard, however was Waaaaaaaaaaaa! I want to go home! Not another stop! Thinking it was just another instance of having to drag him kicking and screaming to do something fun, I insisted. So, we plugged in the town closest to the Matterhorn into the trusty GPS, and we set off.

On the way there we passed some truly amazing views. Where are those, you might ask? Oh, I don't have any pictures of those. The camera was quickly losing its battery charge and I wanted to make SURE I had enough juice to capture the Matterhorn in all of its glory, so I kept the camera tucked away in my bag as we wound our way through sunlit, snowcovered mountain tops that would take your breath away. It felt like we were high enough to be flying, but the mountains were so dense and the roads wide, so there was no sense of vertigo. I'm not particularly afraid of heights, but I have my limits...as you will see...

The drive was taking longer than expected. We got stuck behind some big trucks going super slow, and I'm just not comfortable passing at breakneck speed around blind mountain curves. I know, crazy, right? Well, the Swiss thought so. The locals traveled at frightening speeds and were really agressive and obviously irritated by those who weren't with the program. At the point when it became clear that our projected ETA was slipping later and later toward the evening, we should have called the stop off as a lost cause and replugged the GPS with a new destination. We were traveling out of our way at this point, headed west when we needed to be going north. I can be really stubborn though.

I had in my mind's eye an idyllic image of the Matterhorn. Something like this:

I'd seen pictures of the Matterhorn in the course of my research for the trip and was really taken by the view. In my head, we were simply driving close enough to see it soaring into the sky from the valley below, towering above its surroundings and dwarfing everything around it, and then we could course correct and be on our way. Just a little bit further. Any mile now, we'd turn a corner and see it on the horizon. I'd snap my picture, breathe in the moment, and we could be off.

That's not what happened.

We kept driving, and driving, and driving, and before long, we were getting really close to the endpoint on the GPS, but still there was no soaring Matterhorn.

It's funny how you can be climbing in altitude, but if it's a gradual ascent, you'll hardly notice. I'm not sure how high up we had gone, but suddenly, we were UP in the mountains. And then we were committed. We found ourselves on a NARROW, winding road, on the side of the mountain, WITH NO RAILING and no where to turn around. The Swiss were still zooming around like their houses were on fire, and then...it got worse. The road narrowed again and became two way. I'm not kidding. With the sunlight starting to fade, you'd come around a corner and find yourself nearly nose to nose with an on coming car. Every few hundred yards there was a shoulder just wide enough to allow two cars to barely scrape by, but if you didn't happen to meet at that point or with enough time to plan for the circumstance, one of the two vehicles was forced to BACK UP a few hundred yards on the winding mountain-side rail-less roads of DEATH.

At this point Justin was struggling hard not to say "I told you so" and I was cursing the name of the Matterhorn and thinking this had better be worth it. My knuckles were white from clutching the steering wheel and I was not having ANY fun.

After what seemed like an eternity of this--it was probably only 10-15 minutes in actuality under those conditions, we came to our destination. I'd like to tell you that it was all worth it; that the experience was life-changing and that, despite the hard road there, that view was indescribable.

It was indescribable, alright:




After all of that, only the topmost blip of the crummy thing stuck out over a tree. We could barely see it because of all the other blasted mountains. We must have just been on the wrong side of the thing, because the view from where we were sucked. It was so disappointing, all we could do was sit there and laugh. I think we let Chokydar out to pee on the thing and then got back in the car, dreading what lay ahead: the drive back down the road of death. By that time it really was getting quite dark and we still had about 3 hours of driving if we made straight for the hotel. Sorry, Interlaken, trying to squeeze you in was waaaaaaaaaaaay out of the question.



I felt really pretty foolish at this point and very disappointed. We'd been driving for at least 8 or 9 hours by then and it was past dinner time by far. We stopped at a McDonald's not wanting to waste time getting to the hotel and struggled ordering, Justin shouting German across me into the speaker box. Having eaten things were looking marginally better. The acursed Matterhorn was more than 2 hours behind us and we were closing on the hotel fast. The GPS was taking us off the beaten track to give us the fastest route, winding through smaller towns through the mountains. Have I mentioned lately that we were driving through the Swiss Alps? In the middle of February? In a 1999 Toyota Corolla? At 10 pm? While I'm nearly 5 months pregnant? Okay, just making sure.

Had I said ANY of that outloud during the planning stages of this trip, of course I would have realized that it was a bad idea. A VERY bad idea. I didn't though, and I had brushed off Justin's admonitions as him being a wet blanket. So there we were, trying to make the best of a bad situation, telling ourselves only a few miles left. By the GPS estimate, we were a mere 30 minutes away from a warm bed.

And then the unthinkable happened. As we drove through this tiny Swiss town, covered in snow that had been building all winter we wound a corner and the GPS chimed out "Turn left now!" Blinking, I strained my eyes. Justin and I looked at eachother in disbelief and attempted to make the situation not so by sheer force of will. There was no place to turn left. Well, there should have been, except that the road was completely snowed in. Entirely impassable. We drove up and down the block several times, hoping that there was another way through, but there was not. From the road we were on, you could look through the trees beyond the snowed in road and see the lights of cars whizzing by on a major interway off in the distance. We were SO CLOSE but there was no way to get through that road, and without a map detailing Teenytiny-backwoods-town, Switzerland, we were more dependent on the GPS than we should have been. Trying to stay calm, we back tracked a ways and attempted to get the GPS to recalculate another route. It doggedly kept directing us back to the snowed in path.

