Tooth Fairy

I don't know about where you are, my friends, but spring is literally in full bloom in the Hill Country. Quite pretty, if you can keep your allergic and dripping eyes open long enough. My first clue to the seasonal change is the inevitable allergies. Ironically, I had finally adjusted to the spring in France - full of mimosa, cherry, almond and peach blossoms, all of which made me miserable for a few weeks - the year before we left. Now we're having to re-adjust our sensitivies to include pecan, cottonwood and who knows what else - probably dried deer dung. Sjaantje has been affected the most with nightly sniffles, sneezes, coughing and headaches - bless her heart!

In spite of that, it's been a fun few weeks! To begin with, Henk went with Chris to George Kraus's art show in Houston. Sure, it was a 3 1/2 hour drive each way but it's not every day one gets a personal invitation from a famous artist for a showing! Henk was on Cloud 9 for days afterward. "Was it because the subject matter consisted of life size nude photographs?", you may ask. No. Of course not. The thrill came from being surrounded by well traveled, educated and artsy people - something which has been missing in our lives for a while. To top it off, George took Henk and about 12 other people out to a late dinner after the show. Henk feasted on marrow bones followed by stingray with a brown butter caper sauce. Two of our favorites from France. (I, meanwhile, stayed home with Sjaantje. We had fried chicken.) I'm not jealous. Nope. Not me.

Henk has been spending a lot of time in Dallas lately, working with his son to develop a new (and quite ingenious) medical test. While he was doing that (over two weeks' time), Sjaantje and I perfected our game of Uno, watched the entire Twilight movie series (not necessarily recommended) and tried to figure out how to fix broken plumbing...

One morning, after realizing that our new dishwasher hadn't actually washed the dishes, I decided to wash them by hand in the sink. ("Warsh" would be the preferred colloquialism.) As I finished, I noticed I was standing in a rather large puddle of water. Thank God I wasn't blow drying my hair.

Looking under the sink, I saw the that the downspout was completely disengaged from the horizontal arm, which meant that each time I rinsed the dishes the water just poured directly into the cabinet underneath the sink. Joy beyond belief. It would have been quite simple to fix except for the fact that the pipes are incorrectly installed in the first place. Under the sink, the downspout is only 1 centimeter long as opposed to the minimal 1 1/2 inches it should be; and that downspout must connect to a horizontal arm which then turns down and goes to the drain. After repeatedly and unsuccessfully trying to make the horizontal arm stay attached, I placed "Crime Scene" tape over the sink.

Lucky for me, Sjaantje had a friend over whose father, Roy, came to pick up said friend a few hours later. Roy is the poster boy for the Jolly Green Giant - I mean that in a good way! He's a single father who is raising a lovely 11 year old daughter and just one glance at Roy would convince you that he, of all people, would know how to fix this defunked plumbing.

About 25 seconds after looking at the plumbing, it was fixed. Astounded, I said, "How did you do that?!!" Very matter-of-factly, Roy said, "Well, clearly you gotta have you a can o' saddle soap, acting as a sort of lever, to keep that there pipe (the horizontal one) hooked to the other one." I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. "Looky here" Roy patiently told me. So LOOKING, I noticed that the pipe had originally been supported by a can of saddle soap; without it, the pipe simply fell and aquatic chaos ensued. I thanked Roy and explained that I never thought to look and see how the pipe was actually supported. Roy responded with a wink and "Well, you gotta live here a long time to figure these things out." Roy is a good man.

Last weekend, we spent Saturday morning at Charis and Justin's (our new South African friends) to teach Justin how to make crepes. Most of you know that Henk makes fantastic crepes; and if you don't know by personal experience, my condolences. We were 45 minutes late to our rendezvous only because Henko lost his glasses. He has this silly habit of hooking them on his shirt as opposed to using the very nice, Italian leather glasses case I bought for him. So he hooked his glasses and then threw a bag of trash in the big bin. Glasses gone and somewhat camouflaged with their tortoise shell color, we spent 45 minutes looking for them. Emptying the trash bin was disgusting because we had: a) emptied the ashes from the fireplace and b) emptied the vacuum filter (think Wuzzy hair and debris). Finally we found the glasses, now squished, under the refilled trash bin. Anyway, the crepes were delicious and we learned a new way to eat them: the South African way - Brown sugar with a squeeze of lemon. Delicious and light! It was a fantastic morning.

