Sweet.

 This is pretty cool.

So sad...

The amazon is drying up...

Crashing into boats

Normally, the wind comes from one direction everyday. Sometimes it blows really hard, sometimes not. I generally don't even notice the wind anymore, except on really really windy days. I've gotten so used to rowing that I have learned to automatically compensate for the extra one-sided force by rowing harder against it.
Today, the wind came from the opposite direction. And I didn't know what to do with myself. 
I scrambled around in the middle of the canal, drifting in the completely wrong direction while I
fought the automatic urge to row in the same direction as usual. I ended up rushing at a surprising
speed toward the other docked boats.
Beautiful.
It's a good thing these boats are made of some sort of metal.

Two years is long enough to warm up any cold feet.

 Well, I passed the driving test. Not without incident. Of course. My driving instructor decided to drink coffee instead of ride along. No big deal. 'Cept, that left me to make conversation and drive on my own with this very intimidating exam-giver-person. When he met me, the first thing he said was (in a strong imitation American accent) "So, you are Canadian. And you think you can drive?" I smiled, tried to be nice, not too nice, ignoring the fact that he seemed incapable of smiling. "Where you were you born?" "Calgary." "Ah. I've been there." "Yes? It's a nice city, isn't it?" "No. Not really. It's too big. Everything is too far apart. I thought it was ugly." "Oh. Well, I suppose I can see that. It has it's charms though." "Nah. Only the stampede." "Right." Crap. Why is it that this makes me so nervous? Any other time I would find 
someone like him slightly amusing. Circumstances, I suppose. The entire ride was like this. Uncomfortable periods of silence, then attempts at conversation that somehow always ended up going back to my being American/Canadian...he wasn't mean, he just seemed incredibly unimpressed. Which is fine. But for some reason, uncomfortable.
So, anyway...driving. I started passing a truck at some point and the man sitting next to me gruffly said "No, stay in this lane, we're turning right." So, I quickly switched back to the right lane, then looked for the street. Ah, there, half a block past the green light. I moved toward the turning lane and kept driving, only to practically shit my pants when he slammed on the brake. "The turning light is red." Turning light? Where? Fuck. Right next to the green light I so happily was driving through. Shit. Who puts a turning light half a block before the street, anyway?! Ugh. This country! "Oh." Nervous giggle. "I didn't see that." Obviously. Pff. Shut up, Amanda!
He made absolutely no comment. That was worse than if he'd started yelling at me. We drove around for another 15 min., me trying to be more careful, more aware, and a better driver than I'll ever be in any real situation, him sitting next to me, staring out the window. I was absolutely certain that I'd failed. That's a really stupid, but somewhat important mistake to make. Fuck.
So, after the test, we went inside. We met my instructor who's smile immediately dropped when she saw us... Great. She knows. She whispered to me "how'd it go?" I shrugged and made a face. Dunno.
We sat down. "Well. Let's see... The biggest thing that you need to work on is
watching for bikes. You need to look for them more carefully when coming across a bike path." Heh? I tried so hard to do that. Way more than normal. I even exaggerated my head turns so he couldn't miss them. "Ok. I'll work on that." "It's really important that you look for bikes." "Yes, I know." Fake-American accent comes back, "It's one of the most important things to remember when driving in this country. Always look for bikes!" No smile. "Yes. I understand. I thought I was looking enough..." Crap. That's a stupid thing to say. Don't argue! "No. You didn't. So. Work on that." A couple seconds silence. No comment about the light at least. I suppose it wasn't really necessary though. Then, for the first time, he smiled. He stuck out his hand and said, "But for the rest, you drove just fine! So, congratulations. You passed!" What? No way. The bastard! He looked very pleased with himself. I had to admit to myself that this was quite funny. As I was leaving the room, I heard him chuckle quietly. I smiled to myself.
Ok. That wasn't too bad, after all.

The rest of the weekend consisted of a disappointing dinner at a very interesting, well-decorated, charming Mexican restaurant. The food was good, but not Mexican really, and very expensive. Ah well. Luuk paid for my meal to celebrate my passing the exam. I paid for his meal to celebrate him popping the question two years ago. I suppose you could call that reverse-Dutch. Or something. 
We were going to go to Molly Mallones for St.Patty's and to further celebrate...but believe it or not, we actually forgot to go.
Don't ask.
The market on Saturday morning; an attempt at ceviché (which turned out quite well, if I can say so myself...); quesadillas for supper one day, fish, octopus, shrimp, and who knows what else, with rice the next day; some Settlers; a couple movies (Ghost World: good. Lost in Translation: I love it more each time. Eyes Wide Shut: meh.); attempts at sleeping in (I can't sleep; something
is wrong with me); and lots of great conversations with my hubby-to-be. (Sigh). I love that guy.

