Gelato pic

Find a Happy Place!

Early this morning, as I was covered with a delightful lather of Italian soap in a steaming hot shower, I reached for my razor and IT WAS NOT THERE!  Where oh where could it be, I pondered.  After spending all of two seconds scrutinizing the shower (check behind the shampoo and then the conditioner) I was struck by an outrageous thought... "No.  Not possible", I said aloud to no-one in particular.  Thinking perhaps the razor was underneath the shampoo, I reinitiated my search with a different flair but to no avail.  Rinsing off what might just have been the best lather to adorn my middle age body in years, I hesitantly stepped out of the shower and braced myself for what was most assuredly going to depress me...

There it was.  My razor. On the side of the bathtub where it so does NOT belong.  Tilting my head to one side, I quickly ran through the only three possible reasons it was there: 1.) Henk had decided to forgo his electric shaving device and purvey my very old, very French razor or 2.) Wuzzy had decided to rid himself of 50 lbs of fur before the hot summer months (I quickly realized this was not possible because he only has claws, not hands). And lastly, the thought which I was attempting to mentally block began bouncing around my head: My 12 year old daughter had decided to start shaving.

OMG!  Trying to find a happy place in my mind, I jumped back into the shower and lathered up again.  Then I just stood there reliving the past few weeks...

The Monday after Easter, my sweet little daughter came home from school with a large stuffed bunny.  As it was kind of hard to hide, I immediately felt inquisitory.  "Was there a contest at school and you won?"  No, Mom.  "Did everyone get a stuffed bunny as an Easter present from the Principal?" Really, Mom?  No.  "Oh.  Where did you get the bunny?"  Emile responded with exactly what I knew she was going to say: My boyfriend gave it to me. 

My smile faded as I realized Emile had not told me she had a boyfriend.  "What boyfriend?"  Mine, she stoically responded.  OK, time for a sit down talk. 

What is your boyfriend's name?  -  Ryan

Oh, that's a nice name.  Reminds me of Lindsey's husband. - Yes, Mom.

Silence.

Well, is he in your grade? - Yes.

That's good, because age differences can be tricky!  (Snort, giggle - Me) - Whatever.

Ok, what kind of guy is Ryan? - Dunno, Mom.

What!?? What does that mean?  You said he was your boyfriend! - Mom, puleez.

Silence.

Is Ryan in Band? - Not sure.

Does he play sports? - Mom!

What does he want to be when he grows up? - (No words, just eye daggers.)

Am I bothering you, Sweetie?  I just want to know a little about your boyfriend. - Freak.

Wow.  Well, does he... - Mom? Can you just go away, I need to text Ryan.

Oh, OK.   -

Silence. Leave the room.

So that was fun.

The following week I received a text from Ryan: Hello Mrs. Tilleman, this is Ryan, Emile's boyfriend.  I was wondering if I could take Emile to the movies this weekend. Thank U.  Ryan

End of text.  I waited what I thought was a good amount of time (25 minutes) before texting him back.

Hello Ryan. This is Emile's Mom. What movie? What time? Where?  We will need a note from your doctor, psychiatrist, dentist and 5 references (double spaced, typed) plus a blood and urine sample for disease and drug testing. And most importantly Emile's father and I must meet you and your parents before you take Emile anywhere.  Capiche?

After exchanging a few texts, it was decided that Ryan and his parents would come by to meet us on Thursday after school.  Of all times, I was called out for some STATs that afternoon at a hospital 30 miles away and didn't return until nearly 8:00 pm.  Lucky for me, everyone was still holding court.

I must say that Ryan is a lovely young man:  a good look in his twinkling eye, easy with a laugh and rather forthcoming with hearty handshakes.

Regarding their proposed "date", we parents decided that the "Hunger Games" movie was probably a bit too much for the kids and gave them the choice of a Dr. Seuss movie or nothing.  Hats off to Ryan for not even flinching!

Many handshakes later, the Ryan clan left and I retired to my bedroom to look through Emile's Babybook.

