Bailing the boat

Yesterday got off to a rough start. Ralf is away on a business trip and I miss him. The kids are skiing with their grandparents and I miss them. There were no distractions. I could clean, shop, sew, cook, organize, get ready for taxes, stalk friends on Facebook, meditate, sleep, read something good, read my next book club book, surf the Internet, get ahead on some design work, have another cup of coffee, eat chocolate, book my February flight to the US, do laundry, sort stuff in the attic, go to the gym. . . but I didn’t feel like doing any of these things.

Things are broken. They always break (chaos is the second law of thermodynamics, after all) but Ralf usually fixes them. The front panel on my underwear drawer is hanging off and probably needs to be glued back on with Superglue, which Ralf hides from me. The brand new DVD player ate my dvd so I couldn’t watch Eureka last night – it’s a high-tech DVD recorder that apparently sulks if you turn if off. And the new top-of-the-line heating unit we installed in our attic went completely insane three times last night and shook the whole house with loud hammering noises.

I worry sometimes that I could never live alone. I can cook, clean, shop, blog, read, write, pay bills, sort food by order of expiration, give my kids space to find (some of) their own answers, speak to large audiences comfortably and design personal management software. These are my humble life skills so naturally I wonder how long it would take for my entire house to fall down around me if I lived alone. I would definitely need a lot of friends with husbands to take up the slack.

OK, that came out really wrong but you know what I mean. I’m talking about stuff like installing DSL, right?

My dearth of useful skills isn’t the only thing that worries me. The environment worries me. I’m a mom so I force myself to keep track of what Al Gore is doing, sign a petition or write to my congressperson when he requests it and have even made some key lifestyle changes. I do my little bit but it’s not enough. On the other hand, I’ve been worried about the environment for long so long that I’m pretty used to it, kind of like the constant, low-grade fear in my tummy I had when I was 8 and thought the Russians would nuke us.

They still might but no one worries about it any more because we have bigger problems. How scary is that?

On a positive note, Obama gets it but he’s chosen to fight with subsidies rather than penalties and this may not be effective enough. It may even drive up the price of clean technologies for the rest of the world. But what can he do? Penalize companies for poor planning and irresponsible world citizenship that are already laying more than half a million people off?

That’s the next thing bringing me down lately, the news that US unemployment is over 7% (which is almost 1 in 10 people). This will impact other countries as well and right now parents just like me are wondering if they can keep their houses and feed their kids. As a parent I can’t imagine too many more things more frightening than that.

Except... being in the Middle East, that’s probably worse. I've been thinking that the 10 Commandments aren’t a bad start but we clearly need a few more, like:

Thou shalt not assume that everyone who doesn’t like you or criticizes your actions also hates your entire race.

I would also recommend:

Thou shalt not hide weapons or bad guys in hospitals, schools or residential areas.

Bastards. But then, I suppose this is why I’m not a military strategist.

And finally:

Thou shalt not kill in the name of religion.

You might think ‘Thou Shalt not Kill’ would automatically cover this one but religious killers always seem to assume there’s some special dispensation for killing in the name of religion so I would add this, at least as a footnote. Notice they took this approach with coveting, i.e., you shouldn’t covet anything belonging to your neighbor AND you shouldn’t covet your neighbor’s wife, but I guess sleeping with your neighbor’s wife is a worse sin than killing someone so they wanted to make it idiot proof.

ANYway, as I was saying before I took a short detour to improve the 10 Commandments (you’re welcome, by the way), yesterday all this stuff was bubbling up and bringing me down. So, instead of working or cleaning my house, I took action and spent a half hour meditating.

Seriously. We’ve all seen what can happen when we're in a good mood and smile at everyone we meet. Almost magically, people are friendly (except, of course, in Germany) and no problem is insurmountable. Well, the reverse is also true. Negative emotions like fear, sadness, anger are contagious and lately it feels like there’s too much of them around and the world is out of balance. It’s like we’ve been living on credit for too long and the bill just arrived, only it’s not a bill any more, it’s a delinquent notice.

Meditation can help bring negative emotions back into perspective.

