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| Good Morning |
Mr. Furious is watching a movie and the DVD presenter says, 'Coming to Own on DVD.' At which point he yells (is there any other kind of talking?), "It's ALREADY OWNED." Then he proceeds to correct the English of the preview, "You mean CRUSHED upon them, not dropped upon them, CRUSHED.'
Can you imagine what this kid will be like as teenager? If I were hubby's grandmother, I would say in a great southern drawl, 'Lord help.' Because we're sure going to need it. |
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| first night |
8:45 pm boys in bed, asleep
9:15 pm I'm in bed, asleep
9:45 pm I wake up as if I'd slept the whole night, wonder why hubby is not in bed
10:45 pm Mr. Furious climbs in bed, bad dream
11:45 pm Bam Bam climbs in bed, no reason
12:00 am Bam Bam needs a baba, I go to fetch it, turn on the light in the boys' room, hubby groans for me to turn it off. I realize my mate has abandoned the communal bed. Traitor.
1:00 am Bam Bam needs more baba, I go downstairs and fill it, realize hubby has returned to our bed and there's nowhere for me to sleep.
1:30-3:30 am Bam Bam and I watch Wallace and Grommit.
3:30 am I fall asleep in the guest bedroom, Bam Bam falls asleep in the chair, I worry that he'll pee on my chair.
12:00 NOON I wake up having no idea what time it is, hubby is awake and dressed, kids are dressed, just returned from the park and lunch. Hubby informs me that he has been up since 4:45 am with Mr. Furious, lucky him.
1:00 pm hubby falls asleep, kids fall asleep. I'm awake, barely.Labels: jet lag, much? |
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| Exhausted his Resources |
My hubby has worn all of his house-mates out with his incessant desire to have company while singing 'karaoke' to High School Musical. Actually, let's be clear, with High School Musical 2. The second one, you know, the one that actually has less plot than the first one. Yes, it's possible to have less plot than the first movie. If you don't believe me, you obviously have not watched the first movie.
Well, tonight he recruited a new victim, uh, partner.
We have a visitor staying with us. She doesn't understand English. She's adorably cute. She's 8.
'nuff said.Labels: Alien Invasion |
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| Have I ever said thanks? |
Here's to S* and his beautiful and talented wife Courtney of Five Elephants who got me into blogging two years ago. And thanks for helping me (just today) figure out how to get pics from MY very own server to show up here on the blog. For someone as technically savvy as myself, it's a freaking modern miracle. Thank you again and again! |
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| oops |
Here's the result of a mistake I made earlier today. I kind of like it, I think. Don't worry, I'll hate it again in a couple of hours. |
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| Lesson in Bilingualism...Yeah, I'm 82% sure that's a word |
So far, Bam Bam (3 yo) is by far the German language star in the house. Of course, he also gets the most exposure because he spends three hours every weekday with a native speaker. BUT, nonetheless, it sucks for me to know less German than a person who still drinks out of a bottle.
Here are a couple Bam Bam moments where he gets an A for effort:
We were eating lunch together and I was talking to hubby about some serious subject like food shortages or what color to paint the wall when all of the sudden Bam Bam gets a very solemn look on his face. He turns to me and says with an expression of empathy, "Bist du ein Brot?" His intonation said, "Are you OK?" but the words he spoke meant, "Are you bread?" I had to say no, that I wasn't bread but I sincerely appreciated his concern.
And this morning, he was eating GF bread with Nutella on it. He was lovingly talking about the joys of 'Schokolade' which is what he calls Nutella. And then he stoppped, looked at me and said, "What is 'Schokolade' in Engwich (English)? And I very self-satisfyingly said (hey, the kid speaks better German than me, I've got to show my skills somewhere!), "Chocolate."
I've got that subject mastered.Labels: Sprechen Sie What? |
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| another example of irony |
 
Within walking distance, we find two very different tourist sites. I included the original picture so you can gander at that sweet punk rocker mama in the lower left-hand corner smiling so beautifully at her baby (in stroller with the orange top). Oh and that guy's face? It's a tattoo. No makeup. Help me guess how many piercings? I guess 11. |
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| Why Read? |
| Because really...if it doesn't agree with my worldview, what's the point?
