Water Lilies

Even though it's nowhere near spring, these water lilies in an Italian farm pond reminded me that after rain and fog and sprinklings of snow and icy days, spring will arrive again.
"Never lose a holy curiousity," Einstein said; and so I lift my microscope down from the shelf, spread a drop of duck pond on the glass slide, and try to look spring in the eye. -- Annie Dillard, from "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"

Napoleon Dynamite Dance Scene

The funniest thing! Found this on Blog Ness Monster. Napoleon makes me laugh every time.

Happy Birthday, Dan

Well, Dan, have a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Here's a fitting proverb for you..."BUKE BUKE BUKOMEZA IGIHONYI" (Slowly slowly the banana ripens) Found it on Eric Riley's website. Hope you have many more years of ripening!

P.S. For other readers of the blog, Dan is my brother--and currently lives in Burundi, Africa with his family--although one son attends college in Oregon, and two younger sons go to high school in Kenya. So he's experiencing the "empty nest" earlier than most.

Advent 1 Meditation

I saw this on Mill Road Messenger's site and liked it. Images--Bob Carlton, Music--Paul Simon.

Woe Unto Me

I did a terrible thing.

Yesterday was St. Nicholas Day here in Germany. The evening before, I was at the store with Anna and her friend, buying supplies, when I spotted a stash of chocolate candy. With no thought for innocent ears, I asked Anna, " Do you want peppermint chocolate in your St. Nicholas boot? Or would you rather I buy dark chocolate? Maybe both?" I didn't realize until Anna pulled me aside a minute later and whispered in my ear, "Mom, Kasie still believes in St. Nicholas..." that I'd pretty much proclaimed to all kids within hearing range: "Santa Claus=Your Parents."

Now, in my defense, Kasie is twelve years old, but she still believes in Santa's existence. I guess she told Anna, "You don't believe in Santa and that's the reason you don't get gifts from him. That's why your mom and dad have to do it." So it seems her faith is unshaken. And Anna is happy too, just as long as the boot is filled one way or another.

Oh, The Joys

Oh, the joys of a new camera (early Christmas present from Jeff) -- I received it just in time for Italy. So, without further ado, some pics from my trip:

The three sisters -- Beth, Susan & Laurie
An olive farm in Lucca
Dad and Mom with their Nordic walking sticks

In the Lap of Luxury

Who has the cushiest place to sleep in our house? Couldn't be this four-legged beast...

Will Miracles Never Cease?

From the New York Times: Germany announced today that it would seek to ban smoking in restaurants, discotheques, schools and other public buildings — but not in pubs, bars or under beer tents.
Mind you, this from a country that has cigarette vending machines on practically every corner! I've gradually become accustomed to the smoke, but every time friends and family visit, they cough and comment on the thick haze in restaurants and airport halls. So, it is indeed a miracle. Or at least the beginning of one.

Olive Trees Forever

What a time in Tuscany! I'll write more about it later this week. The best part of course, was seeing my parents and sisters. And then, the Tuscan countryside...once I read the instruction booklet on how to download photos from my new camera, I'll post pictures. Such distinctive light and color in that part of the world. I'd forgotten that olive trees have a sort of silvery tint to the leaves. And that olives are all types of colors, from a hundred shades of green to purplish to black.

I have to mention our tour guide, David Macchi. The first day, I thought, "Oh, he's nice." The second day: "He really knows what he's talking about." And the third day? "Wow!" David began playing opera selections on our bus as we rolled through the countryside (including the songs of Andrea Bocelli, an operatic tenor from Tuscany). Later that afternoon, and for the rest of the tour, David surprised us by singing some opera himself. The combination of music and scenery? Nothing better!

If you know me at all, you'll know that I loved the foods of Italy, too. Visiting all the tiny pasticcerias and formaggio shops--pure heaven. Since I wasn't returning to the States, I brought home some peccorino, chocolate paneforte (a type of almond and honey spice cake) and a bottle of Tuscan wine tucked into my checked suitcase. Maybe I can find a recipe on the web for the paneforte, it would be nice for Christmas. About the only Italian food I wouldn't care to try? Well, that would be tripe. And any related cow organs.

Another Type of Prozac

Well, my spirits are out of the dumps today--
Two reasons:
I 'm listening to a wonderful CD, The John Rutter Christmas Album, featuring the Cambridge Singers and City of London Sinfonia. Music...another type of prozac, at least for me (not knocking medication when it's needed).
Also, tomorrow bright and early, I leave for a walking tour of Tuscany. My parents, as a gift, are taking me and my two sisters with them to Florence and surrounding regions. Bless them!
Anyway, probably won't be blogging for a few weeks. Wish me a good trip!

Somewhere On the Seven Continents

I'm feeling rather melancholy today. No huge reason. Except we don't know where we'll be a year from now...maybe still here in Germany, maybe in Oregon or one of the other fifty states, at least somewhere on the seven continents.
Right now there are no engineer job openings at Bonneville Power in Oregon where Jeff worked before--his boss would hire him back if any positions opened up but that's not an option at this point. There's a possibility some job might open up there before he has to start looking elsewhere, but no certainty.
I do believe we were meant to come to Germany for this time. But now, where? We could stay, and I'm trying to be open to that thought. But I've been awfully homesick these last two and a half years. My feelings fluctuate from day to day.
In Hebrews 11 where it talks about us being "strangers and foreigners on earth," yeah, I get that idea.

Smack, Smack, Smack

If there's a sound I hate, it's the sound of people chewing with their mouths wide open. Smack, smack, smack. It's not that hard to close your mouth and eat! Unless you need your tonsils removed or something. Ok, one or two members of my family are going to read this and groan. They're tired of me reminding them.

Now for sounds I enjoy:
* Christmas carols of all types, especially those sung by boy's choirs with high voices.
* A baby laughing and then hiccuping because she's chortling so hard.
* German church bells ringing throughout the day.
* Drums pounding out a danceable rhythm (it all goes back to my African childhood).
* Crickets chirping at dusk.
* Listening to someone who's really good at reading poetry out loud (think Dylan Thomas, for instance--love that Welsh accent on the recording).
* While we're on accents, I like an Italian accent too! Makes even English sound romantic.
* Listening to people scream on roller coasters.
* Waves rolling in on the Oregon coast.

That's all I can think of for now.

Murphy Monday

It's fall again and Murphy's coat matches the farm fields around us. All the tobacco and corn crop is harvested and the trees are bare. This is where we walk most of the time.