So that's what I did and I felt better afterwards, like I had finally got around to bailing a very leaky boat, and got dressed to hit the gym and go shopping. And while I was doing these things I saw two other things that cheered me up no end.

In my next post I will write about these happy things.

My work here is done

K’s got it all figured out. Yesterday her friend Kit was over and as usual they fought like an old married couple. The crisis came when Kit announced she was going home at 5, an hour and a half early. I asked K what had happened but she claimed no knowledge and didn’t seem too concerned.

After about 15 minutes of professional mediation (I used to be a project manager so I have experience with this type of situation, although I used to get $250/hour to deal with it) it came out that K had refused to share her light stick, a weird pink flashlight like device with stretchy rubber fronds and filaments that light up with different colors.

This was odd in itself because usually Kit, who is 7, doesn’t give a fig about what K, who is 5, allows or does not allow. But then again, K has been sporting a pretty strong personality lately so in a real show down I wouldn’t know where to bet my money.

Anyway, K and I talked. I pointed out that when Kit goes home K can have the light stick to herself anyway so why not share while she’s here?

This argument impressed her not at all.

Then I noted that if you never share with your friends, pretty soon you won’t have any friends.

K shrugged this off complacently with a pretty tight counterargument: ‘I don’t care if I don’t have any friends. Then I won’t have to share my stuff.’

‘K,’ I said, ‘you can’t tell me you wouldn’t be sad if Kit never wanted to play with you again. Do you want to spend your life alone with your stuff or do you want to have friends?’

Now she actually looked at me, as if I said something interesting, yet completely off-base. I watched her search for the right words and waited, intrigued.

It struck me in this moment how beautiful she is. Her eyes are a sunny meadow green and when she is deep in thought her face assumes a still look that almost lets me trace the features of the woman she will become. She will be much more beautiful than I ever was.

Finally it came: ‘Mama, Kit gets mad at me all the time for not sharing. But she always comes back.’

Not the greatest sentiment but I felt kind of proud that she can work this kind of stuff out on her own and let the matter drop. I figure if she doesn’t run amok as she gets older, this attitude may even save her from caving to peer pressure or waiting by the phone for some guy to call.

And it turns out she was right, too – Kit had no real intention of leaving and stayed until 6:30. Her point made, K even let her take the light stick home with her.

My work here is done.

I can’t believe how much I rule.

Updating my Blogroll

First a quick update from Munich: I’m still here and it’s still winter. Can you believe it, it’s already been winter for days and still no end in sight. This morning was -12 C, which I consider fairly chilly. And since we have a big sofa in the middle of our garage that we’re trying to sell I have to park outside. And scrape. Ice. I’m officially giving Ralf another week to get rid of the sofa (after he gets back, of course) and then I’m going in with the axe. Meanwhile the cat has been protesting Ralf’s absence by doing extra smelly things in his litter box. The phrase ‘courtesy burial’ apparently means nothing to him.

Meanwhile out in Blogland I’ve been reading so much great, funny and sometimes tragic stuff lately that it’s hard to decide where to start each day, let alone single anyone out. Nonetheless, today I want to update my Blogroll (down there on the right) with a couple of blogs I’ve been following recently that make laugh out loud:

R Max, a very funny mom from New Zealand.

And Kristina P, who is funny and evil, origins unknown. Actually we’re still debating whether she is evil or not but she is definitely funny.

According to their blog bling, they are both Morman Mommy Bloggers. What are the odds?

Pretty high, actually. Over the course of my extensive religious research, I have concluded that in addition to starting relatively few religious wars (compared to the rest of us, I mean), Mormons also have a better sense of humor than people of other religions.

Let me clarify this, because I’m afraid it came out all wrong and I certainly don’t want to offend any of you non-Mormons that have comedic aspirations: The odd Jewish or Catholic person may well be funnier than a randomly selected Mormon but I’m talking averages here.

In fact there is even a Mormon website dedicated to humor. On this site I re-discovered that wonderful history of everything compiled from student essays. This is important historical information.

A few choice quotes with my comments:

"The Bible is full of interesting caricatures."

me: Isn’t it just?

"Moses led them to the Red Sea, where they made unleavened bread, which is bread made without any ingredients."

me: This is actually not a bad way of describing Matzo bread.