On Saturday, the kids had their "date", complete with tacos at a restaurant after the movie.  Yes, I had planned a nice dinner for when Emile returned but it appears she would prefer other company than boring ol' Mom and Dad.  Although I ate Emile's portion just to stave off my depression, it didn't work. And then I bloated.

I have been told to monitor Emile's Facebook account (Thanks, Cynthia!) to make sure there are no predators mingling in her "Friends".  And so I did.  Just before writing this. Like 5 minutes ago. Guess what?  Emile describes Saturday night as "the best night ever". 

What about all those times when we played Uno?  Weren't those fun nights? 

How about that night in Florence, after we climbed so high above the Arno and ate gelato?  And that dinner in Paris, after the Eiffel Tower? Or Indonesian food at Betty and Cees's?  Remember Pizza and movies with Nana, Grampa, Lindsey, the other Ryan and us? Pajamas and Napoleon Dynamite Night was fun, wasn't it?  Or watching Gladiator with Sagey before we went to Rome? etc...

And then Emile borrowed my razor the next day.

Turning off the water, I realized I am in denial and what a happy place that is!  Glad I found it and I will live the next few months in perfect and oblivious glee.

Me Stupid

I did something very stupid and I feel compelled to share it with you, my dear readers, lest you have the same mishap. Fair warning: this is pretty gross but the worst part is not what you might think.

I chopped off most of the top digit of my left thumb. Ok, I said it. As my dear friend Corinne would say, "Stupid, stupid, stupid me!" When I consider the thousands of hours I have spent working with kitchen knives, I am ashamed...

Sjaantje Emile had a friend coming over so we decided to make fresh pizzas for dinner. Dough finished, I set it on the chopping block and ridiculously grabbed my 10" chef's knife to cut it into 4 pieces. (With dough, you must make a quick cut in order to sever the gluten strands but clearly the 10" was an overkill.) The first chop was good, quick, clean. The next caught me glancing away at precisely the wrong moment and down goes knife, off goes thumb. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

Thank God Sjaantje was there - at first she simply rolled her eyes and said, "Stupid, stupid, stupid Mom!" but nevertheless rose to the occasion and, I think, kept me from going into shock. Calmly, she retrieved the First Aid kit from under the sink, removed my shoes (so I wouldn't bleed on them) and then told me that breathing that fast probably wasn't a good idea. (I was hyperventilating.) Hearing Henk come in the door, Sjaantje went to tell him the news..."Hey Dad! Mom just cut off her thumb - look, there it is on the cutting board. Ew. There's blood on our pizza dough!"

After stemming the blood flow and evaluating whether this was a job for him or the local hospital, Henk decided it was such a clean chop (I am good with knives, you know) that he could take care of it. He cleaned the remainder of my thumb as best he could, sterilized the severed piece and just before wrapping the booboo gently put the top of the thumb back where it rightly belonged.

That night I dreamt Henk had put the top on backwards and I was forever stuck with a thumb that looked like a pig's nose.

The next morning we needed to change the bandage and also evaluate the situation. The wound was clean; the top epilthelializing nicely to the bottom half; no more bleeding. However, we realized that my knight in shining armor needs new glasses.

Indeed, he had reattached it backwards and there was my thumbnail in the spot where my thumbprint should be. "Is this some sort of a sick joke, Henk?", I flabbergastedly asked.

You can surmise that I had to rip that piece off again (PAIN!) which led to another stemming the blood session. The piece was put on the table but somehow had disappeared when Henk next needed it. That was about the time we noticed Wuzzy sitting there all polite like he does when he wants ANOTHER treat.

I warned you this was a gross story!

The irony is this happened just one day after Henk and I wrote our proposal for a private dining club chez Tilleman, planned 4 adult cooking classes for the spring and detailed a proposal for a children's cooking camp.  All cooking lessons begin with a knife skills class.

The thumb is healing nicely, no worries about any infections. It's going to look pretty funky but I am not concerned about that. Besides, there's always a silver lining: I will forever get a 10% discount on any manicure in the future.

Serious Cheese lovin' Freaks

Hello friends!

Has it really been so long since I last wrote? My oh my, the things that have happened in the past months...