For Election Day

Had to share this poem by Daniel Berrigan. I found it on Journey With Jesus, included in Dan Clenidin's essay :

Credo

I can only tell you what I believe;
I believe:I cannot be saved by foreign policies.
I cannot be saved by the sexual revolution.
I cannot be saved by the gross national product.
I cannot be saved by nuclear deterrents.
I cannot be saved by aldermen, priests, artists,
plumbers, city planners, social engineers,
nor by the Vatican,
nor by the World Buddhist Association,
nor by Hitler, nor by Joan of Arc,
nor by angels and archangels,
nor by powers and dominions,
I can be saved only by Jesus Christ.

At the end of his essay, Dan adds,
I'd like to update and expand Berrigan's repudiation of false hopes and misplaced trust. I cannot be saved by George Bush or Jesse Jackson, by Hillary Clinton or Condi Rice, nor by their successors or opponents. I cannot be saved by Green Peace or the ACLU, by Focus on the Family or by Promise Keepers. Which returns us to the Psalm for this week: "Blessed is he whose help is in the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God" (146:5).

A Compliment

This evening, I sewed the sleeve back onto Anna's pink and brown coat. Grr, it's only a month old, and barely worn.

Just a hint--never buy a coat, no matter how beautiful it looks, if it has zip-on and zip-off sleeves. This feature will come back to haunt you.

Back to what I was saying. Anna ran inside, and I showed her the coat, now with sleeve permanently attached. She hugged me and exclaimed,

"Mom, you're so industrial!"

Hmm...Had to think about that one, since I haven't sprouted any smokestacks lately. But I am glad she sees me as industrious--at least the one time a year I tackle any sewing.

Cathedrals and Crepes Chocolat

Yesterday, I helped drive for a fieldtrip down to Strasbourg, France. Anna took a two-evening class in simple French conversation and the class ended with a day trip so that everyone could practice speaking and learn more about this region of Alsace Lorraine (which has alternated between German and French ownership through the years).

Anna took the cathedral shot--I like her perspective! Without a wide-angle lens, this captures some of the immensity.

A lonely gargoyle on the side of Strasbourg cathedral...and a little boy who wants a closer look.

The square in front of the cathedral is a great place to people-watch. I'm coming back to climb the steps to the viewing platform when it's open. Our guide said on a clear day you can see all the way to the Black Forest from up top.

The kids sampled tarte flambee and desert crepes for lunch. I snuck away in the afternoon for a visit to the boulangerie--had to take home some pain au chocolat for the family, after all.

Murphy Monday--the Premiere

My thirteen year old, Anna, keeps begging me to post more photos of our dog. So today is the beginning of a grand tradition: Murphy Monday. Drumroll, please...

Here's Murphy in his first role as The PostDog. This was filmed in Oregon a few years ago. Enjoy!

When I Talk To You

Just bought "When I Talk To You: A Cartoonist Talks To God," by Michael Leunig. Very different than the usual, and I'm enjoying it to no end. Each prayer is paired with a cartoon penned by Leunig. Here's a snippet from one prayer :

It is time to plant tomatoes. Dear God, we praise this
fruit and give thanks for its life and evolution. We
salute the tomato: cheery, fragrant morsel, beloved
provider, survivor and thriver and giver of life. Giving
and giving and giving. Plump with summer's joy.
The scent of its stem is summer's joy, is promise and
rapture. Its branches breathe perfume of promise
and rapture. Giving and giving and giving.

Dear God, give strength to the wings and knees
of pollinating bees; give protection from hailstorms,
gales, and frosts; give warm days and quenching
rains. Refresh and adorn our gardens and our tables.
Refresh us with tomatoes.

There's another prayer thanking God for the invention of the handle and a blessing for those who are baffled and perplexed. I'll be looking back through this book often.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Wow. Just watched this video, which I found via Spidey, who got it from dualraven's site.

“Specially created for Harvard biology students, this eight-minute computer-animated film reveals the beauty and hidden cycle of intricate organic mechanisms at work at the molecular level. The focus is on how white blood cells respond and react to external stimuli. Everything that you see in this clip, the unusual orchestra of Nuclei, proteins, and lipids, are actions that are taking place right now in your body, in every individual cell. This includes one of the most surprising sequences – the motor protein plodding along on two pod-like feet along a track, carrying behind it a sphere of lipids. As cartoonish as that sequence looks, biologists report it’s an accurate rendering.”

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

A few weeks ago, I found "The Very Hungry Caterpillar," German version, at a flohmarkt (flea market) put on by the children in our little town. My own kids probably knew this book by heart when they were little, because I read it to them countless evenings before bedtime. The author and illustrator, Eric Carle, works in collage, layers, and cut-outs, giving most of his books an interactive aspect. Our own copy was almost shredded at the end, but very well-loved!

Someday I'd like to visit the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art in Amherst, Massachusetts.

P.S. Maybe one of the reasons I like this book so well--when I was a little kid in Africa, we had an abundance of hairy, colorful caterpillars inside and outside. I had great fun watching them, especially their bumpy accordian style of moving from place to place. Better than video games!

Our 24th

October 16th-- our twenty-fourth anniversary. (Don't these kids look awfully young to be getting married??) Ok, if I had to do it over again, I'd not do the "Princess Di" dress. But half the brides wore one that year, I think. The biggest surprise of the ceremony was right before our kiss, when on cue, my bridesmaids all pulled out noisemakers they'd craftily hidden in their bouquets and blew a LOUD combined blast on those things. Whoo-hoo!

We honeymooned at the Columbia River Gorge hotel, and then the Oregon coast. I love the beach and I loved being there with Jeff.

HAPPY 24TH, JEFF. LOVE, LAURIE

Sunshine All Around

Twas an absolutely gorgeous day in Heidelberg this afternoon. And fortunately enough, Jeff and I had signed up to walk the grounds of Heidelberg Schloss (castle) with the German-American club. Have a look.
Jeff is the man second from the right, and that's the Schloss in the background. Below, a view from the castle terrace overlooking Heidelberg. One of the prettier cities around, I think. Something about all those red roofs and the Neckar river winding through the heart of town.

A few of the interesting tidbits our guide tossed to us:

* Martin Luther dined at the castle in 1518. Thomas Jefferson visited the castle many years later and measured its giant wine vat, which holds 220,017 liters (58,124 gallons).

* The castle has a series of tunnels running underneath it, which soldiers used to move between different levels.

* Stonemasons who built the castle believed that they breathed life into the stones as they worked on them. Somehow, energy was transferred from people into inanimate rocks, and the wall came "alive." (I'm just quoting our guide!) If a stone was damaged during building, the masons gave it a proper burial.

Cards from Africa

From my brother's friend, Chris Page, at http://www.cardsfromafrica.com/ :

In April a friend from my church in Rwanda, and someone I didn't know from YWAM Switzerland, both asked if they could nominate CfA in a competition BBC World were running, in conjunction with Newsweek and Shell, called World Challenge. It was for businesses that are innovative and are benefitting communities socially, environmentally and financially. Of course I said that they could, but didn't really think any more about it.