Gotta love them UV rays...

 Yesterday I had my last driving lesson. I had a different instructor. He thought it was super cool that he was "teaching" an American. He asked if I had any friends or sisters around here. I told him I actually did. He thought it was cool I could speak Dutch. He didn't want to speak English.
We talked about differences between US and Holland. He asked if I had any single female friends available. I laughed. Then told him not to try the long distance thing. It sucks. We talked 
more about differences between countries. He told me how much he 
LOVES the US.  He commented again that it would be great if I had any single girlfriends
around here. I smiled. He complimented me on my driving. Told me again how cool 
the US was. Then asked if I knew any single American girls. I didn't respond. He said he
was kidding. I half-smiled. 
He was nice. And talked alot. Which does make time go faster...Driving aimlessly 
for two hours isn't particularly fun, especially on a sunny day. And for all you single
female friends of mine, I'm sure he'll still be available in December if you come to the wedding and want an international fling.
Tomorrow is my driving exam. People keep telling me that the test is really hard and that I shouldn't be too sure that I'll do well. I can't help but think that my five years of driving would be somewhat of an advantage. But perhaps that's irrational and I should be extremely worried.
Meh.

This weekend: St. Patty's Day. A very important historic event occured on that day two years ago... anybody know?

sunlight: it does a body good.

 K. So, I tried, unsuccessfully, to post the pictures again. Not sure what the deal is. It's not the computer, cause last time I tried on a different one. I guess I am just a bit stupid with computers. Ah well. The pictures didn't really do Berlin justice, so I will leave the city to your imaginations instead of disappointing you with low-quality-cellphone-camera-shots. Plus, my face is in half of them, and we don't need to see that too much. ;)

Yesterday was sunny. Carmela, Dane, Luuk, and I took a nice long walk to some park I've never been to before in Groningen to sit in front of a pool of dirty water and soak in some desperately needed UV rays with many other like-minded and equally sun-deprived Dutch souls. I am not sure if I should be amused or worried by the fact that people rush out in hordes when ever the sun stays out for longer than 30 min. I like that people enjoy the sun so much. I fear what that desperate rush means in terms of days of sunlight in this country (or lack-thereof), and the effects on my future psychological health. I forget how much the sunlight affects my sense of contentment.

Today I put the kids down for a nap (which in itself deserves mention: Jules finished his sandwich, asked for milk, then said "Moe (tired). Slappen (sleep)," and walked to his room where he waited for me to put him to bed without complaint!), then I took a book (which also deserves mention...I'll elaborate later to prevent this from becoming a terribly confusing sentence), pulled out a lawn chair, sat down, and promptly fell asleep with the sun shining on my face. My cheeks are now slightly pink. I feel pleased and lazy as one of the chubby cats that wander around the yard. And I think if all days were like this, I could possibly enjoy my current state of affairs instead of grudgingly tolerate them.

Which brings me to this book... My mom told me a long time ago she thought I should read it. And then Luuk did just recently (unaware of my mom's comment). So, amused at this, I reluctantly accepted the book from Luuk. "The 7 Habits of Highly Affective People". I know. It's a self-help book. Which normally I hate. But perhaps I am allowing myself to be more open-minded. Or maybe my standards have dropped a bit. Ormaybe it's actually really not be that bad. In any case, I am not hating it as much as I expected and will admit to occasionally 
enjoying it. 
Mostly, it's one of those books that has basic good sense advice that you nod your head to and say "Of course, that's obvious", but would never have really considered unless someone pointed it out to you on paper.
Maybe it's cause I feel so lost sometimes that I'm even taking this book seriously. I dunno. I'm struggling.
Momentarily, I am considering: what point-of view do I see my life from at the moment and could it be better?  Before you scoff, understand this: I have been looking at this year as a transition year; my job as just a means to an end (somewhere to live, a house, food, bit of a spending cash, that's it); this whole situation as something to be tolerated until next year when things will inevitably get better. And, generally, that's what it's been. 
But, what if I looked at it differently? 
Mom keeps telling me that God was involved; that I am with this family for a reason; that there is some meaning to life, my life, right now...  This might sound like a really silly discussion. I dunno. But at the moment it's not, to me.

