Egad.

WE'RE BACK!!! As much as I hate to admit it since I went to neither the donkey park nor the banana museum (which I sadly think is no more, but I still wish I had their banana weathervane), I would actually rank this as trip #2 in terms of okayness. The other would be our wedding. However, we did have to get there. We are such rule abiders, so we rushed to get to the airport two hours in advance, only to be told that our flight had been delayed by four hours. Arrive in Newark, to be met by the lovely representative, who told us that we were not, in fact, going to Amsterdam, but instead to Portugal, where we would have an extra 6 hour layover. I was already so tired I could weep. Fortunately, the three little melons slept significant portions of the trip, so they were revved and ready to go in Lisbon. We paid a jillion dollars to store our luggage temporarily, and took the bus into town where we walked around. Lisbon is lovely, but there is only one direction - up. The whole time I was there, I kept thinking about Candide, the French novel, which is the only source of knowledge that I have about Lisbon, and that was "the best of all world" during the earthquakes. Lots of tiled houses which were pretty. Same ice cream they sell in Germany.

Arrive in Germany in time for the two hour drive to our rental house. By the time we get there, Monkey Boy has gone into slightly psychotic exhaustion mode where he is unable to stop talking or moving. Finally, at 2 o'clock a.m. after almost 24 hours of travel, the angels slept. However, Boo showed up literally with the sun at 4 a.m. to tell us the day had started since the sun was now awake. I immediately changed from like to dislike of our house since none of the rooms where the children slept had curtains so they were all early birds. I quickly taught them how to turn on the TV and what channels would teach them how to speak Telly Tubby German.

We stayed at that house for a week then moved to the farm. The farm was run by two delightful people, Rolf and Antje. The only bad thing I can say about this place is that it caused us to have to be decontaminated on the way back (nasty little box on the customs declaration about did you touch farm animals?). Basically, that meant those people that are gaurding us against food terrorism had to wash every pair of shoes we owned, which meant I had to pull all of our used underwear out of them where they were shoved in the nether, unreachable regions of our suitcases. Gak.

Monkey Boy has found his calling. He can milk goats like a shepherd. Bunny was indifferent to it, she was much more into mixing the feed for the horses, pigs, chickens and goats. I have discovered that I am totally and completely allergic to goats. Can't go near them. The people who run this farm don't actually raise any of these animals for meat. They have pigs because they are sweet. The pigs were kind of cute. Hairy little buggers, though, and I think I am going to have to rethink my intense relationship with bacon. Boo was all about the collecting of eggs. Bunny fell off the pony, but got back on. We rode repeatedly in the scoop of a tractor.

And, the miracle of miracles, it didn't rain in Germany. This is like saying there is no sand in Saudi Arabia. It just is an impossibility. We actually went to the beach and Bunny played in the Baltic Sea, something I have still failed to do. The best thing about the no rain thing though is the snails were not out. You know how Indiana Jones hates snakes? And how Winston in the novel 1984 sold out to keep the rats and mice away? That is me and snails. Actually, it is more broad. It is me and snails, slugs, moray eels, leeches, ticks, etc. If it would keep the slugs from coming closer, and I was in a lifeboat type situation, I would totally throw my husband out of the boat to keep them away. Last summer while camping, the boys were playing in a creek. Boo stood up and Monkey said, "What are those black things?" I started screaming at hubby dear to fix this situation now, but he pointed out that he had a flicker of flame after 45 minutes of puffing, and those leeches could just suck his youngest dry. Monkey calmly turned around, got a stick and started flicking. He got a gift as a result, because I would have just thrown Boo into the van and driven in search of a park ranger rather than touch a leech. There is nothing in the world that makes me happier than killing snails. If I was a Jainist (I think those are the ones who say you have to keep your mouth shut so you don't accidentally ingest a gnat?), I would definitely be bumped down a few levels during each reincarnation. I will pour big jars of salt on the tiniest little slug, sacrifice a premium beer for drowning, etc. Slugs keep me from farming.

The worst part of going to Germany this summer was I didn't take the right books. Usually I pack a pile of mindless drivel, but this time I took National Book Award winners. Yeah, whatever, I was begging for money to buy 10 dollar Time magazines by day 3. I did manage to read 1 quality book while I was there. It was called Gilead, and it did win the National Book Award, and it was beautiful. It got to the point that I was underlining stuff because the language choices were so perfect. I started a novel by Neil Gaiman, which I think would be classified as fantasy, and I had not read anything in that genre since age 15. I did this primarily because my friend Adrienne is such a big fan, and he appears in her dreams, and he is definitely hotter than any of my world leaders (Note to self - be grateful that Angela Merkel, the German leader, has failed to appear).