Then I got a phone call from the BBC in June saying that over 800 businesses had entered the competition from over 120 countries, and that their expert panel of judges had chosen CfA to go to the final 12! They told me they were going to send a film crew out to make a 12-minute documentary to show on BBC World, and for writing an article in Newsweek magazine!

Well, you can imagine we were just a little more than just speechless for all of about 5 seconds, and then I shouted with delight to just about everyone I met for the next few days, including Jesus! The film crew (actually just one person!) came and went in July. Viewers of BBC World, and readers of Newsweek will be asked to go online and vote for their favourite of the 12 businesses. The winning business receives $20,000 and the two runners-up will receive $10,000 each, with the prize presented to them in the Hague , in the Netherlands ! Of course, both the publicity and the prize money will enormously help our marketing efforts, and we're very, very excited indeed.

They have told us that they will be showing the documentary of CfA at the following dates and times:

Saturday 14th October at 0930 & 1630 GMT& Sunday 15th October at 0230, 1330 & 2030 GMT

Other businesses will be shown the week before (same days and times) and for 4 weeks afterwards (2 businesses each weekend, for 6 weeks).

The article will go out in Newsweek on 23rd October 2006 (which they start selling on the 16th Oct), so please buy a copy, read it, pass it on to your friends, vote for us online, and then ask your friends, your neighbours, your postman and in fact anyone you communicate with over the next 4 weeks to vote for us online! Please!

Here's the link to vote for us - and a short video clip to whet your appetite:

http://www.theworldchallenge.co.uk/card.php

Pass on the message :-)

Back to Walking

I've really had fun cycling through the summer, but as of today I'm focusing on walking again. Why? Mid-November, I'm meeting my two sisters and my folks in Florence for a walking tour through Tuscany. And I can't wait! There's something about knowing I'll get to see and hug most of my family in a little over a month. (Sorry, Dan, wish you could make it over from Africa).

That's been the toughest part for me of living in Germany--not living near my extended family. We've been pretty close, and it's like having part of my heart ripped out to be far away from them. That also applies to our friends back in the US. Even if I'm not the greatest at letters and emails all the time, I think about them every day.

Anyway, it was good walking this evening. Smelling the freshly turned earth, passing loaded apple trees and vogelbeere bushes. Watching a woman ride her black horse in the field across a meadow. Passing a gang of kids on bicycles, and remembering how it felt to ride around for hours with Patty Thompson, back on Clinton Street. Feeling my bunion ache just a tiny bit, and wishing my feet were still young!

Blond

Someone I met while bicycling yesterday in the fields near our town. Betsy, is this the shade of blond your neighbors had in mind??

More Signs and Stuff

Every once and awhile I put up photos of signs I appreciate. One sign is at the entrance to our friendly neighborhood graveyard (it instructs dogs to stay outside). Guess they don't want to take any chances with dogs getting into the bones...



















Mr. Mais (the corn guy) welcomed guests to a recent Wurstfest in Bad Durkheim. Now he's someone I wouldn't want to encounter in a dark alley. He's grinning a little too widely...or is he gritting his teeth? Slightly crazed look.

Just Clarifying...

Well, guess I need to clarify, since Beth asked--the previous photo taken at Schwetzingen Schloss is of David and Anna. This is a photo of David and me, taken on the castle grounds. I have a few pounds on Anna...but we do have a similar smile, at a certain angle! Anyway, I have a phobia about posting pictures of myself most of the time. Here's your photo for the year.

Schwetzingen Schloss

Toward the end of August, David, Anna and I visited the Schwetzingen Schloss--it's close to our little town and rivals Versailles. We had fun strolling the grounds, staying away from the predatory swans (no joke), and finding new hideaways in the maze of paths and shrubbery.

First Lines

I've been searching the books on my shelves, trying to pick out authors who've started with what I consider some attention-getting first lines. Here are a few I've found so far:

There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it. -- C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

When I was little I would think of ways to kill my daddy. -- Kaye Gibbons, Ellen Foster

If I could tell you only one thing about my life it would be this: when I was seven years old the mailman ran over my head. -- Brady Udall, The Miracle Life of Edgar Mint

"Where's Papa going with that ax?" said Fern to her mother as they were setting the table for breakfast. -- E.B. White, Charlotte's Web

When the lights went off the accompanist kissed her. -- Ann Patchett, Bel Canto

My coming to faith did not start with a leap but rather a series of staggers from what seemed like one safe place to another. -- Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies

Also, if you're so inclined, American Book Review has listed what they consider the 100 best first lines from novels. Ha Jin's sentence certainly qualifies!

Every summer Lin Kong returned to Goose Village to divorce his wife, Shuyu. -- Ha Jin, Waiting

Festive, Hand-knit Hats For Dogs

This you've got to see. Dooce has a daily link on the left side of her page to festive hand-knit hats for dogs. I wonder how Murphy would look, dolled up in one of these? I can definitely see him going for this one...

See Below

See below for Tick Tack, Cuckoo. Couldn't figure out how to get my post to today's date, if I saved it as a draft on a prior date. So much for my blogger know-how.

Important People

August 27th is a special day. My mom and Jeff's mom both celebrate their birthdays today. So, Happy Birthday, Mom! Since I can't be there in person, I'll drink a cup of Burundi tea in your honor.













Also, I was in the States during July and didn't get a chance to tell Danielle, our oldest, Happy Birthday on this blog. So here's one for you, Dani. You're an amazing young woman and I love you! Also, I appreciate your moments of silliness, like dressing up in Anna's old Halloween costume (poodle skirt and all) and shooting funny pics in the backyard. Miss you and hope you enjoy your senior year in college. Let me know how German 1 and Swahili 1 turn out.

This Summer

This summer I:
* Flew on a long trip to Oregon and for the first time felt as if I needed to use the handy "motion discomfort bag" provided by my airline (fortunately, I recovered, and saved the unused bag for a gag birthday bag).
* Bicycled more than I ever have before in my life. It helped that Bruhl, the town I cycled through most often, has an Italian gelato shop with the best Malaga ice cream around (a rich egg custard ice cream flavored with rum and raisins, for the uninitiated). Also, it didn't hurt that Germany has an astounding array of bike trails in all directions.
* Neglected to vacuum up dog hair often enough. As a result, Jeff, the kids, and I sometimes find corgi hair in our cookies, our bath water, and our suitcases. We like to say that Murphy, our corgi, will remain with us long after his eventual death...the omnipresent hair, that is.
* Took a ferry to Victoria, Canada, where the customs lady almost turned my daughter and me away, because I didn't have a note from "the other parent" authorizing me to take Anna (13 years old) out of the country. That, after we'd already flown from Germany to the US!