The other day, as I picked up Sjaantje and Hannah (Dalana's daughter) from the bus stop, Hannah opened the car door and said, "Look! My tooth is so wiggly that I think I'm gonna lose it!" This was followed by, "Oh! I fink I wost my toof!" as the blood started flowing and the lips didn't quite match up. Taking the tooth from Hannah and giving her a napkin to stem the blood flow, we went to our house. A couple hours later, Dalana came to pick up Hannah and I showed her the tooth. "Wow! Normally she freaks out! The tooth fairy will definitely give Hannah a couple of dollars tonight!"

As we were sitting at the table and chatting, one of our dentally challenged friends came by and, seeing Hannah's tooth, gave Dalana a ten dollar bill. While cleverly disguised as the tooth fairy, Dalana was supposed to slip the ten bucks under Hannah's pillow that night. "No, that's too much money. It's going to mess up the system!" Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened, Dalana said to our anonymous friend, "I mean, how much money do YOU get every time you lose a tooth?!!!!" This was followed by silence - although I was literally biting my tongue and pinching my thigh to keep from laughing. "Just kidding. But seriously, don't you need this more than Hannah?" Dalana asked as she offered the tooth as a gift. Pinch my thighs, bite my tongue and walk away.

Tonight Sjaantje is performing in a concert at school! She is playing the recorder (erroneously called a flute in France) with her 5th grade class, plus the 4th graders. Sjaantje is not looking forward to it as she simply abhors being on a stage. On the other hand, Henk and I think this is yet another stepping stone on her conquering Selective Mutism. More power to her!

Let's all wish her luck. In any case, I'm so proud of my sweet Monkey, Sjaantje Emile. I really don't know what kind of a person I would be if I didn't have her in my life.

Cheers!

Wend

.

Broken Glass Jello Mold

Hello there!

 

Can you believe we're more than halfway through February?  I think it's been a month (again) since I last updated my blog.  Well, wonder no longer my friends.  Here's the update...

 

Growing like a beautiful flower, Sjaantje is changing daily.  She is maturing physically, mentally, emotionally and quite importantly on the humor front. It's obvious that Sjaantje has been blessed with my heighth genes and is pushing that envelope to the extreme.  She is only about 2 inches shorter than me and, as normally happens when one grows taller, her feet are growing.  Unfortunately for her however, her shoe size lingers between a 4.5 (the largest kid's size = not much variety and tending to favor Disney patterns) and a 5 (the smallest women's size = heavy on the 3" heels and a bit too mature for her). 

 

This morning Sjaantje was taking a personality quiz on the computer and was stumped by one question: Do you prefer art or reading?  She couldn't decide which to choose.  This, my friends, is a landmark.  Sjaantje has always been extremely artistically inclined but not much of a reader.  Two weeks ago, she began to actually enjoy reading.  (She spent one entire afternoon on the sofa reading a book!  Maybe only because she was grounded from life in general for repeatedly playing "TORNADO!" inside the guest house but nevertheless, she fell in love with reading.)  

 

Sjaantje has perfected a new phrase which comes from a young African-American female character on her Facebook chat options.  For example, if I say "Hey!  I made some chocolate chip cookies for your snack!", Sjaantje replies (while moving her head side to side like an entranced cobra) "Oh no you di' unt."  Or "Sjaantje, you need to put up the clothes that I just folded" gets me "Oh no you di' unt." Henk says, "I bought some ice cream, all for me" and, well you can guess: Oh no you di' unt.