"Socrates was a famous Greek teacher who went around giving people advice. They killed him.

me: Let this be a wakeup call for all of us."

"Milton wrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained."

me: This is the literal truth.

"There were no wars in Greece, as the mountains were so high that they couldn't climb over to see what their neighbors were doing."

me: And it just goes to show that the less we know about our neighbors, the less we want to kill them.

Anyway, thanks R Max and Kristina and the rest you whom I didn't mention but am stalking for making my day.

Winter Wonderland MY ASS and other topics

Winter sucks: My kids have to be at Kindergarten at 8:15, which means at 7 we start getting dressed: tights, lined pants, undershirt, overshirt, pullover, socks for each child. Then around 7:55 we start putting on snow boots, scarves, hats, mittens and ski jackets. And this morning, as a special treat, by the time we finished these winter follies I realized that the car was frozen solid (-7 degrees C) and that Ralf had hidden the ice scraper in his man cave somewhere. Fortunately, there are few problems that a major credit card can't solve and I was able to scrape the ice off my windshield with my Visa.

Back to school: I’ve branched out from connecting with colleagues on Facebook to connecting with old high school friends and suddenly it’s like I’m back in biology class again, pretending to work while secretly passing notes. For example, this is how I found out that a girl I went to high school with was in Robert Palmer’s ‘Simply Irresistible’ video. Yes, I played volleyball with someone very slinky. I figure this makes me vicariously slinky. See if you can spot me, I mean, her:





Hairy encounter: I also reconnected with my German hair stylist Entela, who is actually Hungarian and looks just like Courtney Cox. Entela is an artiste. I can’t wait to bring my hair to her. It hasn't had any professional attention since September and needs to be saved. This is me:

German doctors: I called my German doctor to find out if I had whooping cough. After looking through my files for several minutes the receptionist told me sternly - like I had crossed some sort of line by calling - that she couldn’t tell me the results over the phone and Herr Doktor would have to call me back. That's standard here, by the way: they take your blood and tell you to call in a week for the results and then when you call they tell you they can't tell you anything and the doctor will call you back. But if you don't call, they won't call you, like they have to be activated by your voice or something. The good news is that yes we have no whooping cough.

And finally, I think I found a perfect blog posting. I haven't quite decided whether Kristina is being sarcastic or if she's just plain evil but she's very funny. So, instead of writing something meaningful myself today, here’s a blog I wish I’d written.

Where did THAT come from?

God works in mysterious ways. He didn’t strike me with lightning for my recent posting (which was somewhat critical of Him) but he did apparently have a conversation with my kids because when they got home from their grandparents’ yesterday they immediately asked me to show them a picture of Jesus on the cross.

This is a topic that has never been mentioned by me to them, unless they’ve been reading my blog. . . so I was caught a little off guard.

However, I’m a mom and religion is part of the territory so I took a deep breath and plunged in. ‘Why do you want to see that picture? It’s not a very happy picture. Wouldn’t you rather see a picture of Jesus as a baby in the manger instead?’

As an extra incentive I added, ‘With all the cows and donkeys?’ But nothing doing, they wanted Jesus on the cross.

So out came the Young Reader’s Bible I’ve been hiding and blogging about and we looked at the picture together, thankfully toned down for young readers.

K wanted to know: ‘Mama, who’s God?’

I took a page out of Meg's book. ‘Well, darling, some people believe he’s the king of angels and Jesus’ papa.’ This answer was accepted.

Then she wanted to know: ‘Mama, do you know why they hung Jesus on the cross?’

Ah. First why question. Much tougher than who questions. ‘Er. . . because they were mean people?’ I hazarded lamely.

‘No, Mama. It’s because he wasn’t the right Jesus. He was a fake Jesus.’

I could feel my lips moving as I stared at her, silently mouthing, ‘Fake Jesus.’

Where did that come from? I’d like to say I made some great answer to this that K will someday tell her own kids but what actually came out of my mouth was, ‘That’s interesting, darling, are you hungry?’

K wasn’t hungry. She wanted to talk about fake Jesus. I was just gearing up to say that even if he was fake, it was pretty mean to hang him on a cross when I was saved by the phone.