But since I had no lowbrow books, I had to watch lowbrow TV. One night my husband stayed to visit with his family, the kids went to sleep, and I watched 3 straight hours of MTV. I discovered that MTV no longer plays videos. Instead, I became deeply engrossed in the lives of Tila Tequila and Bret Michaels, both of whom should be forced to have sterilizations to protect the world. However, I also learned that Germany should never, ever criticize American culture. At one point, before I embraced my reality TV loving self, I counted 4 channels where people were singing folk songs (in drindels!), 2 where they were talking about music, 2 where they were teaching you how to plant stuff, and a bunch of handball. MTV was logical at this point.

Now the highlight of my trip was, hands down, the Eurovision contest. For all the non-Europeans out there, imagine watching American Idol tryouts where those folks are the finalists. I will never, ever judge the Miss America pageant harshly again. The basic premise is all the countries in Europe send the best from their country to compete. This has resulted in the discovery of ABBA, Katrina and the Waves (Walking on Sunshine). However, it is telling that in 53 years, those are the only two names worth remembering. Out of the 43 countires that tried out, 26 get to be in the final. Italy and Austria have decided to retain some dignity and decline to participate. However, every time a former Soviet bloc breaks up, then you get a bunch of new guys. Here were my favorites:

http://www.eurovision.tv

Pay particular attention to the eliminees, Lithuania and Ireland. Turkey puppets!


Bosnia

Can't believe I missed the chicken the first time around.



Spain



Azerbijan



France

And the French had a problem with the fact he didn't sing in French.


The ones that made me not beat my head repeatedly on the floor:


Greece



Ukraine

and the guy who won. Don't get the ice skating part, but the director of Billboard thinks he might be American's first Russian superstar. You have been warned.


Russia

They did these weird introductions before each country. I think the guy is David Archueleta on methamphetamine.

I have to go now, but just type in Eurovision on youtube and you get those other lovelies like Iceland and Romania.

Enjoy.

Not here for awhile

In case you perambulate by here on occasion, I just wanted to let you know that we are off to visit the in-laws for almost 3 weeks day after tomorrow. Yes, it is Germany. Yes, it is beautiful. However, this is probably the 12th time I have been there, and well, we have done it all, multiple times. This is also the first time we will be traveling with Daniel when he has opinions, so it is not going to be fun. Last time over the ocean, I watched a penguin video 8 times. And, he won't eat any of the food, and he is one of those obnoxious kids who can't stop opening and closing the trays. However, we are diaper free this time. Back to the boredom of Eutin. It is to the point that I get excited when Saturday versus Wednesday market comes because the olive man comes on Saturday. My husband's family lives in THE MOST BORING PLACE IN GERMANY. You have to drive 2 hours to get to something even remotely what any German would consider worth seeing. Yes, there is a beach 20 minutes away, but you have to pay to go on it, and I just finished shoving our winter coats into the suitcases. I pack wool socks and hats for summer vacation. Stefan's family has had a very "sick" year, so we will be doing lots of supportive listening. Well, Stefan will do that. I will sit there with a look of bafflement on my face. It is kind of funny because just like Americans do to non-English speakers, his dad sometimes thinks if he just says it LOUDER I will understand. Nope, I am pretty clueless even if you shout at me. I can promise that I will come back 5 pounds fatter. My mother-in-law could saute dogfood, and you would ask for seconds. However, this IS the year that I am going to demand to go to the donkey amusement park and the banana museum. They are the only two things left. We have been through the U-Boat, seen the mummified bog people, visited the zoo in Hamburg a billion times, etc. And, aren't I lucky? We will be there in time for herring season. My joy overwhelms me. However, we will also be there for strawberry season, which is worth the plane ticket price. German strawberries are so amazing, and they taste nothing like the ones you buy here. And, last but far from least, we will be staying at a farm part of the time. Isabel has already announced that she plans to ask if she can muck a stall, and apparently, Daniel wants to learn how to "pick eggs." There is also a litter of baby pigs, so here is your German word for the day. A piglet is a Ferkel in German. Try to make sure you use it in a sentence properly. See you in 20 days or so.