 

Sjaantje had to get yet another shot; this one a follow up for the Hepatitis A series. She has matured so much in the ways of needles that I/we think Sjaantje is finally ready to get either a tatoo or have her ears pierced.  We're going for the latter.  So thinking along these lines, I went to the local "Beauty Shop" to inquire.  "Yep.  We do it."  was the response I was waiting for.  But then it was followed by "We ain't got any earrings for her age.  Just these."  The owner of the shop then showed me the ball point pin dot sized earrings that they normally use for infants.  "No, I think those are way too small.  What about normal sized studs?"  That question gave the earring artist pause for thought but eventually she said, "I gotta order 'em.  Call me tomorrow to see if I gottem."  That was yesterday; today I called and was told, "Nope.  Ain't got 'em.  You could do me a favor though and drive to San Marcos and pick some up for me."   I'm re-thinking the whole process at this point.

 

Going back to Sjaantje's reading and coupling that with Valentine's Day, she decided to make some peanut butter cookies with Hershey kisses on top as gifts for her classmates.  Luckily, we have a cookbook that lists that particular recipe as well as many others - one of the others being a recipe for a certain Jello salad.  With Sjaantje's budding sense of humor as she paged through the cookbook, she paused, read the title and said completely deadpan, "Broken Glass Jello Mold.  Ummm.  That sounds delicious!" As I was thoroughly cracking up, she asked, "Do you think we should use blue or red glass?"

 

Henk's (and mine via marriage) brother-in-law was remarried last week.  (You may remember that Henk's sister passed away in 2008.)  Anyway, Dave married his lovely lady-friend, Carmen. Although we arrived late because unbeknownst to us the highway was closed, once it finally began the wedding was a cozy and sweet ceremony.  Held at a restaurant in Austin, Sjaantje joined her cousins Grant and Seth as well as Carmen's grand-daughters in the ceremony.  It was as we were sitting down to dinner that I overheard Sjaantje talking with Carmen's grand-daughters..."What languages do you speak?" the girls asked.  Sjaantje, not realizing they were from Panama, replied "French, German, Dutch, English of course and Spanish."  A big oops on that one as one grand-daughter broke into Spanish just as Sjaantje pretended to have to answer her phone. 

 

In case you were wondering, YES, we had a bit of snow when that big storm hit in January.  About one inch, give or take! Wow! Not only did Sjaantje have a day off from school, we also had electrical issues as the state of Texas did a "roll around" with the power.  Trying to conserve energy in the face of immenent power outages meant that every few hours the electricity in a certain area was shut off.  No warning, no nothing.  It was quite fun making a cold breakfast at 6:20 am by flashlight. 

 

Meanwhile, Henko went to Dallas.  Keep in mind he claims to abhor American football yet he made it a point to be in Dallas when the Super Bowl was being played.  Not only that, he wore his green Italian leather shoes (Green Bay Packers) and carried a large chunk of cheese in his carry-on bag (Green Bay Packers).  He was conveniently unreachable on his mobile phone all day Sunday.  Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

 

I think the woman who recently cut my hair was a butcher in a previous life.  I don't want to talk about it.

 

Hey!  Good news!  I received a personalized invitation to join the Little League baseball team in town!  That should be fun, except I'll have to change my age from 42 to 12.  Just erase a little on the left side of the 4...

 

I will have more news soon.  Very soon....(intrigued?)

 

xo

W

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jeetjet?

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

Five Dollars a Day

Hello dear friends!

Can you believe it's almost Christmas? Besides looking
at my calendar, I know this is true because our living room is now
adorned with a sparkling, colorful, gaudy and whopping five foot tall
tree and we only decorate in that fashion once a year. Yes, the
ceilings in this house are so low (6 feet/2 meters) that we no longer
enjoy the ginormous Christmas trees from our past. We're stuck with a
tree which would certainly have been cause for awe on the island of
Lilliput but here, it just makes us giggle and snort. The sole benefit
of having a tree this small is there is no room for big, expensive
gifts i.e. a 60" HDTV, stainless steel eight burner gas stove,
SubZero frigo or even a huge, stone water fountain adorned with angels.
(No offense, Mom.) Definitely a bonus. Lucky us, we have to stick to
smaller and more important gifts such as socks, chocolates and pajamas.
If Henk wore ties with any kind of regularity, I imagine they would
also fit nicely under our shrub.