Right?
Labels: I Write |
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| wide angle |
I've been messing with using a wide angle in portraits as a means of distortion. |
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| 5 Things I miss about America |
| 1. Let's start this by keeping it real. Mayonnaise. Squeezing vinegar-tasting mayo out of a metal toothpaste container is seriously not fun. And it should be fun. Being able to huck a plastic container of mayo at your friend? Fun. Extracting the luscious gooeyness out of the plastic container with a knife? Deliciously fun. Squeezing mayo on bread, working so hard that you start to sweat? Not fun. Also gross.
2. And while we're on condiments. Free ketchup. Definitely miss that.
3. Driving....a car...you know, that we own...and that we don't have to rent...for like $200 a day.
4. Driving said car to grocery store and then sitting on my can while the groceries get transported to the house.
5. The baptist churches that I found on abandoned, tree crushed roads; built in fields and parking lots, strip malls and solitary hills. I miss the religiosity of America, the unabashed faith in something mysterious, unexplainable, illogical.
Things I don't miss about America:
1. Eating too much Mayonnaise. Because really! Mayo is not necessarily a major food group. Trading Austrian chocolate for mayonnaise is not officially a sacrifice in any real way.
2. And if I'm getting Free Ketchup, you know what else I'm ordering? Too many French Fries. Yes. I love those naughty little things. And if I'm ordering French Fries, you know what I'm not eating? Deliciously ripe, warm tomatoes, fresh asparagus from local farms, cheesy polenta, homemade northern Italian creamy mushroom sauce, basically REAL FOOD. Grown from real people, and sent to my local market. Which I love. And which I then expend effort to make. And which nourishes me and my brood on an entire different level than french fries.
3. My car. I love seeing the city on foot. I feel like I live the city instead of passing by it quickly on my way to somewhere else. We're thinking about buying a car. And I hate the idea.
4. Laziness canonized as 'efficiency.' There is almost nothing that Americans do better than marketing laziness to themselves and the rest of the world. Laziness is practically the national pass time. I'm guilty. And as I haul my groceries up five hills to get home, I often think of how much easier (read: better) it would be if I could just drive. But then I would miss yelling at my kids to keep up, every three seconds. I would miss being able to burn off the chocolate bar that I just ate as I was walking. I would miss being able to walk to a reform house which carries gluten free bread, pudding, pastas, cookies, crackers, bread mixes, bread crumbs, seriously delicious nummies for the celiac and non-celiac alike. I would be fatter if I had a car (scary...and true) and besides, I have no idea how/where/when to park in this city. It's a nightmare. My girlfriend spent most of our lovely visit to the Albertina Museum trying to 'pay' for her parking on her cell phone. How sad. And have you ever seen a woodcut by Munch? WOW. I think my favorite was Moonlight 1. She missed it. She was texting.
5. Public religiosity. The Catholic church bells I hear from my front windows and from my back windows call to a non-existent congregation. The churches are beautiful, lush, and empty. I love the quiet spirituality of a people burned by a long-ago war, a dislike for the commercialized and ancient religions alike, and an intense feeling that religion is something so sacred, that a private display is its only appropriate expression. Labels: The Move |
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| Upgrade much? |
All of the changes on these pics (in this post and the one befoew) were done in Camera Raw from the Bridge, both new features that were added when I upgraded my Photoshop CS to Photoshop CS3. As some of you may know, details are my greatest weakness and greatest strength. They overwhelm and define me. I hate that. Working in Camera Raw makes me feel like I'm cuddled up with my favorite blankie at the foot of my parent's bed knowing, KNOWING! that all is right in the world. And now I feel like demanding that someone (MOM!) buy me some onion rings from Crown Burger and feed them to me in bed. Because I'm worth it. And it's my birthday. So there. |
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| Gretchen wears |
grey glasses. At the park. On the Merry-Go-Round. While it's spinning. I need some kind of parenting award for this supreme act of creativity. And guess what. It worked.Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| And this is after |
the haircut. And the 'watch me.' And the 'Don't take the picture yet.' And the 'Take the picture when I get to three. I didn't get to three!" "MOMMMMMM!!!'Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| This little church |
is so typical of what catches an American's eye here in Europe. It was built on a hill, smashed into a triangular shape to fit the space between the road and other buildings. It appears out of nowhere as you swing your head to look for cars before you cross the narrow cobblestone alleyway that meanders around it. It lingers there as you blink to make sure it's real.