‘Thank God!’ I muttered, then remembered my recent posting and looked upwards a bit guiltily.

K wanted to answer the phone so I let her, figuring whoever it was could chat with my 5-year-old for a few minutes. And get her off topic.

Then I got my next surprise: The call was for her! It was her 6-year-old friend from next door calling to ask if she could come over and play. They had a short conversation to work out the logistics and signed off with a casual, ‘Tschuss, bis bald!’

So…. when did K get so big that we’re discussing religion and she gets more calls than I do???

P.S. The church sign is fake. If you want to design your own fake church sign you can do this here. Thanks R Max for the tip!

Thought for the Day: Faith

I was a leeeetle worried after yesterday's posting that I'd get struck by lightning but I'm still here, knock on wood. Today just a short post to share some great advice I got from an old friend when I mentioned I was losing my religion:

"Just don't lose your faith."

People and Deities Behaving Badly

Ralf has been grumbling that I've digressed from writing interesting - albeit ignorant and misguided - social commentary to ‘Poor me, I’m so sick’ postings punctuated by German doctor bashing. So in recognition of his support for this essential social service I provide, today's challenge is to try to get my groove back.

Since I don't want to offend anyone, I thought I'd take on a nice, safe topic like Christianity.

Me and Christianity go way back. My grandmother, a Presbyterian minister’s wife, used to read me Bible stories by the hour. She got a lot of babysitting mileage out of the Holy Book - not only is it chock full of short, action-packed stories, you can also make a game out of reciting the chapters: ‘Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1st and 2nd Samuel. . . ‘ and so forth.

And we didn’t just study Christian literature together, she also read me hundreds of stories from Greek and Norse mythology, and I was engaged to a Jewish guy who converted from Catholicism before I married a religiously lax German Protestant, and we meditate with a Buddhist Sangha, so although there are a few gaps in my knowledge of mainstream religions I feel like I have a pretty good grounding in comparative religious studies.

I recently acquired a Young Reader’s Bible for my kids and was looking forward to sharing the same special memories with my girls but I just can’t seem to get started. As an adult I find that many of the Bible stories are difficult to tell children because they tend to ask all those why questions that are so inconvenient when you’re trying to find your faith.

There's still some magic - I mean, when Moses parts the Red Sea that totally rocks.

But I have issues with God, at least as He is depicted in the Bible. He is inconsistent, vengeful and not above wiping out entire cities or playing petty pranks on his most devoted worshippers. Not that he never comes through - I mean, he saved Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego from the fiery furnace and Daniel got a break with that lion but he didn’t lift a finger to save his son and don’t even get me started about Job.

And the Garden of Eden, what was that all about? ‘See this tree full of delicious looking apples right in the middle of the garden? Don't eat any or I will be eternally pissed. Just enjoy the garden, worship me and don’t look at the apples. Have an apricot or a grape instead…. Did you just eat that apple? I can’t BELIEVE you ate that apple!!! I will SMITE your sorry ass for this!!!!’ And so on.

I realize that many people have found a loving, merciful God in the Bible and that's the kind of God I want, too. I'm looking for the God the Harlem Gospel Singers sing about, the ‘Rock of My Salvation’. I just can't find him in the Bible.

And I don’t like how Eve got blamed for everything, either. Adam's a spineless yutz and this is Eve's fault?

I also don’t care for the author’s note at the back of the Young Reader’s Bible that God personally oversaw the writing of the Bible. Is it just me or does it seem unlikely that someone who doesn’t lift a finger to fight AIDS, war or famine has time for, or interest in, authoring a book? Even a spectacularly popular book like the Bible.

I sometimes wonder why the Bible is so popular. God isn’t a very sympathetic hero, with all his ranting and city destroying. It isn’t particularly well-written, either, all that boring Ezrah son of Abraham stuff at the beginning of each chapter and mediocre character development. I mean, the God in the Old Testement has a completely different personality than the God in the New Testament.

But like The Devil Wears Prada (another poorly written book with an unsympathetic, badly developed main character that was amazingly popular), it has a few things going for it:

It has a catchy title. ‘The Bible’ has gravitas, dignity, authority. If they called it ‘People and Deities Behaving Badly’ instead it would lose much of its mass appeal and moral authority. Ditto ‘The Devil Wears Prada’- I mean, say it was called ‘The Really Mean Boss’ instead, would you read it?