Thank you for all the birthday wishes! I had a fairly uneventful yet
cozy day with Sjaantje and Henk. Since Henko is a better cook than
most restaurant chefs around here, I opted to let him create a menu for
me. Wise call - a perfectly cooked rack of lamb, sweet potato
croquettes, glazed small carrots (with the green tops still attached;
quite pretty) and spinach. Dessert is none of your business. Henk
also rented a film for our viewing after dinner. He was so thoughtful
to find a movie starring my favorite actress, Helen Mirren, and
co-starring with our favorite pinky-ring mafioso, Joe Pesce. Hey
friends, this movie was so awful it only adds fondness to the memory.
Which brings me to this story...

Henk had rented the movie from one of those "Movie Box" things outside
of most grocery stores and McDo's here in the States. These boxes are
really a treat because for only $1.00, you can rent a movie for 24
hours. When Henk returned the movie, the screen on the rental box
said, "Thank you for returning your movie. Five Dollars a Day."
Coming home all flabbergasted, Henk immediately called the number on
the "box" to ask why the movie was $5.00 a day when the "box" itself is
emblazoned with "$1.00!!!" stickers. After 5 or so minutes of Henk
questioning the poor operator/receptionist at the other end of the
line, I heard "Oh. My. God. Forget this call ever happened. Was this
recorded?"

"What what what?!", I asked. Come to find out the movie itself was
called, "Five Dollars a Day". Had nothing to do with the charge.

Since then, we've had some major appliance issues: the dishwasher decided it was much
more fun to spray soap all over the dishes than to rinse them, the wanna-be-a-French oven

went on strike, our vacuum stopped sucking and then the screen on our laptop turned irreversibly

over to the dark black side. So that has all been super fun.

 

To top that off, the new vacuum cleaner busted it's belt after 2 weeks of use and then I, having an

allergy fit, promptly smarfed wine on the new computer's keyboard - thereby making the keys stick

and resulting in us buying yet another new keyboard apparatus. 

 

Then there were the phone and email issues.  I don't even want to go there.  So I won't.

 

Aside from that, I fell down the stairs (twice!) and then stepped into a hole during our nightly walk-the-dog

ceremony.  (Apparently Henk, Sjaantje and Wuz knew the hole was there but for some reason I didn't.) 

When I remember to wear it, I'm now sporting a really cool knee brace.  Looks great with my holiday

dress!  I am a sexy goddess.

 

About one week ago, Wuzzy was doing his thing (relaxing almost comatose on the back patio, watching the stars

and no doubt finding certain constellations), Sjaantje was just leaving the guest house to come inside for the

night and I was cleaning up the kitchen.  Like a charging lion (in one motion which lasted

less than 0.5 seconds), Wuzzy was suddenly and literally climbing the fence.  Sjaantje screamed just as I came

outside...Wuzzy was busy catching an opossum who, unfortunately for him, was last seen walking along the top of

the fence. Wuzzy caught him, gently extracted himself from the fence and let the opossum go.  Imagine this, the opossum played possum

just before he scurried off, up the fence and away. That is probably the most excitement our dear Wuz has had for a long time. 

 

Knowing Wuz as you do (either personally or through this blog), of course he didn't hurt the opossum.  But try to tell

that to Sjaantje.  It took about 45 minutes for her to calm down.  She still relives that episode in France when the bull

mastiff attacked Wuzzy. Bless her heart, she thought the little critter was attacking Wuz.  No. 

 

That's most of my news. I wish all of you a very happy holiday!

 

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah and Happy 2011!

 

Big kiss-

Wend

 

 

 

 

 

Whirlybirds

Hello dear friends!