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| Like I can answer that |
| I was in the middle of a deep doctrinal discussion with my hubby about the differences between the evaporated milk they sell at 'home' and the kaffee milk they sell here when my oldest interrupted us with a question. "Mom?" His face was raised to us from where he sat. There was something in his quizzical expression. I can't describe it exactly, hope? desire? longing? Or maybe it was simple curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that leads him to streak my side table with reddish-orange acrylics or throw water balloons from our second story window.
Or maybe not. Because he followed that expression with, "Where's home?"
And after he said this, he looked at us as if we could easily solve this dilemma for him. As if we knew the answer ourselves. Labels: The Move |
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| Ok, I admit it. |
I love a clear, crisp morning at the cemetery. No really. I do. |
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| Just a normal day at the park |
with ski goggles, floods, and shoes that he commented about this morning, "Will you buy me new shoes? Because I don't care what they look like, I just want them to be comfortable." I replied with a sigh, "Yes, I will buy you new shoes." Because what is a girl with an uncomfortable shoe-fetish supposed to do with a child like this? Blame him on his father. Of course. Labels: The Boy Factory |
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| Photostory |
I've finally found a company to print my wedding albums that I love love love. I've been looking for 4 years to find the perfect fit. I've been satisfied with who I went with before but they didn't have the aesthetic I wanted. The pop. The class. The style. Anyway, I've been researching this Italian company for, like, ever. (Utah Valley Girl anyone?). I've always assumed they were too expensive because some of the best photographers I know recommend them.
They have transparent covers, metallic paper, panoramic printing. The books are hand crafted in Italy. They're. just. stunning.
And, I'm happy.Labels: Jack of all Trades, Master of (n)one |
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| Ending Decay |
30 minute "run."
On route there are 6 grocery stores.
If I had run one street further, I could have added two more.Labels: The Move |
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| It's all about the stock and the Minestrone and the Mozzarella |
Because I love you, my bloggy friends and loved ones AND stalkers (you're there right? Because it helps my self esteem to think you are), I am going to share one of the best cooking secrets in the world. And then my very special recipe for something that my husband thinks he invented. But, I perfected it, so there.
Here you go. The key to making everything taste good is...................homemade stock. I promise it's worth the time and effort, it's cheaper than pre-made stuff, it makes the house smell nummy, no chemicals, no fake flavors, food-of-the-gods I say.
So, here's how you do it. Cook meat (any kind, chicken, lamb, pork, or beef but select the cuts with bone, lots of bone, they're so much better anyway and that's your raw material for the stock), serve it to your family. Easy right? I know you've done that. Ok, next step. Save the fat and bones and skin and any extra meat left-over from the meal. Put it in the fridge. Go to bed. Child's play!
The next day, you lazily wake up and have the makings of another meal. It's so Mormon! And I'm not Mormon with a capital M very often, so take note. When it's dinner time, throw the bones and meat into a BIG stock pot. I usually add celery, onions, and carrots to make the flavor (and I cut them "pretty," on the diagonal because I usually don't blend the stock up). But, you can add any vegetables that sound appealing to you. Don't be shy ladies, fill the pot up with water and add as many veggies as you desire. Then add Salt and Pepper. Lots of Salt and Pepper. Never add the stock to anything until it's seasoned appropriately. | | | | | |
posted by Reluctant Nomad at 