It’s available in English, thus making it instantly more accessible than other viable religious texts with equally cool names like the Torah and the Quran. Ditto TDWP.

It has an appealing concept: Super powerful being offers perfect after life if you go to church and do what the priests tell you in this life. Ditto TDWP: Mean boss bullies plain mousy girl until she develops a fashion sense and stops being such a total weanie. People like to read stuff like that because it's reassuringly easy to tell the good guys from the bad guys.

Church backing also hasn’t hurt the Bible's popularity, given that the Church has more money than God (heh heh heh).

Incidentally, it just has occured to me that blaspheming right after a bad bout of bronchitis might not be such a hot idea. . .

I still pray to God when my kids are sick or I can’t find my keys. And I say 'God bless' when someone sneezes or as a gesture of support. But it doesn’t feel like I'm calling on the God from the Bible, more like something greater and less… uptight middle-aged white guy.

I'd like to leave you with this thought: Most mainstream religions have been adapted to fit personal agendas over the years - usually for the sake of fomenting violence, sometimes just for money - and Christianity is no exception. But if we boil them all down to their most basic tenets I think they are all trying to tell us the same thing:

We are all connected.
Love is more empowering than hate.
There is a higher purpose.
Live in this moment.
Do no harm.
Be helpful.

The other side

Yesterday I picked on German rudeness and related a couple of humorous encounters I’ve had in this department. However, I don’t want to leave it at that because: A) most of the Germans I know well are loyal, kind and helpful (if a bit outspoken); and B) rudeness can be refreshing. So now I want to share the other side of the story: why I came to Germany in the first place.

Back when I was fresh out of graduate school I landed a job as manager of a small software development team. I was pretty green, focused on results rather than building alliances with other managers. I said what I thought to everyone and while a few people liked this about me, I offended many more.

To me, fresh out of school and over my head with heavy responsibilities, small talk translated into wasted time. I had a big job to do. So I neglected to ask about people’s weekends and steamrollered over ideas I didn’t like. My team got the job done but I didn’t make any lifelong friends among the other team leads.

Let me just say here that these days catching up with colleagues is a big highlight for me because I have a lot more confidence in my work (which translates into precious time) and I love the people I work with. But back then I was too outspoken and focused on the task at hand to make friends.

So, there I was, offending someone at every meeting and plowing doggedly toward meeting my own team’s goals. And then the Germans came to town. They were tall. They were outspoken. They were superior engineers. We ended up on the same project, designing a new kind of compensation solution, and it was amazing. They were rude when they disagreed with me and I was rude back. White board pens were flung and ancestors were insulted. And when the dust cleared we made a decision and went out for a beer. No hard feelings.

It was like coming home. I fell in love with the Germans and even married one of them. Now I live here and frequently miss the kinder, gentler American style but never forget that I once moved here to escape it.

So I will continue to make fun of German rudeness where it crops up but don’t let me fool you – I secretly dig it.

Thought for the Day: I love phlegm

I've been reflecting lately how a tiny difference in circumstance or perception can completely alter someone's interpretation of events. For example, we went to see the Harlem Gospel Singers last night, which I thought was awesome. During intermission we ran into some friends of ours, one of whom complained about the percussion being too loud. He was quite put out by this and unable to fully enjoy the concert as a result.

Einstein noticed this difference in perception as well in his famous example with lightning hitting the train simultaneously in the front and the back. A person standing on the middle of the track sees the lightning strike the front and back of the train at the same time. A person on the train sees the lightning strike the front of the train first, because he or she is headed that way. A person on a train headed in the opposite direction sees the lightning strike the back of the train first, because he or she is headed the other way.

The point is that there is no objective reality. We all have a different story.

Take phlegm. I think on most days we can agree it's pretty icky stuff and we don't want typically want our offspring to rub their runny noses on our t-shirts right before work. But take it from me, when you've been dry coughing for an entire month, having a real cough where you can feel the phlegm shifting RULES because it means you are finally getting better.