But now I am going to get some more sunlight. I'm trying to store up for then next couple of weeks until the next time he decides to come out.

Cheers.

Groeten

I tried to post pictures of Berlin, but they all showed up blank. Not sure what to do about that. So I deleted them from the blog cause a bunch of white spots on the page looked stupid.

Berlin: Very cool (I enjoy using that word, just because each time I do, I see Henderson cringe and Rose say "cool means cold!"). It was actually colder than here. Bit less windy. Saw the wall, of course. Well...the last bit that's left. There are pieces placed randomly around the city. Checkpoint Charlie (apparently well known...I'd never heard of it before...so the cool factor didn't really kick in till I read all there was to read about the place that was written on random boards around the area). Lots of old buildings - beautiful (I love old architecture. Could never tell you about the style or era built in or anything of artistic importance...but I like to look at them). Checked out a few museums. A monument to Jews (looked like a field of coffins, sorta like a maze of grey boxes...hard to explain). Enjoyed the sauna in the hotel (didn't know we were staying in a hotel with a sauna, so I didn't take a swimsuit, so I had to go in my underwear, which was fine cause actually most people there went naked...mostly older people...whatever...I'm cool with that... [k...who am I kidding? It's a little weird to sit in close hot sweaty quarters with middle and older aged people who shift positions without regard to what's...umm...showing]). We walked everywhere. I love walking through cities. And I loved the city of Berlin. It's very different from anything in the Netherlands - much bigger, and in some ways I suppose more American (there were ridiculous numbers of Dunkin Doughnuts and Starbucks to be found among the 17th century churches and government buildings), but in other ways completely different. The city exudes history. Even the way that newer buildings have been placed next to buildings centuries old speaks of its complicated past. I was momentarily sad each time I heard of or saw pictures of certain buildings that used to sit in this particular spot where that soviet style apartment block now sits or where that abnormally shaped modern office building is... War is so...scarring. I don't know what other word describes Berlin better. Scarred and beautiful.
Meh.
Getting a little melodramatic.
(Some where in the background I hear someone yawning..."Booooring!").

Funny highlight: We found a coffee shop called "Balzac Coffee". We checked it out, just to see what their coffee tasted like.
'twas good.

Other: We stopped in at the Guggenheim Musuem (much smaller than the New York version); filled with post-expressionist work. I loved it. Made me want to paint again. Some day.

Sidenote: Luuk and I are very different from each other in one very crucial manner - he is a goal-oriented person, and I am an experience-oriented person (is that a contradiction in terms?). This makes for walking together through cities and museums a very...ummm... interesting experience.
But love conquers all. (Which means: he walks slower).
:)

I should just trade my face with my ass so people will recognize me for what I really am. A big bum.

last night: went to decemberists concert. very glad dane convinced me. i got a free month pass at the concert hall. some girl just gave it to me. i never saw who it was, just heard her voice. i never got to thank her.
before decemberists: "lavendar"...something. i told dane the group looked like a 
bunch of old men who found a cute little girl to sing for them. the old men were super cool. the drummer, precise, intense, intentional, two long dark braids (sorta native american style...though he looked more italian or irish or something). the pianist, good as far as i could tell; had bit mop of stringy greying hair; reminded me of the dog with the floppy ears from the muppets. and the guitarist was older too, not particularly striking. she, the vocalist, on the other hand, was either one of those girls who tries too hard to be cute by talking in a sweet little voice and doing half-assed ballet on stage...or she was high. i'm starting to think a combination of the two. good voice, just kinda annoying. weak lyrics.
but then, what do i know about music?
anywho. decemberists were incredible. i should go to more concerts. i fell in love again. (hehe...
not quite. but i really enjoyed them). 'twas super fun.
there were four kinds of people at the concert: 1) the people who love the music (of all ages - lots of "old" people); 2)old people trying to be young and hip, looking really out of place and 
not quite enjoying themselves; 3) drunk guys who just wanted a party and thought a concert was a good way to go (they were funny, till they started jumping around on my feet); 4) girls who paid 20 euros to get into a concert and then proceed to talk as loudly and annoyingly as they could and push through the crowd to talk to other people they knew around 
them and occasionallydance with elbows and knees flying everywhere, completely ignoring the bands that were playing (some guy behind us finally got pissed off enough to tell them not-so-politely to shut the hell up - they walked away muttering about how rude people can be). 
now i'm going to dye my hair back to blonde. shower. pack for berlin. cook for the kids. and leave for 10 days! woohoo!
cheers.