How are things where you are?  I know that is poorly worded question but you (plural), my friends, are scattered all over the planet and I'm very afraid that my vocabulary is being compromised by living in Hickville. In any case, I think of all of you for certain reasons (mostly good) this time of year. And I miss you.

Martin, how is school in London?

To begin my update, I'm a light sleeper. I often wake at 2:30 in the morning to any of a variety of sounds:  Wuzzy dreaming and lightly barking while simultaneously scratching his sleeping feet on the terra cotta floor, Sjaantje engaged in some bizarre conversation with nobody in particular while pinching invisible airborne pixies or Henk making a gentle "ronflement" as his soft palette ululates.  I promise you that I never wake up as a result of my own nocturnal pig sounds.  I swear I don't snore.  Never.

 

Anyway, the other morning I awoke at the above mentioned time and read for a while. At 5:00, I decided to take a quick nap before the brutal reality of actually leaving the bed materialized.  Besides, my book had just taken on a new theme of military, Homeland Security and helicopters which are three things that endlessly bore me.  What seemed like just a few minutes later, I became halfway aware of a helicopter sound.  I say "halfway" because at the time, I dreamily thought I was reliving some scene from my book.  But as soon as the sconces on the wall started to tinkle with vibrations and the wall itself began seizing, I was wide awake.

 

Brave as I am (not) and ignoring any possible danger, I whipped open the door to the upstairs balcony and amazingly was confronted by a helicopter about 10 feet above my head.  As if the noise, vibrations and Tramontana type winds weren't enough, two red lights, one blue-ish white light and a search beam convinced me this was not a dream.  For some reason I let out a yell, ran back inside and opened the secret place where we keep our gun.  Stupid, stupid, as if.  This time remembering to put on my robe, I went back outside (sans gun) and watched as this helicopter slowly continued on – hovering more than flying to the next two homes and then on to the commune – before I came back inside and made coffee.

 

Many things bothered me about that episode.  1.) There are absolutely NO street lights on our road plus we are surrounded by trees and power lines.  This helicopter was 10 feet above the upstairs balcony, hovering between a rather large oak tree, some power lines and the roof of our house.  Imminent danger, especially in the complete darkness.  2.)  What about the "noise abatement" laws?  3.) Were they the herb police, checking out the tarragon?  4.)  Why does Henk think I was dreaming?

 

Well, justification for the last query was satisfied a day later when Dalana showed me an on-line forum where people were discussing the "Whirlybirds" and the "5:30 wake up call".  Ha.  I knew it. Unfortunately I found no excuses or reasons for this intrusive whirlybird, but the comments were fun:  "Whooee!  They sure was loud!"  and "Could'na been the po-lice, they's too drunk at night to work."  And the best, "T'wernt no Black Hawk.  Them's too big.  Was aliens.  I heard'em on my phone the other day."

 

This comes after a week's worth of traveling to sunny California for Thanksgiving.  Ah, the people of California. And the houses!  Opulence and beauty.  Actually, the same thing goes for those in Scottsdale, Arizona.…

 

We drove from our Hillbilly Junction to just outside of Los Angeles, a city called Altadena.  On the way, we stopped in Arizona to visit a college friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in, hmmmmm, 13/14 years.  My friend, Jenderna, is married to a rather tall and handsome architect who designed and built their home.  OMG.  Jen and her husband Andy have triplets, a pool, plenty cacti and double-paned beveled glass to adorn their incredibly artistic home.  Beautiful Jen is one of the few people in my life who make me laugh like a dork, such is her personality. Plus, Jen and Andy were the beginning of the recurring motif for Thanksgiving:  the Keurig Coffee machine. 

 

Then it was on to Rudie and Cynthia's house in Altadena, CA.  Rudie is Henk's lovely brother and his wife, Cynthia, makes me laugh at myself only because she is laughing at me and wanting me to join in. She's contagious.  We spent some time marveling at their beautiful home and garden, shopping, eating, canceling our order for $18.00 margaritas and wiping LA pigeon poop off my leather coat.  Fun times indeed!

 

Rudie and Cynthia have a Keurig coffee machine.

