Greetings from the so-called Hill Country!
I cannot believe it's been a month since I last blogged - shows how busy I've been. Not. Well, maybe a bit busy but mostly just uninspired. Winter and small town doldrums abound. Nevertheless, I have managed to have some interesting experiences, meet some new people and, in some cases, marvel at the fact that our new friends have entire sets of teeth.
Speaking of new friends, Sjaantje has quite a few new ones as well and they have all been engaged with comings and goings to each other's homes. One of her new friends - who we'll call Nancy - was a particular marvel. A brief synopsis: In my estimation, Nancy's parents collectively weigh at least 600 lbs. Nancy, however, is not fat but her eating habits are more than worrisome. I dutifully fulfilled her every request. Here's a rough outline of the night she spent chez nous:
4:30 pm = arrival, snacks
5:00 pm = "When is dinner? I'm starving!"
6:00 pm = dinner (4 small chicken 'drummettes' per chica, plus veggies and frites)
6:15 pm = "These are delicious, even better than my Dad's! Do you have some more? I normally eat a dozen at least."
6:30 pm = into the kitchen, "What'cha cookin? Ooh, I love spinach. Can I have some?"
7:00 pm = "Can we order a pizza?"
8:00 pm = "I'm still hungry. What's for dessert?"
8:30 pm = "Got any popcorn?" (I answer yes, but do you mind if Henk and I eat our dinner?)
9:00 pm = "Mmmm. I love ice cream. Are there any more cookies?"
10:00 pm = (There are no water facilities in the guest house where Sjaantje and her friends always sleep.) "Don't worry, if I need to pee I'll just go in the yard. That's what we do at my house." Me - "Um...please don't."
Next day:
6:30 am = Sjaantje makes some Nutella sandwiches for herself and Nancy
7:00 am = I make hot chocolate for the girls and prepare Churro batter for later - it has to rest an hour or so. Hungry girls, I make breakfast tacos.
7:30 am = Henk is making Dutch fried apples (appelflap), kind of like an apple filled donut for the girl(s)
8:00 am = "I'm still hungry." Me - "Really? Well, I'm going to take my shower now and the churro batter still has to rest a while."
9:00 am = Fried churros with or without cinnamon sugar. "This is the BEST sleepover I've ever been to. 'Course I say that every time."
10:00 am = "When is lunch?"
On and on until Nancy's father collected her and when he arrived, I honestly was concerned whether or not Mr. Nancy would be hungry. If he was, fortunately he didn't mention it.
Sjaantje has had some other interesting friend happenings: meeting a new and lovely girl whose father is Dutch; being poked in the face repeatedly by another friend until Sjaantje grabbed that particular poking finger and bit the hell out of it ; having a group of 5 kids over and they all decided to climb on the LEANING wooden fence at the same time (on the leaning side); and I finally made a list of rules for the guest house, including "No peeing in the yard." (I'm thrilled that Sjaantje stood up for herself, albeit in a drastic way, with the poking thing. I doubt anyone will poke her again.)
Still on the Sjaantje theme, Henk and I broke down and now Sjaantje has her own cell/mobile phone. A supremely cool one at that. She is already an expert at "texting" but ironically texts ME on a regular basis. I do not know how to text back so she continues to text to see if I got the message. At 20 cents a text, this madness must stop.
This may come as a surprise but we are thinking about having Wuzzy mate with a Great Pyrenees dog. The GPs are pretty much in the same dog catagory and, short of finding a full blood Newfie bitch, we've had an offer of mating a Great Pyrenees. (Not us, but Wuzzy of course.) Aside from having a mixed breed puppy, what concerns us is the owner of the GP is supposedly the niece of the infamous drug lord Pablo Escobar. The good thing is the pup will undoubtedly be prolific as a drug sniffing dog and most likely have a long career. The bad thing is what happens if we refuse?!
Here's a bit of a joke: How long does it take two dentally challenged and drunk Wimberlians to install a door? The answer: seven days. This is a story I really have no need to tell you. But what a joke.
Whoops! It appears I've gone back into the teeth issue.
Just last week and on a recommendation I went to rent that movie about Facebook and as the little rental box at the grocery store was 'out of order', I went to the local video rental place. I've been to the video store before and it was always clerked by a woman who, although she prefers to burn incense in the store, was fairly clean cut. This particular day the store was manned by some different people. I was greeted quite nicely when I walked in and inquired about the networking movie...
"Ya mean that one about Faithbook?" I looked at the dude who just tried to verify my quest. Long ponytailed hair down to his waist and, bless his heart, no (as in none whatsoever) upper front teeth. I responded, "Yeth, I think tho." "Th'called Thothial Network." he says as he hands a DVD to me. "Thankth!" I replied. Fun-ness.