So at least this week, I am a big fan of all things phlegmish. Even the phlegm my children spooge on my t-shirts.

Go phlegm!

This German life

Here are a few scenes to give you a feel for (my) daily German life.

Vignette 1: Marktkauf

I’ve already blogged about Tengelmann, an expensive German grocery store with unhelpful (by American standards) employees. But to be fair, the rudeness you encounter at Tengelmann is the higher class sort of rudeness, or the, ‘Oh, very well, if I must,’ sort of rudeness. Today we'll take a look at Marktkauf, an enormous supermarket with reasonable prices that also has clothing and household items. Marktkauf offers its own special brand of rudeness.

Yesterday the whole family headed for Marktkauf to stock up our sadly empty larder. The Jambalaya I made earlier this week tapped out our provisions and thank goodness K liked it because it was pretty much all we had. Also, next week Ralf is headed for the mother ship in California (a.k.a., our company’s headquarters) and a friend of mine asked me to buy her some German make up. So after we had loaded our food into the cart I browsed the cosmetics section with no luck and the kids were getting tired.

Seeing a Marktkauf employee go by I waved and said, ‘Entschuldigung, haben Sie Jade?’ ('Excuse me, do you have Jade?'). Not my best German sentence but perfectly understandable. Without breaking her stride she replied, ‘Schaun Sie. Ich hab’ auch keine Ahnung,’ ('You look, I don’t have any idea either'). Alrighty then. When I stared at her she sighed wearily and called out to a colleague: ‘Oi! Haben wir Jade?’ ('Hey! Do we have Jade?') and I was escorted by the colleague to the appropriate aisle with much hair tossing and eye rolling.

Ralf thinks I exaggerate about German rudeness but the fact is that he rarely encounters it. Cashiers, bank clerks, mechanics, travel agents, doctors, handymen and everyone else immediately size up his height and maleness, register his boyish charm and confidence and for all I know smell his testosterone and suddenly all these helpful people materialize out of the woodwork. When they see me coming, they take in my shortness (5’8’’ is nothing here) and register my femaleness, mousy looks and lack of confidence that I will be helped, as well as various linguistic imperfections that mark me as foreign, and write me off as someone they don’t have to do any extra work for. Of course not everyone is like this but I encounter it a lot and remember I’m an LA girl so I grew up coddled in the milk of insincere human kindness. On rare occasions when I felt my children’s lives to be in danger I have successfully imposed my will on the odd reluctant German but you really have to be in the zone.

I sometimes wonder if New Yorkers have an easier time?

Vignette 2: ‘Ich moechte Deutsch reden!’

I remember when I was first learning German it took about 8 months of intense language training before anyone would bother speaking to me in German, even if I spoke German to them. I would say something in German, even something as simple as ordering a beer, and the answer would invariably come in English. Finally after 8 months I’d had enough and vowed that the next person I talked to would speak German to me. As it happens the next person I talked to was Claus, a very sweet German consultant I worked with, one of those good-looking, ambiguously gay types that always marry a supermodel and have three kids.

Anyway, I asked him something in German and he answered in English and I responded in German and he came back in English and so on and so forth until finally, blushing with the strain of continuing to speak German to someone who was ignoring my efforts I glared at him and said, ‘Claus, if you don’t speak German to me I’m going to smack you!’ He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t even noticed me speaking German, then shrugged and said in a kind voice (in English, of course), ‘Well, I would, Laura, only your German is so terrible.’ This was a long time ago and there did eventually come a day when Claus and I switched to German but it left its mark.

Vignette 3: Threading the Bobbin

Now that I have a sewing machine it is expected that I can use it to sew things. And to a limited extent I can – I just made a third pillowcase, this time with ribbon trim! But now I’m starting to get helpful suggestions from various people about what I ought to sew next, including my husband. While in California for a conference not too long ago Ralf and I bought a ski suit for L. Although it’s supposed to fit a six year old and she just turned three it’s a bit short so Ralf asked me to pluck out the Velcro patches on the shoulders and move them up a bit to give it more length. I reached for the suit but he was strangely reluctant to let go of it. ‘Do you think you can do it?’ ‘Well,’ I answered honestly, ‘it does mean threading the bobbin.’