At the mercy of a child

This morning. It was time to go to school. I told Camiel to finish get his shoes while I quick went to the bathroom. Just as I was getting ready to sit on the toilet, I noticed a big black blotch on the wall, just three feet away from my face. Yep. A spider. A big black one. With a big round body. Thick legs, the kind that all are the same length 'cept the front two which are longer and look kinda like groping arms. I hate how spiders move around. They test the surrounding area by reaching a little bit with one leg, then another, then another, until they've tried with all eight legs. It's creepy. I prefer bugs that scuttle. You know, quick, smooth, non-groping. 
Needless to say, my body went into panic mode. No shit scared out of this here girl - any desire to use the toilet vanished in seconds. I ran out of the bathroom still pulling my pants back up. My heart 
beat way over healthy limits. Hot and cold flashes. Sweaty palms. I took a broom
back to thebathroom (I debated about using a mop...but it'd be too messy).
I took a deep breath to steady myself. No one's gonna do it for me... It's surprising how calm I can be in a situation of utter fear. I knew what I had to do, and I was just about to do it, 
when Camiel walked in the room. 
"What are you doing?"
"I'm gonna kill that spider."
"Why! Spiders are nice."
"I don't care. I hate spiders. I have to kill it."
"No! Spiders are nice! Mom says they are sweet. We can't kill it."
"It can't stay in here."
"I'll take it out for you."
Remember, this is a four year old.
So, he tried several different approaches, but I think despite his assertion that spiders are nice, he was a little afraid of it as well, cause he didn't ever get close enough to even touch the thing, let alone move it outside. Finally, he touched it with the broom and made it fall onto the bathtub rim. (Imagine your worst fear suddenly being in a position that it had only to crawl a few steps toward you and it'd be at your feet...then you'll have a taste of my immediate reaction at that point.) Despite my emotional instability, I managed to stay calm - or is it frozen? - and in one place. Finally, Camiel put a little contain in front of the spider and told me that he was certain it would go in the container while we were gone and that then I could take it outside and let it go without hurting it.
Right. As soon as I'm back, I'm pulling out the broom and squishing it to a million bits of groping squirming mush.
Of course, when I got back, the spider was no where to be seen. Now I am constantly doing little circles, checking the surrounding area for black blotches on walls or ceilings; everytime 
I move, I imagine I feel a spider on my neck or ankles; I had to sweep
toilet sides and under and behind before I'd sit on it, and even then I
rushed out of there like most people rush in.
I shoulda just killed it when I had the chance.

Conversations with a 2yr old

scene 1:
jules, do you have a dirty diaper?
"nee."
i can smell it.
"nee!"
how bout we go change it?
"nee! nee! nee!"
you'd prefer to sit in your poop all day?
"nee!"
so should we change your diaper?
"nee."
ok. fine. go play. tell me when you want a clean diaper. (walk upstairs, to another room, where i can't smell him. seriously. this kid has some rancid poo.)
"'manna!"
yes?
"new diaper?"

scene 2:
alright buddy, in bed. (books been read, read a second one just for good measure, closed the curtains, nap time!)
"boekje?" (book)
no, we just read two.
"boek?"
yup, we just read a book. time to sleep.
"nee!"
yup. want your blankets on you?
"nee!"
ok. see you later. (turn to walk away.)
"nee! blanket!"
you want the blanket?
"nee!"
ok. bye.
"blanket!"
yes or no?
"blanket."
ok. (start putting blanket on him.)
"nee!" (followed by kick, almost in my face, knocking blankets off...)
ok. no blanket. bye.
"nee! blanket!"
last time. yes or no?
"blanket."
(put it on again.)
"nee!" (he kicks it off.)
alright. sleep well.
"nee!"
(walk out of room.)
"nee!"
(close door.)
"i want blanket!"
(ignore him.)
"'manna! blanket!"
(make coffee.)
"nee! nee! nee!"