That's all for now. Lightning interrupts my thinking. Maybe there will be more tomorrow.

Tick Tack, Cuckoo

A few weeks ago, Jeff and I visited Triberg. We ate at a restaurant called the Tick Tack Stube, near our hotel. My food was ok--the standard cheese, pork and blumenkohl (cauliflower) with brown sauce. But what made my evening memorable? Our waiter.

First of all, when he came for our order, I got flustered trying to track down my choice among pages and pages of entree options. "It's ok!" our waiter smiled, and waved his hands broadly, as if calming troubled waters. After a sigh, I relaxed. While we waited for the food, Jeff and I checked out the wall of cuckoo clocks behind us, ready to go off in unison at any minute.

Soon, a German family walked in and took a nearby table. The same waiter approached and chatted with them for a few moments. He made a special fuss over the two kids, finding them suitable chairs and explaining the menu at length. Finally, they ordered and he brought out drinks, staying to converse longer.

Then, it turned seven o'clock, and the clocks on the wall began their show. One after another, each opened, cuckooed the time, and wound down. Every bird sounded slightly different--some whistled with a high pitch, others as if they'd finally made it through puberty. I simultaneously wanted to clap my hands over my ears and to beat on cymbals, the noise was so deafening and exhilarating. Afterwards, the two children called the waiter, gesturing and waving their arms. It was obvious they were excited about the cuckoo clocks and wanted to see more.

Mr. Waiter beckoned them over to the back wall, near us. Then he leaped up on the cushioned bench seat and began to reset each clock. He wound the hands around so that each one would strike the hour again. Pulled the metal weights hanging below, tricked the clocks into the future.

And then it began. Ding! Dong! Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo! A whole wall of sound. Little wooden figures slid out of Alpine houses and danced in circles, then returned to the inner workings of their clocks. A carved rooster crowed the time. Painted cows grazed in laquered grass. And the children's faces... Our waiter looked on like a child himself, delighting in their glee. Finally the cuckoos were cuckooed out, and all was quiet again.

I don't think I've enjoyed a meal so very much in a long time.

Crossing the Border

Last Sunday, after a night in Triberg, Jeff and I crossed the border into Colmar, France. A few pictures from that visit:

Flowers everywhere...
Interesting smells on the cobblestones.
Crême glacée and warm coconut macaroons!

Saturday, Jeff and I drove south a few hours to Triberg, a small town in the Black Forest, where we spent the night. We hiked up to the waterfall, which reminded me somewhat of Multnomah Falls in Oregon. One thing that astounds me often in Germany--the large numbers of young men out hiking with lit cigarettes dangling from their mouths and a trail of smoke in their wake. Enhanced lung capacity? Huh.
On the way down, we stopped in at an open-air museum with farm houses built during the 1600s and later. Can't you imagine Heidi prancing down this slope?
Quite a nice weekend. We wanted to take advantage of big sister's presence to watch Anna, since leaving a thirteen year old alone for twenty-four hours is not a wise move. David is off backpacking in the Alps near Berchtesgaden, so he's on his own adventure.

Happy Birthday, Spidey!

生日快乐, 蜘蛛
с днем рождения к вам
alles Gute zum Geburtstag liebes spidey,
joyeux anniversaire !

To someone who impresses me with her love of languages and for the way she cares deeply about people.
Have a wonderful Spider-mas. Wish I could drop by for a coffee with you!

For Jeff

I'm happy to be home in Germany again with my family. This poem is for Jeff:

SATURDAY AFTERNOON IN HEIDELBERG

Strolling the Hauptstrasse, baguettes
and brotchen in the basket, your hand
on my arm. The fine glinting
spokes of a bicycle passing, pebbles
sparking. We struck fire too, you and I,
through children, taxes, the cold frost
mornings in Oregon, cut emerald
lawns. Not an inferno—fire
trucks clustered, globe lights flashing—
but the warm center of a midnight
campfire, hands toasted over open
coals, the melted goo of a marshmallow
coating your scalded, pink tongue.

Soap of Many Colors

This will be my only post from the U S of A. Enjoying myself immensely, by the way!

Real Live Preacher is someone I've read for awhile. He started out blogging on Salon.com, and now has his own site, which you can find on the links to the right. Gordon's trying to make a living as a writer, and now his wife, Jeanene, is pitching in and selling homemade soap via the internet to supplement their income. Check out their natural soap -- Dragon's Blood ( Sangre de Grado) and Honeyed Amber sound especially interesting -- or maybe, since I'm a tea freak, the Iced Black Keemun Tea. Hmm. Hard decisions.

A Good Kind of Busy

This last week has been "a good kind of busy" because Allison, one of my college room-mates, stayed at our home along with her three children. Lisa, if you're reading this, you need to come and visit next! We drove all over Germany and Paris, laughed an extraordinary amount, and generally caught up on the last seventeen years of life since we've seen each other. I couldn't believe how easy it was to connect, even after all that time. Allison retains a few of her New York habits, including walking faster than anyone else in the group (except me), and signaling the waiter for a bill before the meal arrives. The waiter in Paris thought Allison was joking when she asked for the check before we'd even finished our baguettes...

On Tuesday, I fly to Oregon with Anna, our thirteen year old. We'll spend six weeks visiting family and friends. I'm a little curious whether she'll go through any culture shock--it's been two years we've lived in Germany, and this is Anna's first time back to the States. Anyway, my postings may be sporadic for awhile. And it'll be because I'm back in my favorite state of the whole USA!

I've Seen It All

Kitsch is one of those great words that's made its way into the English language. So, you decide, is this the definition of kitsch? And if so, then this would be the ultimate in kitsch. I don't have strong feelings about this or anything... Maybe if I hadn't seen the pictures plastered all over kleenexes, pencils, sticky notes, and what have you.

Tintin Thoughts

Growing up, my brother and I read Tintin whenever we could get our hands on a new publication of these comic strip books drawn and written by Herge (I'd put an accent over the last "e" in his name, but can't figure out how to do that). Herge's plots are full of twists and turns. Tintin's fox terrier, Snowy, whom I wanted to adopt, accompanies Tintin on his global adventures. And the pictures are perfect; colorful, sharp and clean. I read about Tintin in Tibet on thinkBuddha's blog today, and it got me wanting to dig up this particular book. I read most of the series many years ago, but don't think I ever came upon the Tibet comic, and it's supposed to be a classic. I might have to drive to Belgium to find one. :)

Jerusalem

Tomorrow Jeff, David, and Danielle leave Jerusalem to return home. I'm looking forward to hearing all about their trip. I last saw Jerusalem at the age of ten, enroute to the States. Most of all I remember the Dome of the Rock shining golden in the sun and a stream of people from many countries passing through that holy place, heads covered in respect. I saw (and maybe touched?) the rock where Isaac might have been sacrificed, if God hadn't provided a ram at the last minute. And I walked Jerusalem's narrow streets with my parents and brother and sisters, breathing in the air of a place that I'd heard about since toddlerhood.