Outrunning Tornadoes and Classy Weddings

Well, I went to Mississippi again last weekend, and, of course, it can't be just a trip down and back. I was helping my mother do the finishing touches of moving into an apartment, so she ran me ragged. First I had to get there though! On the way down, I had to drive through 7 hours of thunderstorms. I love, love, love bad weather. A good time for me is the Weather Channel and one of their programs like Killer Storms. Me and a bunch of tornado videos equals a great time. Every time a hurricane comes, I immediately want to go and watch. At least until Katrina. I went to the MS Gulf Coast about a month after Katrina and the devastation was so overwhelming, I was glad that I didn't have to actually be in a hurricane. Hurricanes are exciting, but not nearly so much as tornadoes. My mother has this tornado fixation, too, and she has told me tornado stories my whole life. My very first memory of my paternal grandparents is them telling me to stop laughing because we were all hiding behind a door. In MS, older houses are built off the ground as "air conditioning," and as a result, don't have foundations. I think this no foundation problem is what makes trailers so deadly, so basically we were in the house equivalent of a trailer. The tornado supposedly went through the back yard, destroyed an out building, and managed to lay a full grown tree horizontally across the front porch without damaging the roof. My mom tells another story about when I was young child and I slept through a tornado that spun our car around a few times in the road. Don't remember that one, but I do remember the elementary school tornado drill that turned serious. In MS, you do tornado drills like others do fire drills. This means you go out to the hall, tuck your head between your knees, put your arms across your head. You do it three or four times a year. In second grade, we had a huge storm, during which we did a tornado "drill." We were just all sitting and chatting, when all of a sudden, the teachers started yelling at us, telling us "Heads down NOW!" A bit of befuddlement among the kids, but instant 150 kids sobbing hysterically when the teachers assumed the position. Teachers NEVER did the drill. We were a mass of screaming, sobbing babies wanting our mamas. The tornado came about 8 miles away, but it was still pretty scary. My other tornado memory is my mother sticking me in a half bath with a bird, a cat, and a full-grown Labrador. I stood on the sink,holding the cage over my head, while the cat and the dog attacked each other. My mom stood outside and watched

Then the trip last Friday. I am driving down the road in this blinding rain, bobbing along, when I decide I should maybe listen to the weather on the radio. The people on the radio are freaking out about this tornado that they were sure was already on the ground and approaching a F3 level (this is not good since F5 is the tops). It was in some place called Earle,Arkansas. I had no idea where Earle was, but I was pretty sure it was ahead of me in that scary, dark cloud. I start calling everyone I know asking them to find Earle for me. Of course, no one is home, except my dear friend, Elsie, who is quite happy being computer ignorant. She finds Earle, the mile marker I am at, and says it is about 10 miles ahead. I figure it is moving away, so I am somewhat consoled except for the freaked out weather woman on the radio saying, "It is completely enshrouded in rain, so you won't be able to see it coming. Wind has hit 125 miles per hour. SEEK SHELTER NOW." Elsie, meanwhile, it saying, "You need to pull off at a gas station and seek shelter." I am feeling a little rattled, so I start yelling back, "There are no expletive, expletive, expletive shelters around here. It is a bunch of COTTON FIELDS AND DOUBLE WIDES. I DON'T EVEN HAVE A DITCH TO HIDE IN." After I practice yoga breathing for awhile, I start to calm down. Until I look to my right and this is what I see.

www.severestudios.com/node/413">


I can't get it to link, so you will have to cut and paste. Now, I am going WAY over the speed limit, and I keep looking and I keep thinking, That is so not a tornado landing in that field about 100 yards from me. Then I realize that yes, in fact, that cloud is spinning, and it is coming down in a point. I tell Elsie (I think it was her I was screaming at at this point), "Oh, there is a tornado pulling out the cloud exactly to my right." "SEEK SHELTER!!!!" Now, the only thing that keeps me from completely freaking out is the fact my dog who is sitting beside me continues to nap. I figure his doggie danger internal warning system would warn me if death was imminent. Apparently, he wasn't worried except for the fact my yelling at Elsie was preventing deep sleep. Even if you were agnostic, you would have been praying at this point. I had no idea my van could go that fast, but I figured that until it touched the ground, I had a chance. I have never been so scared in all my life, including during childbirth, my wedding,and all amusement park rides.