scene 3:
are you done with your food, jules?
"nee."
k. eat up.
"nee."
alright. (start taking plate away.)
"neeeeee!!!"
k. then eat.
"nee."
(take plate.)
"neeeee!"
(put back down in front of him.)
"nee." (he pushes it away.)
(take plate again.)
"neeeeeee!!!!"
(put on counter.)
"neeeeee!"
do you want it or not?
"ja wel." (yes.)
(last try. put on table in front of him. he pushes it away.)
"nee."
ok. we're done.
(pick up plate. throw food out.)
"neeeeeee!!!"
(go make myself some coffee.)
where's the bailey's when i need it?

relief

few things feel as satisfying and good as blowing your nose clear 
of all the snot that has been building up in your head that makes
breathing almost impossible  and it feels as if your skull is going 
to burst from the pressure or your eyes are going to pop out of place.

Madness

It's too early to wake up. But my alarm is going off already. I can hear the kids.
Breakfast is busy. Camiel is telling me stories about what he dreamed last night and why he likes bugs and where he is going to hide his toys and that I can't go through his stuff and that he'll be mad if I do and that he changed his mind, I can but I'm the only one, and that he is sick today and can't go to school.
Quick check email.
Camiel is still talking, as if he didn't notice I left the room.
That kid talks more than anyone else I know. And he loves to make noise. And argue incessantly about absolutely irrelevent things. He got mad at me last week during supper because he was telling me that if I left the table I'd get in trouble and I told him I was still sitting at the table so there was no reason to get mad and he told me that I was breaking the rules if I left the table and I asked him where I was sitting and he ignored the question and started yelling that I better not leave the table. At which point I was really annoyed and wanted to leave but I was feeding the baby so I couldn't anyway. Why do I let a 4 yr old annoy me so much sometimes?
(Sigh.) That was last week. This week's been pretty good.
It's Thursday. That means tomorrow I can leave after I drop Camiel off at the neighbors.  That means today all I have to do is pick Camiel up at 3...
What to do...
Check my email again.
Dane tells me that I have a difficult job. He's sarcastic.
It's true. It's really not that hard. Why do I hate it so much some times?
I think it's boredom. Boredom will drive a person mad.
Maybe I'll do some yoga.
...
After half an hour I quit. The room is too hot and I'm too sleepy and all I want to do is lay down on the mat instead of balancing on one leg and holding my hands above my head.
Shower. That sounds nice.
Ten minutes later the shower drain stopped working. I have water up to my ankles. The shower ledge is only a couple centimeters high. It keeps nothing in.
Guess I'll clean the bathroom.
While I'm at it, I'll do the kitchen. 
Oo!, someone's talking to me on gmail chat. Nope. Gone. Bummer.
K. The kitchen. Coffee sounds good.  
While I make that, I'll check my email again. Maybe someone's talking to me... Nope.
Back to the kitchen.
I think I'm addicted to the internet. Either that or I'm just desperate for any sort of communication with the outside world.
Only an hour and then I can go pick up Camiel, dump him at the neighbors, then go bother Dane for a while.

i had some strange dreams last night...

-I am lying in my bed, sleeping. I slowly wake up to someone poking; he's 
whispering something, but I can't make it out. It takes me a few seconds 
to realize that I don't know this man, and then another to realize that he is 
very big, scary, and looks a bit like a dirty sailor. I try to scream but voice 
is still gurgly, like it is before you had a chance to clear your throat in the 
morning. I try to scream again, but he stuffs a piece of my blanket in my 
mouth. I realize he's going to kidnap me. I try to scream over and over again. 
Suddenly, I hear someone yelling. I hit my heal on the end of my bed. I 
realize that I am now awake, yelling and kicking around in my bed. There is 
no one there.

-I am with my cousin, Nita. Apparently I have a new dog. He's very small
and has hardly any hair. We are supposed to walk him. But he's not allowed 
to poopanywhere. I feel like I'm lost in a chapter of "Brave New World". I'm 
worried that he's going to poop and we'll get in trouble, or that he'll get a 
stomach-ache from holding it in. Nita tells me not to worry: they now have 
little doggy-poopy-extractors in public bathrooms. (I will spare you of details 
at this point). Problem solved. We head back to the house. Nita giggles and tells me I have a huge booger hanging out of my nose. Ah. That's why 
everyone was looking at me weird. I clean my nose. Then look ahead at the 
puppy. His tail is sticking straight up, like a cat's, but stiff. He's waddling. 
Poor puppy.