We pulled over in the parking lot of a closed restaurant and by the car's dome light Justin began examining our physical map to see where the closest major road was. The verdict? Two hours back the way we had just come. Back towards the Matterhorn.

I wanted to cry.

With the delay of having to backtrack halfway across Switzerland, Justin projected that we wouldn't be getting to our hotel in Lucerne until close to 3 am. We'd been driving for nearly 12 hours, and the sickening thought dawned on me that, had we driven directly from Pisa to Germany, we would be home by then. Having little choice, we set out, back the way we came.

The idea struck me along the way, as I searched in desperation for a way to end the nightmare in which we found ourselves, that we might be able to switch our hotel reservations from the Ibis in Lucerne to the one in Bern, thereby cutting off several hours of the journey that night. It was a gamble, not knowing if the hotel in Bern would have room, but we were getting desperate. Justin looked up the Ibis in the GPS's index and plugged it in.

I left the car running at the curb as I stumbled in to explain our situation at the front desk and ask, trembling, if we'd be able to stay the night. After making a phone call to the other hotel and checking the computer and calling over the manager, we were told "yes." I can think of few times I've been as relieved as I was at that moment.

The next day, Justin was keen to put the entire ordeal behind us and head straight home. "But we've never seen Bern!" I exclaimed. He shot me a look like I was crazy.

"Okay, okay," I gave in. He took this picture for me of the historic district as we drove by on our way out of town.

So, now in our family, a really bad idea is called "Pulling a Matterhorn" and we've learned a very valuable lesson about listening to one another, especially in situations when we have strong opposing feelings. We've also learned not to drive through Switzerland in the dead of night, in the dead of winter, after a day's journey back through Italy, nearly 5 months pregnant, in a 1999 Toyota Corolla without a reserve supply of gasoline or food. I am SO grateful it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Definitely Pulling a Matterhorn.

Silly old bear

Chokydar got a rawhide bone for Christmas. It was a rather large one, but true to Chokydar fashion, by evening on Christmas Day it was well on its way to dismemberment.

By this evening it lies in three pieces, barely recognizable. As we began our bedtime routine, Chokydar gleefully chewed on what once was the knot at one end of the bone. I lay Evelyn in her crib so as to quickly take Chokydar outside and called Choky over to put her on her leash. She brought the gnarled stump with her.

Shaking my head I said, "You can't take that outside with you." But being rather unwilling to touch this chicken-broth-soaked-puli-spit-saturated-stump-of-yuck, when she wouldn't put it down I finally just shrugged and snapped on her leash. She trotted down the steps clutching it protectively, as if had she left it in the nursery Evie surely would have claimed it.

Now, I didn't witness this part, but for all I can assume, she deemed it in poor taste to have the Stump of Yuck in her mouth while she took care of business, because when I bent down to take off her leash once we were again inside I realized it was gone. She no longer had it in her mouth. As soon as I had unhooked her, she ran first to the nursery, to the last place she'd been enjoying it in the house. She circled the room expectantly and, upon not finding it there, ran to the living room, where she'd had it previously. I could hear her tearing around the room, searching for it fruitlessly.

Shaking my head again, and because Evie was, thankfully, happily engaged in a conversation with her feet, I called Choky back to the hallway, snapped on her leash again and led her outside once more, where, after a few moments of searching the grass in the dark, she found the beloved Stump of Yuck and brought it back inside, tail wiggling in triumph.

With me it's all er nuthin'

If you are or are acquainted with a musical theater geek, you know what it is to randomly burst into song at any given point during the day. Musical theater geeks will agree with me that for an amazing number of life events, there are correspondingly appropriate musical lyrics, just waiting to be applied.

In today's example, I call on the musical "Oklahoma" and quote Will when he sings,

With me it's all er nuthin'.

Is it all er nuthin' with you?

It cain't be "in between"

It cain't be "now and then"

No half and half [sweets eating] will do!

Ok, he says "romance." No half and half romance will do. For me, the problem lies elsewhere. I have a sweet tooth like you can hardly imagine, and it gets me into trouble. I could go WAY back to tell you about all my history with food, but suffice it to say, I've struggled with my weight in the past, and it's something I will probably always work on, making sure I stay within the normal range.

After working my way out of childhood obesity, I set for myself a max weight limit, so that I would be sure to never slowly creep my way into obesity. Of course with my pregnancy this limit was cast aside, being only 15 lbs over my ideal weight.

I put on much more than the recommended pregnancy weight gain--60 lbs to be exact, and I've been working really hard to chisel away at the excess over the last 4 months. So far I've lost 37 lbs, and today for the first time I fit into jeans I wore pre-pregnancy. I'm thrilled to say the least.

I made it through Thanksgiving with out too much temptation, but the Christmas season is threatening my resolve. I was doing a bit of baking to send Justin Christmas cookies, and naturally ate some myself. Okay, more than just some. Like my Oklahoma lyrics, I have a hard time saying "when" when it comes to sweets, and finally had to cut myself off. No more baking for me, or I risk wrecking a fair bit of my progress.

I've decided I can do baking on Christmas Eve and Christmas itself if I desire, but not before, and whatever I haven't eaten by the 26th, I'll have to give away.

Is it bizarre I have to regulate myself in this fashion? Probably.