Here's a fragment from a poem about Jerusalem by Yehuda Amichai. He's a beloved poet in Israel and throughout the world, for good reason.

And there are days here when everything is sails and more sails,
even though there's no sea in Jerusalem, not even a river.
Everything is sails: the flags, the prayer shawls, the black coats,
the monks' robes, the kaftans and kaffiyehs,
young women's dresses and headdresses,
Torah mantles and prayer rugs, feelings that swell in the wind
and hopes that set them sailing in other directions.
Even my father's hands, spread out in blessing,
my mother's broad face and Ruth's faraway death
are sails, all of them sails in the splendid regatta
on the two seas of Jerusalem:
the sea of memory and the sea of forgetting.

Winged Victory

Winged Victory of Samothrace
at the Louvre in Paris

My favorite piece in the entire museum.
Freedom. Motion. Grace.

Another Beautiful Voice

Milton at Don't Eat Alone touches on many topics, but this week I took a closer look at the music he recommends--and have gotten hooked on Diane Zeigler. She has a voice I could listen to day and night, based on excerpts from the "Paintbrush" album and "December In Vermont." Listening to her songs, I experienced a mix of deep longing and precarious joy. Not a bad mixture. If I can do half of that with some of my poems, I'll feel successful.

Blue

Tonight I'm feeling blue, not for any particular reason, I guess. Maybe it just goes along with having a temperament that swings between enthusiastic and melancholic, with not much ground in between. And it's funny, I tend to not want to write about those down times on this blog. Don't know if it's part of growing up with the feeling that I'm supposed to "Be a Sunbeam for Jesus" (a song on a record I had as a child) or just the idea of public exposure and possible criticism.

Anyway, I am looking forward to seeing people I love in Oregon--just 22 days and counting. And I'm really happy to have our entire family of five together for part of this summer (though Jeff and the two oldest are in Israel at this moment on a trip--I'm glad they can tour some of the places like Jerusalem and Jericho that I got to see when I was ten, on the way back from Africa to the States). I have lots to be happy about.

On the flip side, I wish I knew where we will go a year from now. Back to the northwest, I hope, but nothing is certain. Also, these last two years have been utterly draining for me. Sigh. Moving to Germany, I assumed I'd be the one making the adjustments more easily than anyone, after all, wasn't I the one who grew up in another country and has always appreciated diverse cultures? Ha. Assumptions suck, especially in the aftermath.

I do know that God is here with me. Just wish I felt God more in the day to day moments.

Memorial Day 2006

Sculpture in London, England

Journey With Jesus

Just added a link to a website I've been enjoying lately -- Journey With Jesus -- essays, books, film, poetry, and music. Found a good poem on their site by Anna Kamienska, "Those Who Carry." In fact, the entire index of poems is worth checking out.

The Latest

Currently reading: "The Dark is Rising" by Susan Cooper and "a Generous Or+hodoxy" by Brian McLaren.

Currently listening: Nickel Creek

One of the advantages, as far as I'm concerned, of having older children (in the thirteen to twenty-one year age range) is that they introduce me to books and music I might not otherwise encounter. David saw Nickel Creek in concert this last year at college--he's been playing their songs and I especially like "Ode To A Butterfly." Can't help tapping my feet when that's on...

Five, Plus A Canine

Our kids are all home--huzzah! David, with his usual luck, almost got upgraded to business class, but didn't sprint to the counter fast enough and missed extra leg room by a microsecond. It's nice to be five at the dinner table again (plus the dog, lurking underneath).

News Flash

Pure deliciousness = A Jolly Rancher green apple lollipop.

In other news: Danielle arrived safely, having survived an enforced seating next to a man who hogged the joint armrest, stuck his feet into her small space, and emitted numerous gaseous clouds during the nine hour flight to Frankfurt. But she's still alive. Her hearing might not be intact, since she could hear rap music playing at full blast through his headphones (I hate to think what the decibel level was cranked up to).

A Different Kind of Mother's Day

Yesterday was a unique Mother's Day for me. Anna and I started the morning at church (Jeff was gone on a retreat), and the pastor certainly chose an interesting text--Luke 7:36-50, where Mary washes Jesus' feet with her tears, then dries his feet off with her hair and lovingly annoints them with perfume. Try preaching that story on a day dedicated to moms! He did a good job, and I appreciated his realization of the fact that some come from homes where mothers might have been absent or even done harm to their children, and that others in the congregation might be dealing with an inability to become a mother or the loss of a child. The emphasis was on Mary's heart of love, and how we all, mothers or not, can grow towards loving God more.

After that, Anna and I grabbed lunch, then drove to Heidelberg and hiked my favorite spot in the city, Philosopher's Walk, which overlooks Old Town and the Schloss (castle) . On Sunday, Germans typically get out and stroll with extended family and friends, and yesterday was no exception. We took Murphy along, and as usual, everyone stopped to pet and coo over him. Dogs are always good ice-breakers. Fragrant flowers and bushes were in bloom and blackberry scents drifted across the path when a breeze shifted our way. I think I'd like to do the same thing again next year.

For dinner, we went to an open-air cafe, ordered spargel (white asparagus) soup and dipped french bread in the creamy broth--spargel's in season at the moment, and a great delicacy of this region. There's even an asparagus sculpture in the main square of Schwetzingen! I'll try and remember to take a photo of it.

World Relief News

On May 2nd, I blogged about the current situation in Darfur, Sudan. Here's what World Relief is doing there to help Sudanese women and communities maintain and repair their own clean water sources.
I'm familiar with World Relief because my brother Dan and his wife Tam work with the same organization in Burundi, Africa.

Nose Washer Deluxe

Here's the photo I promised--it goes with my last post. Looks like fun, eh?

Hayfever Season Beginneth

OK, I confess it--until I bore a daughter who suffers immensely from hayfever symptoms, I had very little empathy (read, none) for people with sneezes, itching, and general misery during the pollen and grass season. Danielle's tried everything, from benedryl to zyrtec, and a few years ago, allergy shots, which she reacted to several times with a swollen-up throat and hives and all manner of scary side-effects. So, at the moment, she's existing on a lesser remedy of pills and eyedrops, hoping for a scientific breakthrough in the next few seconds or weeks. The air cleaner sits in a place of honor in her room, awaiting her arrival in exactly five days (YAY! I'm excited! And David flies back the day after!)