-I'm on some island - it looks a bit like Isla Mujeres in Mexico...but not quite. Dane is there. We are looking for a good bar or somewhere to get pinacoladas. Suddenly the beach changes. The waves are huge and on the beach, right next to out feet are really sharp rocks and shells that if we stepped on, I know we'd tear our feet with. We turn to talk to some tourists. They are all women with big boobs and small bikinis. They are scared and won't talk to us other than screaming that we are all gonna die.

-I think we're on the same island. We are inland, going down some stairs that look like they lead to a subway. There are dogs in out way. I take a step and one gets up and starts growling at us. A creepy, toothless, unshaven old man grins and tells me "not to worry little girl. They won't hurt you." I don't believe him, but he have to go down the stairs. The dogs start to chase us. (Things get a bit muddled here.) We are running away. In the meantime, one of the dogs' story plays in the background. He was tricked into joining the group and now he can't get out. One of his best friends joined because he thought it was a way to fight racism. He used to be a big black man with earrings and huge muscles. Now he's chasing me. I want to feel sorry for him, but can't. He's biting my ankles. Then I find myself awake, sweating and breathing hard, in my bed. I can hear my pulse in my ears.

-Everything is grey. I can't see anything. Just mist. I hear voices. High pitched. Then a low rumbling. I think its the water heater (which is in my room). I wake up. It's the kids. I want to sleep again. My alarm clock says 6:58. Is it worth sleeping for another 17 min? No. I crawl out of bed. My ankles are kinda sore...

 

Question

I often wake up 60 to 30 min before my alarm, because I have to pee. 
Instead of getting up, peeing, and then going back to bed for the last 
few minutes of time available to me for sleep, I lay in bed, trying to
ignore the fact that my bladder is about to burst and progressively
getting more and more painful. I manage simply to roll around in bed
finding the most comfortable position that does not press more on
my throbbing bladder, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that I'll
some how manage to doze off. Then, my alarm goes off and I have
succeeded only in using up my last hour of sleep so that I could jump
out of bed, tired and annoyed with myself, try to throw on some
clothes without losing bladder control,and rush to the bathroom
before I pee my pants.
Why do I do that? 

Update:

Friday: I took the driving-theory exam. It is not uncommon for people to have to do 
this twice. 

(Argh!!!! I had a section here written about it, and it was lost somehow between writing and that little button "publish post"!!! @#$%&!!!)

Ok...once again: When I did the practice tests from the study-book and online, I consistantly got 7-15 answers wrong, while on the real test you are only allowed 6 mistakes. The test is in Dutch and alot of Dutch people don't pass the first time. Needless to say, I was absolutely certain that I was going to fail. But, I had to try anyway, so I signed up and after several delays in the past few weeks, finally found myself in the test room. I was assigned seat 36. The test consisted of 50 questions, for each you are given 30 seconds to read and type in the right answer on the keyboard in front of you, and probably 10 of which I wasn't quite sure about. After the test came the worst part: waiting for the results. First the results were handed back to those that failed. Seats 1-7 all were called, then 12, then 21, then I almost had a heart attack when 26 was called because in Dutch you would say 6-and-20, or 6-and-30...then 32, then 34....my heart pounding, my hands sweating, I almost stood up to accept my papers back...37! Haha! I passed! The guy on my right actually cheered when he realized he had passed...the guy to my left swore loudly, then looked embarrassed and left as quickly as possible. I smiled non-stop for the rest of the day. I passed. :)

Later that night: met with a wedding planner. She took forever to get to the point, talked alot about why we should use a wedding planner, what she could do, what the benefits were, etc. She was very nice though, so even though my mind wandered a bit while she and Luuk did alot of talking, we got the details of our intentions for the day out in the end, and she seemed to know what she was doing. She really liked the 
fact that we wanted to keep it as simple as possible, with no extras. We liked the 
projected price range. 
Saturday: met another wedding-planner duo. They were more professional looking, 
more to the point, but absolutely flabergasted at our no-nonsense approach. "What? 
You don't want flowers arrangements in the entire church? No limo? No dj? No full-day gigantic party?!" The best part was that because Luuk did most of the 
talking, since we were discussing in Dutch and I am naturally a bit less talkative than he is, they kept asking me if I was sure Iwanted this too, as if they thought that he was the one calling all the shots on this and all my life-long dreams of a big flowery wedding were being ignored... They couldn't believe that I would agree with this guy.  As if we didn't agree together to plan things this way. Hehe! Their disbelief was amusing. In any case, we could go with either, basically who ever is cheaper. :)

Ah, which brings me to another, very important point: the wedding has been moved up! We are shooting for Dec. 28... Hopefully we can find a location for that date. So far, the options are super cool and I can't believe the church that we might marry in! It's from the 1600's! (Sigh). I can't wait. It's going to be fun!