First, we moved to a town called Van Alstyne which is about 40 miles north of Dallas. Henk and I fell in love with a loft and storefront in the old fashioned downtown area and could not imagine living anywhere else. Love this town, interesting and intelligent people, outrageous possibilities for a cafe/bakery/wine bar/reading room/bistro, about half an hour from the big city and without a doubt the most interesting house we've ever occupied. And as an added bonus, thus far everyone we've met has all their teeth.

Our loft was built circa 1900 which, by Texas definitions, makes it ancient. Henk swears Salvador Dali did the final touches on the loft and I must say that I agree. A chunk of baseboard is missing here or there and later we see it nailed onto a ceiling beam or used as a faux decoration; the shower tiles seem to go up at a slight angle; random pieces of flooring were absent but finally found as makeshift shelves in a homemade cabinet of curiosities; and on and on. Needless to say, we've been busily correcting a number of things but are definitely keeping the cabinet of curiosities! Henk and I have always loved projects like this. The best part about it is we are making the home ours, which really only happens when you sweat a little. As my university Freshman year roommate said when she visited, "This loft has good bones." Indeed it does. Henk and I would die a slow and painful death with our eyes wide open if we were to live anywhere else. In fact, we almost just did that in Wimberley and it would happen in any other suburb.

To bring you up to date, Sjaantje Emile went through a major growth spurt during the past few months! Packed on a few pounds while staying with her grandparents but since then has lost it all and grown another inch or two. She now is a mere two inches shorter than my towering self and is a most beautiful young lady. I know I'm her mom and all but seriously, she's a gorgeous person from all perspectives.

Sjaantje no longer has any trace of her Selective Mutism. She is absolutely thriving in her new school - talking, joking, making friends and a name for herself. On the first day, when she knew absolutely no other student, she came home literally laughing and has done so for the past 4 1/2 weeks. In the mornings, Sjaantje is in a great mood (which is a nice contrast to my pre-coffee lethargy) and eager to get on the bus and see her so-called "Bus Buddy". She has made many friends, loves her classes, thinks her teachers are wonderful and is excelling in Math and Science. Her reading skills have improved and more importantly she is discovering the delights of reading! We went to the bookstore a couple of weeks ago and she picked out two books - which was a first for her. A few days later and using her own money, Sjaantje bought two poster boards and after taping them together, began outlining the chapters of a book she just read. Oddly, this is what she likes to do in her free time and I can well imagine that soon her walls will be covered with posters of book plot diagrams. I love it.

Sjaantje's sense of humor is growing at about the same rate as her legs - she is absolutely hilarious! For example, one morning last week as I was sipping my coffee, I watched as she ran from her bathroom to her bedroom, bedroom to our bathroom, that bathroom back to her bathroom, then on to the dining room, etc... This went on for about five minutes. "Interesting", I thought, "Honey, what exactly are you doing?" With a completely deadpan expression, Sjaantje looked at me and said, "Duh, Mom. I'm playing hide-and-go-seek with myself. What did you THINK I was doing?" Speechless, I merely snarfed my coffee and listened to her next line which was, "But every time I find myself, I run away." Thinking perhaps she had taken leave of her senses, I decided to ignore this behavior and wish it away. A tap on my shoulder a few minutes later and Sjaantje said, "Mom, I was just joking. I was looking for Wuzzy's brush because my new "Dog Book" says he needs to be (and this was said in a loud voice) GROOMED THOROUGHLY EVERY WEEK. Can he borrow your toothbrush?" Reading, responsibilities and a sense of humor about it all. Need I say more?