 

For Thanksgiving, we went to San Diego to visit Cynthia's sister Kris and her husband Joe. The house was extraordinary, on a hill, overlooking absolutely everything.  Sjaantje was amazed to see two authentic elephant tusks, real zebra skin rugs, a cute little white dog named Maggie who has not yet been made into a rug and to eat pumpkin pie.  Henk absorbed the garage where Joe keeps a collection of twelve or maybe sixteen cars – Porsches, old "hotrods" with wispy fire painted on them a la ZZ Top, classics (the names of which I do not know but old cars with what I would call horn rimmed glasses) and each with a personalized license plate:  Joe Cool, Joe Fast, Joe Sexy, Joe Fun etc...  The irony is that Joe is legally blind and cannot drive. 

 

Kris and Joe have a Keurig coffee machine.

 

The most notable thing about our drive from Texas to California was the unfortunate roadkill.  As I've told you before, in this part of Texas there are way too many dead deer on the side of the road.  In west Texas, we saw plenty armadillos.  Further on in New Mexico and Arizona, the road sides were decorated with coyotes but once we hit California, the patina of roadkill changed to strictly cars, fancy ones at that.  This is something Sjaantje commented on and is in no way meant to be funny.

 

Culture shock again upon our return to Hickville, I went to the store the following morning.  Pulling in to the only vacant parking place, I noticed a rather large man lingering five feet away.  Outfitted in denim overalls/coveralls/hogwashers and no shirt, this hefty gentleman sported an exceptionally long golden coif plus a matching beard which went all the way down to his fat-fold laden navel.  (I don't mean to sound judgmental; I'm just trying to give you an image.) Anyway, this guy had radar locking eyes that honed in on me and my car as I parked and thus feeling uneasy, I said "Good morning" as I went into the store.  Ten minutes later when I came out, Goldilocks was slowly and tentatively walking to and fro around my car. Here came the eyes again and he said, "That there a Mar-Say-Deez?  Them's a good car."  Of course I agreed on both counts.  "I gotsa friend, he got him a Marsaydeez.  Been the best car – better'n a Chevy – for 'bout 10 years."  Wow, I said, what a coincidence.  My car is 10 years old as well. "Yep.  But this'n looks better than Billy's. Hizziza S. This here's a C."  Breaking into colloquialisms, I said, "Yep, this is a C class."  Then remembering my first encounter with the butcher here, I added "Have a nice day then."  "Yep, you too.  Take you some good care with that there car."  I'm still struggling to find out if this was a guardian angel of some sort or just some nice albeit hillbilly guy who didn't pass his English class.

 

After telling Henk about this meeting of the minds, he decided to put our Dutch tags on the front of the car in order to confuse the locals even more. I simply cannot wait for my next encounter.

 

So about this Keurig coffee machine: it makes a great cup of coffee. Look it up on line – it would make a great Christmas gift. 

 

Lekker zoentjes.

 

Wend

Piderman and Nakes

Hello friends!

 

Time flies.  Wow, you have no idea what's been going on with us here in Texas because I have been a bit lazy about telling you.  Not actually lazy, just pre-occupied with things such as my new writing job, an additional writing job, my daughter, husband, my new little boyfriend, a freshly permed poodle-esque disgusting hair coif and way too many dentally challenged ejits.  The "missing teeth phenomenon" is so rampant here, I am reluctant to visit any office of dentistry in the Hill Country.  Surely there is a vast left wing conspiracy re: dental care.

 

A few weeks ago, Henk and I were once again graced by the presence of a battered and smoking car in our driveway.  The dude that exited the vehicle at first looked like a retired caucasian basketball player who, for a second career, signed up to be the bass player for Lynyrd Skynyrd.  Skinny and seriously tall with seriously long hair to match, he exited the car holding what Texans call a "long neck" (a Lone Star beer with an extended neck on the bottle) at 9:30 in the morning.  Remembering "Night of the Living Dead"  I repeatedly yelled, "Go away!" from inside the living room while Henk went out to inquire the dude's business here.  Of course, the dude was looking for someone else. 