Why are thought of airborne allergens crossing my mind? This has been the craziest week ever as far as pollen, here in the Heidelberg area. My van is entirely covered with a coating of light green dust, and if we dare leave our windows open, it wafts in through cracks and settles on the coffeemaker and toaster and anything else immobile. Never in my life have I actually been able to see the usually-invisible culprit. I hope the worst is over before Danielle returns. I did take the step of buying a plastic nose-washer for her (on sale at the local Penny Markt)--it looks like an ear trumpet, at least what I imagine one might look like. Later I'll try and post the box cover photo, of a woman sticking it up her nose and blasting out the pollen with a saline solution. Highly amusing, but if it works, it's worth a little humiliation and teasing from your family (right, Danielle?).

A Good Question

Tuesday, Lorna blogged about how "each of us have two or three key aspects of God locked in our hearts," and asked later in her post, "what are those two or three revelations of God that are imprinted on your heart?" I liked reflecting on that question, and came up with a few of my own key verses and passages:

* “I can do all things through him who strengthens me,” (Phil. 4:13).
* Also, I’ve always liked Genesis 16, the part where Hagar calls God “the God who sees me,” when she’s alone and at wit’s end in the desert.
* Revelation 1 pictures Christ, with “eyes like a flame of fire… his voice as the sound of many waters.” The entire book of Revelation is filled with so many startling and beautiful images--a sea of glass; the tree of life; a multitude of nations, tribes, peoples, & tongues, standing before the Lamb's throne; the stars of heaven, falling like figs...

I could go on, but that’s a good start! Thanks to Lorna, for making me think, as always.

Ice Box

My daughter's friend, Lizzie, rides a school bus daily from town to her American school on base. Each morning, now that the weather's turned warm, the German bus driver greets all the kids as they file into his air-conditioned bus -- "Vell-come to the Ice Box!" in a thick Bavarian accent. Anna and I have had fun intoning those words at odd moments of the day. I think maybe we're amusing ourselves a bit too much. Can someone send us a new phrase to obsess over?

Seasons

"For everything there is a season...a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted..."
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 Today seems to be a day to plant. The sun has overtaken the drizzly south German rain (not unlike Oregon) and green things are springing up overnight in our pocket-sized backyard. Grass, clover, and a new type of nettle, so far. My miniature rosemary bush is sitting by the wall, waiting to be unpotted and given its own spot of honor. I have gladiola bulbs somewhere in the house--hope it's not too late for them. And, as for me? I'm putting down a few tentative roots in this place. At least for the moment.

Looking to Darfur

D., another writer I met last week in Michigan, sent me an email with a link to the Save Darfur Coalition, where his daughter works. He describes the Sudan situation--"hundreds of thousands have died there, and many more are endangered by militia attacks, disease and starvation. The U.S. government has spoken out against the genocide, but their words are not enough. Your words, however, can be crucial: as Senator Paul Simon said about the Rwanda genocide a decade ago, if only 100 people from each congressional district had contacted their Senators and representatives, Congress would have been galvanized to action."

Here's a prayer from the resource section of the Save Darfur site. I know that my prayers must be linked with action, and my actions with prayer, to make any difference in life. Now I'll be looking more closely at the Darfur crisis, with an eye towards what I can be doing to help my brothers and sisters in that African country.

A Franciscan Benediction
May God bless you with discomfort,
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
So that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger,
At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears,
To shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness,
To believe that you can make a difference in this world,
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.

Amen.

Another Way of Seeing

Last week, I had the privilege of sitting in on an interview with Makoto Fujimura, an artist who lives and works in the center of New York city. He spoke with thoughtfulness and humility about painting, writing and life in general.

A few quotes from that interview:

"Artists can be the leaders and peacemakers of the world."

"Epiphany takes place, even in ground zero. It's the responsibility of the poet (painter/ musician/etc.) to respond and be open to that epiphanic experience."

"Reconciliation is not possible. But God calls us to it, and it happens through generations."

"Each painting is a sort of confessional to me--usually dealing with issues that I'm dealing with spiritually. My heart becomes transparent."

For My Pirate Friends

Picture taken in Venice, Italy. Had to chuckle when I saw this boat--so here's a photo for you, all my Real Live Pirate friends!

Back from Michigan

Just got back this afternoon from Michigan, where I combined a couple of vastly pleasureable activities--visiting our two children in college at Calvin, and attending the Festival of Faith & Writing. An amazing smorgasbord of writers and artists. I especially enjoyed Mary Karr, Gary Schmidt, Lauren Winner, Salman Rushdie, Han Nolan, and Makoto Fujimura. But they're just a small sampling. I returned home with new ideas of people and places to write about, so that's good. Something about being around the mix of energy and enthusiasm whenever a bunch of creative types get together...

As a side note, on Monday I took my daughter's car key to a little Sears kiosk to get a copy made. Happened to mention to the attendant that I was from Germany, and flying back later in the day. He leaped to compliment me, " You have such a great accent! Your English is really, really good!" I was tempted to just say "thank you," and let him think I was the world's latest linguistic wunder-kind. But I didn't.

Frohe Ostern / Happy Easter

I set my alarm to go off at 5:00 am, because I wanted to drive downtown to the Holy Ghost Church for organ music and hymns in German. But at the last minute I decided I didn't want to venture out in the dark without an assured place to park and another person beside me if I had to walk through sketchy areas of town (Jeff had to stay home with Anna) . Anyway, I ended up sleeping late after tossing and turning all night, possibly from a disguised dose of caffeine. It turned out for the best, though, since our neighbors V. and S. came to a 10:00 service at our regular church with us, along with their little boys. V. is from Ghana, and S. is German, so we have fun asking them about customs in both countries, and comparing notes on Africa. They're blending two quite different cultures in their marriage, and it intrigues me, how they make it work. Afterwards, we went out to eat together, along with another couple, and just laughed and talked. The food was forgettable, but the company was memorable. That's much better than the other way round! Thank God for friends.

Karfreitag

Dachau concentration camp--chapel

Palm Sunday

We are traveling today, but I didn't want to forget Palm Sunday -- so I found a link to a poem, The Donkey, by G.K. Chesterton. It's a little different take on the day, written from the perspective of the donkey that Jesus rode.

I'll be back on Good Friday.

Happy, Happy Day

Since we'll be gone on your birthday, have a happy, happy day! To my youngest Eeyore, with loads of love.

The Best Bakery

I've made an official decision about the best bakery in our area--it's called Backerei Rutz.