OK, then I will. Sjaantje Emile has suddenly learned the benefits of a homemade lunch vs. school lunches and in addition, the cost vs. what you get. Returning from school one afternoon, Sjaantje exasperatedly said, "Mom, did you know they charge twenty cents for a package of ketchup in the cafeteria? And one dollar for a bottle of water? What kind of a place is this?" Personally, I think that is a great idea when I consider all the poor wasted ketchup in this world. Since then, Sjaantje has taken a packed lunch each day. Every morning as she eats her breakfast, she unnecessarily tells me what to put in her lunch bag - which is the same thing every day: A Dutch cheese sandwich (Gouda), easy on the butter, applesauce, fruit, peanut butter crackers and a Capri Sun. I have tried to tempt her with pastrami, smoked ham, salami and other things (which for some reason always end up as doggy treats) to add variety but she relentlessly desires only Dutch cheese. When I asked her about the lack of sandwich varieties, Sjaantje said (looking at me as if I were a mentally challenged adult), "Didn't you know that Hannah (new friend) and I are some serious cheese lovin' freaks?"

Sjaantje wore one of my shirts to school today. Goodbye, pretty and funky shirt. Also, her shoe size is now identical to mine but when she walked out in my favorite funky purple shoes from Amsterdam, I had to draw the line. "Say goodbye to your shoes, Mom!" Being the motherly sort of person I am, I gently responded with, "Oh yeah? Say goodbye to your life, honey. Either that or give me my shoes. Now."

Henk and I have met probably more than half of the influential people in this town - which is not only fun, but also a blessing and necessity! We met Sarah Palin last week, which surprised me because who would've thought she had an office in Van Alstyne. When I introduced myself and shook her hand while thinking "What are YOU doing here, Sarah Palin?", the words came out automatically. "What are YOU doing here, Sarah Palin?" The woman, whose name is actually Kelly, said "Oh! Yeah, I'm a doppleganger for Sarah Palin. And here's my office. Can I pet your dog?" As Wuzzy had no problem with her, I realized she wasn't Sarah Palin at all - i.e. shooter of grizzly bears/Wuzzies. Don't get me wrong; I'm a conservative Republican but it was still bizarre.

We are always entertained with meeting other people... "I love your accent!", said one woman whose name escapes me, "Where are you from?" When Henk answered somewhat sheepishly (it's difficult to explain exactly where he/we are from), "I'm from Holland originally ", our new friend exclaimed "Wow! You've got to meet this new family! They're from France! Apparently they have a young daughter - 6th grade or so, real cutie - and a big black dog! Hm...I think they live there, in that loft! " Really? Geez, I can't wait to meet them.

Regarding the downstairs storefront, we're busily weighing our options, shamelessly exploiting ourselves and various pastries (as handouts, freebies, 'try this and tell me what you think!') and are most likely going to open a bakery/bistro. Bakery in the morning, featuring some Dutch and French treats and in the evenings, a small restaurant with a limited but unique (to this town) menu. We would adore having some plush sofas and chairs for those who like to read a good book while imbibing, all the while perusing our small but excellent library shelved in wooden wine crates. Can you get an image? The other walls will possibly be covered with posters re: plots and themes from Sjaantje Emile's readings.

There are four other restaurants in the downtown square: a Barbecue which is right next door and drives Wuzzy crazy with the aromas, a Mexican cantina, an immigrant owned Italian pizza place and the Whistle Stop Cafe which is located about 50 yards from the train tracks. We would be the first for both a bakery as well as a place to get a quality beef tenderloin steak, plenty of veggies and a nice glass of wine. The funny thing is that I don't bake. I cook off the top of my head - following recipes is like electrical engineering to me. However, recently I've been experimenting and did make a quite decent French country loaf which weighed in at about 5 lbs. Next time I'll form the dough into smaller boules. I've also found an excellent baguette recipe and more importantly I have found there is something therapeutic about kneading dough: put it in the bowl of the Kitchen Aid, attach the dough hook, turn it on and read a book for 15 minutes. Therapy indeed.

The only person I've yet to talk about is our Wuzzy Fuzzy. Let me keep this short by saying that "Everyone loves the Wuz". We cannot walk him without being stopped and interrogated, Wuzzy photoed and caressed. When Sjaantje, Henk and Wuzzy venture to our local grocery to buy ice cream five minutes before closing time, all but one of the clerks come out to fondle our bear - who is wimpishly crying because he's tied to the outside pole. Such a big and loveable baby.

So that's our life. We couldn't possibly be in a better place.

Big kiss -

Wend

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