Threading and re-attaching the bobbin is still something of a challenge for me but I gamely reached for suit again, which continued to be withheld. ‘Do you know what a seam ripper is? Do you have one?’ he asked, holding the suit away from my outstretched hands. Well that was just insulting – after 4 sewing classes I can’t do zippers but I know what a seam ripper is! I grabbed the suit and glared at him.

Two triumphant hours later I had successfully moved two Velcro patches a whole inch.

I can't believe how much I rule!

On the mend again

I think this is the third time I’ve announced I’m getting better but this time it might be true. My meds seem to be working. I have heavy-duty antibiotics, probably the strongest I’ve ever taken, pills to completely dry me out and a course of Cortisone to heal the damage caused by letting this insane cough go too long. Again, no kudos to that first doctor who gave me nothing but sage tea but at least I have some serious #!@ now.

Yesterday I felt so much better I cooked, cleaned and even made a small dent on the laundry pile up. Mind you, we still have the tiny washing machine we owned in our chic pre-kids Bogenhausen apartment so it only fits about 4 pieces of adult clothing and each load takes over an hour to run. So it’s sloooow going. On the other hand, it matches the pace at which I get around to putting away laundry pretty well.

I also mastered my new sewing machine. After no fewer than four sewing classes in the US I can now laboriously thread my sewing machine while heavily referencing the user’s manual and sew extremely simple things. Yesterday I sewed two Little Mermaid pillowcases and a shiny, silky scarf that my kids have unfortunately fallen in love with so I’ll probably never get a chance to wear it. I even did a fun project with the kids – I bought a bunch of colorful iron on decals at Joann’s in the US before we moved back (hearts, butterflies, etc.) and yesterday we decorated all of their plain t-shirts and turtlenecks together. The decals are also great for covering up those mystery grease stains that have magically appeared on all my staple long-sleeve Target tees.

In addition to being sick and working full-time we haven’t had childcare since about a week before Christmas. Can you hear the violin playing? The Kindergarten takes a full-blown two week Christmas vacation and the kids got sick about a week and a half before that started so we’re at two weeks now with another week to go. We’ve had some much-appreciated help from Ralf’s parents on the days when I had to lie in bed or go to the lung specialist but working for money has been a challenge. So far haven’t let any deadlines slip but it’s been a hard road.

Also, I have to admit with all the love in the world, annoying. The kids are sweetiecakes and I think staying at home with Mommy and Papa has been good for them. Even when I was deathly ill they seemed to like having me around all day. That’s the beautiful side, the side that finds you humbly worshipping your biological empire. The annoying side is the constant, ‘Mommy this, Mommy that,’ which literally doesn’t let up for more than 30 seconds at a time. All day, every day. This can range from simple announcements (i.e., ‘Mommy, I’m going upstairs now’) to calls for service (i.e., ‘Mommy, I’m thirsty’) to sisterly disagreements (i.e., ‘MOMMY LENI TOOK MY BUEGELPERLEN!!!!’) You can only say, ‘Don’t talk to me unless you’re bleeding!’ and ‘Don’t make me come over there!’ so many times.

So the countdown’s on to next Wednesday, when I will supposedly be 100% fit again and the kids finally go BACK TO SCHOOL.

Knock on wood.

Smokin' New Year Jambalaya

Wishing you all a happy, healthy, peaceful, Cajun New Year.

2 lb beef sausage, cut 1/4 inch thick
1 lb diced boneless chicken
1 1/2 lg onion, diced
1 bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
5 cups water
2 1/2 tbs Cajun spice (salt, hot red pepper, garlic, onion, paprika and some other mystery ingredients so if you can buy it ready-made all the better)
1 tbs salt
3 bay leaves
6 oz tomato paste or ketchup
1 lb peeled shrimp
3 cups raw rice

Saute sausage, chicken, onions, bell pepper and garlic until sausage and chicken browned. Add water, Cajun spice, salt, bay leaves and tomato paste. Bring to boil with lid and add rice. Stir and lower heat, simmer and stir periodically until rice cooked. When the rice is about half done toss in the shrimp. Enjoy!