Reasons that Rutz is the best:
* Plates of coffeecake and cinnamon roll samples are always out.
* The counter workers actually understand my attempts at the German language and smile at me.
* Jalapeno baguettes!
* A good selection of tea.
* Nice tables for people-watching.
* Newspapers available to read while sitting.
* Attached to a grocery store, so I can shop after stocking up on bread and other baked goods at Rutz.
* It's always mobbed with customers.
* Buttery cookies.

Not Just Any Fieldtrip

Today I accompanied my seventh grade daughter's German class on a fieldtrip to Schloss Freudenberg, near the town of Wiesbaden. After an hour and a half of riding, everyone tumbled off the bus and we entered the gates of the Schloss. This place has an intriguing history--by turns, it has served as "a private home, a hotel, a Nazi home for unmarried mothers, an American soldiers' recreation center (legend has it that Elvis once played in the center's Jazz Club), and as the headquarters of the International Pentecostal Church." Now, the building houses the Nature and Art Society.

I found it interesting, especially the many interactive stations designed to help us "unfurl the mind and senses" -- the kids loved clashing numerous plate-size cymbals, mounted on two sides of the music room, and each of us stood in line several times to rub wet palms on either side of a smooth brass bowl, filled with water -- as we vigorously rubbed, the bowl gave off a high pitched musical hum and the water surface ruffled on the edges from static electricity.

Most unusual? The "Dunkel Cafe," or "Dark Cafe." We entered through heavy curtains, into a room of complete darkness. Everyone felt around for a seat at the bar, then the waitress came to take our orders. We ordered drinks or cake, for 2 euro apiece. Our entire snacktime was utterly without light, and I could tell the three boys in the group felt most awkward at first, commenting, "hey, J., get your hand off me!" and so on. It's strange to think we never even saw our waitress' face the entire visit. When it came time to pay, the girls panicked at first, "oh no, how can I tell if this is a ten euro or twenty euro bill? Oops, I dropped my coins on the floor and can't find them!" We found out later the waitress is almost totally blind, which explains her comfort in the Dark Cafe. It was nothing new for her, but for us, it was a brief (and memorable!) experience, functioning without our usually taken-for-granted sense of sight.

The weather was near freezing outside, but our group braved the cold, walking on the "barefoot path" through the woods to feel paving textures of smooth pebbles, bricks, stones, wood, and other materials. I only regretted that we never found the Aeolian harp (named after the Greek god of wind) which is played as wind blows between the strings. But, overall, quite a worthwhile day!

Rosen Garten

Roses in Skansen park, Stockholm, Sweden

Praise the Unlikely

I wrote this poem a few years ago, in response to an assignment given by my Portland writing group. Wendy said, "why don't we write a poem in praise of something unlikely..." and I thought of the incubator where I spent a month as a newborn. Not that I remember anything -- but my parents recall plenty and have shared the details with me. So here it is.

IN HOMAGE TO AN INCUBATOR

You’ve seen old-fashioned isolettes—
glassed-in box, simple warming element,
spartan decor. Ohio, the Bucyrus Hospital
nursery for premature babies. In JFK’s
and Jackie’s era; their son Patrick, born
early, lost to hyaline membrane disease.

Oxygen piped in, titrated, but the outcome
uncertain on infant retinas. Bleach scrub,
pHisohex, the whiff of dirty diapers,
and my newlywed mother, permitted only
to stare at her naked infant— flushed,
bawling. The nineteen-fifties, when preemies
were to be seen, not touched. Echoes of
that lady from church & her pronouncement,
“your baby could be blind, or slow, or both.”

Finally, a month later, mom lifting
Laura, hardly bigger than a hamster,
from the incubator – peach fuzz hair, powdered
flesh – dressing her daughter for the first time
in a pink smock, embroidered socks,
rubbing each scrubbed knee and toe, making sure
to memorize every curve, every bump
before the long drive home to Oregon.

Light and Beauty

Inside St. Peter's -- Rome

Instead Of TV

When I was a kid in Burundi, we didn't have a television or phone. About the most advanced piece of technology in our house was a shortwave radio--on which my folks listened to news and received word of missionaries or nationals needing medical attention. My father worked as a doctor at the Murore hospital, and since medical facilities were far and few between, people from hundreds of kilometers around came to Murore for surgery, lab work, and any necessary care.

After mom finished a morning of homeschool with me, I often ran down the path to the brick hospital, greeting dispensers and nurses, weaving through lines of brightly-clothed mothers with toddlers and babies waiting for immunizations. If dad was in surgery, I scrubbed up, put on sterile coveralls and face mask, and entered the operating room to watch the latest childbirth, skin graft, or hernia repair taking place. Much more entertaining than television! There was a wooden crate which I'd drag over to the operating table, turn over, and stand on--that way I could see better. It never occurred to me to be squeamish. Dad kept my interest by describing "now we're cutting through the fatty layer of skin" or "to sew her up, I'm going to use a special suture..." and it looked like the human anatomy pages in Worldbook Encyclopedia, come alive.

Looking back, I realize the unusual privilege of being able to observe how each person is "fearfully and wonderfully made," of seeing patients in life and death situations, and watching a team work together to repair wounds and bodily pains. At the time, it just seemed normal. Maybe that's why in college, I started out pre-med, although after the first year I switched majors. I wanted to recapture some magic from my childhood...and, truth be told, I just need to close my eyes, and I'm in the O.R. again, hearing the anesthesiologist calling out the level of sedation, watching the young man's chest under the green drapes, rising and falling, rising and falling in rhythm, as steel scalpel and gloved hands flash before me in a steady pattern.

This Is The Sun's Birthday

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any-lifted from the no
of all nothing-human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
--e.e. cummings

This is how spring makes me feel. Thank you e.e., for writing poetry! I walked beside freshly plowed fields this afternoon, passing other individuals and couples out for a stroll in the unexpected sunshine. An old man wearing a black beret and dark sweater cycled slowly past, sitting straight and tall on his rusted bicycle. At his age, I hope to be doing the same.

A Book I've Been Waiting For

Currently Reading -- Unrooted Childhoods: Memoirs of Growing Up Global -- this just arrived in the latest mail, and I can hardly keep my hands off it! Authors include Isabel Allende, Pat Conroy, Pico Iyer, and Ruth Van Reken. Once I'm done with the book, I'll let you know what I think.

Spring Has Sprung?