Since I love to study, I revisited a particular product, called a cheeseburger, before writing a culinary travel article. I knew without a doubt I had found the most delicious one on the planet so, to further my research, I went with some friends to solidify my theory. We had a great cheeseburger, some interesting conversations, I made some new friends and actually got karaoke-ed away. Well not actually karaoke, but I was called up to lead the restaurant in a rowsing version of John Mellencamp's 'Pink Houses'. OK, so I did. Yeah, yeah verily. Quite fun although one of my friends remained stationed at our table frantically plugging her ears with napkins. I then published my article and, when returning to the establishment a few days later to return the menu I had borrowed, was hailed as a new best friend by the cook. "Cha done wrote dat thang bout our theesburger? Cool. Thankth!" Yes, a few teeth have gone by the wayside yet again. Anyway, this particular local hangout has an outstanding cheeseburger.
I don't have anything against dentally challenged people. I am simply amazed at the large numbers of them in this town. Truly frightening.
I just finished reading a book called "Do you speak American?". An eye opener, this one. Co-Written by Robert MacNeil (of the MacNeil-Lehrer News Hour or some such thing) and Willam Cran, this book explains - or attempts to - the different accents and colloquialisms of American English. Well guess what? Texas English is the most comforting dialect for foreigners to hear. People do not feel threatened with Texan English.
"Set yourself rye chair. Jeetjet?" If you answer no to that, the response would most likely be "Well getcha'uh pull off dat dare meat. Do ya good!"
Followed by "Wannabeer?"
Whether we can translate is a different question but the force behind these words is usually just plain friendliness. You are welcomed and will be taken care of. That is, unless you happen to be a deer whose been hit by a car. My friend Misti told me a most horrifying story last week. A deer had been hit by a car and was unfortunately not fatally wounded - the car had simply crushed her hind quarters. The poor deer spent two days on the side of Misti's street, bleating and unable to walk. After calling the "Animal Control Department", Misti was told to "Just dig you a hole, put the deer in it and pour you some lye all over it. Oughta do it for ya." For the love of God! Who would be capable of such a thing! Misti's husband, one of the Davids in town, was also told he cannot use a gun to put the unfortunate animal out of misery. No way, not in such a thriving metropolis as this. So David decided to literally take matters into his own hands but in a gentle way. I'm pretty sure the deer then received a proper burial.
Let's change the subject. A few weeks ago, Wuzzy started going berzerk and barking at the front windows. I looked outside and saw two dogs - one black Labrador and one yellow Lab, both males - staring back at my beast through the glass. Since it was raining and we live on somewhat of a highway, Henk and I rounded up a couple of leashes and attached the dogs to the patio posts. Wuzzy was not pleased. Luckily, one of the dogs was properly tagged and we were able to locate the owner.
The owner is a South African woman, named Charis, who has also lived in Australia, Europe and then landed here. Long story short, Charis and I are now pretty good friends and most importantly, she somewhat forced Henk into a rendezvous with some local artists. Google the name George Krause. He is an artistic photographer who hosts a billiard and red wine party for well-traveled men each Tuesday evening. Kind of like visitation, I'll get to have Sjaantje all to myself each Tuesday night while Henk hangs out with a group of guys who can talk about something other than nothing. Plus, according to Henk, they all have a full set of pearly whites.
Last Friday was one of the coldest mornings we've had this season. At 27 degrees F, I drove Sjaantje to the school bus stop and came home to find that I was locked out of the house. Apparently the sliding glass door lock had engaged when Sjaantje shut it on her way out. So here I was, in my "good morning pants", slippers and a robe. I tried calling from the car phone to the house phone - no answer x 3. Banging on the front door (because the doorbell has never worked) and windows = no response from my sleeping husband. Short of climbing on the roof and knocking on the window (which I seriously considered doing but alas, I had no ladder or chair to hoist me), I found a rubber ball dog toy and tossed it repeatedly at the upstairs window, still trying to wake my sleeping beauty. Dislocating my shoulder with my throws, the ball decided to stay on the roof. Meanwhile, Wuzzy thinks I'm playing some really mean and teasing game with him. He was getting ready to tackle me when I cleverly said as a distraction, "Wuzzy, look! Small rocks!" A handful of pebbles thrown at the window (5 times) finally roused Mr. Lazy-bone-head. If only there were words to describe the look he gave me when he glanced out the window. I swear I saw him mouth the words "You supreme dork photo" just before his visage disappeared from the window.
Wow, that was about a month's worth of news stuffed into one big ol' blog. I hope each of you, my readers, had a wonderful holiday and I wish all the best for you in 2011!
Tot ziens -
Wend