Speaking of weddings, I went to one in MS. It was, of course, beautiful. Now, I must accept the fact that I am old. People whose diapers I changed are now going on honeymoons. All through high school, I babysat the Myers girls. There were four of them, all visions of loveliness. Their mother, Katherine, was everything I wanted to be when I grew up. Skinny, blond, a tennis player, a great mom, classy. She took me in and loved me all the way through high school. In fact, it was my original plan in high school and college to name my first daughter after her. Sorry, Katherine. Between the Myers girls and the Scerra girls for whom I was a nanny, I had basically never babysat a boy. So, when Monkey Boy popped out and he came with dangly parts, I was clueless. It is probably why he is such an odd, wonderful little duck. He is a boy, and I have no advice or insights to offer him. It will probably serve him well in the long term by keeping him out of therapy. So, Myers girl#3 got married this weekend. She married into a famiy that seems to be equally lovely (the kids are all attractive), she seems happy, etc. Marin, Myers girl #3, was always the "smart" one and the "quiet" one (the others were smart, too, but it wasn't as easy for them), and I was a bit surprised she was the first one to settle down. Now, the only way Marin will ever weigh 100 pounds is if she had quadruplets and develops gestational diabetes. She is just an itty bitty, little thing. Now, her sisters and family love her, but they managed to forget to feed and water the poor darlin all day, and on your wedding day nutrition seems so irrelevent. So, the sweet thing just swooned smack dab in the middle of the ceremony, and hubby got to be Prince Charming before the "I dos" were finished. Poor thing. One sister (her maid of honor) stood there thinking, "I wish she would hurry up and pass out and get this over with." One of the other sisters "helped" by positioning the bridesmaids so at least we couldn't see the passed out little angel. All of them say she could get out of this if she so desired because she clearly was not able to be focused during the ceremony. Her mother said we need to hurry and put it on You Tube. Now this sounds kind of awful, but I hope my children love each other as much as the Myers girls love each other and their Mama loves them. Except for the fainting bride bit, it was a beautiful wedding. I got to be "cake girl" which delighted me, despite my long standing derision of that position. I always thought of it as the job you offered your ugly cousin/great aunt/college roommate unworthy of being a bridesmaid. I was totally happy.

So, now the chaos begins. We leave for Germany on Friday for a long overdue visit with Stefan's family. They have struggled a bit over there with health stuff, and it is nice to know that our arrival is viewed as a big old spot of sunshine on a cloudy day. We are not staying at Honey's parents' house for the first time, and are instead renting two different houses. I googled vacation homes and sent some links to hubby. One ended up being the house of his childhood best friend, so he will already know where everything is stored since it still has the same furniture. The other place for the later part of the trip is a farm. It will be Baby Boo's perfect vacation - they have ponies, chickens, baby pigs, and a rooster named Jakob. I think we will have a nice time, and I will eat my mother-in-law's beautiful, beautiful cakes.

The trip back was fine except for the billion years it seemed to take. Then, at 11:00, hubby dear called and told me that a dear, dear friend in Knoxville had been killed. Shanti had been Bunny's babysitter when she was tiny. Her husband is a coworker of hubby's, and Shanti used to babysit Isabel while I pretended to learn German. Bunny would eat a full meal, then walk into her house, climb up in the high chair and sit there with an open mouth like a baby bird until Shanti shoved some lentils and rice in the gullet. She and her husband were out for an evening stroll, walking across a cross walk, when she was hit by a driver who "didn't even see her." I am just stunned, and I can't imagine how her family is coping. Her husband was missed by 6 inches. Shanti was a tiny little thing, so I can see how she might not have been seen, but there were 2 people there! Shanti never learned to speak good English, so I finally told her to speak Hindi with Bunny. Bunny was never a big talker as a young child. In fact, I am convinced the reason she learned to talk is so she could order Monkey Boy around. She would walk up and say a word, "Elephant" "Blueberry" "construction worker" and never say it again. Now, one day when I went to pick her up at Shanti's house, she was just jabbering a way. I thought it was baby babble, but Shanti was clearly responding to her. I finally said, "Is she saying something?" Shanti says, "Oh, yes, she is telling me all about the birds on teh feeder." She had never said a sentence to me, but she is CONVERSING in Hindi? Now, I had a party trick. We would stick Bunny in the middle of the room, and I would tell her to do stuff in English, her father in German, and Shanti in Hindi, and she would do it. It was enormously entertaining. Of course, we complicated it further by moving to Sweden and sticking her in Swedish preschool. It is all good because she supposedly has a unique form of dyslexia that doesn't influence her ability to read, but is enough that it will supposedly prevent her from learning foreign languages. Clearly a faulty test. Shanti loved my children as her own, and I can't believe she is gone. I will miss her.

Later