It’s finally sunny again after a few weeks of snow and mushy grey clouds. Yay! Even though I’m fighting the tail end of a flu-ish cold, I walked to a small grocery store a mile away, just to savor the fresh air. Normally, there’s an Edeka shop a few blocks away which I prefer, in part because I enjoy the two elderly women tending shop and their good-natured banter, but today was a day for stretching the legs…At the rival store across town, I browsed among numerous sausages in the fresh meat case, including plain bratwurst, herbed bratwurst, lamb and beef sausage, and about ten more varieties, for good measure. Germans and their bratwurst addiction, what can I say. The counter woman was patient with my still-halting Deutsch, explaining ingredients and helping me figure out how long to cook each piece of meat. That done, I added fresh sesame brotchen (rolls) to my cart, passed by the always-extensive wine aisle (we have plenty left at home), and bought a pack of Wrigley’s grapefruit mint chewing gum, something I’ve never seen in the States. On my way home, I noticed crocuses are beginning to bloom. This is the time of year I love.

Another sign of spring: the miniscule gelato shop up by the markt platz just re-opened, and soon we’ll be taking evening strolls (after dinner, of course) for a serving of spaghetti eis – strands of vanilla ice cream squeezed out of a machine to look exactly like noodles, topped with pureed raspberry sauce (resembling tomato sauce), then sprinkled with shavings of white chocolate (the parmesan!). A silly and marvelous taste treat.

Like A Child

A few days ago, I bought a children's song book in German from the local thrift store--and I've enjoyed browsing through it, recognizing words here and there, looking up many others in my handy compact dictionary. It's easier for me to retain new words when I see them printed, with an illustration alongside as reinforcement. Hence, picture books make up a big chunk of my new Deutsch library! (a great excuse to continue buying them, now that my youngest is thirteen in April...).

A few of the books I have in German:
*Meine allererste Bibel -- My First Bible
*Die Entdeckung -- The Discovery (a graphic novel from the Anne Frank Haus)
*Mein Schneemann -- The Snowman (a wordless book by Raymond Briggs; ok, this one is purely for the illustrations!)
*Madeleine -- good old Madeleine, she sounds a bit different when she's speaking German instead of French

Now, I need to find a good children's poetry book in German. Any suggestions? Ideally, one that's originally been written in German, not translated from English or another language. I guess the best place I can start is by asking my neighbors, "what did your mom and dad read to you when you were growing up?"

Cool Signs

Garmisch, Germany
from toy museum--Munich, Germany

Where I'm From

I found a great poetry assignment at Blogging In Paris -- you might like to try it yourself. Here's my attempt so far, it's been fun thinking back on my origins:

WHERE I’M FROM

I’m from deep-fried samosas,
sweet potatoes and manioc root.
From the northeast border
of Burundi, high hills,
papaya trees, red dirt.
I’m from the clock-making Mauthes
and the China mission Cornwells.
From “Practice your piano!”
and “God is great, God is good."
I'm from Hyena Cave hikes
and Mount Bachelor weekends,
from Grandma Dorothy's
crossword puzzles
& Grandpa Dan, speaking German
at home, English at school.
I'm from anise-seed wafers
at Christmas, fresh string beans,
stir-fried kale with tofu.
From the antique cookie jar,
the brass Buddha in a corner,
and Dad's Africa slides --
malaria patients and burn victims
cheek by jowl
with burnt sienna sunsets.

And The Snow Continues

Here it is March, and we still have snow. OK, I admit it, I'm a cold-weather-wimp. But it can't be long until the first flower bulbs start to pop up, right? A few days ago, a lot of pavement spots had invisible ice...anyway, Jeff took it slowly on the autobahn entrance, but accelerated and spun out on the hidden ice at the end of the ramp, hitting the guardrail a few times--the car did a 180. His car has dents front and back, basically totalled it, but Jeff's alright, so that's the best part.

Yet Another Diversion

For you Calvin and Hobbes fans, here's Calvin and Hobbes en Español -- I like those two in any language.

Strange Occupations

There's this boy in my daughter's class whom I really enjoy, in fact I've been thinking he's a great kid since last year, when he was in my group for the Christmas market fieldtrip to a nearby town. We spent a few hours walking around the market, looking at candles, pottery, woven scarves, and a ton of other gift choices. The entire time, K. (the boy) kept saying, "I want to find just the right present for my mom. We can't leave until I find something good." Eventually, he settled on a framed silver and black etching of zebras, and carried it onto the schoolbus, making a victory salute to his buddies. And that, of course, won my heart--ever since then, I've had a soft spot for K., because he loves his mom and *gasp* talks about it in public. Pretty unusual for middle school boys.

A few days ago, my daughter came home from school and told me what the seventh grade did this week for language arts: pairs of students interviewed each other about what they wanted to do when they grew up, and then reported to the class. "And you'll never guess what K. is going to be!" she said.
"What?" I was really curious.
"Well...(long pause)...he wants to be a poet." Oh, I knew I liked that boy!
"Or else... an assassin."
"What!?"
"And if he can't be those, then a psychologist."
Hmmm. Might be needing one of those in the future.

Waterfall

To live in the mercy of God.

To feel vibrate the enraptured

waterfall flinging itself
unabating down and down
to clenched fists of rock.
Swiftness of plunge,
hour after year after century,
O or Ah
uninterrupted, voice
many-stranded.
To breathe
spray. The smoke of it.
Arcs
of steelwhite foam, glissades
of fugitive jade barely perceptible. Such passion--
rage or joy?
Thus, not mild, not temperate,
God's love for the world. Vast
flood of mercy
flung on resistance.

from To Live In The Mercy Of God -- by Denise Levertov

Learning to Read...

Yes, I'm learning to read...utilities, that is. And I do feel like a five year old trying to piece together lines on a page to form a word or two!

Having been raised in the tiny country of Burundi, Africa, I thought I had a good amount of empathy for people who move to America and start an entirely new life there--after all, hadn't I entered American society first as a ten old, clueless to many of the customs and expectations in "my" culture? Well, yes, that experience certainly made me more understanding of those who must adjust to a strange land and to new ways. But I'll tell you, after moving to Germany a year and a half ago when I was forty-six, I have even more admiration for the many who immigrate to the US and begin anew, especially grown-ups. It's just harder to do as an adult. Also, I knew English already when my parents returned to the States--a big advantage.

For example, this is my project today: I'm trying to decipher various key words in a letter from the local German utility company. Fortunately, the letter has color illustrations and an example, helpfully filled out. And I've consulted my Heinemann/Harrap German dictionary multiple times. Everything just takes three times as long to accomplish! When I'm more fluent in the language, it will be easier. But for the moment, I muddle along. Here's what I'm working on:


Also, my German neighbor, Frauke, has been of great assistance. She willingly translates letters and papers for me, and answers queries such as, "Do German doctors mind being asked lots of questions about their plan of action & diagnosis?" (She says "yes" in case you wondered.)

Oh, there's an online translater I like as well--BabelFish.