 

And then I was verbally assaulted by an equally if not more toothless meanie at a local restaurant - all because I asked a simple question along the lines of "Could I borrow the salt?".  Spittle and F- bombs flying, the intoxicated-beyond-blood-poisoning creature had apparently decided it was much more sportive to attack a poodle-ish looking blond than to just pass the damn salt.  After my semi-recovery from this onslaught, I again pondered the biggest question in my mind: Why did we move here?  Only this time I said it out loud many times.  Kind of like a broken record.  Or a mantra, except I didn't find any peace when I chanted.

 

To be fair, all is not completely disgusting here...

 

 October 31 was Sjaantje's first time to experience Halloween in the States when she was/is old enough to know what was happening.  So for Halloween and the inevitable 'trick or treating',  I joined my new friend Misti to take the kids out for a fun and candy filled excursion.  Misti is the mother of Sjaantje's friend Lauren, her sister Samantha and the cutest little 4 year old fella ever - Jacob.

 

Jacob is talented in many ways:  1) facial expressions - he can crease his brow, quizzically cock one eye up or give you the sweetest smile, usually all 3 at the same time; 2) he is a natural with writing hieroglyphics, more so than any other 4 year old I've ever met; plus only he can decypher them; 3) Jacob already rides a bicycle, often over to visit us and then informs us of things like "I goy be Piderman. Fo Allowee." or "Daaay gau-ah nake one".  Henk and I absolutely love this little guy.  You would too, if you could meet him.

 

Henk had an inkling to make some Dutch pickles last weekend.  The only problem being we didn't have a jar to put them in.  No problem for Henko, he went shopping to find "the perfect jar".  After perusing 2 or 3 different local stores, he finally found a vessel that was at least attractive but not really functional. (Imagine a 14 inch tall, 2 inch square rectangular jar that has been slightly twisted. Beautiful jar, indeed.  But for pickles?  How are you going to retrieve them?  With a skewer?)  The uber-friendly clerk tried to counsel Henk on his choice of jars.  After having no success, she said "Lemme just give you uh jar uh pickles my brother and me just done made.  Then you keep you the jar and use it for your there pickles."   When Henk came home and showed me the two glass vessels - one with pickles, one without - he unthankfully said, "I can't believe she put dill in those pickles!  Just look at that!"

 

Regarding Sjaantje Emile's progress in school, she's doing fine.  So fine that she actually got in trouble a few weeks ago.   

This is the note we've been waiting for from Sjaantje Emile's school, for too many years...

 

Mrs. Tilleman,

 

We've been having a few challenging days lately.  Emile is talking a bit too much at her table and is missing instructions.  Please talk with her about this.  Thanks.

 

Yes, I actually cried and Sjaantje thought it was because she was in trouble.  Selective Mutism be damned!  Gone and forgotten.  Apparently. I gave Sjaantje $10 and we watched the movie "Big" that night, just to celebrate. Am I a bad mom who encourages misbehavior in class?

 

With the tour season not happening yet, Henk is again bored. He's actually going to take some classes at the local college and get a different medical something or other.  I told him that soon he'll be able to get two discounts at the movie theaters and museums: one for being a "senior citizen" and also a "student discount" - he didn't think that was too funny.  However, I thought it was hilarious. 

 

Big kiss to all of you -

 

Wend

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving poem

This was a school assignment for Sjaantje Emile. I've typed it just as she wrote it, misspellings included. I think it's worth a post in any case.

I am thankful for...

...for my mom for letting me make chocolat chip cookies all by my self. For my dad for getting me a very cool bunk bed. For getting my first dog in my life. For having animals all over the world so we won't be alone on the planet. For having friends that help support each other. For having food and water so we don't starve to death. For having houses to keep us shelter. For having weekends to spend time with friends and family. For having chlothes to keep us warm. For having swiming pools to help us cool off in the summer. For having hershy's syrup to help chocolat milk taste better. For having LIFE!!!