(Once again, this page keeps messing up on me, so there are random weird breaks in the outline. So annoying... Ah well.)

for my third post today...

IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING! IT'S SNOWING!!!!!
Big, fat, wet chunks of snow are falling everywhere. It's amazing! Woohoo! 
(Apparently, I missed snow...) 

ridiculous quote:

In response to the stadia lock-up after the death of a police man during the riots after a soccer
game in Italy:

"Deaths unfortunately form part of this huge movement which is football and which the forces of order are not always able to control," Mr Matarrese was quoted as saying.  "Football should never be stopped. It's the number one rule: football is the industry... do you think there's an industry that would close its factories and not know when they're going to reopen?"

Sign of the apocolypse, Jeff?

 

not-quite-wide-awake, it's a typical morning...

it's morning. i am dreaming about shopping in the middle of a war. we aren't looking for the normal stuff, but army supplies. the army supplies aren't normal either though. they are promoted like clothing in style, draped over skinny and unrealistic mannequin, covered with glitter and sequins, and even some have embroidery. all around, we hear bombs and people yelling "save me!", "mama!", and other garble noises. not sure who "we" is... i just know there is someone else there.
i wake up suddenly to the sound of someone crying. (quite common...works better than my alarm. i can never fall back asleep, mostly cause i'm too annoyed. unfortunately, it sometimes starts before its actually time to get up. then i get really annoyed.)
"mama! maaaaamaaaa!"
muddled responses by one of the tired parents follow.
i groan and roll over. i start to doze again.
more squeals.that's the two year old. he squeals when he's frustrated. usually when he's trying to do something to difficult for himself. like put on his dad's shoes, which keep falling off each time he takes a step. each step, of course, is followed by a loud squeal. right now, though, it sounds like he's taking a bath. probably doesn't want out.i pick up my cellphone, which is lying next to my bed - 7:04. i could sleep 11 more minutes, or get up. i can't sleep anyway.
while i'm making sandwiches for breakfast (we have bread every day, for breakfast and for lunch. i am so sick of bread... i've started eating fruit for breakfast. probably healthier. i get hungry quicker though. then i just eat more fruit.), i hear camiel saying in a whiny, please-give-me-sympathy voice, "i'm sick! i can't go to school."
he tries this every morning. i keep telling him that we cannot believe him if he tells us the same story every morning and then its not true. i tried once to tell the story of the boy and the wolf...but it didn't really come out right in dutch. he looked at me like i was stupid. meh. he'll learn eventually.
this morning, he tried to convince us that he was in pain, that his head and armpit and knee and rib and head and whole body hurt. i told him that it sounded really serious, so we should take him to the hospital; the doctor will probably say he has to stay there all week and get a shot every day and probably take really disgusting medicine too and eat really gross food. camiel looks slightly disconcerted at the though. "well, i'm not that sick." i tell him that if he's not sick enough to go to the doctor, he can still go to school. he looks annoyed with me, but starts to eat his breakfast, and quickly forgets that he's supposed to be sick.
jules, the two year old, is in the meantime running around the house naked, yelling "nee! nee! neeeee!" apparently he's in his toddler-puberty (aka, the terrible-twos). he doesn't want to be dressed. again. finally, his dad catches him and holds him down. then proceeds a small wrestling match between 6ft tall man, 2ft. tall kid, and a diaper. i'm glad he's doing it today. i'm afraid one of these days i might swat the kid on his little squirming butt. that'd be the end of my nannying days.
now, everyone's gone but myself and the lil'uns. the baby's spitting and sputtering in his chair, and jules is running around with a very stinky diaper. i think i'll let him sit in it for a while - he'll just poop more later. then i'd have to do it twice.
instead i'll just tell all my non-children-surrounded college friends all about my incredibly interesting mornings and hope once again that this blog is not too long.
ah well. it keeps me sane.

schedule for today: coffee, diapers, naps for kids, ironing for me, read a bit from the driving theory book, and call dane up to get out for a bit tonight.

Now for something less...negative.

(Started this on Friday, but got distracted by a kid or something...)

Ok. That's out of my system.
New blog.

So...yesterday (Thursday) I went to Amersfoort to hang out with Carmela (cause it's the closest middle point to visit between our respective 'homes'). After a frustrating experience that involved an empty bank account, the resulting inability to take the train, and a map that cut off just before the city that I had to drive into, I got to the station and met Carmela almost an hour late. She's a very forgiving sister. Apparently you gotta be with me sometimes. :)
We found this interesting bar that was blaring hard rock (Metallica, ACDC, etc.), had pictures and parts of Harley-Davidsons everywhere, consisted of wooden chairs/tables/bar, even had the taps coming out of motor parts. I think they were going for the "southern" feel. I woulda really liked the place if it didn't also have confederate flags all over the the place. I couldn't help but be slightly uncomfortable. I half expected to see Nazi flags hidden in some corners, too. I wonder though if they simply didn't realize what the flag is associated with...

(time lapse... now its monday)

I got lost on the way to Amersfoort, then also on the way back. I tried to take a short cut, but I somehow managed to make a full circle and come back onto the same road I had been on before, heading in the direction of Amsterdam. My map did not cover that side of A'dam, so I got lost.
Getting lost in any Dutch city is easy to do and very frustrating. Getting lost in Amsterdam...well, lets just say it is not a happy experience. I would have been ashamed if my mother could hear my regular outbursts each time I realized that I had missed another road I needed and that I couldn't turn around to get back to it cause I was surrounded by one way streets that curve into the wrong direction. I finally ended up in the absolute center of the city, where I finally parked, and walked the rest of the way to meet Dane, Andrew, and 'Cheka'. We found a cute little bar, full of older men, where they served peanuts and gave us funny looks. The one other woman in the bar was quite drunk and very talkative. She eventually came over to our table, asking where we were from, to which each time she answered "Sue-pah!", and slurred in a very strange accent several other questions to which I don't believe she understood the answers. She said she was from NewYork, that she had married a Dutch man whom she met once when her husband-at-the-time was shooting a documentary elsewhere. Apparently her then-husband found out, they had a big fight, she left the two men to figure out their differences, and took a trip to Holland. While there her husband died in a car accident. I guess the other guy came here, they married, and now she was at the bar while he was sleeping in his office. Happy woman. I felt so sad for her. It was pretty clear that she was at this bar more often. She warned me about the dangers of marrying a dutchman. I smiled and told her I'd keep them in mind.
How do people fuck up their lives so much?

The rest of the night consisted of getting lost again, this time with Dane sitting next to me. He offered his navigational skills for a ride home, and I think he assumed that the reason I got lost had everything to do with my airheadedness and lack of directional abilities or something. Five minutes later, during which we had promptly gotten so lost we had no idea where we were, he was swearing under his breath. As our little adventure continued, our mumblings got more loud and more clear. We did eventually find the way, at which point I realized that I had been really close to the VU before i took a turn that led me to downtown earlier that night. Ugh. Ah well. It was exciting. Sort of.
Getting up the next day was not.

And that brings me to Friday, which was another story.

The weekend was much better.

And now it's Monday again.
I can't wait for the weekend!

Can i complain just one more time about this @#$%^! country?

I was supposed to take my driving-theory exam today. But that didn't happen. Why is it that in a country that seems to thrive on rules never actually makes any attempt to make sure that all the fucking rules are fucking clear? (Sorry. Lost it a bit there.)

Deep breaths.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Uuuughghghg! F-I-A-C-K!!!

I'm really annoyed. and frustrated. and sick of this kinda stuff.

Do I do it to myself? I really wonder. Maybe I'm a walking self-fulfilling prophecy. I keep making things go wrong some how. Don't ask the right questions. Don't even think about the right questions till it's too late. How is it possible that one person could run into so much previously-invisible red-tape? Or complications? Or whatever the hell you can call this...? I must be doing it to myself.

It's not the world against me. This country doesn't hate me. And even though the computer seems sometimes to be a live, spiteful, naughty thing, it really isn't purposely trying to make my day just a little more difficult.

It's just me.